Dining Guide 9.26.18

September 26, 2018 | 34st.com

DINING

GUIDE

september September26, 2018 TABLE OF CONTENTS 3 4 6-7 8 9 10 11 12-13 14-15 18-19 20 22-23 24-25 26 27 28 29 30 31

Your Life as a Line Chef Mystery Shopping Reading Terminal 1920s Commons Talk Kanella Grill L'Anima Harper's Garden Chez Ben Coffeeshop Roundup Pete Wells chick-fil-a Chinatown Rooster Redcrest Fried Chicken Mikes's BBQ Hop Sing Vista peru SPICE Finch

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Writing about food, like eating food, should involve a few surprises.

I

think a lot about food.

Not just about eating food—though admittedly that is a big part of it—but about our relationship to food, the hidden qualities behind an ingredient, the memories inextricably linked to a certain meal.

I love a good dinner out with friends, but some of my fondest memories are also tethered to 2 a.m. pizza runs in sweatpants with my best friends. Sophomore year, my roommate and I soothed any bad week with a nacho platter at El Rey. Food can be comfort, it can be excitement, it can even be a form of love—perhaps one of the purest forms. Maybe your pants won’t zip after trying all the baked goods at Lipkin’s Bakery, but we can all appreciate a good labor of love, can’t we?

This semester’s dining guide is an ode to the multifaceted nature of food. Inside you’ll find personal essays about fast food, restaurant review rendezvous, an interview with a food critic, and a few surprises littered throughout. We’ve mixed up the new and the old in order to bring you a smorgasbord of topics, a curated feast of the possibilities that food journalism offers.

A US study concluded that the average joe spends an astounding 32,098 hours eating and drinking in his or her lifetime. Time is precious—how are you eating yours?

Time to chow down,

Sabrina Qiao, Special Features Editor Nick Joyner, Editor–in–Chief Remi Lederman, Managing Editor Angela Huang, Audience Engagement Director Annabelle Williams, Assignments Editor Autumn Powell, Media Director Cat Dragoi, Word on the Street Editor Caroline Riise, Ego Editor Jamie Gobreski, Music Editor Colin Lodewick, Senior Features Editor Andreas Pavlou, Long–Term Features Editor Naomi Elegant, Developing Features Editor Liz Kim, Style Editor Ana West, Film & TV Editor Sherry Tseng, Arts Editor Eliana Doft, Lastpage Editor Ethan Wu, Photo Editor Morgan Potts, Copy Director Christopher Muracca, Print Director Ego Beats: Sophie Xi

Price Per Dish $ 5-9 dollars $$ 10-15 dollars 2

$$$ 15-20 dollars $$$$ 20+ dollars

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Music Beats: Arjun Swaminathan, Sammy Gordon, Sophie Burkholder Features Staff: Angie Lin, Julia Bell, Paige Fishman, Hailey Noh Style Beats: Emma Moore, Jen Cullen, Molly Hessel, Valentina Escudero Film & TV Beats: Zovinar Khrimian, Maryanne Koussa Arts Beat: Michelle Wan

Design Editors: Lucy Ferry, Gillian Diebold, Ben Zhao, Christine Lam, Alana Shukovsky, Joy Lee, Katie Waltman, Mira Shetty Lastpage Beat: Sami Canaan Staff Writers: Cass Phanord, Emily Schwartz, Lizzy Lemieux, Margaret Zhang, Riley Wagner Illustrators: Anne Chen, Anne Marie Grudem, Brad Hong, Carly Ryan, Catherine Liang, Jake Lem, Reese Berman, Saranya Sampath, Jessi Olarsch Staff Photographers: Emma Boey Video Staff: Jean Chapiro, Abdul Sohu Copy Editors: Kate Poole, Kira Horowitz, Sarah Poss, Serena Miniter Sofia Price, Analytics Editor Marketing Associates: Brittany Levy, Carly Shoulberg, Daniel Bulpitt, Ha Tran, Lauren Donato , McKay Norton, Merry Gu Cover Photo By Ethan Wu "Here's my before and after rhinoplasty. I keep it in my wallet."

Contacting 34th Street Magazine: If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Nick Joyner, Editor–in–Chief, at joyner@34st.com. You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com ©2018 34th Street Magazine, The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express, written consent of the editors (but I bet we will give you the a–okay.) All rights

Your Life as a Line Cook: Hungry, Hectic, and Handy

Autumn Powell | Media Director

Breakfast and Brunch: 7:00 a.m.–2:00 p.m.

Somewhere in the basement of the kitchen an alarm is going off. Knives are already drumming against cutting boards. A line cook tosses an egg on the fry top for the first ticket of the day. Produce trucks clog South Street as the sun rises over Philadelphia.

In Queen Village, a few blocks over from South Street, is Hungry Pigeon, the restaurant Philly Mag named Philadelphia’s best.

And wouldn’t it be glamorous to cook at a big city’s best restaurant? This is where you start— working brunch.

But you have to serve your time before you make it to the dinner shift. And don’t dream of having weekends off. Saturdays are for normal humans with normal jobs. You, on the other hand, are standing at the fry top with the hot steam in your face for five hours on Saturday.

Eggs, hash browns, toast, and the occasional breakfast bowl filled with brown rice porridge, avocado, lentil sprouts, and kimchi. You’re probably getting tired, but it’s still only 10 a.m.

Did you think the brunch shift meant that all you had to do was cook brunch? Your job as brunch cook is also to make sure

the dinner shift, the one starting at two in the afternoon, comes in ready—or even a bit ahead of schedule on their prep list.

Look up at the whiteboard with the list of prep on it. When three giant tubs of banana peppers are stirred for the day, after the four quarts of lemons are sliced and deseeded, a finger slides across the black marker and erases the words. Then you find a box of lettuce and start over again.

Welcome to your new job— you wanted to work in the food industry. But this probably isn’t what you expected, right? You’re not holding a clipboard, sprinkling truffle flakes onto mushroom risotto. You’re a line cook, not a chef with a stately white hat and clean, embroidered white apron.

There's no water cooler to hang around, no staff meetings or team building, and you better not spill the five–gallon bucket of octopus stew when you carry it up the stairs.

Dinner Prep: 2:00 p.m.–5:00 p.m.

Fourteen rabbits, forty rigatoni, seven ceviche, twenty–five liver, twenty octo, and fifteen snails. Cabbage, celery, mint, and chives. Here are the ingredients for tonight.

Your shift is over, but you decide to stay to watch the seasoned line cooks at work.

When the crew comes in, you stand with them as they open their tattered notebooks of recipes for tonight’s menu. Back straight, shoulders pushed back, chest over the table for three hours of prep until the dinner

A peek behind the kitchen of Hungry Pigeon: the cafe– restaurant that doesn't sleep.

DILLON BERGIN shift starts at five.

You peel garlic by hand, and then slice the ends off each before dicing them into smaller pieces. Then you peel the leaves off each herb by hand. You weigh pasta, slice mushrooms, and grate cheese; then you put each ingredient into a plastic container, labeling it with a piece of tape announcing the ingredient and date.

After each container is filled, you carry it to a line cook’s station. If you were on dinner shift already, you’d be taking it up to your station. But since it’s not your station, don’t touch anything.

A cook’s station is holy. It refers to your containers of ingredients, your knife, your towel, a bottle of Gatorade, a cutting board, and any other tool you might need. You have to have your shit in order. Keep it clean and wiped down. The first orders of the night come in around 5:15, and you won’t survive if you don’t stay organized.

Watch the way the seasoned line cook next to you handles the broiler, the fryers, the oven, and all eight stove tops at once.

This is the reason you’re still at brunch, and he’s here. For most of the night, he has different courses and dishes cooking in each one simultaneously; six different pans. Two plates in the oven. One plate in the broiler.

His hands are always inches away from blue flames, surrounded in steam and smoke, mangled and burned, flying from one handle to another.

And then, shifting from one oven door, one spoon or knife, to the next in a blur.

This is the glory of the dinner shift that awaits you after brunch.

Dinner: 5:00 p.m.–11:00 p.m. and beyond...

At eleven o’clock, the kitchen stops making food. But closing the kitchen doesn’t mean closing the restaurant. Even after all the customers are gone, there’s more for you to do in the kitchen.

The bakers will be in at 4:30 a.m., and you’ll be in there until 1:30 a.m.—at least—to clean the kitchen and take inventory.

Note the way the line cook stands at his station staring blankly into space after ten hours of frenzy and 200 plates delivered to 200 stomachs. That cook is not tired.

He is just waiting for a waiter to bring the end–of–the–night beer before cleaning begins.

The rest of this night you will sweep, mop, and sweep again.

Then you will organize all the ingredients into what was used and not used tonight. All the plastic containers of prep ingredients are labeled, placed back in the walk–in fridge, or thrown out if they won’t still be fresh.

Around 1:30, when you’re finally done cleaning, you can have your time off.

But where is the Chef’s Table Netflix music and the crisp tablecloths and all the details you would’ve expected to get from Philadelphia’s best restaurant?

You want to hear how fabulously delicious the red plum frangipane tart is? Well you guessed it—that’s not the life of a line cook.

While the people who came to eat your food are soundly sleeping, your life begins. Because like any cook, you’ll be up tomorrow around noon, and be back at the restaurant around two for prep. Unless you're still working brunch, then you’ll be back in by 6 a.m.

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Free food, with a healthy dose of espionage SABRINA QIAO The bartender caught me staring again.

“Do you think they know what we’re doing?” I whispered.

My friend Aliki and I averted our gaze as the bartender eyed us suspiciously.

It was 8:17 p.m., we were 28% of the way to my dining budget, and I had 40 minutes before we could leave the beer garden.

Such is the world of mystery shopping, or in this case, bar auditing.

I was on assignment for Blink Research, a DC–based market research company that focuses on the dining industry. Clients hire Blink to provide independent evaluations of their restaurant or bar; in turn, Blink sends a “mystery shopper” from their database to conduct an undercover audit. As a mystery shopper, I’m tasked with dining at different establishments, keeping my eyes open, and then heading home to write up a report on the quality of service or compliance with regulation.

Though Blink also pays its shoppers $10 per assignment, the most attractive part is the dining budget, which sometimes reaches $70, making this job particularly appealing to young foodies with a palate more refined than their bank account.

It’s also a mutually beneficial relationship between consumers and clients: millennial shoppers get a complimentary meal at a trendy bar or restaurant, and restaurateurs get critical feedback from an important market segment.

I had read about mystery 4

shopping before, but there seemed to be a lot of grey areas.

Companies would pay you to try out their services? And all you had to do was write up a short review, maybe spy on their employees and report any noncompliant behavior? Did people get fired because of these reports?

Was that even legal?

“I mean, I have had clients who use the mystery shopping reports to affirm what they already suspected was going on,” Marc Ciagne, the founder of Blink, says. “But it’s pretty rare for an employee to terminate based solely on a report.” In his view, mystery shopping could actually be a positive incentive, if represented in the right light. “I encourage my clients to de–emphasize the program as a policing function and emphasize it as a way to improve service and reduce risk.”

I decided to sign up, and one short form later, I was on my first assignment. I did what research I could, but when I invited Aliki with me tonight, I still had trouble explaining exactly what we were doing. “I’m basically auditing,” I said to her in the car ride over. “It’ll be fun! It’s like we’re spies!”

Officially, mystery shopping is about much more than free food and subterfuge. “It’s a way to collect very detailed, honest feedback from objective third party consumers,” Ciagne explains. “There’s a certain myopia that sets in when you’re in the same environment everyday. It’s amazing how often our shoppers make observations that the peo-

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Anne Marie Grudem | Illustrator

ple who are working there every day haven’t noticed.”

The best mystery shoppers are the ones who can unearth those little “nuggets of information” that others overlook. The position requires someone who is equally as observant as they are articulate. After each assignment, shoppers complete a written report within 24 hours of visit.

There are three main components to this report: a “yes/no” section, a written section from additional details, and a visual section where you attached photos confirming the details of your visit. Getting all three right is how you distinguished between the good and the great shoppers.

“Some people are just naturals,” Ciagne explains, “and then you have others that are more glib.

They’ll tell you the food was great and the service wasn’t that great, but they won’t tell you specifics.”

It’s rare, but you technically can fail an assignment by not including the minimum amount of detail required. “We try to help the shoppers bring it up to our standards,” Ciagne says, “but sometimes we have to reject it.” And a failed assignment probably also meant a failed reimbursement. In a business with some incentives, Ciagne has to be vigilant about shopper fraud. With the current system, he asks for itemized receipts and one photo of the establishment’s interior to be included in each report. His clients also go in and check to make sure that the shopper was really there. There

are even websites where mystery shopping providers can warn other companies about fraudulent shoppers, so you can be fired and blacklisted.

Still, mystery shopping can be a rather anonymous service. Theoretically, Ciagne doesn’t need to interact with any of his shoppers, though he sheepishly admits he “has a habit” of looking them up on LinkedIn. “These people are representing Blink research. I’m curious to see who they are and what kind of background they’re bringing to the table.”

Knowing all this, I went into my assignment tonight with one goal: be the absolute best auditor I could possibly be.

My phone was in front of me, open to a bullet–pointed list of observations I had jotted down on my phone: “ID checked at door by bouncers” and “No itemized receipt given at first– had to ask.”

And then the incident happened.

I didn’t even realize what was happening at first; I was just trying to see how the bartender was scooping ice. When he grabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey I thought he was fulfilling an order, but then he tapped his co–worker on the shoulder and nodded towards the bartop.

I discreetly snapped a photo just before the duo knocked the shots back and hurried off to opposite ends of the bar. “Aliki! Did you see that? Did they just drink on the job?”

“I dunno. Maybe? It hap-

pened really fast.”

“Wait,” I zoomed in on the photo. It was so pixelated and blurry that the glasses looked empty. “Is he going to get in trouble if I put this in the report?”

Aliki shrugged.

Incidents like this happen during mystery shopping; one could argue it’s why the industry exists.

Employers want to know what their employees are doing when no one is watching. But is it possible to base an employee’s integrity on an hour of surveillance?

I mean, what really gave me the right to judge an employee? It was technically my first day on this job too.

Later that night, I called my father later.

“Do you think they’re going to fire this bartender?”

He laughed. “Hard to say.

When I was a server in college, I hated people like you.”

“Dad! I came here for free food, and I feel like I’m getting a lesson in morality. What am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing—you work for the company. You do what you’re told: you audit.”

Later that night, I started writing my report, and before I hit “submit,” I attached a jpeg of those two little pixelated tumblrs of whiskey.

I haven’t been back to that beer garden since, but I like to think my tactfully worded, honest report only helped them. Either way, I signed up for another assignment a week later.

White Dog Cafe welcomes

to the neighborhood.

-OOH-LA-LAan american bistro offering french inspired classic dishes & creative cocktails

3611 Walnut St. | 267.805.8585 louielouie.restaurant

3420 Sansom Street | 215.386.9224 whitedog.com

5_Louie_Penn_PICK.indd 1

8/20/18 1:25 P

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Don't Miss These 8 Reading Terminal Eateries

Tyler Friedman | Photographer

A roundup of our favorite stands in one of America's most famous food halls.

REMI LEDERMAN

Reading Terminal Market is a Philadelphia staple. Established in 1893 and housed in a National Historic Landmark building, Reading Terminal is among the oldest, largest, and most famous food halls in the country. Needless to say, the market is a necessary destination for any tourist or Penn student who has yet to visit. However, the giant maze of sit–down eateries, to–go stands, produce shops, butchers, and bakeries can be overwhelming for both newcomers or regulars. Here are a few of my personal favorites:

[

[ Hershel’s East Side Deli ] A quintessential Jewish deli, Hershel’s sells all the classics including latkas, kugel, matzo ball soup, potato knishes, and, of course, all the meat sandwich varieties a bubbe could ever want. It rivals the best Jewish delis in New York City, probably because its founder, Hershel, was a chef at Katz Delicatessen (of “I’ll have what she’s having” fame) for more than 40 years. Although I’m Jewish, I’ve never been a big fan of deli meat. However, I was blown away by the Famous Rachel Pastrami Sandwich. The pastrami meat is home–cured and slow cooked for 18 hours, making it more flavorful and tender than any pastrami I’ve had before. The “Rachel” is unique in that the classic sauerkraut topping is substituted for coleslaw, adding a creamy crunch to sandwich. This sandwich is famous for a reason and is a definite Reading Terminal favorite.

Famous 4th Street Cookie Company

]

Baked homemade with a family recipe, Famous 4th Street cookies are soft and chewy—the way a cookie should be. Although there are more than a dozen different flavors, I tried their most popular one, the original chocolate chip cookie.

With the ideal chocolate chip ratio, the cookie almost melts in your mouth—it's that soft.

[ Dutch Eating Place] Tucked into the Amish corner of the market, the Dutch Eating Place is an iconic Reading Terminal diner. Like a piece of Lancaster in the middle of Philly, everyone who works there is Amish; in addition to diner food, they serve Amish classics like scrapple, creamed chipped beef, and Pennsylvania Dutch–style chicken pot pie. I ordered the scrapple and the famous apple dumpling. Although I wouldn’t order scrapple again, I am glad I got to try something traditional that I'd never eaten before. After the scrapple came the apple dumpling, and it was like an apple pie on steroids. It tasted like an extra gooey apple pie with a doughy crust that melted into cinnamon heaven in your mouth. Forget the pie this Thanksgiving and bring these dumplings home to your families (they offer to–go boxes of apple dumplings in packages of three.)

[Beiler’s]

12 P.M. - WEDNESDAYS IN SEPTEMBER

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN STATUE IN FRONT OF COLLEGE HALL RAIN LOCATION: HOUSTON HALL, BISTRO

SEPT.

26

Mark Liberman

Christopher H. Browne Distinguished Professor of Linguistics

OK Google/Siri/Alexa/Cortana, What’s Next?

Watch the livestream on Facebook or Twitter @PennSAS Watch past lectures online at www.sas.upenn.edu/60second

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Any Reading Terminal roundup would be remiss if Beiler’s did not make the list. Although they now have a location on Penn’s campus, the Reading Terminal location is the OG and has a special place in my heart. I have never tried a better doughnut, and the ever–present line at their Reading Terminal location is proof of their superiority. Run by generations of the same Pennsylvania Dutch family, they serve traditional fried dough like apple fritters and classic glazed, but they also get creative with doughnut flavors like Elvis Delight, Fruity Pebbles, and S’mores. While their award–winning doughnuts have made Beiler’s famous, their bakery has an assortment of equally delicious baked goods, and you can’t go wrong with their pickles either.

TL;DR: Come with an empty stomach and friends who love to share. Do not miss the Amish desserts or the Famous Rachel Pastrami Sandwich from Hershel’s. There is something for everyone at this famous American food hall.

LOCATION: 51 N 12th St. HOURS: Mon–Sat: 8 a.m.–6 p.m.

Sun: 9 a.m.–5 p.m.

PRICE: $–$$

[DiNic’s]

[Flying Monkey] Flying Monkey is a bakery famous for its whoopie pies and buttercream cupcakes, but really excels in any and all baked sweets.

While I can attest that their whoopie pies and cupcakes are above average, the real winner is their butter cake. More like a blondie than a cake, this bar of butter and sugar is the sweet treat you need in your life. Perfectly cooked to a smooth rather than crumbly consistency, it could almost pass for fudge. It is rich and thick and will satisfy even the biggest sweet tooth.

[

Valley Shepherd Creamery and Meltkraft

]

Ethan Wu | Photo Editor Valley Shepherd Creamery and Meltkraft is a longtime favorite of mine. The stand sells cheese, charcuterie, raclette and my personal favorite, grilled cheese sandwiches. They make all the cheeses they sell and turn into grilled cheese on their dairy farm in Long Valley, New Jersey. As much as I want to try new things, almost every time I come to Reading Terminal, I cannot resist the urge to order the same thing over and over—the Brielle. This decadent grilled cheese is filled with brie, cranberry chutney, caramelized onions, and pine nuts. And obviously, I always add truffle oil because the extra $1.50 is beyond worth it. Some other highlights of the menu are their Valley Thunder grilled cheese with brisket and mac and cheese and, of course, their Shepard Classic with a three cheese blend and nothing else. And if my descrip- Tyler Friedman | Photographer tion wasn’t convincing enough, take a look at that cheese pull.

What started as a family butcher shop in South Philly that sold sandwiches out of the garage is now, four generations later, one of the most famous stalls in Reading Terminal. Famous for its roast pork and roast beef sandwiches, DiNic’s serves traditional Italian sandwiches as well as some more modern options. Instead of the roast pork, I opted for a less–celebrated, but equally delicious menu item—the pulled pork sandwich. Topped with provolone, the sandwich was cooked to perfection, not too dry and not overly juicy. With such expertly carved meat, it is easy to see why the lunch rush line extended far down the aisle. Get there early to beat the crowds.

[

Hope’s Cookies at the Pennsylvania General Store

]

Pennsylvania General Store prides itself on selling all Pennsylvania–made products. But although the Pennsylvania General Store sells a vast array of souvenirs and snacks, Hope’s Cookies are the main attraction, a can’t–miss on any visit to Reading Terminal. Crunchy on the outside and gooey on the inside, these cookies are a moist, buttery dream. I stick with the classic chocolate chip, but you can’t go wrong with any of their incredible flavors.

WE’VE GOT YOU WE’VE GOT YOU WE’VE GOT YOU WE’VE GOT YOU WE’VE GOT YOU

COVERED COVERED COVERED COVERED COVERED SERVING YOU FROM 7:30AM-2:00AM SERVING YOU FROM 7:30AM-2:00AM SERVING FROM 7:30AM-2:00AM SERVING YOU FROMYOU 7:30AM-2:00AM SERVING YOU FROM 7:30AM-2:00AM

OPEN EARLY OPEN EARLY OPENOPEN LATEOPEN OPEN OPEN EARLY LATE LATE OPEN EARLY LATE OPEN EARLY OPEN LATE

OPEN AT 7:30AM OPEN AT 7:30AM OPEN UNTIL 10:00PM OPEN UNTIL 10:00PM OPEN AT 7:30AM OPEN10:00PM UNTIL 10:00PM OPEN AT 7:30AM OPEN UNTIL OPEN UNTIL 10:00PM Hill HouseOPEN AT 7:30AM Hill House The Market Café (at Houston Market) The Market Café (at Houston Market) Hill House Hill House Pret a Manger Pret a Manger HillPret House a Manger Pret a Manger Pret a Manger

The Market Café (atMarket) Houston Market) The Market Café (at Houston Tortas Frontera Tortas Frontera The Market CaféTortas (at Houston Market) Tortas Frontera Frontera Tortas Frontera

OPEN AT 8:00AM OPEN AT 8:00AM OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT OPEN AT 8:00AM OPEN AT 8:00AM OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT

OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT OPEN ATThe 8:00AM The Market Café (at Houston Market) Market Café (at Houston Market) OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT Hill House Hill House The Market Café (at Houston Market) TheJoe’s Market Café (at Houston Market) Hill House Café Joe’s Café Gourmet GrocerHill House Gourmet Grocer The Market Café (at Houston Market) Hill House Joe’s Café Gourmet Grocer Joe’s Café Gourmet Grocer Gourmet Grocer Grocer StarbucksGourmet Joe’s Café Grocer Gourmet Grocer Starbucks Gourmet Gourmet Grocer Starbucks Starbucks Starbucks Starbucks McClelland McClelland Gourmet Grocer Starbucks Starbucks McClelland McClellandStarbucks McClelland McClelland Starbucks McClelland McClelland Accenture Café McClelland Accenture Café McClelland Accenture Café Accenture Café Café OPEN UNTIL 2:00AM OPEN UNTIL 2:00AM Accenture OPEN UNTIL 2:00AM OPEN UNTIL 2:00AM Mark’s Café Mark’s Café OPEN UNTIL 2:00AM LOOKING FOR LOOKING FOR Mark’s Café Mark’sMark’s Café Café A LATE LUNCH? A LATE LUNCH?

LOOKING FOR LOOKING FORFOR LOOKING ALUNCH? LATE LUNCH? A LATE A LATE LUNCH?

OPEN FROM 2PM-5PM OPEN FROM 2PM-5PM OPEN FROM 2PM-5PM OPEN FROM 2PM-5PM 1920 Commons (Upstairs) 1920 Commons (Upstairs)*Hours based on a Monday-Thursday schedule. *Hours based on a Monday-Thursday schedule.

OPEN FROM 2PM-5PM Please visit www.upenn.edu/dining or follow us on socialPlease mediavisit www.upenn.edu/dining or follow us on social media Houston Market Houston Market 1920 Commons (Upstairs) 1920 Commons (Upstairs) 1920 Commons (Upstairs) Houston Market Houston Market Houston Market

for our full dining schedule. for our full dining schedule. based on a Monday-Thursday schedule. *Hours based on*Hours a Monday-Thursday schedule. *Hours based on a Monday-Thursday Please visit www.upenn.edu/dining or follow usschedule. on social media Please visit www.upenn.edu/dining or follow us on social media Please visit www.upenn.edu/dining or followfor usour on full social media dining schedule. for our full dining schedule. for our full dining schedule.

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Gourmands at Commons? It's More Likely Than You Think We haven't been in Commons since our freshman spring. Back then, our palates couldn't distinguish between the spongy earth of a cafeteria veggie burger and Trader Joe's tofu marinade.

In May 2016, Colin still ate plain grilled chicken breast on a sesame bagel. Julia bought a case of Soylent. Freshman year was before cacao nibs. Before we knew how to pronounce "soigné." Before mouthfeel and mouthcoat and particulate density. Before we learned the singular visual delight that only a tuft of microgreens or a sliver of lemongrass can bring. Before the satisfying Pangea of a well–plated dinner.

Going to Commons as a senior is an exercise in nostalgia, recollection, and possibly appetite suppression. After a helpful freshman swipes us in, we climb the linoleum stairs and the omelette bar smell smacks us in the face. Four years older and now equipped with a gourmand's palette, we return with a specific purpose in mind: with the porcelain plates of 1920 Commons as our canvas, we attempt to make a three–course meal fit for our new, refined tastes.

Amuse–bouche...

Geography informs our practice: archipelago, peninsula, sunken island. The plate is a desert, an ocean. Here: a scattering of summer stone fruit macerated in lemon juice. They sit crag–like, each prism of plum, on a circle of dehydrated radish. Paired with the crunch of a red Froot Loop, every mouthful is reminiscent of the auspices from a childhood you wish you had. The overripe fruit feels sinful, but the peppery young arugula brings you back. Finished with a slick of olive oil.

Hand–torn cheese and a segmented hot dog are complemented by the lettuce spray and sexy onion. A circumference of hot chili sauce offers

the promise of danger. But not real danger. Contained danger, like the threat of contracting campylobacter at a child’s birthday party.

The hot dog is charred at the sides, signifying a fire long cooled. By contrast, the nascent fire in the hot chili sauce burns without flame.

“Serving Philly with traditional, authentic Japanese cuisine since 1984”

10% off your entire bill with student ID if you mention this ad Online DELIVERY and PICKUP through GrubHub, Postmates, or on our website!

215-735-4444 | 222 S. 15th Street | www.shiroihana.com 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E S E P T E M B E R 2 6 , 2 01 8

JULIA BELL & COLIN LODEWICK

All Photos by Autumn Powell | Media Director

Shiroi Hana

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Sad seniors plate a three-course dinner at 1920 Commons.

Entrees Circles evoke an embrace: a mother’s intuition, a warm room on a cold day, the floral note in the perfume on the neck of your lover. Poppyseeds (culled from a stale bagel) form the boundary, within it: dribbles of a tomato consomme, pulverized cacao, a pool of wildflower honey. The preserved carrot, when sliced and skewered, evokes penetration. But only subtly. Remember that motifs can make or break a well–thought dinner. The blue Froot Loops, suspended in the gold of the honey, stun. If they were any other color, all would be lost.

A boat of fried rice buoys vegan coconut milk tofu.

The delicate arrangement is ballasted by radishes. Carrot pads collaborate with celery shafts and a dab of sauce. Do not use a fork to eat this dish.

The tofu’s supple curvature is best left unprobed before consumption.

Dessert And now: the wedding kiss. Rose petals pulled from a summer’s end garden loosely scattered in a ring. They protect the tangerine and sage sorbetto that lays melting softly into a pool of lemon curd tinged with raspberry. A half-moon of dried cranberries contributes a tartness that lingers and contrasts with the crunch of pink marshmallow amulets.

Dessert should be forgiving, yet self–aware. Coffee ice cream quenelle atop a bed of Cap'n Crunch. Bless the ice cream with blue Froot Loop dust and three elegant Lucky Charms. A streak of marshmallow fluff is a good omen. Whispering “I’m sorry,” while eating is a bad omen. After eating, bid goodnight and retreat back with the soiled plates and bowls.

Deposit them on the rotating dish rack, that endless conveyance. Leave Commons.

Step into the Roaring Twenties at TALK PAIGE FISHMAN

This Jazz Age–inspired eatery left us speechless and full.

Caroline Gibson | Photographer TALK's beautifully plated watermelon fluke crudo.

With matte black walls, brassy jazz music, and gold art deco touches, TALK elicits feelings of the Roaring Twenties. Upon stepping into the space, restaurant diners are transported into the world of Gatsby. The white marble bar particularly resembles a speakeasy of the Jazz Age. Arrive ready for a new American dining experience in a time capsule setting.

Known for his University City restaurant Marigold Kitchen, owner Andrew Kochan, with the help of Chef Tim Lanza, delivers a different experience at TALK, located in Rittenhouse.

Through small and large plates, the a la carte menu is ideal for sharing. Each dish—using locally sourced, seasonal ingredients—combines unexpected flavors and evokes a variety of cuisines.

To start, we take the waiter’s recommendations and order the savory éclair, panzanella, Yakitori quail, and crudo. The éclairs come first. These small pastries make up for their size with taste. The sour cherry topping contrasts with the chicken liver filling. Next, we try the quail.

Lightly prepared in tare sauce, gooseberry, plum,

and garnished with sesame seeds, the plate contains a surprising mix of cultural influences.

Decorated with borage flowers, the watermelon fluke crudo offered a welcomed refreshing contrast to the salt–heavy plates.

Last but not least of the small plates, we share the panzanella. You can’t go wrong with tomato, burrata, sourdough croutons and strawberries; combined together, the dish somehow carries a light yet still creamy decadence.

For large plates, we try the zucchini steak, scallops, and black pepper pasta. Reminiscent of ratatouille, the zucchini rests on puttanesca with caper berries, olives, artichokes, and potatoes. In keeping with the innovative entrées, the scallops include touches of southern cooking.

Succotash, cornbread, and country ham are accompanied by two barbecue sauces drizzled on the plate. The parmesan pasta incorporates lobster, mushroom, figs, and prosciutto. The sweet figs elevate the classic cacio e pepe dish.

The talking stopped when dessert arrived. We couldn’t eat it fast enough. The chocolate cake we ordered was a

generous slice of bittersweet chocolate covered in Thai basil, coconut, and pink peppercorn with whipped cream. The server surprised us with a refreshing lemon semifreddo topped with meringue and mint that complimented the chocolate perfectly. I would go back just for the dessert.

TL;DR: This unique food is for the adventurous.

Come prepared to try a variety of interesting flavors worth TALKing about.

LOCATION: 2121 Walnut St. HOURS: Sun, Tues – Sat: 4 p.m. – 1 a.m.

Mon: Closed PRICE-RANGE: $$$$

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9

Kanella Grill:

A Corner of Greece Tucked into Washington A homey hummus–lover’s heaven.

ANGELA LIN In the heart of Washington Square West, where 10th and Spruce Streets kiss, an unassuming corner lot peeks into the wonderful world of Greek and Cypriot cuisine. This is Kanella Grill—one crosswalk away from an antique shop, one hemisphere away from its Mediterranean roots. An aquamarine hamsa hangs by the doorway, and it reads: “May / This Place / Be blessed / With happiness / Fortune & success.”

It’s chilly inside, and empty, too. Despite it being 1 p.m. on a Saturday, the cozy rectangular space is largely devoid of patrons, save for one mother– daughter duo nearing the end of their meal. We settle into a table by the windows.

There’s something slightly mismatched about the stone–

tiled floor, red brick wall, wood–planked seats, and white plaster ceiling; but it feels more homey than kitschy, thematically tied together by the maps of Cyprus that adorn the length of the restaurant. We order the Dips of the Day ($10), Malawah ($12), the signature Kanella Platter with Falafel ($15), and two juices ($4 each)—cucumber and watermelon. The drinks arrive first; the cucumber juice goes down like lemonade, and the watermelon juice froths with hints of mint. They’re so refreshing it’s almost blasphemous. The rest of the dishes, arranged on white–lipped plates, arrive in

Las

quick succession.

The Dips of the Day squeezes pita triangles between three mounds of dip. There’s the skordalia, which looks and tastes like mashed potato except deliciously tangy, thanks to the lemon juice and fresh garlic.

There’s the htipiti, a mouthwatering Greek salsa of feta cheese and roasted pepper. Finally, the fava, a golden split pea puree

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that is sure to delight split pea lovers, but unfortunately not me (I am no lover of split pea).

The Kanella Platter is a gorgeous assortment of pita pockets, hummus, cucumber salad, olives, black eyed peas, and three falafels. As beautiful as the spread may be, a few aspects fall short. The black eyed peas are undercooked, the pita is depressingly non–fluffy; I try two olives and leave the rest.

These slight missteps are by no means damning. The falafel, dabbed with aioli and sprinkled with herbs and red spice, is mealy and warm. The hummus, despite its paleness, rocks with flavor too. The sleeper hit of the platter has got to be the Greek cucumber salad, whose acidity and freshness makes you never want to underestimate vegetables ever again.

A few more groups filter into Kanella, and the space feels just a bit homier. Three 20–some-

thing–year–olds bedecked in denim chat about genetic testing, children, and where to get the best sushi burritos in Philadelphia. An older couple share a plate two tables further.

Greek folk music twangs in the background—light, summery, and subtly sweet, just like the malawah. The Yemeni puff pastry flakes like baklava and is accompanied by a spicy tomato slaw, boiled egg halves, and salted yogurt. The waiter recommends it with a drizzle of honey. The dish is a dream.

Savory when combined with its sides, dessert–like on its own; versatile in any configuration.

Kanella Grill sings leisure.

The food is made to be relished, the drinks made to be sipped.

Here, meals are made to refresh the soul, and life is a slow stroll.

It is, at once, both a glimpse of Greece and a sweet yet understated neighborhood eatery in Philadelphia.

TL;DR: Hummus Grill, elevated.

LOCATION: 1001 Spruce St. HOURS: Mon–Sun: 11 a.m.–9 p.m.

PRICE: $$

L'Anima: A Saturday Night Spot for All Your Carb and Cheese Hankerings Even the bread basket here is to die for.

EMILY SCHWARTZ

Emma Boey | Photographer

L’Anima isn’t a restaurant that’s easy to miss, but if you’re driving to the Italian BYOB, you may think you took a wrong turn considering the few restaurants and retail options nearby. Then, suddenly, you’ll turn the corner and see it—a brightly lit patio with overhead string lights and colorful orange and blue seating.

Located on 17th and Carpenter Streets, the restaurant opened over the summer and with its sunny atmosphere and enticing Roman–inspired menu, L’Anima is a lovely breath of fresh air.

If you’re familiar with Melograno in Rittenhouse Square and Fraschetta in Bryn Mawr, you’ll recognize Chef Gianluca Demontis and Rosemarie Tran’s cooking here. Although not the best Italian food in the world, it’s certainly comforting and flavorful enough to satisfy your carb– and–cheese cravings.

And that’s exactly how I’d characterize my meal there. It began with a caprese appetizer, a familiar dish that gets an original touch with slow–roasted toma-

toes centered around a thick cut of cheese, marinated anchovies, and a generous drizzle of basil oil.

The mozzarella possessed that unattainable balance of firm yet creamy, and the tomatoes carried a refreshing sweetness. The appetizer made me appreciate the aluminum basket of bread on my table, a basket that was constantly replenished as I reached for piece after piece of bread to sop up all that extra basil goodness. The dish could have stood without the anchovies, but, overall, it was as light and summery as the patio outside.

Next came the vaccinara, a pappardelle dish with a braised oxtail ragu and spiced tomato sauce dusted in pecorino cheese and cocoa powder. Though the cocoa was subtle and slightly hard to taste, it provided a nice texture, and I credit L’Anima for the creativity. I appreciated that the staff split the pasta onto two plates before bringing it over, an impressive extra touch of service. The dish wasn’t as heavy as I expected, which was a pleasant

TL;DR: Comforting but light Italian food in a bright spot near GradHo. LOCATION: 17th St. and Carpenter St. HOURS: Sun: 5 p.m.–9 p.m.

Mon: Closed Tues–Sat: 5 p.m.–10 p.m.

PRICE: $$$

surprise. Like the bread in the basil oil, the wide noodles served as a perfect vehicle for scooping up the tomato sauce and cheese.

Clearly, L’Anima is getting at something here with its sopping– and–scooping capabilities.

Our last dish was from the Pinsa Romana section, otherwise known as ancient Roman pizza. We ordered the Animae,

a flatbread with mozzarella, crimini mushrooms, arugula, beef bresaola, shaved parmesan, and truffled lemon oil. The lemon lightened up the whole dish, and like the appetizer, the pizza struck a balance between crispy crust and chewy dough. The bresaola was a fun alternative to prosciutto, and the cheese pulls were simply stellar, all of which

made this my favorite dish of the night.

With its sleek, modern interior and generally solid Italian fare, L’Anima is a restaurant you’d find me in again. Would I go for a special occasion, or if I were looking for Italian food to blow me away? Probably not. But it’s a niche spot to know about for just about anything one step below.

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Stepping into Harper's Garden Is Like Stepping into a Fairytale Candlelit tables and fairy lights illuminate this new romantic date spot.

SOPHIE BURKHOLDER On a 90–degree, stormy night, I found myself squished between skyscrapers a few blocks from City Hall, standing outside a woodsy oasis called Harper’s Garden. Gnarled tangles of wood hung from criss–crossing beams covered in twisting greenery, and a soft yellow glow emanated from the strings of Edison light bulbs, illuminating the rain–soaked exterior with a romantic warmth that’s found more

often in neighborhoods like Fishtown or Old City.

The outdoor garden is certainly the main attraction of this restaurant, but the inclement weather forced us to move indoors. Still, the charm continued indoors, with wrought–iron chandeliers and cascading leaves from hanging planters, and small bouquets of flowers placed next to a flickering candle on each table.

Harper’s Garden offers a

smaller menu, with a smattering of dishes listed under categories like snacks, breads, and larger plates. For the first course, my photographer and I shared the Spring Salad.

The large portion makes it an easy appetizer to share between two or three patrons, or maybe a light main course for one. The slightly bitter and peppery taste of the mixed greens was balanced by a sweet and light honey vinaigrette. The puffed grains

Really good beer

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however, was unimpressive and unnecessary. With the tomatoes, there was no need for the added sweetness of the jerky, and it reminded me of the artificial fruit leathers found in middle school lunches. Overall though, the fish and vegetables worked well together in a warm end– of–summer meal.

For dessert, Harper’s Garden offers three choices of homemade custards: turmeric, chamomile, and lavender.

I chose to have the chamomile, which comes with a warm blueberry cobbler.

The custard itself was cool and silky, and reminiscent of the flowery chamomile tea I drink on nights when I have trouble falling asleep. The cobbler, however, was more blueberry than crumble, and the scarce crumble available

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215.388.4600 | newdecktavern.com | 3408 Sansom Street 1 2 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E S E P T E M B E R 2 6 , 2 01 8

and sunflower sprouts added a bit of heartiness to an otherwise fresh salad. Despite having some difficulty with eating the long–stemmed greens and sprouts, the $10 price was more than reasonable for the size and quality of this salad.

I only ever get the chance to have swordfish when my dad grills it over the summer, so for the main course I decide I must order the Zatar Spice Swordfish. The dish included the fresh summer flavors of tomatoes and zucchini, but it also adds a sweeter tang with what the menu calls a “watermelon jerky.” The texture of the dish was an even blend of crunchy and rich, with some of the tomatoes having reduced into a thicker paste in the base of the rimmed plate. The jerky,

Ethan Wu | Photo Editor

was often crunchier than the softly baked ones I've had in the past.

Nonetheless, the flavors blended well together, turning the custard from a yellow–white to a rich purple tie– dye. This portion of comforting and refreshing dessert is best suited for

two to three people.

Having gone to the restaurant for a late dinner, we enjoyed dessert right as the kitchen was getting ready to close. But Harper’s Garden turns into more of a bar scene after 10 p.m., and as we got ready to leave, a jazz trio

consisting of a piano, stand–up bass, and drums began to set up to play for the rest of the night. The food at Harper’s Garden is well–crafted and has quality ingredients, but the higher price of the restaurant is really for the romantic ambiance it provides.

TL;DR: Harper’s Garden is on the pricier side, but the quality menu and romantic setting make the expense worth it.

LOCATION: 31 S 18th St. HOURS: Sun–Mon: 12 p.m.–12 a.m.

Wed–Sat: 12 p.m.–2 a.m.

PRICE: $$

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Sep 29 2018 @ 5:00 PM Sistahs Attune will take you on a cultural journey as they perform the rhythmic sounds inspired by Afro-Caribbean music. Proceeds from ticket sales go to The Women's Coalition for Empowerment, Inc. Featured vocalists Bethlehem "The Vocussionist, Ella Gahnt, & Shekhinah B. *Live Music * Vendors * Food * Raffle - Tickets are $12-$30 and can be purchased at eventbrite.com -

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Sep 27 2018 @ 9:00 PM The Gathering, established in 1996, is the longest/strongest-running truly Hip Hop event in Philly. DJs spin Hiphop, breaks, and funk all night, and there are open cyphas, a tag wall, and a featured performance and graffiti panel each month.

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Chez Ben: Most Definitely Tres Bien The all–day French–American bistro delivers the breakfast goods.

Ethan Wu | Photo Editor Ethan Wu | Photo Editor

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Ethan Wu | Photo Editor

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As you walk into the Renaissance Hotel at the edge of center city, Chez Ben immediately sticks out.

With a beckoning aroma of syrup and pancakes and a retro–futuristic design, it’s difficult to stop your mouth from watering at the get–go.

Strolling into the flashy ambiance of shiny marble tables and the unique wall of binary numbers, you can spot plenty of booths and a classic, rustic bar on the other side. There’s a distinct Sunday brunch date vibe at Chez Ben. Here is a place where you can slowly relish your dishes over a discussion about the latest news in global politics with

your close friends.

Peeking at the menu, the restaurant doesn’t skimp on options. Not only is there an abundance of drinks and choices of American or French cuisine, but Chez Ben also makes sure to mention that it accommodates gluten–free individuals, such as myself.

The prices may make you hesitate, but it’s important to note that the quantity makes up for the cost.

First off came the $3 assorted teas. Emphasis on “assorted,” as the waitress strolled out with a selection of eight choices, each more rare than the standard option you can find at other

Ethan Wu | Photo Editor

restaurants. After some deliberation, we picked the green tea, a heavenly verdant concoction perfect for soothing a parched throat.

Selecting the $14 All– American Breakfast, I was impressed at how convenient it was to remove the bacon from the order and replace the wheat toast with a gluten– free option. There was a slight delay in getting the food because of a miscommunication, but a personal apology from the manager and its removal from the check showed Chez Ben’s dedication to creating a welcoming dining environment.

With poached eggs, breakfast potatoes, toast, and fruit salad, the All– American Breakfast is more than just an appealing meal—it’s a well–balanced start to the day. Although slightly runny, the poached eggs melt–in–the–mouth when topped with sprinkles of salt and pepper. The fruit salad and toast are equally crunchy and

bring an element of sweet juice that takes your mind waltzing through the dance floor. The centerpieces, however, are the breakfast potatoes, a savory set of sublime spuds that are clearly from another planet.

We also sampled the $13 French Pancakes, a stack of the titular food topped with honey, walnuts, and goat cheese.

The latter serves as a sharp flavor that smoothly counteracts the oiliness of the nuts, while both mesh with the saccharine honey and pancakes to give rise to an explosion of taste.

It’s the breakfast pancake you’re looking for to get the day started off on the right foot.

All in all, there was little to complain about. The potatoes and the pancakes steal the spotlight, mixing neatly with their respective dishes to generate an ideal balance of sweet and savory. Chez Ben brings French–American to life and should be a destination for any day of the week.

TL:DR: A perfect unity of French and American cuisine to please your tastebuds in the early morn.

LOCATION: 400 Chestnut St. HOURS: Sun–Mon: 6:30 a.m.–10 p.m.

PRICE: $$

Delicious food. Great drinks. Perfect location.

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Rounding Up Philly's Best Coffee Shops ANA WEST

Menagerie Coffee

Menagerie Coffee, located just a short walk from the Market Frankford Line’s 2nd Street Stop, has a stylish, modern coffee shop interior, with brick walls, wooden floors, and clean white counters. At the tables inside, you’re as likely to see a professional typing away on their laptop, a bookworm enjoying a novel, or some neighborhood kids hanging out. That’s not to say that Menagerie’s vibe is stuffy—far from it. Local art hangs on the walls and the window offers picturesque views of Old City, making this spot a charming and classic choice.

TL; DR: Classic fare in an open, modern space in Old City LOCATION: 18 S 3rd St. HOURS: Mon–Fri 7 a.m.–7 p.m.; Sat–Sun 8 a.m.–7 p.m.

PRICE: $

Add a little aesthetic balance to your caffeine addiction.

Philadelphia is a great city for coffee snobs. As the home of local companies like Rival Bros and nationally renowned (and super strong) retailers La Colombe, the city is a great place to be if you’re picky about your single origin blends, can actually discern the different “notes” in a unique brew, or need everything all–organic, all fair–trade, all–the–time; there are few better places to engage in debate over where to find the best coffee.

Having said that, I’m a little ashamed to admit the truth: all coffee tastes the same to me. I am a coffee pleb. Sure, I like coffee fine—especially with a bunch of sugar, or when it’s 2 a.m. and I’m still in the VP basement—but in the interest of full disclosure, I can’t really tell the difference between Kenyan and Ethiopian or cortado and macchiato and all of the other names I can barely pronounce. If you asked me what the best espresso in town was, I honestly couldn’t tell you.

However, even if you’re as ignorant about coffee as I am, there is another definite advantage to the Philly coffee scene: the shops themselves. More popular chains like Saxby’s (or God forbid, Starbucks) populate every corner, but there are a couple of stops that have diverse offerings and a ton of character. There are a plethora of cafes off the beaten path that are great for getting away from campus, taking in some of the local scene, and getting some serious work done—no matter what your coffee order is. Here are some of our lesser known favorites:

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Cafe Ole

Another Old City stop a couple of blocks away, Cafe Ole might as well be a different world. You can spot the shop by the colorful tile mural on the side of the store, and once you step inside, the interior is just as vibrant. Along with coffee drinks and tea, they have a menu of Mediterranean inspired dishes you can enjoy while listening to a soundtrack of foreign music (which I’m pretty sure is Spanish, but if you’re smarter and better at language than me, check and let me know) that will make you feel like you just landed somewhere far away from Philadelphia. The only downside is that the wifi can be iffy, but you can always ask one of the cute baristas to reset it for you.

TL; DR: A fun, colorful spot with foreign flair and diverse food options LOCATION: 147 N 3rd St. HOURS: Mon–Sat: 7:30 a.m.–7 p.m.

Sun: 8:30 a.m. – 7 p.m.

PRICE: $

One Shot Cafe

LUNCH Mon – Fri: 11:30am – 3:00pm Sat – Sun: 12:00pm – 3:00pm BAR

11:30am – 10:00pm

DINNER Mon – Sat: 4:30pm – 10:00pm Sun: 4:30pm – 9:00pm

HAPPY HOUR Mon – Fri: 4:30pm – 6:30pm Sat – Sun: 9:00pm – 11:00pm (drink specials only) $4 Appetizers (excluding certain dishes) $4 Drafts & Well Drinks $5 Wines & Sake Bombs $6 Specialty Cocktails $1 off all other alcoholic drinks

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We know that Northern Liberties gets a lot of hype (and a lot of flak), but its popular because it’s full of great spots—and One Shot Cafe might be one of the best. When you walk in, the lower level is usually crowded with locals grabbing food from the brunch menu. Take our advice; place your order and head up the stairs—the upper level is full of tables to work at, complete with lots of outlets, an antique motorcycle, and a stunning study area and library. It won’t make studying any less stressful, but at least you can motivate yourself to work hard, maybe find some interior design inspiration for your future mansion.

TL; DR: A NoLibs neighborhood favorite with some amazing Instagram story ops LOCATION: 217 W George St. HOURS: Tues–Sun: 7 a.m. – 5 p.m.

Mon: 7 a.m. – 5:30 p.m.

PRICE: $$

Chapterhouse Cafe

Nestled in Washington Square West, a few blocks away from Magic Gardens (and a short walk from Whole Foods), Chapterhouse is as cool as the neighborhood is. In addition to the standard espresso offerings, they have an extensive tea menu and fun speciality drinks. The insanely cool baristas (who are still very nice, if intimidating) will happily talk about their favorites and make recommendations for you. The staff plays a mix of whatever they feel like, from Beyoncé to heavy metal, but if it’s too loud (or just too cool for you), there’s plenty of seating in the quieter area further back.

Plus, there’s also a cavern–like downstairs area complete with mood lighting and stone walls.

TL; DR: An impossibly cool space with a vast selection of teas and creative espresso drink options LOCATION: 620 S 9th St. HOURS: Mon–Sun: 7 a.m. – 10 p.m.

PRICE: $

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Uncle Bobbie’s Coffee and Books

Uncle Bobbie’s Coffee and Books is the passion project of Dr. Marc Lamont Hill—better known as a Temple university professor, BET host, and CNN commentator.

Hill’s career as an activist and academic has focused on social justice and literacy, and Uncle Bobbie’s embodies both of those ideas, combining an impressive selection of books with a space for coffee and community.

Head there to do some work, peruse through the book selection for academic inspiration, and support a Philly business and gathering place in the process.

TL;DR: A local celebrity's intellectual hub with a great selection of coffee, books, and a community focus LOCATION: 5445 Germantown Ave. HOURS: Mon–Thurs: 7 a.m. – 9 p.m.

Fri: 7 a.m. – 11 p.m.

Sat: 8 a.m. – 11 p.m.

Sun: 8 a.m. – 7 p.m.

PRICE: $

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A Conversation with Pete Wells

'The New York Times' Restaurant Critic and Penn alum talks Guy Fieri and the psychology of food COLIN LODEWICK

Graphic by Colin Lodewick

When you write about food, you write about people. You write about people’s insecurities, their hopes, their desires.

And you write about money.

That’s how Pete Wells (C ’86), the restaurant critic for The New York Times, writes about food.

For Wells, the art of reviewing is part science and part literature. Food is multifaceted, with “so many powers, culturally and psychologically.” Restaurants are “super complex organisms"—spaces of calculation for the critic to explore.

The myth of the restaurant critic has a certain allure. He either arrives in a disguise or makes a reservation under a false name. Perhaps both. He never smiles. And he is always, it seems, out for blood. Pete Wells doesn’t wear disguises when he’s out to eat. The perceived power of The New York Times restaurant critic, he says, is more of a psychological one than a tangible one.

Psychology has always been a topic of interest for Wells; he’s interested in analyzing the way people think and observing how they behave. He came Penn expecting to major in it, but then realized the field of psychology is not necessarily the place to study character and “why we are the way we are.” He moved on to study intellectual history, developing

an interest in “the role of the writer” and how “the role of the intellectual changes in different societies.” Then, post– grad, he started freelancing in New York.

“At that point in my life, in my career, I could have gone anywhere,” he says. His career was beginning just as restaurants started to function more as spaces where people could meet casually, when food TV was starting and Time Out New York began featuring short write–ups on restaurants. “The subject that editors kept asking me to write about was food.”

So he wrote about food, and now, after years in the field, he writes for The Times. So what’s the writing process like for one of the most influential food writers in America?

“Oh, it’s terrible,” Wells says.

At the bare level of language, Wells tries to stay away from taste, focusing on the visual details instead. “The more concrete you can make the food, the shorter [the] leap in the reader’s imagination to actually eating it.” Taste resists the process of writing; eating is an act that can waver between the realms of the religious and the banal with rapidity. It’s a slippery subject, and you have to trust your readers. “If I say ‘peach,’ I have to believe that people will remember the last peach they ate and I won’t have

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to describe the peachiness,” he says.

Despite his experience, Wells concedes that he falls into the same traps and clichés too. “Saying the steak was really beefy. I’ve done that.” He groans. “The thing that separates good from great is just the intensity of the flavor. But that’s a hard thing to write about without saying ‘this tasted like steak on steroids.’

No one wants to eat steak on steroids. We’re actually trying to find steak not on steroids.”

Wells eats out five times a week, sometimes more if he can fit in two dinners. Every starred review he writes reflects three visits, and the other two meals are “for sniffing things out.” He spells out his criteria for why a restaurant might not work for a review: the chef is new but not different enough from the old chef, the restaurant is good but it’s not good enough, it’s bad but it’s not bad enough. The existing public interest in a place matters as well. “If you have to tell people what the place is,” he explains, “then you can’t really slam it.”

Though bad reviews are infrequent, when he writes them, he doesn’t hold back.

Take late 2012, when The New York Times released a review Wells wrote on Guy Fieri’s now–closed Times Square restaurant. It was titled “As

Not Seen On TV,” and written in the form of 49 questions directed at Fieri himself. The second paragraph begins: “Did panic grip your soul as you stared into the whirling hypno wheel of the menu, where adjectives and nouns spin in a crazy vortex?” The review has 1,024 comments on The New York Times site, many of which defend Guy Fieri or question why Wells would cover the restaurant in the first place. For many readers, the review was an example of Wells’ elitism and “disdain for real America.”

Personally, Wells thought the restaurant itself was “exploiting and disrespecting” this “real America.”

His Fieri review, then, was the logical response to a TV personality claiming to be representing the wide genre of American regional cuisine.

In 2016, another review gained notoriety, though for a different reason. Wells knocked the restaurant Per Se down from four stars to two.

His predecessor, Sam Sifton, had called Per Se the greatest restaurant in New York. The Per Se review gained attention as well, but for not nearly the same reason as the Fieri review.

“Those two reviews are really similar,” Wells says. “They’re both about a promise being made by the image the famous chef has built up that’s not be-

ing delivered.”

The public believes that all restaurant critics “have the potential to give somebody their comeuppance,” says Wells. If a place has gotten too full of itself, or perhaps is riding the wave of its reputation, it’s the restaurant critic who can take it down. “People love that,” he says, “though that’s not part of what I do. To me it’s a minor part of the job that’s been blown all out of proportion. I can’t name a single place that I think I closed.”

More often, his reviews draw positive attention to places that were previously overlooked, with bad reviews acting solely as a “diagnosis of a disease that was going to kill the restaurant anyway.” He cites Romera, a restaurant that closed in 2012, as the only place he believes he had a definite hand in killing.

“The restaurant didn’t die because I slammed it, it died because it needed probably three stars and a lot of flag waving to get people in there.”

In the meantime, Wells will continue to look out for what New York has to offer. “I’m trying to drop into more places like this.” He points to Wu’s Wonton King, a restaurant on East Broadway that serves inexpensive food in a casual setting. “I’d like to expand my frame of reference a little bit.”

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How Chick-fil-A Carried My Family Through Crisis Three almost–vegetarians found hope in fast food chicken.

SOPHIA DUROSE I wore glasses in the seventh grade, but I viewed the half– hour drive from my childhood home to M.D. Anderson hospital as if they were speckled by rain. However, the one thing that always glowed in bright pristine color, a sight I never wanted obscured, was the brilliant red Chick–fil–A sign.

My mom’s cancer—discovered, ironically, in the elated seconds after her second wedding dress was unzipped and pooled on the floor of the Grand Bohemian Hotel—surprised us all. I no longer hungered for Mom’s homemade avocado and brie sandwiches, my stomach tightening at the thought of ice cream or fresh pineapple.

My stomach was full, instead, with worry, frantic plans, thousands of questions, and the reduction of decades of love I thought were promised to me.

Moments that had yet to happen, moments I took for granted, were suddenly distilled into questions, churning like gravel in my

stomach. Images of Mom walking me down the aisle at my wedding, of her clapping proudly at my high school graduation, rolled into sticks of dynamite that took turns exploding in my gut.

Prior to Mom’s diagnosis, I didn’t know that chemotherapy weakens one’s immune system to the point where raw foods were verboten.

Certain meals were not only unappetizing and nauseating, but now also dangerous.

Family friends offered empty attempts of assistance; one of them showed up with a bowl of tomato soup and a smile dripping in expectation. I thanked her, dipped a pinky into the soup, tasted the thick milkiness of too much sour cream, and dumped the rest down the drain. Our kitchen had been bleached of laughter; food became simple sustenance, nothing more.

When my stomach rumbled, I viewed it as just another audible complaint against the unfairness of sickness, not as a plea for taste and calories.

Mom’s face went from lob-

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Sofie Praestgaard | Illustrator

ster–red to broccoli–green.

Comfort food was the antonym to its own name.

“Guys, let’s get Chick– fil–A for breakfast today.”

Mom’s suggestion pierced the haze in my head. We were once again on our way to the hospital, and my mouth watered at the thought of honey–dipped mini biscuit buns snuggling the chicken nuggets I had grown up loving. Chick–fil–A had always been our favorite fast food place, and really, the only fast food Mom would buy us.

We’d never eaten any sort of red meat, so places like McDonalds and Burger King

were unappetizing, with walls and chairs seemingly spotted with grease. When a hurricane knocked out the power in our neighborhood, leaving my family without air conditioning for the entire grueling Florida summer, the three of us spent many hours lounging in the booths at our local Chick–fil–A, exchanging fries and jokes in the cool air. We started viewing it as an island of cold ice cream, safe from the Florida heat.

Chick–fil–A dates all the way back to 1946, when Truett Cathy opened his first store in Hapeville, Georgia. Since its inception, Chick–fil–A

has pledged to remain closed on Sundays. Facing public outcry in 2012 when Chick– fil–A’s chief operating officer, Dan T. Cathy, was involved in reports opposing same–sex marriage, this fast food chain was built using many pillars that I don’t support. But when our house was a sweltering blister, we didn’t care about the controversy.

The first day Mom suggested we stop for Chick–fil–A, foregoing our usual breakfast of frozen Eggo waffles, was a Friday. We pulled through the drive–thru, ordering three four–pack chicken minis, and three sides of hash-

browns, even though I was the only one who would eat them. Something about that morning felt lighter, and my stomach ached with a familiar hunger that was slowly pushing away the leaden lump of uncertainty and dread that had filled my gut for so long.

“I wish we did this every morning,” Rachel said, a bundle of chicken poking out from inside her cheek, a smile poking out the other.

“I don’t know about every morning, but how about every Friday morning? To celebrate the end of another week.” The implications behind her words rippled in front of me—a congratula-

places that wouldn’t serve you if you were in jeans. Although unrealistic to sustain weekly, an outing to a fancy place seemed warranted—perhaps even a return to the Grand Bohemian Hotel would provide just the right amount of sickly–sweet irony. When even a smile had become a form of makeup, any efforts to feel beautiful often had the opposite effect on Mom. We wanted affordable and fast, something that allowed us to slip into the real world just long enough to order, and then blend back into the oblivion of doctor's appointments and hospitals, grease adorning our fingertips like ink. We left Chick–fil–A

"Chick–fil–A gave me, Rachel, and Mom something to look forward to...something to hunger for." tions for surviving another week of treatment, and a sense of gratitude for any week we all pulled through together.

“I would love that.” Rachel said, and I nodded in agreement. For $3.39, Chick–fil–A gave me, Rachel, and Mom something to look forward to...something to hunger for.

The strict demands of cancer were unfaltering: waking up at five in the morning to go to the hospital was a necessity; watching her suffer was a necessity; Chick–fil–A was a treat—a small present wrapped in white cardboard boxes that left snail tracks of oil on our fingers. It was a way to mark the passing of weeks, not in the amount of times Mom vomited or the amount of times my friends asked why she was bald, but in a way that made my little family happy and full.

Most families would make reservations at the kinds of

like bandits, stealing a few happy moments from their friers.

Cancer bit out of us a raw chunk that it chewed like gum, leaving Mom to bleed out dollar bills like blood cells. For 350 calories and 37 grams of carbs, we could replenish ourselves slightly. I can never forget the many mornings my sister and I spent under hospital lights, ignoring everything around us except the little white box in our hands. I focused all my energy on tearing open their miniature ketchup packets, not allowing my field of vision to expand and encompass the rest of the waiting room. My world was my breakfast—not the smell of rubbing alcohol, but the smell of honey glaze and the fried warmth in my stomach.

I’ve been fully vegetarian now for almost three years, but every time I see a Chick– fil–A, my mouth still waters for their breakfast menu, and I’m tempted every time.

One bite and you’ll be a loyal subject for life

On 39th street between chestnut & sansom!

Open late Friday & Saturday 3836 Chestnut St • (215) 921-6494 S E P T E M B E R 2 6 , 2 01 8 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 2 3

Your Day in Chinatown, Planned Street's Chinatown bakery, crafts, bubble tea, and restaurant picks.

Photos by Ethan Wu and Autumn Powell

SABRINA QIAO AND REMI LEDERMAN

Chinatown, the mecca of food and culture in any major city. In Philadelphia, the stately red Friendship Gate on Arch and 10th Streets marks the entrance to a community of bakeries, boba shops, restaurants, curio shops, and more. Stepping into Chinatown is an immersion into the vibrant, bustling epicenter of Chinese culture, and all of this is located right here in the City of Brotherly Love.

Ting Wong Chinatown has no shortage of eateries, but Ting Wong is the underrated option when you’re looking for cheap, delicious Chinese food—as long as you’re okay with the no-frills interior and the roast ducks hanging in the windows. Service here is fast, which also means they’ll expect you to order fast, but when your giant (and the servings here are very generous), steaming plate of Cantonese food comes streaming out of the kitchen, you’ll be thankful.

The menu here features dishes for almost every palate, but the carb dishes here are a real standout, from toasty noodle soups to gossamer rice noodles. Meat–lovers, try the pepper beef Hong Kong style noodles for a crispy twist to your usual lo–mein. Vegetarians, make sure to order the snow pea leaves with garlic for a fresh, yet filling, entree. And the best part? You’ll probably spend less than $20, with tip.

TL;DR: Come here for fast service and carb–loading.

LOCATION: 138 N 10th St. HOURS: Mon–Sun: 8 a.m.–10 p.m.

PRICE: $ 2 4 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E S E P T E M B E R 2 6 , 2 01 8

KC’s Pastries After dinner—even if you’re stuffed—make sure to check out KC’s Pastries, where you can gorge yourself on a variety of savory and sweet options. The scent of freshly baked bread immediately greets you when you walk inside, where two rows of baked delicacies wink out at you behind plastic display cases. Tray in hand, you can meander through the store and curate a variety of goods to take home, from fluffy egg tarts with flaky crusts to beef buns with slightly spicy meat fillings—you’ll be salivating by the time you finally reach the counter to pay.

TL;DR: Sugar, spice, and everything nice at this Chinatown bakery.

LOCATION: 109 N 10th St. HOURS: Mon–Sun: 8 a.m.–6: 30 p.m.

PRICE: $

Mr. Wish Inside Mr. Wish, everywhere you look is bright green. Green counters, green walls, green aprons, green everything. Mr. Wish prides itself on being fresh, specializing in both bubble tea and fruit tea. In fact, it is the #1 fruit tea franchise in Taiwan and has its USA headquarters located here in Philly. For the fruit lovers out there, go for the Wish Special Fruit Tea. It combines four kinds of fruits and juices for a refreshing blend of tropical flavor. If you want to customize your tea, Mr. Wish offers traditional Taiwanese toppings like aiyu jelly, aloe, and coconut jelly that can be difficult to find elsewhere. For your boba fix, get the Pearl Milk Tea. The tapioca balls were fresh and the tea definitely overpowered the milk. Although they don’t have the popping boba, they do have matcha and oolong milk teas that are next on my list of things to try here.

TL;DR: Get all your boba wishes granted at this bright green storefront.

LOCATION: 216 N 10th St. HOURS: Mon–Fri: 10 a.m.–11 p.m.

PRICE: $

Asia Crafts To walk into Asia Crafts is to walk into Saniro heaven. This cozy shop is tucked near a smattering of bakeries and bistros on 10th Street, and the inside is covered in tangy shades of pastels reminiscent to the milky bubble tea you can get nearby. A wall of Hello Kitty plushies greets you when you first walk in, and further back you can find Rilakkuma, Doraemon, and Pikachu as well, but your selection isn’t limited to the warm and fuzzy.

Despite the compact storefront, Asia Crafts carries an impressive selection of stationary, clothing, and foodstuffs, from Hi–Chews to pocky sticks. Whether you’re interested in finding a sweet gift for a friend or you’re hoping to rediscover that delicious candy you tried a long time ago, head to Asia Crafts to satisfy all your Saniro needs.

TL;DR: Hello Kitty and friends are just one reason to visit this store.

LOCATION: 124 N 10th St. HOURS: Mon–Sun: 10: 30 a.m.–9 p.m.

PRICE: $$

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The Rooster, a Soup Company with a Soul Comfort food worth crossing the road for.

ANNABELLE WILLIAMS The restaurant is awash in an orange light, making it feel warm despite being just about room temperature. You can almost hear the neon lights buzz.

It’s not exactly prime real estate, and its quasi–underground–ness (it sits under sister restaurant Goldie in a split–level) resulted in something of an observable pest problem, but the place feels homey—even to two Catholic pescatarians in a Jewish deli.

It’s hard to do an upscale diner concept with any semblance of authenticity. And The Rooster has had something of an early– life crisis since it opened in early 2017 as Rooster Soup Company, going through a few executive chefs and menus. In July 2018, it rebranded as an upscale Jewish deli, to the tune of a name change. Seems it’s hard to sell soup in the winter.

I first reviewed The Rooster

back when it was Rooster Soup Company, for Street’s Spring 2017 Dining Guide. It was my first semester as a writer, and I paired up with Autumn Powell, who at the time was a staff photographer. On this humid Thursday night in September 2018, Autumn and I are back, now close friends and both members of Street’s board. It feels cyclical, fitting, that we’re here again.

The waitress smiles politely when we tell her we’re celebrating our anniversary, and Autumn makes me promise not to tell her boyfriend (sorry!). She orders a peppery Schug Margarita ($6 for happy hour, $8 otherwise). The last time we visited, the drink wasn’t yet on the menu, but we got to try a sample.

While The Rooster’s Montreal Smoked Meat ($13), a pastrami sandwich, is our waitress’s recommendation, Autumn and I both

Autumn Powell | Media Director

rarely eat meat, so we decide to opt for a split chopped salad with Za’atar vinaigrette ($10), and two orders of the challah grilled cheese.

Visiting here always seems momentous, so I decided to indulge a craving I’ve been nursing for years. Just a quick fix. I realized I had this problem when I accompanied my roommate to Wishbone and watched, with the reverence usually associated with church, her scarf down wings. It’s been five years since I’ve eaten chicken, and I’d give a gangly limb for a bowl of matzo ball soup ($4/$7).

The Yemenite Matzo Ball Soup is what Solomonov and his business partner Steve Cook call the “backbone” of the menu. In 2014, the group announced via

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Kickstarter that they’d be opening a soup–based outpost, using the scraps from Federal Donuts’ (another CookNSolo venture) fried chicken for stock. The concept hinged on a philanthropic partnership with the Broad Street Hospitality Collaborative, which ministers to “vulnerable” Philadelphians, often homeless or housing–insecure. CookNSolo proposed that 100% of the restaurant’s profits would benefit the ministry. And while much about The Rooster has changed, that mission has been constant.

Our soup and salads come out quickly—we’re one of two parties in the restaurant—and I wait for Autumn to snap some photos with a small twinge of plant– based guilt. It soon evaporates in the parsley–laden broth. I down the bowl.

No matter what I get after, it’ll wilt in the face of my salty indulgence. I write this days later, still thinking about that damn soup.

The chopped salad is an Israeli

spin on a classic in CookNSolo’s usual style, with halved tomatoes in a rainbow of colors and crunchy, thin–sliced cucumbers so abundant that they outnumber the lettuce, drenched in springy dressing.

Our grilled cheese soon follows, along with a tastefully spicy Bloody Mary made with Israeli salad water. The challah bread is the real star of the grilled cheese, a blend of Muenster and Cooper Sharp bisected by a layer of dijon. A pile of fries and pickle sit on the side, some upscale pastiche of the crisp and salty McDonald’s fries I pretend not to like.

Lastly, our attentive waitress brings out a slice of brown sugar bourbon peach pie ($6). It’d be better hot—room temperature doesn’t do the fresh fruit any favors—but we devour it anyway.

I mooch Autumn’s pickle to offset the cloying brown sugar, and we head out into the muggy night.

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TL;DR: Homey, newly–rebranded Jewish deli with philanthropic mission.

LOCATION: 1526 Sansom St. HOURS: Mon–Sun: 11 a.m.–7 p.m.

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Redcrest Fried Chicken Saved My GPA The fried chicken your girlfriend tells you not to worry about.

DANIEL BULPITT

As I crossed Passyunk Avenue, a waft of fresh fried chicken aroma hit my nose and instantly whetted my appetite. I huddled into Redcrest for a reprieve from the rain outside, and the ambient warmth and classic rock playing in the background picked me up from the otherwise lackluster Sunday.

Upon first glance, the menu at Redcrest has something for everyone, including vegans. They offer fried chicken in spicy or buttermilk batter, some chicken sandwiches, a few vegan options, and soft– serve ice cream, as well as sides like mashed potatoes and coleslaw. I ordered a “Whole,” which includes two thighs,

Autumn Powell | Media Director

two breasts, two legs, and two wings, but split the pieces between the buttermilk and spicy batter to try both. I also loaded up on sauces—notably buffalo and spicy honey. The prices here are generally pretty fair; the order was about right for about 2–3 people, and ran at $25 (the chicken was $20, but the sauces were another dollar each).

When I got the food, I lost it. After running through Center City to catch the subway, walking around in the rain, and waiting ten minutes in the store for the chicken to come out fresh from the fryer, I had a little tear in my eye staring at the food on the tray in front of me. It was

TL;DR: Relatively new, amazing fried chicken place in South Philly with vegan options and Grubhub/UberEats accessibility.

LOCATION: 1525 S 11th St. HOURS: Sun—Thurs: 11 a.m—10 p.m.

Fri—Sat: 11 a.m.—11 p.m.

PRICE: $

beautiful. The breading was delicious, crispy, and not too hard or thick. The chicken itself was astounding—it actually fell off from the bone and was very moist. I have no clue how they got the crust to be so crispy while maintaining the moistness of the chicken, but it was magical. I would confidently say that this chicken is one of the best fried chicken options in Philadelphia, and certainly the best one within a 30 minute subway ride.

As for the sauces, there were some clear standouts. After trying the garlic aioli, spicy mayo, buffalo sauce, and spicy

All-natural,

honey, I would rank the buffalo and spicy honey as standouts. The buffalo was pretty spicy and dynamic, complimenting the chicken well.

The honey was a must for the biscuits that come with any order of fried chicken. Oh, yeah, there’s also biscuits.

They were fluffy, flakey, and a little buttery, but paired with the honey—insane. I promise I am not gassing this up, it really was that good.

My only caveat with Redcrest was that the “spicy” fried chicken wasn’t spicy, more like well–seasoned. Still delicious, just somewhat misleading. But

that’s the only problem I had with this place; the staff were nice, the food was amazing, and it’s pretty quick and easy.

Also, they’re on UberEats and Grubhub, so the distance isn’t even really a problem. Talking to the cashier, it sounds like Redcrest has hit a good stride too. While I was there, there were several UberEats drivers picking up orders. They’ve grown a lot in popularity since opening last February, and are usually pretty busy on weekends, game days, and the likes.

Definitely a must try the next time you find yourself in South Philly. Or, even a reason to go.

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Mike's BBQ Puts the South in South Philly Southern hospitality tucked onto 11th Street, with brisket, ribs, and much more.

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Ethan Wu | Photographer

Smoke—the wafting aroma of it clung to me the moment I pushed open the restaurant door, embracing me with a warmth that resonated with Southern hospitality. Already damp and disheveled from the rain, I made a mental note to change my clothes later. Perhaps it was the prevailing gloom outside that accentuated the immediate coziness of the room, or maybe it was the decor—the red walls were decked out in small homey paintings that seemed appropriate for a restaurant known for its comfort food.

I walked towards the register to order, passing four person tables helpfully adorned with a roll of paper towels and a set of house–made sauces. The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed for a barbecue joint with a closing time determined by whenever it sold out of food—only a certain amount was prepared every morning. The menu, hand–written on brown construction paper on a wall, was as straightforward as they come, listing a variety of meats by the pound, accompanied by a list of sides and specials.

While easy to peruse, the menu

was overwhelming only in the abundance of choices available.

Mike Strauss, the founder and owner of Mike’s BBQ, helpfully chose for me, placing two trays piled with generous helpings onto my table. The main attractions were, of course, the meats, including: brisket, sausage, pulled pork, and ribs. While not especially unique in presentation—they were placed directly on a sheet of butcher paper atop of a cafeteria tray—they still looked irresistibly good.

My immediate favorite was the sliced brisket, the half–inch

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thick slices were tender and savory, particularly due to the salt– and–pepper char on the sides.

Strauss explained that his brisket “has a Texas influence for sure.

We season it mostly with just salt and pepper, 50–50, like they do in Texas,” he said.

Besides Texas, Mike’s BBQ boasts a variety of Southern influences in their food—not just the Southern area of the United States—but also, of Philadelphia.

Their ribs and pork are Carolina–style, and their white sauce originates from Alabama. But their smoked brisket cheesesteak, as well as a few of their sides, are distinctly South Philly.

One–by–one, I went on a geographical food tour, plunging my fork (in a failed attempt to keep my hands clean) into the ribs.

With gentle coaxing, the meat fell cleanly off the bone. Slightly pink on the inside, with a perfectly charred crust on the outside, the ribs were distinctly peppery, and overall, a delectable feast.

The slices of sausage possessed a pronounced blend of unique spices that kept me reaching for more. The pulled pork was a bit dry, making it the least flavorful of the bunch, but it did make for a perfect foundation for any of the house–made sauces to shine.

“Mike’s BBQ” sauce was a solid classic—a warm and smoky barbecue sauce that paired with everything. “Sweet Heat” was spicier than it was sweet, but its heat was addictively good. “Pepper Vinegar” had a strong acidic taste, and according to Strauss, is often used by customers to put on their collard greens. Their white sauce, though not available as a bottle on the table, was still accessible and provided a cooling relief to its spicier counterparts.

The brisket cheesesteak was the unexpected star of the show.

It’s easy to see why it’s a customer favorite, with one large bite taking me through an adventure of thick, chewy bread wrapped around a generous stuffing of brisket, house–made wiz, and a sprinkling of chopped, caramelized onions. Get this to share— half is definitely enough for one person, especially since you don’t want to miss out on the barbecue. Finally, I enjoyed the gouda mac & cheese—thick spirals slathered with the right amount of cheese, neither too strong nor too heavy.

Despite how well the barbecue seems to resonate with flavors from the South, Mike is surprisingly not from the South. He is originally from central New Jersey, but has been in Philadelphia for 20 years. He got his start in the barbecue business not out of tradition, but out of a sheer homegrown love for it. “I’ve always been a backyard barbecue person,” he says, “feeding my friends and family.”

Now he serves all of Philadelphia. His authentic love for barbecue is clear in how the meat is smoked fresh every day and doled out to customers in a simple and uncluttered atmosphere.

It’s notable that Mike’s BBQ is also a BYOB—a liquor store is conveniently located a block away, so bring your friends. This is comfort food at its finest. I left full and satisfied, the smoke on my clothes following me like a gentle reminder to return.

TL;DR: Barbecue to give the South a run for their money.

LOCATION: 1703 S 11th St. HOURS: Wed–Sun: 12 p.m.–6 p.m. (or until sell–out) PRICE: $$

Hop Over to Hop Sing Laundromat This Chinatown Speakeasy has strict rules, stiff drinks, and a whole lotta atmosphere.

NICK JOYNER Photos Courtesy of Hop Sing Laundromat

Crammed between two nondescript Chinatown buildings, behind an intricately wrought iron gate, through an empty waiting room, there’s a dimly lit room brimming with strong, old–fashioned cocktails.

Helmed by an eccentric owner and shrouded in mystery, Hop Sing Laundromat has become something of a Philadelphia lore in the past several years.

Its website is a cryptic single page, quoting David Foster Wallace and explaining how their establishment will never live up to your expectations. “After all, this is just a simple bar and not some sort of Prohibition, speakeasy, or retirement resort–themed bar, as we lack the intelligence to execute such a scheme,” the website candidly proclaims. In fact, they “did not even intend to advertise themselves.” Indeed, they have no signage. Despite these concerted efforts, Condé Nast named it one of the best bars in the world just three years ago, and it’s been on a meteoric rise ever since. And as evidenced by the nightly line up the block.

Gaining entrance to Hop Sing has become its own sort of legend. There are rumors of an unofficial dress code: no shorts, no sneakers, no jeans.

Upon reaching the front of the line, guests wait until a short,

middle–aged man opens an inner door. This is the owner, Lê, a self–described “North Korean ex–pat,” who is the official gatekeeper of the establishment.

After a quick scan of our IDs, he led us into a small anteroom where he outlined the rules of the establishment, of which there were two: no talking on the phone, no photos. After the quick crash course, he led us into a dimly lit room with red– painted walls covered in mirrors.

The centerpiece of the room is without a doubt the monument wall of liquor bottles, displayed behind a bar top made of coins tiled in clear resin. The interior seems like something of a bar in an Old West railroad town crossed with White Dog. Hop Sing exclusively serves cocktails, with a permanent two page drink menu plus an extra sheet of seasonal specials. The choices were paralyzing, and my group opted to try as many as we could. This may have been a mistake, as you can do the trick with about one and a half drinks. For the first round, we opted for three unique cocktails: a Bramble (gin, muddled blackberries, lemon juice, and simple syrup), a Wisconsin iced tea (ginger liqueur, gin, Pimms, falernum, iced oolong, mint, and fresh lemon juice), and a

Fuggetaboutit (gin, elderflower liqueur, Campari, falernum, and lime juice). At $16 a piece, the drinks were definitely pricey, but they didn’t skimp on alcohol or flavor. The Wisconsin iced tea and the Bramble did wonders in masking the flavor of the gin, the former being a good mix of disparate flavors and the latter being a little fruitier and lighter.

The Fuggetaboutit was a beautiful crimson color, coming garnished with a sculptural orange peel. It had two types of alcohol, and damn could you taste them.

For the second round, we

wanted to get a little more experimental. We opted for a Big Spender (gin, yellow chartreuse, falernum, and fresh lemon juice), a Stonewall Riot (vodka, fresh extracted green grape, and orange juice), as well as a Philly Colada (El Dorado rum, Aluna coconut liqueur, fresh pineapple juice, cream, fresh lime, and mint). The Big Spender came in a citrus–y slush, and was small and strong. The Stonewall Riot was the letdown of the night, tasting something like watery celery. But the Philly Colada more than made up for it. It was

strong and classic, creamy and foamy in all the right places.

Through all of our liquorous debauchery, we were waited on hand and foot by an attentive waiter, who refilled our water glasses if they ever were less than half full and relit our oil candles no less than five times. We were breathing a little too heavy, which I’ll chalk up to the cocktails doing their job. Stumbling back onto Race Street, we were glad we came. Partly to demystify the place, partly to get our night started out with a bang.

TL;DR: Pricey, stiff cocktails cloaked in a mysterious ambience.

LOCATION: 1029 Race St. HOURS: Thurs–Fri: 5 p.m.–2 a.m.

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Vista Peru: Skip Dinner, Come for the Cocktails This Peruvian joint in Old City serves up lip–smacking Pisco.

EMMA MOORE Despite the cold pounding rain, Saturday evening in Old City bustles with activity. Passersby hurry along 2nd Street, clutching umbrellas, rushing to find refuge. Cars honk and accelerate down the wide cobblestone avenue, spraying the sidewalk.

Tucked between bars, Vista Peru is easy to miss if you’re not paying attention. Step inside and look up, an undulating gold sculpture, evocative of mountains juts from the ceiling. Bright with white brick and pops of colorful Inca tiles adorned by gilded wallpaper, Vista Peru makes smart use of the narrow space, appearing spacious and elegant—cool and culturally– specific—without trying too hard. The restaurant is barely half full; understandable as it’s only 6:30 p.m., but we get relegated to the upstairs, a dark wood paneled space with reflective surfaces that felt more cold and utilitarian than the vibrant lower level.

Vista Peru bills itself as a Pisco Bar offering a variety of cocktails based on the clear brandy from the Andes. To start, I opt for the Pisco sour: a classic Peruvian concoction of lemon juice, egg white, Pisco, and simple syrup. The Pisco sour arrives white and frothy, served in an elegant martini glass—one sip and I’m in love. The airy egg whites balance out the sweet, acidic Pisco for an almost creamy, tart experience, a margarita meets lemon–drop foam.

Alongside, our server places a small bowl of cancha—warm and salty corn nuts that act as a perfect crunchy contrast to the syrupy cocktail.

Picking a dish is no easy task. The menu

boasts Peruvian staples such as ceviche and lomo saltado, more than a handful of lobster specials, an intriguing goat stew, and various causas, or layered mashed potato dishes. Our attentive server recommends “Camarones a la Plancha,” a platter of grilled, butterflied shrimp large enough to share that came with two side dishes. We picked out maduros, fried sweet plantains, and for a touch of green, the salad—our first mistake.

Within minutes, a large steaming platter emerges from the kitchen and overwhelms our cramped, square wooden table. We rip the succulent buttery shrimp from their shells, dipping meaty morsels in tangy orange sauce. Whereas we all but devour the shrimp, the side dishes fall short. The maduros—thick, deep golden wedges of fried plantain—taste starchy, caramelized, and slightly smoky, but still disappointingly lukewarm. The salad, shredded romaine lettuce ringed by large slices of watery tomato that looked like they were picked off of a hamburger, failed to impress. Perhaps it’s unfair to judge a restaurant off their side salad offering—but it feels like a cheap afterthought. Upon further inspection, we find sharp, vinegar soaked carrot chunks beneath the underdressed lettuce leaves.

A limp cauliflower sprig serves as platter centerpiece—appearing more of a careless throwaway than deliberate garnish.

Overall, I would hesitate to go back. At this price point, something was lacking, an attention to detail or a complexity of flavor.

The experience peaked with the Pisco sour, before the food even reached our table.

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TL;DR: Pop in for happy hour—sip Pisco and split some ceviche. Otherwise, your money is better spent elsewhere.

LOCATION: 20 S 2nd St. HOURS: Open Daily from 11 a.m.–2 a.m.

PRICE: $$

It's All in the Flavorful Details at Spice Finch

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This new Rittenhouse restaurant has spices, textures, and flavors galore.

APPLY TODAY!

SHINYOUNG HAILEY NOH Food’s kind of like poetry: you know it’s good when each word or ingredient is there for a reason.

If that’s true, then you know an expert made it.

Spice Finch, a Mediterranean restaurant near Rittenhouse Square, is a new project by expert chef Jennifer Carroll. She has nine years of French culinary training, but has also worked for Red Rooster, and you can feel her mix of high–class cuisine and down–to–earth dishes at Spice Finch. When I first walked into the space, I was instantly taken by how classy yet comfortable it felt.

And every element was there for a reason. The bare tables gave the restaurant a modern feel while the wood accents made it relaxing.

The waitress told us that dishes at Spice Finch are meant to be shared, so we shared shabazi fries, chili–chicken kebab, and date–braised lamb shank.

The fries were Goldilocks fries: not too oily, not too dry, not too crisp, and not too soft. Just right, and nicely complemented by a dip made from mayonnaise and Tunisian pepper. I could not stop eating them, until the kebab came out. The kebab came with Swiss chard, sesame yogurt, and garlic streusel, with hints of lemon detectable as well. The chicken itself was definitely good, but the seasoning was the standout. The flavor wasn’t drowned in some thick, pasty sauce, but instead tastefully pieced together with

spices and leafy greens.

And then there was the date– braised lamb shank. Wow. The lamb was so soft it melted against my fork, but that wasn’t even the best part. It came with a warm grain salad that completely stole the show. It had warmed couscous, quinoa, chickpeas, forbidden rice, and herbs, blanketing my taste buds with an explosion of flavor. The people at Spice Finch know their herbs, but they also know how to add a perfect finishing touch that propels their dishes through the finish line. For the grain salad, that magical addition was the forbidden rice, with a perfect crispiness. Again, every ingredient was added for a reason.

For dessert, we got the chocolate tahini cake. It comes with buttercream, fig sorbet, and orange meringue. This restaurant is an adventure in ideal texture pairing: the cake was had a firm surface that was softened by the cream and sorbet. Spice Finch may be a bit pricey, but it’s a great place to go when you want to treat yourself to a relaxing meal crafted by the hands of an expert.

TL;DR: A restaurant focused on the finishing touches that make a great meal.

LOCATION: 220 S 17th St. HOURS: Sun–Thurs: 5 p.m.–11 p.m.

Fri–Sat: 5 p.m.–12 a.m.

Price: $$$

APARTMENTS AVAILABLE NOW MOVE IN TODAY! Complimentary Shuttle Service Pet Friendly Availability Laundry On-Site Steps from Campus 24/7 Emergency Maintenance

4104 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, PA 19104 215.839.3518

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