July 25 (Bloomberg) -- Balthazar is the most satisfying brasserie in America.

Actually, it's better than that. When I factor in my 35 years of dining in France, I'd say Balthazar is now the most satisfying brasserie on earth.

Keith McNally opened his flagship restaurant in Soho a mere 10 years ago, but it seems to have been an indispensable part of Manhattan since we took delivery of our first boatload of Brie. Its distressed mirrors, exquisitely worn furnishings and patina of authenticity satisfy the intense craving so many of us have to dine in sight of the Seine, and the likelihood of getting an agreeable meal is far greater at Balthazar than at any of the rapidly declining collection of Paris brasseries I've patronized in recent years.

The brasserie concept is simple yet profound: big space, ornately (but not cheesily) decorated, open almost always, specializing in oysters and French classics, functioning democratically with boulevardiers in white tie and tourists in polyester shorts cheerfully sitting side by side.

In almost all these categories, Balthazar is nearly faultless. If the food has failings, and it does, they happen mostly when the kitchen strays from the Gallic ideal or when the place buckles under stress: It has 200 seats and is nearly always full.

In two of four visits, the bread was dried out -- implausibly, inasmuch as Balthazar Bakery is adjacent to the restaurant. My guess is that massive quantities had been sliced well before dinner in an attempt to keep bread delivery efficiently moving along.

Congenial Buzz

Balthazar benefits enormously from its clientele. It's one of the few restaurants in New York where 21-year-olds and 71- year-olds appear pleased to be in one another's company. The buzz is loud but perfect. Everyone either looks attractive or seems to think they once were. It's a happy place.

Tables are not particularly large. On one occasion a bread basket went over the side, elbowed out by a slew of incoming appetizers.

It's easy to determine what not to eat: any dish that sounds as if it belongs in a New American bistro. Two examples are crisp-skinned roasted cod atop a meaningless melange of not- tasty veggies and pan-roasted, exceedingly ordinary chicken with not-fresh-tasting morels, rice pilaf and stringy snap peas.

I'd also give the ``plats du jour'' a 50-50 rating, based on the two I tried. The Friday bouillabaisse, served in a black iron pot, featured overcooked fish and hopeless aioli, which looked and tasted as though it had been poured from a jar. Yet Sunday's lamb stew (navarin d'agneau) exemplified everything a French kitchen does right, the meat soft and savory, the broth blessed with a pleasing demi-glace mouth-feel.

Great Soup, Good Cod

The onion soup is about as good as you'll find, meaty chicken stock topped with good, strong Gruyere. The brandade de morue (reconstituted salt cod) here is creamier and more garlicky than most -- I had it once at dinner, when it was satisfactory, and a second time at lunch when it tasted freshly made and was as good as I've had.

Escargots are agreeably garlicky, but who's the sadist in the kitchen who reinserts them so deep in the shell that neither tiny fork nor toothpick (both provided) are capable of coaxing them out?

Oysters are predictably fresh, though easily the best seafood dish is skate ``grenobloise'' -- lemon, capers, parsley, croutons and brown butter. It's a magnificent dish, epicurean cuisine with a blue-collar crunch, here prepared almost perfectly. Yes, the butter could have been browned a bit more.

New York's Paris

What's particularly wonderful about Balthazar is that even the less enviable items (bouillabaise excepted) are no worse than typical downtown fare. The best of them are downright poignant, evoking the Paris we all think we know. To sit on a bright red banquette in a haze of well-being and eat faultless onion soup, a culture-defining dish, is about as good as dining out gets.

I have yet to mention the fries, which are fresh and famous and live up to their reputation. Well, time to return to earth - -you might want to pass on the tinny homemade mayo that arrives with them.

Steak frites comes with a decent chunk of meat devoid of beefy thrills. It also comes with a Walco stainless steel knife that probably cost two bucks. The cote de boeuf for two, pride of the establishment, looks gorgeous and is accompanied by majestic Laguiole knives with handles carved from unicorn horns. (Well, that's what they looked like to me.) Unfortunately, the meat is merely OK -- surely not prime -- and it's encrusted with too many peppercorns.

Regional Wines

The wine list is exactly what you would hope for at a brasserie, filled with interesting French regional bottlings, but only one of my picks turned out to be more than a modest drink. That was the 2006 Saint-Amour from Trichard ($44), a juicy cru Beaujolais.

Desserts could be better. The crust on an apple tart was so tough that when one friend finally hacked through hers, a chunk flew up and hit the arm of a man at the next table. The caramelized banana tart has steadfastly remained the grand triumph of the pastry department for years.

Service is always friendly, usually excellent, on one occasion above the call of duty. I speak now of Hillary, a waitress from Minneapolis, who sacrificed herself so that a cowardly friend of mine might eat well.

This friend eats little but rare hamburgers. I suggested Balthazar's steak tartare. He cringed. Soothingly, Hillary told him that she also was afraid of steak tartare but would try it for the first time if he did, too.

He ate it and loved it, as he should have. It's spicy, peppery and gratifying.

I encountered Hillary a few days later. Her report: ``Delicious, even though the texture got to me.'' How often will you find a waiter willing to go that far for a customer? In New York, rarely. In Paris, never.

The Bloomberg Questions

Cost? Prices range from $10 for mixed field greens to $79 for cote de boeuf for two.

Sound level? Lots of people, lots of hard surfaces, predictable clamor.

Date place? No spot in New York feels more French. At the zinc bar, try, ``Venez-vous ici souvent?''

Inside tip? Maximize the brasserie experience. Begin your meal with a half-dozen oysters and a half-bottle of '05 Menetou- Salon.

Special feature? The clattering stairs leading down to the restrooms have a ``Phantom of the Opera'' feel -- they sound as if they're made of plywood and are about to collapse.

Private Room? No.

Lunch? Yes. And breakfast.

Will I be back? Always.

Balthazar is at 80 Spring St., between Broadway and Crosby Street. Information: +1-212-965-1414; http://www.balthazarny.com.

(Alan Richman is a restaurant critic for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this story: Alan Richman at thecritic@optonline.net.

Last Updated: July 25, 2007 00:09 EDT