April 3 (Bloomberg) -- If Craig Wilson ever has a nervous breakdown, I'm blaming Stephen Starr.

Starr, restaurant mogul of Philadelphia, set the bar high. He debuted Morimoto in January 2006, then Buddakan last March. Total seats: 496. Total space: 28,000 square feet. Total cost: $24 million.

Enter Craig Wilson. He's from Philly, but no mogul. So Wilson brings hundreds of chairs -- without oodles of cash.

The mission? Two restaurants. The catch: Wilson is chef at both. He opened a West Village tapas venue in January, then a larger brasserie next door on Friday.

Total seats: 400 (when outdoor service begins). Total space: 3,500 square feet. Result: Tasca, the tapas spot, is packed; Central Kitchen, the brasserie, may fill up soon.

What keeps Wilson sane? Women. Lots of them.

At Tasca, they serve small Spanish plates in heels and boots. They cut kiwi for sangria in tube tops and spaghetti straps. They apply lip gloss behind the bar. They let their long, black hair dangle.

I ordered six plates on my first visit.

``Bravo!''

That's what a Castilian-lisped beauty exclaimed when I finished my ceviche.

``Did you like it?''

The fish was bland. It came -- improbably -- with popcorn.

``It was good.''

My apologies for lying.

In two visits, I saw only one male waiter.

Don't worry, you'll still flirt with your date. Stools are positioned so you're facing each other, not the bar staff.

Udders Overhead

What's that hanging just above my head? Tear-shaped tubes reach down from the ceiling. Udders that glow? They're very ``Salvador Dali,'' said a bartender.

The surreal structures match a white, wavy ceiling that joins a cryptlike wall equipped with ledges for glowing candles. The tiny triangle of a restaurant sports 40 seats. The best are at the bar. Who eats tapas at a table?

Salt-cod fritters were crispy-crusted. Inside was the ocean's response to pommes puree: silky, with a hint of sea. Sardines got the fry treatment too. They weren't seasoned but came with a salty tapenade. Short ribs were braised in sweet sangria, which is why they are to be avoided.

Cream of celery-root soup gets a dash of bitter from collards, a blast from blood-sausage ravioli. Finish the affair with hot, doughy churros; they're better than the cold versions sold on the subway.

Thursday's solo dinner of six plates cost $82. My Saturday- afternoon snack, which included four plates, cost $59. I drank a glass each of sangria and Spanish wine on each visit.

Tasca is at 130 Seventh Ave., at 10th Street. Information: +1-212-620-6815.

Opening Night

Chef Wilson looked weary but determined at 11:30 p.m. It was Central Kitchen's opening night.

The menu is broad: octopus pizza, Vietnamese sandwiches, seared tuna with red chimichurri sauce. No wonder Wilson was tired.

Our waiter, a Viggo Mortensen look-alike, was part of a staff that's more gender-diverse than Tasca's.

Where were Wilson's women?

In corsets. Sitting naked under rays of sunlight. That is to say, in paintings, which line the walls of two cavernous rooms. One faces an open kitchen that spits out flames, the other holds a bar and taller tables.

``Can I get you something?'' This was a lady, not our waiter.

``I actually don't work here. My husband owns the place. I'm just helping out.''

Genial Hospitality

The staff was overwhelmed, common for a first night. What's uncommon was the sincerity of everyone to please amid the mayhem. The kitchen operated as if it had been up and running for months.

Kumamoto and Blue Point oysters were perfectly chilled, not icy. Spicy chorizo and shrimp ravioli were al dente. Shredded suckling pig came on a brioche bun with sharp aged provolone. Barbecue traditionalists will balk -- until they sample.

Octopus pizza? Try it. The charred tentacles collapsed in my mouth as easily as the crackerlike crust.

Still hungry? How about vanilla ice cream between two slices of buttery honeyed toast.

Our dinner for two, which included six dishes plus two drinks each, cost $139. Those who visit the restaurant before April 9 will receive a 10 percent discount on food.

Central Kitchen is at 134 Seventh Ave. Information: +1-212-352-2230.

(Ryan Sutton is a writer for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

Last Updated: April 3, 2007 00:16 EDT