Food & Drink

Introducing the snobbiest restaurant in New York

It’s 11 o’clock on a recent Tuesday morning, and Le Bilboquet is already bustling. Women in head-to-toe Lululemon — sporting fresh-from-the-salon blowouts — and men in tailored Zegna blazers and wrapped scarves stream through the front doors, kissing and waving.

No matter that the French boîte doesn’t open for another hour.

“Philippe, Philippe!” they shout.

Philippe Delgrange, the 61-year-old restaurateur, breaks from arranging the bar cocktail napkins to greet his admirers.

Kiss kiss. Kiss kiss.

“I need a table for six on Friday,” says one man.

“Philippe, darling, I’m coming in for lunch tomorrow around 1,” chimes in a woman.

Delgrange shouts to someone in the back to make a note, chatting with each customer about his or her children and parents, until the next one steals his attention. He seems frazzled, but endearingly so, as one would expect of a boyish Frenchman who looks like a young Gérard Depardieu — knit tie, cashmere vest and all.

“We have the phone off the hook,” explains Delgrange. “Right now, I think the wait is a little big.”

Not that he should be surprised. Fans have been anticipating the reopening of Le Bilboquet ever since the lease expired on its teeny Upper East Side digs last December.

As famous for its Cajun chicken as it was for its Saturday lunch disco parties, Le Bilboquet was a staple for the chic and the Euro for 27 years, reeling in boldfacers such as Jessica Biel and Marc Jacobs.

“There has been a whole crowd of people, nomads, roaming the city looking for a spot ever since Bilboquet closed,” says 53-year-old Brian Benstock, who trekked from Locust Valley, L.I., four times a week to dine at the old spot. “And now that it’s open, they can’t wait to get back at it.”

According to Delgrange, billionaire businessman and foe-turned-friend Ron Perelman tried to buy the old building to save Le Bilboquet, but couldn’t seal the deal (despite having waged war in 2004 over the old space’s “illegal” sidewalk seats, he is now one of the restaurant’s partners).

The new, bigger Bilbo opened last month at 20 E. 60th St., a mere three blocks south of the original nook.

It’s more than four times the size of its predecessor, boasting 100 seats — a significant boost from the previous 35 rattan chairs. But other things haven’t changed, including the lack of signage and the simple bistro feel: white tablecloths, black-and-white photography and music that gets louder as the night goes on.

Delgrange admits he’s not in love with the location: “There was nothing else available. This block doesn’t bring any class or style to the neighborhood,” he laments.

But it’s not deterring Bilbo-philes.

“It’s a very hard space to get into,” says Isis Arruda, the part-time hostess. Look for a second like you don’t belong, and Arruda will crack open the glass door just wide enough to tell you they are full.

After all, Le Bilboquet caters to the masters of understated glamour and A-listers like former President Bill Clinton, Jamie Foxx, Hugh Jackman, Charlie Rose, Sting — and Stephen Dorff, all of whom made for a motley dinner crew on a recent Tuesday.

Marjoe Gortner, a 69-year-old actor, says Bilbo’s pretension is its calling card — and an adored one at that.

“The snobbery is fabulous,” he says with a smile. “I’ve seen people come in here, and the place is completely empty and they look up and they say, ‘We are totally booked.’ ”

One young couple has hatched a plan to go to Le Bilboquet every Monday at 6 p.m. in hopes of getting on Delgrange’s good side.

“We want to become regulars!” says the 33-year-old doctor, who asked to remain nameless.

“If I don’t like you, it’s not going to happen,” cautions Delgrange. “But if I like you, you are part of my family.”

“I miss the old location,” admits Maxine Muster, a 22-year-old student. “But [the new location] already feels like it’s an establishment.

“[Delgrange has] carried that legend over with him.”