Meritage Philadelphia

So could Meritage Philadelphia, for that matter, which the 34-year-old professional tenor-turned-sommelier opened in late May with partner Taylor Barneby, 27, in the former Bella space near Graduate Hospital.

Just the fact that Meritage (rhymes with heritage) has a serious wine list makes it an intriguing anachronism amid our town's hot crop of BYOBs. But there is such sweet reverence for retro restaurant fineries here - from the polished leather club chairs in the lounge (where you can sip any of nearly 40 single-malt Scotches) to the Eurocentric menu salted with the forgotten pleasures of veal Oscar and Russian zakuski - that you half expect 007 to swagger in and order a bottle of '69 Bollinger Champagne. (He'd have to settle for an '88 Krug, but lovely hostess Tersit Yohannes is a dead ringer for Bond girl Rosie Carver in Live and Let Die.)

Meritage's travel-happy menu of pan-European classics can appear so hokey at first glance that it might seem better suited for Austin Powers than for James Bond. Colabelli, for example, delights in listing dishes in their untranslated titles, which means that some appear in lower-case Greek script or in an obscure Friulian dialect.

But how many cooks can pull off a Danish svinekod and a Tunisian lamb trio with equal aplomb?

Grant Langdon Brown is one such chef.

The menu's concept was created to highlight Meritage's wonderful cellar, much of which is displayed behind glass near the entrance. Colabelli, a former sommelier at Davio's (and lead singer of the local cover band the Beach Balls), has crafted a smart selection of 250 labels at refreshingly fair markups. (Most bottles are less than $80.) And Colabelli and Barneby are consummate professionals in the dining room.

But it is Brown's elegant, sophisticated cooking that ultimately makes this restaurant work.

Brown, 47, moved to Philadelphia this year and has wide-ranging experience, from owning two restaurants in Jamaica, Vt. (Sweet Woodruff Tavern & Grille and Grant's Tavern) to five years as executive chef at the legendary London Chop House in his native Detroit.

The self-taught Brown has traveled extensively in Europe and appears to be fluent in multiple culinary traditions. As a result, the blend (or shall I say meritage) of distinct menu items feels less like a predictable fusion and more like culinary "fission." Each dish is convincingly authentic, yet executed with a contemporary eye for good ingredients and sharp technique.

If you want Italian, Brown wraps pecorino-stuffed figs in prosciutto, then grills them to a crisp on rosemary skewers. A tapas sampler of huge glazed shrimp, chicken livers seared with oloroso sherry, and herbed farmer cheese studded with Marcona almonds recalls his wanderings in Barcelona, Spain. And sublimely sweet lobster tail napped in a buttery bearnaise froth scented with truffle pays homage to France's Normandy coast.

I've never been to Denmark, but Brown's superbly tender dill-flavored svinekod (pork) chop, served with grilled fruit, smoky bacon and lingonberry-mustard sauce, sure makes me want to go.

Brown's biweekly international tasting menus are also well worth a try. Before the Olympics, he delivered a stunning multicourse Greek meal. A mezze sampler of pressed octopus terrine with olive vinaigrette, a crabcake over garlicky white beans, and a fried squash patty with thick cucumber tzatziki yogurt was followed by a luscious Thracian-style heirloom tomato salad scattered with feta and pickled summer vegetables.

Then came a memorable half poussin, its moist leg stuffed with an apple-fennel stew, perched over a nest of shredded phyllo. Dessert was a fig tart with roots in the isle of Attica, its orange-scented cornmeal crust soaking in the richness of melting fig ice cream.

Inevitably, some dishes were less inspired than others. The Russian grilled trout (forel satsivi) with walnut sauce and warm Georgian bean salad was bland to the point of boring. The lobster two ways was overwhelmed by intense sauces - an updated thermidor and a port-splashed americaine - that were too similar to make the dish dance.

The Caesar salad was made tableside in classic form, but adding the lettuce before the dressing was finished diminished the flavor's potent zing. And though the paella had the ideal medley of chorizo and seafood flavors, the saffron La Bomba rice was too crunchy for my taste.

Another version of saffron rice, surprisingly, worked better as an exotic rice pudding for dessert. I also loved the bay leaf-flavored creme Catalan.

But Brown makes no claims as a pastry chef. And his talents are best displayed in his indulgent savories.

A great house-aged rib-eye entrecote was generously gratineed with tangy melted Maytag blue cheese. Veal Oscar, a dish that virtually disappeared decades ago, is revived in style with thick pads of extraordinary veal topped with sweet jewels of crabmeat and a truffled bearnaise sauce so rich that it made me shiver.

For the restaurant's signature Tunisian Meritage, Brown renders an intricate trio of North African-inspired lamb dishes, each graced with its own Mediterranean salad: Grilled leg meat rubbed with lavender and rosemary arrived with a honeyed Beaujolais sauce tinged with mint and spice; a thick loin chop was perfumed with a cuminy marinade that played against the freshness of a tabbouleh salad with apricots; and braised pulled lamb shoulder came with a compote of dried tomatoes and dates.

It was the highlight of an already impressive meal. But then Colabelli presented my dining companion with a certificate noting that he'd eaten Edition #141 of the Tunisian Meritage, a take-off on the century-old custom at Paris' La Tour d'Argent of numbering the servings of its famous pressed duck.

Corny, I know. But I loved it. And I'm willing to bet that Meritage and its customers will be happily counting their sheep for some time to come.