LEMON HILL

LEMON HILL

747 North 25th Street

Philadelphia, PA 19130

(215) 232-2299

From the cocktail minds behind the Franklin Mortgage and Investment Company and the kitchen minds behind Supper, comes Lemon Hill, a gastropub/cocktail haunt that both looks and feels like it belongs in Brooklyn alongside Fort Defiance instead of a not-accessible-by-subway part of Philadelphia. But hell, Bro drove, so I was able to have an extra cocktail. 

Walking in, it's dark, lit by the orange glow of old bulbs, very much in the vein of the now-ultra-trendy turn of the (20th) century style. Dark woods, exposed brick, tin ceilings, New Orleans jazz, lotsa whiskey. No signage of any kind. These are the hallmarks of Lemon Hill. Bro and I showed up opening night to see what all the pre-opening night hype was about. We expected a long wait, so we showed up around 6pm, way earlier than I'd otherwise have any interest in having dinner, but it was a good idea. By 8 it was packed and the line was out the door.

The courses at Lemon Hill are small, though I won't say that it's a small plates restaurant. They have a "snack" menu, and starter menu and an entree menu. I recommend that you pick one of each. Naturally, you'd do well to have a cocktail too. I mean, when your bartender comes right out of Franklin Mortgage, why wouldn't you? Bro whet his whistle with a Rye Buck, a ginger-infused sweet whiskey drink. Very good. Stop arguing and get it. My choice was the Clover Club, a gin and egg white cocktail that I ordered out of nostalgia to the bar near home. But it was a wee bit thin. As a starter, we split the Dirty Rice Fritters, piping-hot deep fried rice balls with a cold crab? cream sauce. We both enjoyed it, but it was a bit dry and I'd have preferred an actual crab cake.

As an appetizer Bro ordered the Smoked Tomato Soup, with blue cheese popovers which was quite good. And quite smokey. My appetizer was the Pastrami Fried Chicken Wings, a salty breaded variant of the bar food fave with thousand island dressing and pickles that my buddy Dogz would drool over. While it was certainly a different, more haute version of that which emerged so famously from Buffalo, it was small and not so filling. I'd get two. After that, the entrees showed up. My dinny din din was the Hearth Baked Cavatappi, a creamy mac-and-cheese type dish with gruyere cheese, brussels sprouts and mushrooms with a dusting of breadcrumbs. I liked it a lot. Very good stuff. Bro ordered the Shrimp N Grits: grits, shrimp, okra and a whole prawn garnish (that Bro ate anyway). While I don't much care for okra, I couldn't find any faults here. If you were looking for a comfort food menu with flair, I think you've found it.

Dessert time came around, but Lemon Hill didn't have any coffee or tea on hand, so I skipped it and instead ordered another drink, the Blues Explosion, a grapefruit and whiskey combo. While I got myself nice and happy, Bro ordered a slice of pie. Specifically, he got a slice of Apple Cranberry Pie. I stole a bite and it was very good. Hopefully, one day, they'll have some coffee available.

Cocktails average $12 each. Expect to spend about another $30 on top of that for food, per person.

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10 ARTS LOUNGE

10 ARTS BISTRO & LOUNGE

The Ritz-Carlton

10 Avenue of the Arts

Philadelphia, PA 19102

(215) 523-8273

This rainy December afternoon Bro and I decided to make 10 Arts our rest stop while shopping in Philadelphia. Located inside of the Ritz-Carlton lobby, in what used to be an old bank, the 10 Arts is like drinking in a Roman temple. Perhaps to Bacchus? Anyway, it embodies everything that hotel bars are supposed to embody. It's fancy and expensive and you worry about the drinks later.

Eric Ripert, who was on an ex-girlfriend's I'd-cheat-on-you-with-this-guy-list (right behind Anthony Bourdain) is the brain behind the menu. Bro and I ordered some bites (the French Fries with a rosemary spice dusting and some Mini Burgers in a tangy mayo) and they were very good. As for our liquor, well, I ordered a Negroni and a Sazerac, both classic drinks, both made wrong but drinkable. Bro ordered a Godfather.

Of course, such consternations completely miss the point of a place like 10 Arts, which is entirely to feel important and wealthy. Doormen open the door for you and warmly say hello as though you live there and paid for their kid's college with your Christmas tip. It's marble and granite from floor to ceiling and being an old bank, that ceiling happens to be fifty feet high. The seats are plush and the liquor is top-shelf. Need I remind you that Eric Ripert made the bar food? Sure, there's a guy drinking Miller Lite watching a muted ESPN on a flat screen next to you, and some businessmen from a Cincinnati suburb you wouldn't remember the name of even if you were paid to are doing shots of tequila, but you barely notice them. You're too busy relaxing away from the grind of the city outside. You're too busy trying not to smile at the cute tourist girls. You're too busy letting go of the day. You're too busy not being busy, eating a mini-burger.

Expect to shell out $14 per cocktail and $5 per mini-burger.

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JG MELON

JG MELON

1291 Third Avenue

New York, NY 10021

(212) 650-1310

New York is a pizza city. It's a bagel city. It's a hot dog city. But, by and large, it's becoming a hamburger city. JG Melon, on the Upper East Side, has long been ahead of this particular curve. They've been on the best-of lists for burgers for as long as I can remember so, when Bro was in town and we found ourselves in the Lenox Hill area, we decided to go check it out.

JG Melon reeks of old New York. It's dark inside but not because it's trendy (they were a gastropub long before the word existed). It's because the lights are 25 watts to keep the electrical bills down. It's tight. Tables are practically on top of each other. It's loud and even the little old ladies are raising their voices. The waitresses are so busy that they barely look at you when you're ordering and only grunt at you when you tell them what you want. If you grew up in a small town where things move a little more slowly, then you might mistake this as rude. But it's not. We're just busier here in New York. Having to literally tug on a waitress' shirt to get her to see you is part of the charm. Cash only, no free refills on soda, and a meat-centric menu of old-school bar food. It's like going back in time.

Anyway, as I said, I came for a burger. And so that's what I got. The Cheeseburger, served with pickles and red onion and a square of Kraft American on top. Nuthin' else. Nothing else is even offered. But hell, it doesn't need it. It was everything they said. When you just want a perfectly made patty on a toasted bun, without forty different sauces that just end up hiding the taste of the meat, now you know where to go. I also ordered a side of Cottage Fried Potatoes, JG Melon's version of french fries. They were okay, but too thin. I would have preferred big honkin' steak fries. Bro ordered the Grilled Breast of Chicken Sandwich. It's exactly like what it sounds like. A butterflied chicken breast on a hero roll with lettuce, tomato, onion, and pickle. There's a choice of salsa or barbecue sauce which comes in a cup on the side. Bro went with the salsa. I'd have gone with barbecue. Either way, it's an all around yawn-inducing dish. This sandwich is one that cries out for one of those forty sauces I mentioned. It couldn't have less taste if it tried. On the other hand, if you want a traditional sandwich, it doesn't get more traditional than this.

Everything you see in that picture up there, plus soda, tax, and tip came to $40. Get the burgers. You won't be sorry.

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THE GREEN TABLE

THE GREEN TABLE

Chelsea Market

75 Ninth Avenue

New York, NY 10011

(212) 741-6623

Upscale food malls are de regueur in Manhattan lately as Eataly and the Limelight Marketplace can attest. Chelsea Market beat them to it though. L'Arte del Gelato is here, along with Amy's Bread, Fat Witch Bakery, and a host of other restaurants and specialty food shops. The Green Table is the restaurant wing of The Cleaver Company, a catering business which wholly embraces the mantra of the organic, small-farm, locavore lifestyle. Everything here is either organic or local or both. Guilt free food for reasons finally having nothing to do with being on a fad diet.

The inside it's small and cozy and warm. It's dimly lit but not to the point of being romantic. I've heard Green Table called a wine bar (actually, it says so on the business card) and it certainly has that atmosphere, but it's not one. It  is similar to the kinds of places I'd expect to find in Brooklyn. 

If you read this blog at all regularly, you know that, outside of cocktails, my favorite kind of restaurant are upscale casual new-Americans like Quaint in Queens and Fort Defiance in Brooklyn. So while the atmosphere here was spot on and the service was great, I can't lie and say that I was blown away by what we got on the plate.

The menu is a seasonal one and we ordered off of the current "Autumn" menu. Although it may feel like spring out there, it's almost winter so I expect that this menu won't last much longer. 

While looking at the menu, Speeds and I shared a small bowl of Olives, which were curiously served piping hot. I certainly wasn't expecting to get a mouthful of searing hot olive oil, but I there it was. I think I can safely say that I prefer olives at a nice room-temperature temperature.

I started the meal with the Market Soup, which is a sort of trendier way of saying the soup of the day. On this particular day the soup was creamy parsnip. I finished the bowl feeling far more healthy than when I started it, which is a nice feeling to have. But the soup itself was disappointingly tame. It just didn't have, to use a technical term, much oomph. I would have added some salt or some pepper if there had been any to add at the table, but as there was not, I made due (I don't usually ask for things that aren't provided). Speeds ordered the small-sized Harvest Salad, which was actually rather large. She loved the dressing and raved about the walnuts, but was let down by the sliced apple, complaining that they were completely tasteless. "It's like I'm eating a raw potato," she told me.

As an entree, Speeds got the Gnocchi, served with chanterelles, sage, butter and an assortment of "autumn vegetables" (potatoes and the like). She liked it and ate as much of it as she could, but it was a heavy dish. My opinion, having stolen a few bites, was that it wasn't more than just okay. I found the plate overall dry and bland. I'm was very pleased that I ordered the Organic Chicken Breast, a roasted, skin-on chicken breast with local greens and thyme au jus on a bed of lightly toasted spaetzle. Though the chef went a little overboard on the spaetzle, the chicken had tons of flavor and was as moist as anyone could hope for. I highly recommend this dish.

So the chicken and the salad (save the apple) was great, Speeds and I had differing opinions on the gnocchi, the soup was squarely in the middle and the olives... well, I think you should just skip those altogether.

The Green Table is far from prohibitively expensive. Our meals totaled $37 each after tax and tip.

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