The tricky remodeling of a legend: Le Bec-Fin (2002)

This article was published July 31, 2002.

Suddenly, Georges Perrier is tableside, filleting the decor of his own restaurant - the familiar raspberry-walled, Louis XVI preciousness that is Le Bec-Fin.

It has been the gold standard for French formality in Philadelphia, a room he describes in his 1997 cookbook as conferring instant chaleur, "the warmth of ambience" - a flattering, intimate, welcoming space.

But that was then. This is now: "I'm changing everything," Perrier announces, his arm sweeping dismissively past marble busts and faux-marble mantles, towering mirrors, and flocked wall coverings, now referred to not as "warm" by his architect but, impatiently, "pink."

The Faberge egg on Walnut Street has been declared unfit. Frumpy. Outta here.

Ten days from now - at midnight, Aug. 10 - Le Bec will cease to exist as we know it: Two shifts of tradesmen working nonstop will strip the place down to the plaster, then recast the room in muted gold, milled chestnut woodwork, silk panels, and elaborate cornices molded by techniques nearly lost to history.

In the end, in early September, designer David Schultz says, the Louis XVI look will give way to the lighter, airier - but still formal - styling of a late-19th-century Paris salon.

It is tricky business, dismantling a legend: You don't want to alienate the loyalists who have given Le Bec an enviable 20-year run on Walnut Street. Then again, how to generate excitement?

The classic French food already has lightened up. The rigid two-seating policy is on the skids. Music will be added. But without a dining room overhaul, would anyone care?

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The tricky remodeling of a legend: Le Bec-Fin (2002)