When a restaurant loses its namesake chef, tongues start to wag. But now they are stilled. Jean-Pierre survived the rift, none the worse for it. I remains the French restaurant about which I hear the fewest complaints. The dining room always did operate smoothly, and the kitchen keeps up its tradition. Any restaurant makes mistakes; at Jean-Pierre they are kept to a minimum. No dish in town surpasses their baby lobster in white butter sauce; in fact, no lobster eaten on the docks of Maine has tasted better. They continue space with what has made Jean-Pierre famous: rabbit cosseted with a creamy beige mustart sauce, venison as tender and juicy as filet, in a dark caramelized sauce, accompanied by a creamy chestnut puree. You can still depend on their quenelles, their veal. If there is a pronounced difference in the cooking between Jean-Pierre the restaurant and Jean-Pierre the ex-chef-partner, now owner-chef of Lion d'Or, it is that the new chef seasons more subty. His mustard sauce is not as pungent, his nantua less spicy. It is not a matter of quality, it is a matter of preference. The restaurant has held its own (despite a redscoraling job which changed the colors but didn't much improve the nondescript room). The next step is to innovate, to evolve a menu which is distinctly Jean-Pierre (the restaurant).