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PIGS' FEET. It had to be pigs' feet.

Couldn't the signature dish of Au Pied de Cochon, newly opened inside the Intercontinental Hotel in Buckhead, have been foie gras? Tenderloin? Even tripe would suit me better. Couldn't they have called the restaurant Au Boeuf Bourguignon?

Jenni Girtman/AJC (ENLARGE)
It's seafood, served fresh daily, the restaurant revels in, including lobster, oysters, crab claws, mussels, clams on the half-shell and shrimp.
Jenni Girtman/AJC (ENLARGE)
Jenni Girtman/AJC (ENLARGE)
The pigs' feet, after which the restaurant is named, are encrusted in breading and then roasted. The raw bar seems to be a more popular choice for diners at the French restaurant.
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In truth, I am simply not a fan of pigs' feet. Oh, I understand the delicacies of this dish and its gelatinous powers over cultures from Mexico to China. And, indeed, I've had pigs' feet that I found to be halfway palatable. But I'd rather consume any other part of a pig than his feet, no matter how they're cooked or who's doing the cooking.

So perhaps I am biased in my dislike of the pigs' feet at Au Pied de Cochon, where they are encrusted in breading and roasted, yet left stringy and fatty, with connective tissue abounding. (There are, after all, more than 30 bones in a pig's foot — a fact the manager will gladly point out as he splits the hoof open for you.)

And it doesn't matter anyway. I seriously doubt anyone orders them other than dining critics like me, who have to.

Everyone else is ordering towering displays of seafood in grand French fashion: "le degustation," "le royal" and the whopper of them all, "le super royal." These are basically the big, bigger and biggest versions of raw bar offerings that come in woven red baskets filled with ice and set in tiers. They look like something Carmen Miranda would have worn as a hat, minus the bananas. The top tier is always the killer, crowned with lobster tails and crab claws and various other crustacean parts.

Before all this arrives at your table, an assortment of tools ranging from an oyster fork to a pick that looks startlingly better suited to a dentist's office will be spread before you. Then the staff will "announce" the arrival of your order (forcing anybody who wasn't already staring at you for ordering such a colossal indulgence to do so now).

The experience is worth the red cheeks you'll get: Six kinds of oysters, including the beautiful sea-scented Beau Soleil, dainty Belon from Brittany and hefty, briny Blue Points are all spread among chipped ice, along with princess crab claws, stone crab claws, cooked mussels, clams on the half-shell, gray shrimp, jumbo shrimp and a Dungeness crab spectacularly split in half with claws dangling in the air.

Everything is fresh (flown in daily) and served with cocktail sauce, extra horseradish, a tiny bottle of Tabasco, a sherry-laced mignonette for the oysters and aioli (which is far better spread on warm rolls than as a dip for shrimp and oysters). Rye bread is a menu promise that never materializes.

It's this kind of over-the-top revelry that Au Pied de Cochon delights in, from the faux-fresco paintings of chubby cherubs and piglets dancing across the walls to the chandeliers dripping with grape-shaped goblets. The floors look like red croquant. The raw bar is a deliberately placed focal point. There are even tiny "cheater's" dining rooms ensconced in ruby red velvet curtains.

Au Pied de Cochon is a duplicate (in type, anyway) of the brasserie of the same name that opened in Paris in 1946, and is the first in the United States. There is another location in Mexico City. The restaurant is open 24 hours, although the raw bar shuts down at 11 p.m.

Besides its offerings, there are other good things on the menu. Duck foie gras over a tiny round of brioche tastes just right. The main ingredients of a salade Nicoise — tuna, anchovy, boiled eggs, black olives, green beans, sliced red onion and potatoes — are blessedly left untampered from American interpretation, served with a punchy vinaigrette. A juicy tomato tart is baked with thin slices of tomato over a buttery mound of puff pastry, served with tiny sprigs of arugula.

But pate de campagne is too jellylike and served in a slab big enough to feed a crowd of 20. The accompanying ham and salami don't help. And the desserts are disastrous.

There are a few things offered I really want to blow the calories on anyway; perhaps an apple tart with vanilla ice cream. But profiteroles filled with ice cream and drizzled with warm chocolate sauce are disappointingly stale. Ditto the crepes filled with a smidgen (read: not enough) of dulce de leche. A "beret" of white and dark chocolate mousses layered with cake tastes as if it has been waiting for retrieval from the reach-in for a day too long.

But desserts and frankly, dinner, are not why I would go back to Au Pied de Cochon.

In spring, I plan to sit on the patio that faces Peachtree, sip champagne and eat oysters. Perhaps I will order a croque monsieur, a decadent grilled cheese with ham and bechamel sauce topped with broiled Emmental cheese.

Few things are better at erasing the memory of a pig's foot.

KEY TO RATINGS
Outstanding. Sets the standard for fine dining in the region.
Excellent. One of the best in the Atlanta area.
Very good. Merits a drive if you're looking for this kind of dining.
Good. A worthy addition to its neighborhood, but food may be hit or miss.
Restaurants that do not meet these criteria may be rated Fair or Poor.