Happy Rooster in Philadelphia something to crow about again

Before martinis got all silly and the advent of oxymoronic sports bars, there was the Happy Rooster, a gem of a hideaway at the corner of 16th and Sansom, its bar warm Brazilian rosewood, its aspect buttoned-down and, in the '60s, perfectly scripted for a Mad Man.

It was run as something of a private preserve by a romantic Francophile by the name of Abe "Doc" Ulitsky, and not only were jackets required, but ties as well, and unescorted women were unsubtly discouraged from taking a seat at the bar.

It was one of the few spots that served Russian caviar (30 grams of beluga for $75) and stocked Poire Williams brandy, and daring European pilsners, and the bartender wore a starched white jacket.

But for all the starchiness, for all the dull brass and the soft gleam from what were said to be the running lamps of an old Swedish stagecoach, the 38-seat (tufted booths with gently tilting tables) bar somewhat unexpectedly served an exceedingly pricey and ambitious, if unswervingly traditional, haute menu.

There was filet of the saddle of lamb with broiled tomato, and crab souffle; 24-ounce porterhouse ($38.50), and "sorbet au Kirsch: a lemon sorbet sprinkled with macadamia nuts and Creme de Kirsch." And, as you might expect, chicken Kiev and calf's liver (with bacon and onions), and "Smoked Scotch Trout."

It was a period piece, all right. Retro before retro was retro; when "certified Black Angus" was the creme de la creme; and "local" meant the R5 to Paoli, not the farm bounty beyond.

All that got stood on its head 10 years ago when Doc sold to Rose Parrotta, earthy and dark-eyed, a lifer in the restaurant business, happy to keep the clubbiness of the old regime (the faded menus from the likes of Savoy and Tour d'Argent tacked to the walls; the flock of ceramic roosters) - but decidedly on her own terms: Unescorted women were, of course, now welcome (she was one herself), and if the liquor shelves weren't so florid, the kitchen grew even more ambitious.