It's been a while since I've combined romance with a meal.

I've been in a bad mood for three months now, so the idea of going out on a dinner date is as appealing as getting a Pap smear from Ted Nugent. But my dumb assignment for this dumb week--our sticky-sweet issue, with page after page of inside jokes, stupid pet names, and lusty innuendo--was to find a dumb romantic restaurant to recommend for Valentine's Day. So I did what any cranky spinster would do: I put on a nice dress, heels, and lipstick... and I took my Big Gay Friend out on a date.

BGF and I were curious about Place Pigalle, an almost-hidden bistro overlooking Elliott Bay in one of the Pike Place Market's rare silent spots. Sitting patiently in the wings behind the mainstage of hollering fish-throwers and gabbing tourists, Place Pigalle is a delicious secret. Even locals who frequent the Market don't know it's there: one of the classiest, most romantic joints in town since 1982, when owner Bill Frank took over this former fisherman's tavern. Get a table by the windows; the view is stunning.

White linen and hushed tones and graceful service definitely rule here, but Chef Kevin Leith's seasonal menu is without airs, and the wine list is unintimidating (BGF and I tried a fabulous bottle of rioja that didn't break our bank). Even the black-and-white checkerboard floor is alternately chic French boîte and homey kitchen, at once refined and casual, much like the restaurant itself.

My warm asparagus salad ($5.75)--with shiitakes, sesame seeds, and red miso vinaigrette, draped with slender ribbons of roasted peppers--made me feel dainty, as if I was eating an appetizer for a true lady. I sat up straighter, took smaller bites, and chewed slowly, concentrating on how the sweetness of the peppers commingled with tart vinaigrette and salt-and-peppered asparagus. (There is something so exquisite, so civilized about a first course that is conservatively portioned and carefully rendered. It whets the appetite while stroking the ego.)

We swooned over the gravlax ($10.75) and the Montrachet soufflé ($8.75). "It looks so beautiful I almost don't want to eat it," BGF said of the caraway-cured morsels of salmon piled on top of cucumber squares, translucent radish discs, and grated celeriac (a bulbous root vegetable that's slightly bitter). The fish is cured on the premises, in one of the tiniest little kitchens I have ever seen in a restaurant. In fact, "pretty much everything except the bread and pasta," our waiter solemnly promised us, "is made in-house." The goat cheese and oyster mushroom soufflé--which rises tall, puffy with pride--tasted luxurious and surprisingly light, without the usual stubborn tang chèvre usually leaves on the tongue.

There is something subtly, sexily confident about Place Pigalle, an intimate energy. The way our server deftly, silently arranged fresh silverware, cleared plates, crumbed the table, and refreshed wine glasses was precisely what respectful service should be. This place knows exactly what it's doing. It has nothing left to prove.

This seductive confidence extends to entrées as well. The menu balances duck breast ("Duck Aromatique," $19.75) served with bok choy relish and lamb chops with curried eggplant ($23.75) alongside comfort dishes like roasted "Chicken Marathon" with fennel demi-glace ($16.75), pork medallions ($18.75, with plum compote and preserved lemons), and daily pasta specials. BGF's roasted rabbit roulade ($20.75) was a gratifying indulgence: moist, supple meat, not the slightest bit gamey, stuffed with chestnuts, apple bits, spinach, and blue cheese. My bouillabaisse-ish seafood in saffron broth ($19.75)--with local mussels, Manila clams, scallops, calamari, and hunks of finfish simmering in a savory bath--warmed me to the core. Stewed tomatoes and thyme provide perfect harmony for the simple seafood, which was thankfully not overcooked (a common mistake with shellfish).

Lingering long after our last drops of wine and "chocolate silk" pie ($7), BGF and I reluctantly left. Outside, it was snowing heavily, and the wind felt sharp and cold. I walked home slowly, happy and full. I was alone after a fake date, but it was one of the most deeply romantic evenings I've ever had.

Place Pigalle

81 Pike St, 624-1756. Lunch Mon-Fri 11:30 am-3 pm (Sat until 3:30); dinner Mon-Thurs 5:30-10 pm (Fri-Sat 6-11); closed Sundays.