Philadelphia Weekly

Up until recently Philly's been passed over by celebrity chefs like a rotten tomato at the farmers market.

We've yet to be colonized by Jean-Georges, a culinary Alexander with an empire stretching from the Bahamas to Bora Bora. How will I ever be a guest judge on the as-yet-unrealized Top Chef Philadelphia if Colicchio won't launch a restaurant here? Dallas has a Nobu--Dallas!--while Todd English is in bed with Seattle, Aspen and the LaGuardia Airport. But not Philly. That would be slumming.

Don't misconstrue my pity party. I don't even want celebrity chef restaurants. But like marriage, it's nice to be invited to the party even if you don't necessarily want to go.

But Eric Ripert swept into town doing all the right things: sniffing green beans at Reading Terminal, extolling boar prosciutto from D'Angelo's and--most important--bringing in Le Bernardin sous chef (and Somerton native) Jennifer Carroll to run 10 Arts.

The French-inspired menu shares 60 percent of its DNA with Westend Bistro, 10 Arts' sister restaurant in the D.C. Ritz-Carlton. Carroll deserves props for making it locally relevant with Delaware Valley treasures like Pennsylvania brook trout, soft pretzels and Kennett Square mushrooms. Don't let her pedigree fool you. She's still just Jenny from the block.

Her homey, rustic plates stand in sharp relief to the Ritz-Carlton's soaring marble columns and chandeliers: heirloom Lancaster corn chowder tingling with smoked salt; maple-licked clafoutis studded with Jersey blueberries big as sapphires; "pork and beans," a seared square of buttery pork belly mingling with haricots verts and broad and wax beans.

Carroll had to fight for the dish. Ripert didn't think Philly was into pork parts. Um, Eric, meet scrapple. Scrapple, Eric Ripert. Fortunately, Carroll won. The dish is refreshingly unpretentious.

And so are the prices. A few oddities exist--ahem, $16 hamburger--but of the 11 entrees, eight are $26 or less. The most expensive item is the $34 striped bass "grand-mere," a perfectly poached fillet flavored simply with favas, fingerlings, mushrooms, pearl onions and brandied chicken stock.

Beware the booze. My server seemed to lose interest when I declined another round of $15 cocktails, and the wine list is so overpriced--$45 for the cheapest bottle--"bend over" should be a category.

But back to the food. Let's talk about oil and acid. Too much of the former and not enough of the latter conspire to spoil ultra-fresh tuna carpaccio and tender octopus ceviche. Shaved fennel and oven-dried tomatoes make brilliant additions to the striped bass sliders tucked between locally baked brioche buns, but the burgers would really sing with just the lightest squirt of lemon.

The intensive prep work for the pate en croute--puff pasty coins filled with precious little pork and chicken liver--fails to translate into deliciousness.

Highs outweigh the lows. I'd gladly serve those pretzel nuggets at my imaginary gourmet cinema. Sprinkled with Maldon sea salt, the brown butter-glossed pillows arrive with three-cheese (cheddar, gruyere, cream cheese) sauce, Grinch-green jalape�o jam and fiery Maille Dijon mustard for dipping. Carroll wanted spicy brown, natch, but Ripert pulled his executive trump card for the fancy French stuff. No matter.

The rabbit paillard trademarks a fresh take on an animal usually reserved for rich ragouts and hearty braises. Frisee and baby arugula sit atop the thin crisp cutlets streaked with a tangy union of whole grain mustard and creme fraiche. Peas--English, snow and sugar-snap--are scattered about with abandon.

Desserts, the domain of pastry chef Monica Glass, are artful compositions of chocolate milk shooters, Rice Krispies confetti, airy cottonball-sized cinnamon beignets and other cute caprices. But once you see Tastykakes--in the form of a gooey caramel-peanut tart with Kandy Kake-enriched chocolate ice cream and peanut powder--could there be any other choice? Fancy!