You enter Estia's foyer, paved with the warm glow of Jerusalem limestone, and to your right is a bar of the same material, with stuffed sofas and chairs for a comfortable, cocktail-equipped wait. Authenticity takes a backseat to creative cocktails like the "Sneaky Greek" (vodka, ouzo and Grand Marnier). Straight ahead is a vast open kitchen, and just off of that is a whimsical well, surrounded by pottery jugs and amphorae. Nearby, on a bed of ice, the fish of the day are displayed, as pristine as if they had slept that day in the "wine-dark sea." The main dining room has heavy planked floors, dark wooden tables and appealing nooks set in the stone walls for more private dining. Even the vaulted ceiling is beamed, and covered either with stone or white sailcloth. This gorgeous, romantic room, screaming mega-bucks, is the product of a dream of Pete Pashalis and his son, Gus, a Johnson & Wales grad who oversees the kitchen at this new upscale taverna in Toto's old space across from the Academy of Music.

They've covered all the bases for an authentic Greek experience—a stunning space, a well-trained, knowledgeable staff, a wine list that encompasses most of the Middle East and some European selections, and an interesting, if predictable, menu. We chose to have wine by the glass, a honeyed Domaine Spiropoulos Mantinia. I don't know much about Greek wines, but thought that $30 for the least expensive bottle from Santorini was a bit much. We enjoyed the Mantinia nevertheless, with our gutsy appetizers. Eschewing the Spread Pikilia (three traditional spreads) for something different, we tried the grilled sardines, gracefully de-boned and butterflied and doused with olive oil and lemon juice that enhanced the strong, sea-wrought sardine flavor. The only pita in sight was with the Pikilia; we received fluffy white bread from the Hudson Bakery in New York for our mopping up. A giant octopus must have been the base for the charcoal-grilled octopus, done in a marinade of sweet onions, grilled peppers, capers and vinegar. The octopus is cooked first and then marinated, a reversal of the usual technique. It renders a dish that is more tender and flavorful than imaginable. On the side we nibbled the Estia chips, delightfully thin slices of zucchini and eggplant, fried in a lighter-than-tempura batter, served with tzatziki for dipping. It was an addictive, delectable offering, as were all the other mezedes. We did eye the new-to-the-menu cheese pie, a mix of feta, kefalograviera and ricotta cheeses in a phyllo crust, and the lentil soup, but how much can you eat?

Although they feature marinated lamb chops and roast chicken, the way to go is with the imported whole fish—which carry a price. From the 10 or so fish on display, we chose the tsipoura, a Mediterranean fish commonly known as dorado. It was de-boned and filleted tableside with a flourish, and drizzled with the ubiquitous oil and lemon. That was very moist and very delicate, and quite delicious, but the winner was the karavides -- langoustines (which seem to be in season now) that were as dulcet a shellfish as I have had. Sucking on the shells to gain every morsel of sweet meat is a worthy occupation and most enjoyable.

We ordered a side of potato ladorigani (baby Yukon Golds) recommended by the waiter, but they were inundated with a shower of raw onions—not for me.

For dessert, they offered chocolate souffles and yogurt-based puddings, but I think the best test of a Greek restaurant is their baklava. Estia's is elegant and high, with many layers of dough, but lacks the heavy density that you find at the Greek diner on the corner.

The only fault I can find is the pricing. People forget that the surroundings are glorious, the food sublime, the service so discreet that if you leave the table for a moment your napkin is hastily refolded, and the parking discounted next door. They only see that the fish, priced per pound, can yield a tag of $36 for Dover Sole or $45 for langoustines, and that the humble sardine goes for $13 and the even more humble octopus for $17. I don't know if Philadelphians are ready for Greek food—or any food for that matter—at these prices. The location is convenient for theater or concerts, the atmosphere is so evocative of Greece and the staff are exceedingly professional—but all this may pale beside the right-hand column of the menu. I'm told that the Pashalis family is working on this, and I hope they succeed, because Estia is the best of Greek food in the best surroundings that we've seen yet. Estia is Greek for hearth, and it's a decidedly cozy one to gather round.

Estia 1405 Locust St., 215-735-7700

Wheelchair accessible. Reservations suggested. All major credit cards. No smoking.