The Suburban Dining Boom It's a Tuesday night at Gilmore's, and West Chester's most divine restaurant is fully booked for the six o'clock seating. Menus have been distributed; the anticipation is almost palpable. In one corner of the room, a champagne cork pops like a starter pistol: Let the pleasure begin. At a table to my left, a man inquires about the crabcake. His server assures him he'll enjoy its souffle-like interior and lemon-accented beurre blanc, but the customer looks crest-fallen. "So they're not like regular crabcakes?" he asks. No, they are not, and here's why: A restaurant revolution is under way in Philadelphia's suburbs, led by Gilmore's and other sophisticated upstarts that never have served - and never will serve - a standardized crabcake. Or a bastardized Beef Wellington. Or the Continental contrivance known as Veal Oscar. "I'm not changing the way I cook," says Peter Gilmore, who was chef de cuisine for 22 years at Le Bec-Fin before he opened his own 36-seat classical French restaurant in 2001. "Foie gras, sweetbreads - I can do anything that I want to out here." At Gilmore's Restaurant, Peter Gilmore commands two exquisite candlelit dining rooms that convey the luxurious feel of Le Bec-Fin without being grandiose. In this intimate 18th-century townhouse, dinner begins with a slice of seared New York foie gras over batons of roasted pineapple, followed by butter-poached lobster over melted leeks and polenta outlined with beurre rouge, concluding with three petite profiteroles filled with house-made ice cream. Susan Gilmore, the chef's wife, oversees a staff that delivers impeccable formal service without being stiff, and the handsome chef himself visits every table during dessert. Thanks to the BYO policy, the bill will average $65 per person with tax and tip - far less than the going rate on Walnut Street. A treasure.