Fond

A couple of old friends (both ex-coworkers of mine) and I finally managed to get together a few nights ago. Given our disparate labor schedules, not to mention other requirements in life, such meetings have become far too few and distant between. When the stars finally do align, though, you can pretty much count on both wine and food being involved. One can also depend on all of us bringing along a bottle or four that we want to share with each other, often something that we suspect the others may not have had in a while, maybe even something that holds a little in the way of sentimental value. On most such occasions, contributions are pretty evenhanded; on this night, though, I took all but total control of the wine corner, as I was in the mood not just to drink some cool stuff but, more importantly, to turn my buds on to some wines I was pretty sure they'd never had the chance to experience.

An aperitif started things rolling right, a glass for each of us of the second oldest wine yet "newest" vintage of the night, the 2000 Rioja Gran Reserva Rosado "Viña Tondonia" from R. Lopez de Heredia. I'd actually tasted the '98 rosado with one of my cohorts a few months earlier but, as fate would have it, it wasn't a stellar bottle. This one I really wanted to be right and it was, really lovely stuff, oxidative at first whiff but still very young, full of potpourri, wood spice and coconut oil aromas and an overall impression of warm, sun-baked sands.

The scene of the crime, by the way, was Fond, a BYOB spot in the burgeoning, cultural polyglot of a neighborhood that is South Philly's East Passyunk Avenue corridor. I'd eaten at Fond once before with satisfying enough results but on this night chef Lee Styer and crew were cooking at another level.

To a man, we started with Fond's veal sweetbreads, fried to a fine balance between external crispiness and internal creaminess, seasoned just one stop short of the end of the line, and very nicely appointed with the sweetness of wilted onions and rich simplicity of a sunny-up egg. Radikon's 2002 Venezia-Giulia Ribolla Gialla, poured from its signature thin-necked 500 ml bottle, proved not only surprisingly primary, predictably golden and snappily tannic, but also a more than admirable match with our salty, savory plates of ris de veau. Proof aplenty that orange wine really isn't just for uni.

My dining companions both opted for the squab, the chef's special for the day. A killer choice, I must add — one of my buddies, an alum of Le Bec Fin, where squab was a signature dish for many a year, proclaimed it the best he'd ever had. I, however, couldn't pass up on the hangar steak, which was cooked pretty much to perfection and finished with a damn tasty sauce Bordelaise.

Here, I "let" the guys slide in a sentimental choice, a bottle of 1999 Valtellina Superiore Sassella from La Castellina della Fondazione Fojanini. This is a wine we all once sold and that, I believe, its owner had hoped to share with a recently departed friend. It was richer than I remember but otherwise as expected, just barely softening and inching toward some signs of bottle development, a great-value example of how age-worthy, not to mention compelling, the wines of Nebbiolo-based wines of Valtellina can be.

I think we were all in agreement, though, that the youngster in the bunch turned out to be the wine of the night. Bernard Baudry's 2007 Chinon "La Croix Boissée" was drinking beautifully. Disgracefully young as it was, the Baudrys' wine, like the food that night, was firing on all cylinders, showing richness aligned with grace and displaying all the classic traits of Chinon grown in Cravant les Coteaux — floral, herbal and grassy, full of cassis and blueberry fruit, all seasoned with a liberal sprinkling of mineral extract. Ten more years should do this one much, much good. No matter, though. It provided a long overdue introduction to Baudry for a certain member of the Chevaliers de Chezelet, paired wonderfully with my steak, and made for a great way to wrap up and savor an evening among friends.


Fond
1617 East Passyunk Avenue
Philadelphia, PA 19148
(215) 551-5000

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Halloween Brunch at North Third

With no offense intended to our eventual destination, when we set off toward Northern Liberties at midday, it was a late breakfast we had in mind, at the downhome/Jewish all-day mash-up that is Honey's Sit 'n' Eat. Oddly enough, I've only been to the breakfast-centric Honey's for dinner. Now I know why I've been avoiding it at breakfast/brunch time, at least on weekends. Apparently it's the NoLibs equivalent of Morning Glory. The thirty-five minute wait the host cited looked, from the mass of humanity lined up on the "payment" (yeah, I know, it's not South Philly), more like it would be an hour and thirty-five.

So on we went. Heading east along Brown Street it wasn't long before North Third came into focus. Not having eaten there in ages, we figured it was due for a spin. Not a bad decision in any respect as it would turn out. Though things were bustling here, too, we were able to snag a couple of prime seats at the bar. After a scan of the menu and a quick glance at the taps, I suddenly found myself craving something more savory than I'd been thinking when we set out earlier in the day. Turns out my dining companion was thinking along the same lines. Having a hard time deciding between the two most appealing items on offer, we realized there was no need to choose. Just order them both, and a couple of pints (it was after noon by now, after all) to wash them down.

Apparently a new addition to the menu for the Halloween weekend, North Third's breakfast cassoulet was quite satisfying, definitely deserving of a regular spot in the rotation. At the dish's core was a tender yet still toothsome combo of white beans and black eyed peas, slow cooked and deeply infused with the woodsy, porky influence of double-smoked bacon. A generous dusting of toasty breadcrumbs was a nice touch, traditional yet also working in the breakfast theme, especially in company with the two over-medium eggs that topped the dish. My only gripe? If you're going to list duck confit and polish sausage among the cassoulet's ingredients, then there should be some confit and sausage; I was hard-pressed to find any evidence of either. That said, it was an $11 dollar brunch plate, not a $20 pièce de résistance, and the dish was tasty enough to please without them.

Chili and eggs holds a regular place on the brunch menu at North Third, and represents a repurposing of one of the more popular items on the dinner menu at this comfort-food-centric spot. The serving size made the cassoulet seem petit in comparison but that's okay; it meant we had leftovers to take home for lunch the next day. Working from the bottom up, we're talking about a generous portion of moist, honey-sweetened corn bread, followed by a couple of over-medium eggs, then a generous ladling of meaty chili, topped off with a little melted cheddar, and accompanied by some pretty well executed roasted potatoes. The pile of condiments (jalapeños, salsa, sour cream) seemed unnecessary to me given the ample flavor of the chili. Again, just one gripe: rosemary is a good seasoning choice for chili, but either put a whole sprig in the pot and then remove it before service or chop the needles; unexpectedly chawing down on a whole needle really isn't all that pleasant.

The bar was decked out for the halloween weekend, which, along with the natural light flowing in from the windows along Third and Brown, made it the most inviting (to me, at least) spot in the restaurant. Though my pint of Victory Festbier was a bit imbalanced toward the sweet malt end of the spectrum for my tastes, it worked fine with the hearty fare and seemed too appropriate not to drink given the October-ending occasion.

Is North Third a destination restaurant? Nope. But it, or a spot like it, would be a welcome neighbor in most any hood.

North Third
801 N 3rd Street
Philadelphia, PA 19123
(215) 413-3666

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Parker Rants at Bibou's Expense

Consider a recent statement from a regarded critic:

"...the food was as great a bistro fare as one can imagine...the snail ragout, boudin noir, terrine en crout, out-of-this-world beef marrow bones as well as superb stuffed pig's feet with foie gras over a bed of black lentils had me in Rabelaisien Nirvana."

Then consider this:

"...better yet [there was] no precious sommelier trying to sell us some teeth enamel removing wine with acid levels close to toxic, made by some sheep farmer on the north side of his 4,000-foot foot elevation vineyard picked two months before ripeness, and made from a grape better fed to wild boar than the human species....we all know the type-saving the world from drinking good wine in the name of vinofreakism."

Seems kind of hard to believe they were uttered by the same person yet they were, by none other than the wine advocate himself, Robert Parker. Apparently, Parker dined a few nights ago at one of my favorite restaurants in Philadelphia, Bibou. That's him in the photo (above right), arms draped over the couple behind Bibou, Charlotte and Pierre Calmels. You can view the photo and quotes above, along with a laundry list of what Parker drank, in their original context at Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Michael Klein's blog, The Insider.

What really strikes me about the above diatribe is not so much the obvious case of diarrhea of the mouth but rather the fact that Robert Parker found it necessary to turn a simple moment — a photo op and a chance to send some much deserved praise the way of an excellent neighborhood bistro — into a self-serving opportunity to protect his own crumbling hegemony. What he's trying to protect against, lest I've left you scratching your head, is from what he obviously views as the culprit of his seemingly waning influence: the conversely increasing influence, erosive as Parker apparently views it, of independently voiced — and often freely disseminated — current trends in wine thought. Clearly, the emperor is piling on the moth balls in his own defense.

I could easily see someone thinking, "Okay, McDuff, you're just taking this as your own Parker-like opportunity to put a spin on things, to self-promote." But I have no such illusions of grandeur. If Parker was thinking of any one person, it may have been Alice Feiring, true-wine advocate extraordinaire and author of "The Battle for Wine and Love: or How I Saved the World from Parkerization." However, I think what Parker was actually having a meltdown over is, again, the ever increasing influence of an ever increasing number of voices being publicly expressed in the wine world. Bloggers, writers, sommeliers, retailers, bulletin board subscribers, distributors and importers, heck, maybe even collectors....

It's not really about what Parker called "vinofreakism." Rather, there is an undeniable backlash, though it's hardly universal, against what another wine critic, Eric Asimov, has coined "the tyranny of the tasting note." In this context, perhaps it's even more appropriate to think of as the tyranny of the wine rating system. Parker, like many of his peers at other major wine publications, has built his empire upon it and he is now clearly feeling the pinch.

* * *

On a more grassroots, more down-to-earth level, what I'm just as galled by is the possibility that Parker's diatribe might actually turn-off some true wine and food lovers to the idea of dining at Bibou. What a nasty case of guilt-by-association that would be.

Parker was right about at least a few of the things he was quoted as saying in Klein's article. The food at Bibou is indeed top-notch, an example of French country/bistro cuisine at its finest. And, as I pointed out in my original review of Bibou, everything about the BYOB, from the ease of its food to the quality of stemware and service, makes it a great place to take a broad variety of wines, be they classic or adventurous, heavy-hitters or simple pleasures.

The very same dish of foie-gras stuffed pig's trotters over a bed of lentils, mentioned by Parker, was a highlight of my last visit. Rich it was but over-the-top, as it might sound, it was not. All its elements were in harmony.

On that same August trip, the 2007 Chablis of Gilbert Picq showed much better than Nicolas Joly's Savennières "Les Clos Sacrés" 2005.

Likewise, Coudert's 2007 Fleurie "Clos de la Roilette Cuvée Tardive" was in a prettier spot than the 2006 Arbois Poulsard "Vieilles Vignes" from Tissot.

The real star of the lineup, though, was a bottle of 1997 Château Musar, eloquently expressive and a delight with the pig's foot and lentils.

So, I hope my point in this second half of my own little diatribe is even more obvious than that expressed in part one. Go to Bibou. Take good wine. Enjoy the company of good friends. Eat well. And leave the agenda where it belongs.



Bibou
1009 South 8th Street
(between Carpenter and Washington)
Philadelphia, PA 19147
215-965-8290

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Ride Fresh Ride Local

Just a quick post today to give my fellow Philly-area pedalers the heads-up on a couple of upcoming farm, food, and cycling related events. Beer figures into both, too, so despair not my thirsty brethren.

Next Sunday, September 19, 2010, the folks from Fair Food Philadelphia and Weaver's Way Co-Op will be leading their annual Urban Farm Bike Tour. (Thanks to PhillyFoodie for reminding me of this one.) The ride starts in the Kensington section of town and stops at, you guessed it, urban farms throughout Philadelphia before eventually winding its way to the finish at Weaver's Way Farm in East Mount Airy (Philadelphia), where there will be a grillin' and chillin' party for the hungry and thirsty participants. This year's event sees the addition of a longer 28-mile option, on top of the usual 14-mile loop. For more information and to register for one of the rides, head on over to the Weaver's Way pages.

The following Sunday, September 26, 2010, the Southeastern branch of the Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture (PASA) will be hosting the 3rd annual edition of Bike Fresh Bike Local. The event's name plays on PASA's ongoing Buy Fresh Buy Local campaign. Less a stop-and-go farm tour than it is a more traditional fund raising-style ride, Bike Fresh Bike Local nonetheless heads through the heart of SE PA farm country. All routes — there are 25, 50 and 75 mile options — will run through the 300-acre Springton Manor Farm, where farm tours will be available. All routes start and finish at the headquarters of event sponsor Victory Brewing Company, in Downingtown, PA. Register early and you'll score a Buy Fresh Buy Local t-shirt; all entrants will be fed a local lunch and a free post-ride brewski at Victory.

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A First Look at Adsum

"I am here" (or at least I was a few nights ago). That's the chosen name, in its Latin form "adsum," for the new Queen Village/Southwark-based bistro owned and operated by Chef Matt Levin. The moniker seems not so much a statement of hubris as it is a conveyor of personal space. Levin has moved away, at least in part, from the intensive molecular gastronomy approach that earned him accolades during his stint as top chef at Lacroix, moving more toward, as he suggested in an interview with Meal Ticket earlier this year, food he'd actually take comfort in eating himself.

Beyond the obvious shift toward simplicity relative to the Lacroix days, Levin's new approach begs a simple question: does the food at Adsum actually deliver on the promise of comfort? Let's take a look.

Foie gras poutine
This dish would seem a sure hit on the comfort scale, in spite of the PETA-pounding, haute-cuisine knock up added by the fatted liver. The idea was right, and the combination clever, but the execution could use some work. Bordering on being both overcooked and under-seasoned, the duck-fat fries were tepid when delivered to the table. The rest of the elements — foie gras, cheese curds and gravy — were right on, though there wasn't quite enough gravy to go around.


Grilled rock octopus, black pepper caramel
This sounded much more unusual on paper than it was on the plate, as the "black pepper caramel" essentially boils down to being barbecue sauce — and very tasty, I might add. The octopus was cooked perfectly, ever so lightly crisped by the grill on the exterior but tender and just a wee bit snappy, not at all tough or chewy, at its core. The char from the grilling combined with the caramelized sauce to form a granular texture that didn't really bother me but was slightly off-putting to my dining companion.


Fried chicken, collards, ham hocks, hot sauce
Along with the FG poutine, the fried chicken seems destined to be the signature dish at Adsum. Philadelphia Inquirer food columnist Rick Nichols has already deemed it the best fried chicken in the city. While I can't say I've eaten my fried chicken way around town to the extent that Rick has, I can certainly see why he liked it so much; the chicken itself was drop dead delicious. The battered skin was ightly crisped and crunchy without being at all overbearing or greasy while the meat was juicy, moist and almost flaky in its delicacy.

More crumbly than flaky, the biscuit, a clear nod to the dish's southern origins (as if the chicken and collards weren't clear enough) was flavorful but too dry, needing either a dose of gravy or a more breakfast-oriented slathering of butter and jam to render it less palate parching. And the ham-hocked, hot-sauced collards? At first bite they were a revelation — surprisingly tender yet toothsome, highly caramelized yet still delivering the requisite kicks of vinegar and porky goodness. As the bites continued, however, the red pepper hot sauce driven heat built and built, eventually to the point that it was robbing the dish of its otherwise nuanced flavors.


Whole fish, shrimp salt, popped wild rice, green sauce
Popped rice – little more than a gimmicky distraction adorning the corner of the plate – aside, this was the most completely satisfying and well balanced dish of the night, helped along no doubt by the first appearance of any seasonal ingredients. Though the skin on our black bass could have benefited from just a bit more pan-crisping, the fish itself was moist, flavorful and cooked to a tee, with a welcome brightness provided by the tangy spice of the green sauce, a sort of guacamole/tomatillo salsa hybrid.

The real star of the night.

Mama's Little Yella Pils, Oskar Blues Brewery, Lyons, Colorado.
Much like at nearby Southwark (one block due east at 4th & Bainbridge) and Chick's Cafe (two blocks west at 7th & Kater), the primary focus of the beverage program at Adsum appears to be cocktails. There's a list of six or seven house concoctions that looked not only quite creative but also quite inviting, enough so that I'd happily venture back for a drink at the bar sometime. I'm not a fan of cocktails with food, though, so it was on to the wine list I went.... And then, quickly, on to the beer list, which thankfully included several things I'd actually opt to drink, regardless of circumstances. "Mama's Little Yella Pils" actually struck me more like a kolsch, round, clean and less bitter than the classic Pilsner profile. Just the refreshing kick needed for a hot night in the city, and a fine accompaniment to the broad spectrum of flavors and textures that crossed our plates.

There's some dialing-in to be done in the kitchen at Adsum. The wine list needs major improvement, or at least corkage needs to be allowed. But overall, there's plenty to recommend and, certainly, plenty of potential.



Adsum
700 South 5th Street
(at Bainbridge)
Philadelphia, PA 19147
(267) 888-7002

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TDF 2010 Stage 17: Pau to Col du Tourmalet

I wonder what the time limit was for "today's" Stage 17. It's a moot point now, for no matter how generous the officials may have been to the flatlanders of the Tour peloton, I'm finishing way outside the limit — and breaking my own promise of posting on a same day, every day basis throughout Le Tour. What can I say? Yesterday was just too busy. An early day at the office. Co-leading a wine and chocolate pairing seminar at Tria Fermentation School. Dinner in town after class. And I still had to watch the Tour! No time left to post, my friends. So here it is, my Stage 17 report, a day late. Relegate me if you must but please don't send me packing. There are only three more stages to go!



Yesterday's leg began in Pau, again in the heart of Jurançon country, more or less running in a reverse direction to that taken in Stage 16, to an eventual finish atop the Col du Tourmalet, the last classified climb in this year's Tour. In spite of the two tough Category 1 climbs — the Col de Marie-Blanque and Col du Soulor — encountered near the midpoint of the day's course, the real fireworks waited for the final ascent up the big mountain. All the way up the big mountain. The Tour has visited the Tourmalet on 73 occasions over the last 100 years (remember, this year marks the centennial of the Tour's first trip to the Pyrénées); however, this was only the second time in the history of the race that a stage finished at the summit, the other being in 1974.

Alberto Contador and Andy Schleck, the top two men in the 2010 Tour de France, fighting it out on the slopes of the Col du Tourmalet.
Photo courtesy of and © AFP Photo

While much of Stage 17 was fought at elevations too extreme for wine growing, the course very much ran through a rugged area of France with very strong ties to the culture of food and wine: Basque country. If there's anything the citizens of the Basque country are crazier about than their local drinks and foodstuffs, it's cycling — and rugby, but that's a topic I'll leave to others. If you had a chance to watch yesterday's stage coverage, you'll have seen throngs of rabid cycling fans lining the slopes of the Cols, and a preponderance of orange shirts and red, white and green flags: the Ikurriña, the official flag of Spanish Basque country and the widely adopted symbol of Euskal Herria, the entirety of Basque country. In this part of the Pyrénées, the cultural border blurs. Even though the Tour commentators pointed out that the majority of fans lining the slopes of the Tourmalet had traveled across the border from spain, it's also quite likely that many of those orange shirted, flag waving schmengies (to borrow a Bob Roll-ism) live on the French side of the border. Either way, it's clear from the number of Ikurriñas on display that they'd rather think of themselves as Basque citizens, official borders be damned.

If there was a benefit to not finding the time for my same-day coverage yesterday, it was the opportunity to revisit a restaurant in Philly that I hadn't been to in quite some time, José Garces' second spot in town, the Basque-inspired Tinto. The increasingly all-Spanish wine list at Tinto also gave me the chance to explore something I drink all too rarely — a wine from the southern side of the Basque country (exactly the opposite of "tomorrow's" guest blogger, as you'll soon see).

The cold, rainy, foggy conditions faced by riders and fans alike in yesterday's Pyrénéean escapade may not have been evocative of ideal rosado weather. Nonetheless, I'd still be hard pressed to think of anything I'd rather drink with a sandwich of Jamón Ibérico while waiting to cheer the racers up the mountains than the 2009 Getariako Txakolina "Rubentis" from Ameztoi, which the sommelier at Tinto poured for us by the glass last night. Delicately fruity, decidedly saline and mineral, low-alcohol and ultra-refreshing given its light effervescence. Killer stuff, and it made me want to return to San Sebastian — for more Txakoli, a little Basque cider, and some real-deal pintxos — in a big way.

Up next: another side of Basque country.

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Some People I Met Rolling Around on the Ground at Space 1026

For those waiting for my report on 2006 Barolo, I'll be back on the Piemonte trail in due course. On this most Philly of weekends, though, my attentions and wanderings turn closer to home. Last night, the ever present urge to explore my own city led me to a gallery on the edge of Chinatown, Space 1026, for the First Friday opening of a group Move exhibition, curated by artist, zine penner and Move founder Rich Jacobs. It seems Rich is a relatively computer-free kind of guy, so you can read more about him here, should you wish.

Rich made music, too. That's him at left, sitting in for an improv session with Texan Tim Kerr (or Noisemaker Tim, as my friend Bert likes to call him), in motion at top, and a cat from Baltimore who I met but damned if I don't have a horrible memory for names.

An indefatigable interest in eclectic, expressive art aside, what really led me to 1026 was the chance to catch up with a very old friend, Bert Queiroz. Bert and I spent a great deal of our late-teens and 20s hanging out together in and around the music scene in 1980s Washington, DC. We traveled to Europe together in 1986, the first time across the pond for either one of us, rolling around – from London to Leeds to Edingburgh, on to Paris, Nice, Madrid, Barcelona, Rome and Venice, Munich, both sides of Berlin, Amsterdam, then back to London – for the better part of the summer. I hadn't seen him in close to fifteen years, not since I left northern Jersey for Philadelphia. Through the wonderful, frightening world of social networking, we did manage to reconnect not long ago, and when I saw that he was coming to Philly to show some of his photographs in the Move exhibition I dropped him a line. The rest is last night's history.

Photographing the photographer with his photographs.

It was great to catch up with an old friend. Bert's photos in the show (below) were all scenes from a life: among them a self-portrait, Guy Picciotto in action, riot police in less pleasant action, and Coney Island, one of Bert's favorite shooting grounds.

Among the nearly 50 artists with pieces included in this installation of Move, the works of Tim Kerr were the most prominently represented. I never really knew Tim but when last I saw him, he was up to much different things, playing guitar for seminal Austin, Texas skate punk funkers, Big Boys. Though he did pick up an amplified six string for last night's gathering, I'm given to understand he leans much more toward the banjo these days, as well as to, quite obviously and strongly, the brush.

Sandwiched between the works of Bert Q. and Tim K. were more photographs from another old friend who was in for last night's event, Cynthia Connolly, who I hadn't seen in even longer than Bert. Those are a couple of her photo-documentary style prints to the left of Tim's works in the above shot. And below, that's her in the flesh, green t-shirted, right smack in the middle of what was meant to be a random shot of the room and crowd at Space 1026.

Funny thing is, my shutter captured not only Cynthia but at least a couple of other people I know from around town, or came to know over the course of last night. And it missed a couple of others. It's crazy what a small town Philly can be, and more wonderful yet how much can change over the years while so much else can stay so much the same.

Asa Osborne of Baltimore post-HC band Lungfish, performing under his solo-project moniker Zomes, closed out the evening's musical sit-ins with a few droning, darkly aggressive yet subtly melodic pieces on the electric keys and tape loops.

And closing out this evening's post, here's a little fun(k) from an earlier time.



Space 1026
1026 Arch Street, 2nd Floor
Philadelphia, PA 19107
215-574-7630

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Beer Dinner at Midatlantic Restaurant Tomorrow Night

It's only ten days now until the start of the 10-day long Philly Beer Week. (Where else but Philly does a "week" built around beer last ten days?) For those who can't wait, or for those who can but are nevertheless always thirsty and hungry, there's an event in town tomorrow night that offers everyone a chance to get their warm-up on.

The crew in the kitchen at Midatlantic Restaurant will be teaming up with the fermenting squad from Dock Street Brewing Company to deliver a three-course menu, with each dish paired to a Dock Street brew. The event runs from 7:00 - 9:30 PM tomorrow, May 26, 2010. The cost: a mid-week savvy $30/person. The place: Midatlantic Restaurant, 3711 Market Street, Philadelphia, PA. Click on the flier below to see the full details.
Personally, I'm particularly jazzed to check out Dock Street's Rye IPA poured from a freshly tapped firkin, and to see what new energy and touches Chef Bryan Sikora (full disclosure: Bryan is an old friend) has brought to the table since recently joining Daniel Stern's team at Midatlantic.

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Reliably Odd, Oddly Reliable

Those of you, fair readers, who are based in the Philadelphia area are very likely growing tired of my bemoaning the lack of exciting wine lists in our fraternal city. Believe me when I say that if more restaurants would pour something enticing, I'd go and drink it. When Tria was featuring Jacques Puffeney's Poulsard "M" on their list last winter, I probably helped them through the better part of half their inventory. The fact is, though, I continue to struggle to find a restaurant that consistently offers a list with any depth of options I really want to drink, as opposed to selections for which I'll settle in a pinch. It's one of the reasons that I'm so glad – so, so glad – that Philly has developed such a vibrant BYOB dining scene.

BYOBs don't always fit the bill, though. Even I don't always like to hoof it around town with a gunny sack full of bottles of wine slung over my shoulder. And I hate to pass up the possibility of discovering great food just because I can't bring my own bottle. Add to that the spontaneity of simply being able to walk into a place without any advance preparations. You get the picture. So, once in a while I do end up settling.

Cirò Rosso Classico, Librandi 2007
$40 on the wine list at Amis. ?% alcohol (didn't pay attention). Cork. Importer: Leonardo Locascio Selections, Winebow, New York, NY.
Luckily, Gaglioppo is one of those vines that's so intrinsically characterful that it manages to maintain its voice even in relatively innoccuous versions. (Is it the Pineau d'Aunis of Southern Italy?) And Librandi is one of those commercial-leaning wineries that manages to turn out wines that are still consistently characterful enough to provide real interest in the glass.

Librandi's expression of Cirò Classico may not hold the same geek appeal of the more artisanal version from the confoundingly similarly named winery, Linardi (brown wine, anyone?), but it still captures the personality of its autochthonously Calabrian main ingredient. When first opened, actually, it was alarmingly sweaty. But that nervous smell blew off once the wine had a chance to relax, revealing Cirò's typically zesty, black olive and spicy earth scented fruit. Combined with its lively texture, medium acidity, light-to-medium body and fine, raspy tannins, it turned out to be a pretty versatile match with everything my friend Joseph and I ordered at Amis, from a simple plate of bucatini alla “matriciana” to some bolder explorations through the fifth quarter.

The food was good. The company, too. The wine was perfectly satisfactory. As for shelling out $40 for a bottle that retails for about $12, that's just another all too common condition we suffer through here in the Commonopoly of Pennsylvania.

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A Burger and a Beer at Swift Half Pub

It's really only by way of happy accident that our core BP-weekend group ended up at Swift Half Pub for lunch and to commence our adventures in pub crawling. At the request of my three Philly loving comrades, we'd actually headed out to Northern Liberties with lunch at Standard Tap in mind; problem was, I'd forgotten that Standard does lunch only on Saturday and Sunday.... So, a quick walk up 2nd Street it was. We momentarily contemplated Cantina Dos Segundos, but the Denverite amongst our group shot down that idea as he gets his regular fill of Mexican food back home on the Front Range. Continuing on then, we soon found ourselves at the Piazza at Schmidt's.

The Piazza itself is actually worth a visit if you find yourself in the neighborhood, both for its public courtyard design and its conceptual approach to community-focused living. I'm not sure I like the idea of having my living room or bedroom overlook a twenty-foot wide television screen and a courtyard designed for late night communal reveling. But I can see the appeal for those that are more socially minded than I. And I can certainly see the appeal of having a decent place or two to eat and drink within rolling distance of your front door; of the several options at the Piazza, we pointed ourselves straight for the Swift Half.

I'd expected Swift Half to have a hipster dive bar feel along the lines of Center City's Good Dog Bar, as both pubs are under the same ownership. Instead, we found a wide open space with large booths, airy lighting, ample seating and elbow room, finished brick walls, ESPN on the TV.... Kind of MOR one could say, definitely family friendly and, actually, very much in keeping with the open, contemporary, something-for-everyone design of the Piazza at Schmidt's.

Given that I'd worked up a ferocious hunger with that long hike up 2nd Street and that I hadn't filed A Burger and A Beer report since my trip to California back in the fall, it didn't take me long to figure out what to order.

Swift Half's "Traditional Burger" is aptly named as, unlike at Good Dog, where its counterpart is stuffed with molten blue cheese and topped with a mass of caramelized onions, here there are no bells and whistles. Just a half-pound, hand-formed patty of tender sirloin, a leaf of lettuce and a slice of tomato, all sandwiched between a just-barely-substantial-enough-to-hold-it-all-together brioche bun. I opted for a slice of Keen's aged cheddar, worth the $1.50 up-charge for the sharp, nutty, salty goodness it added to the burger, which I might add was copiously juicy and cooked just to the bloody side of medium-rare. Just how I like it. The shoestring fries were satisfying enough but, really, it's the burger that's worth the trip. That and the admirable tap list. A pint of Bell's Amber Ale, which seems to be making a resurgence around town at the moment, was just the thing with which to wash it all down.






Swift Half Pub
1001 North 2nd Street
Philadelphia, PA 19123
(215) 923-1600

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DiNic's Roast Pork

Things have been quiet around here the last few days but that's only because I've been busy eating and drinking my way around town with a group of friends who'd gathered in Philly for an extended bachelor's party weekend. Not to worry, there's no extended blow-by-blow on the horizon but at least a few of the details are ready for prime time play.

* * *

A must stop on my short list of places to take friends visiting from out of town, the Reading Terminal Market has been a Philadelphia institution since it first opened its doors in 1893, One of the country's oldest public markets, there really is something there for everyone: excellent butchers and produce purveyors, cookbooks and kitchen supplies, one of the city's best cheese mongers, crack cookies.... There's also a fabulous array of what are essentially indoor street food vendors from which to choose, making the RTM a great spot to go for lunch when everyone in your crew wants something different.

Even with all the great choices, there's one that always seems to call my name: Tommy DiNic's Roast Pork and Beef. DiNic's for short. The rest is a given.

Visiting the RTM for the first time at mid-day on a Saturday is akin to baptism by fire. You get to see the market in full swing, experience the energy and bustle of peak traffic. But if you're claustrophobic or crowd averse, it can be a bit overwhelming. Suffice it to say that every aisle is a constant traffic jam and every seat is snapped up within seconds of being vacated. You'll get only a slight sense of it from the above picture of DiNic's, where the line actually wrapped around all three sides of their "end of block" space at the market's center before doubling back to the order and pick-up area. We were lucky on this day, as four guys handed over their seats at the counter just as we had made it to that point in the line.

The Philly cheesesteak might steal all the thunder when it comes to our fine town's sandwich traditions but I'll go for roast pork four times out of five. And I think there's little question that DiNic's is one of its foremost practitioners.

DiNic's offers hand-carved roast beef, brisket, pulled pork and grilled sausages, all of which are quite admirable. Just as DiNic's always calls my name, though, it's only one of their sandwiches that does the same: their roast pork. It's one of those things that is so good I just have to order it every time, no matter what else is on tap. My preferred version is exactly what you see above: roast pork with provolone and greens. On any given day, the greens option may include broccoli rabe and/or spinach. While both are excellent, I favor the spinach, which adds to the overall flavor of the sandwich without dominating the succulence of the pork. The provolone is very sharp, accent on very, so much so that it actually adds a piquant aspect to the experience. The pork, though, flavorful and tender, awash in its own pan juices, along with the soft roll that willingly soaks up all those delicious drippings, is what really makes it special.

I'm not sure there's a better post-pub-crawl recovery meal or, for that matter, a finer pre-pub-crawl prep. On this weekend, it served more than admirably in both capacities.


Tommy DiNic's Roast Pork and Beef
1136 Arch Street
(in the Reading Terminal Market)
Philadelphia, PA 19107
(215) 923-6175

Intro only...

A Sneak Peak at Marc Vetri's Amis

Amis, the new Roman-styled trattoria of Chef Marc Vetri, takes its name from the Bergamascan dialect for "amici" (friends). Located in the Washington Square West neighborhood of Center City, the much anticipated third spot from Vetri and partners Jeff Benjamin and Jeff Michaud will open this Thursday, January 14, 2010.

Courtesy of an invite from friends, I was able to sneak in on Monday night for the first night of a two-night soft opening run. The soft opening is a required rite of passage for any new restaurant, allowing the staff to "practice" on friends and family, to iron out a few wrinkles before opening the doors for regular business. Given the restaurant's modest size and inviting energy, something tells me it's going to be yet another tough reservation. I'd never write one of my full-on restaurant reports based on a first look like this, but I thought I'd at least share some photos to whet your appetites and give a sense of the place.


The bar spans much of the length of the room's main wall, which runs parallel to 13th Street.


Every table is subtly different, custom built for the new space.


An elevated dining area in the room's southwest corner.


Vetri on patrol in Amis' open kitchen, a few of the first round of diners enjoying their view from the chef's bar.




A few antipasti to start (clockwise, from top left): mixed salumi plate; marinated seppia with fennel and grapefruit; marinated sardines; and fried lambs tongue with salsa rossa.



Housemade pastas: tonnarelli "cacio e pepe" with pecorino and black pepper; gnocchi alla romana with oxtail ragu.



Carne e pesce: pork and fennel pollen sausage with peperonata; mixed seafood grill.




Sommelier and co-owner Jeff Benjamin has put together a diverse, compact list of about a dozen whites and reds each, plus a rosato, a bubbly, a couple of stickies, and house white and red by the carafe. Bottles top out at around $65, with all available by the glass and all save two hailing from Italy.


Late night, Bryan Sikora of Kennett Square's Talula's Table jumped in for a photo opp with Chefs Vetri and Michaud.


Local singer-songwriter Phil Roy, a frequent performer at wine dinners at Osteria, was in the house.





Amis Trattoria
412 S. 13th Street
Philadelphia, PA 19147
215-732-2647

Intro only...