It doesn't have quite the ring of "Breakfast at Brennan's," the concept and catch-phrase that catapulted the restaurant to national renown in the 1940s and '50s. Indeed, executive chef Michael Roussel calls dinner at Brennan's the best-kept secret in town. If so, the restaurant's fabulous food, superb setting and high-toned service make it a secret well worth knowing.

Yet Brennan's-bashing remains a popular local sport. It's way overpriced, the accusation goes, and overrun by underdressed tourists who can't tell the difference between reputation and the real thing.

Brennan's certainly is no place for the budget conscious, with entree prices in the over-$30 class at dinner ranking it among the most expensive restaurants in town. But those dollars go to buy some of the finest prime beef and fresh seafood available, and help stock a huge wine cellar second to none in New Orleans.

As for tourists, they may well pack the place for those famous breakfasts, and some may look like they just wandered in from a fraternity beer bust. But management requests that men wear jackets after dark, and a nighttime meal when the convention pace slows can mean unhurried dining among well-dressed customers in an atmosphere of elegance and serenity.

Once the food arrives, restraint largely gives way to opulence. Brennan's adroitly prepares haute Creole fare of the kind that once defined fine dining in New Orleans, with luxuriant sauces shimmering seductively on abundant servings of seafood or meat.

Indulgence is the byword, yet not without balance. The kitchen's deft execution combines with ingredients of stunning quality to create magnificently memorable meals.

Brennan's is a place to celebrate, in more ways than one.

In the flagstone carriage way that serves as the restaurant's entrance on Royal Street, a portrait of the founder, Owen E. Brennan, hangs in a place of honor. When he took over the old Vieux Carre restaurant across Bourbon Street from his bar 50 years ago, the bright lights and tile floor gave way to candles and carpet, the standard a la carte French menu was replaced by an English one with specially named dishes, and the Brennan style was born.

Owens' younger sisters and brothers followed him into the business, with Ella and Dick emerging in the forefront of the operation. In 1955, the family settled on a landmark Creole townhouse at 417 Royal St. as a new home for the restaurant. But with renovations still under way, Owen died of a heart attack at 45

The Brennan's pushed on, moving to the new building in 1956, and their reputation continued to grow. Owens' sons, Owen "Pip" Jr., Jimmy and Ted, ultimately joined the family enterprise, which expanded to Houston, Dallas and Atlanta.

But by 1973, the three sons fell out with their aunts and uncles. Ella, Dick and company split for Commander's Palace, a venerable Garden District restaurant purchased a few years before; since then, they've raised it to glory while opening other restaurants in and out of New Orleans. Except for a venture called Anything Goes, a wacky theme steakhouse that opened and closed years ago on Iberville Street, Pip, Jimmy and Ted have tended to business on Royal Street.

For most of the last 40 years, so has Mike Roussel. He joined Brennan's as a bus boy in 1956 and later returned from a military culinary school to work in the kitchen. For 20 years, he's presided over an expansive menu that evolves gradually, retaining old favorites while adding some new dishes that stay well within the established boundaries. Pasta, served with only one dinner entree, is about as exotic as it gets.

The crepe Barbara typifies the Brennan's approach, an impossibly lush appetizer enfolding silken crabmeat and shrimp in a delicate wrapper awash in hollandaise sauce. From the classic Creole repertoire comes oysters Rockefeller, at Brennan's an intriguing blend of chopped parsley, celery, green onion and butter spooned over the oyster and dashed with herbsaint and Tabasco.

The lively remoulade arrives with a greenish tinge, thanks to more celery and parsley in the mustardy mix clinging to the firm shrimp. The kitchen conveniently does the peeling for the barbecue shrimp, a starter of admirably mellowed redolence.

Brennan's turtle soup stands out as a well-tuned tomato-y broth liberally threaded with turtle meat and laced with sherry and cayenne. The dark roux-seafood arrives robust and inky, if a bit murky.

Chanteclair is a folklore term for a crowing rooster, the Brennan's logo, but the signature tournedos chanteclair entree is all beef: three mouth-watering medallions of prime filet, anointed in turn by satiny béarnaise, choron and Marchand de Vin sauce. A single, perfectly tender slice of prime filet, just edgy with peppercorns, plays marvelous counterpoint to the velvety vigor of barbecued shrimp in another outstanding entree.

Robert Kottwitz, the advertising man who designed the logo, gives his name to a pair of entrees. One smothers sautéed shards of succulent baby veal under a mound of sliced artichoke bottoms and mushrooms, the whole lavished by a lemon butter sauce.

Trout or other fresh white fish also gets Kottwitzed, while luscious lump crabmeat and capers substitute for the artichokes and mushrooms atop a wondrous flaky filet in the Nancy rendition. Redfish or a first-rate stand-in revels royally in crabmeat, shrimp and hollandaise in the sumptuous seafood Perez. And a thick, glistening slab of grilled salmon soars to dizzying heights as a filet Audubon, adorned with shrimp, hollandaise and a hint of Creole mustard.

The beat goes on at dessert, a source of sinfully rich satisfaction. Featured performers include the astonishing crepes Bridget and Fitzgerald, both filled with a scintillating confection of cream cheese and sour cream, the one awash in silky chocolate sauce, the other generously bedecked with strawberries.

The Bananas Foster, invented at Brennan's decades ago, remains a staggering, sugary standout. And the awesome lemon curd tartelette bids for greatness on its own, achieving a sublime synthesis of sweet and tart.

For all its splendor, the food at Brennan's does not overshadow the setting.

The 200-year-old townhouse surrounds a magnificent tree-shaded courtyard, and several of the dozen dining rooms scattered through the building afford views of the patio through a sweep of glass. The first of those rooms, an intimate space just off the foyer, sets a gracious tone with its crystal chandeliers, pale gray walls, soft carpet and flickering candlelight. Waiters and bus boys, formally correct in black jackets and bow ties, provide polished service to match.

An old red-brick slave quarters at the rear of the courtyard shelters Brennan's world-class wine cellar, a trove of 3,000 different wines totaling 35,000 bottles. The list runs to 56 pages, cataloging a collection especially deep in wines from California and Burgundy and Bordeaux reds.

There are, of course, dozens of wines in the three-figure price range, but there are also many choices in the teens, 20s and 30s. The 1991 Rully from Olivier Leflaive, for example, offers smooth appeal in a white Burgundy for $25. At $35, Louis Jadot's 1991 Beaune Clos Des Ursules marries fruit and finesse in a red Burgundy with a lovely, lingering finish.

For a wine aficionado, the delight in drinking a fine bottle drawn from a great cellar profoundly enhances the meal. But even for a teetotaler, a dinner at Brennan's can be an experience intoxicating with pleasure.