Review: Melograno

Okay, now that I have that out of my system, let’s get back to business. That artichoke was the centerpiece (literally—it rested upside-down in the center of the plate, the petals surrounding the tender, meaty heart spread out like a crown) of a dish of three rather pedestrian, vaguely chewy and certainly underseasoned scallops. And in that role, it spoke of both Melograno’s potential and the areas it needs to work on.

 

But all the pieces are there, as you would expect from this Rittenhouse favorite that moved just a couple blocks over to its expansive new space, all warm ochre tones and a gleaming exposed kitchen in the back, on the 2000 block of Sansom Street a few months ago. In fact, because the new location is substantially bigger than the original one, some snafus, mainly the result of increased volume, are to be expected. But so far, the signs are good. Even the early service problems seem to have been remedied—horror stories about rude hostesses and unbending servers spread through the city like a social disease. But I encountered none of that, and despite the crush of people that eventually clogged the front of the house half an hour after I was seated, a remarkable sense of calm defined my interactions with the staff.

 

Notable successes include spaghetti carbonara, a dish that has gotten so far away from its origins that it’s virtually unrecognizable at most restaurants. Here, though, its spirit is just what it should be: Pasta cooked al dente, the hearty addition of eggs and a generous dusting of black pepper (that pepper, in fact, is what one legend has it gives the dish its name: The flurry of black specks are supposed to mirror the dust that clung to the skin of the mine workers for whom the dish was supposed to be made after a hard day of toil. Apocryphal or not, it’s a nice tale either way). But the traditional guanciale has been replaced here with anchovies, and the addition of truffle oil is decidedly un-working class. But when the smokiness of the anchovies and the earthy perfume of the truffle oil envelops you, who’s going to argue?

 

A pair of quail was cleverly strung together, through their legs, with a twig of fresh thyme, which was both a witty punch line as well as an accomplishment of practicality; the gentle scenting that the herb lent the birds was unmistakable. It was also an indication of the range of flavors that this kitchen is comfortable working with. Each bird, for example, was stuffed with figs, prunes, walnuts and golden raisins and served alongside a simple, sturdy polenta that acted as an immaculate backdrop for the focal flavors to shine.

 

Berkshire pork chop, though overcooked by half a minute, was a success by virtue if its own dance between sweet and savory, the former provided by a reduced pomegranate sauce and the latter by a porchetta-style rub of salt, pepper, rosemary, clove and garlic, as well as by braised cabbage with plump white raisins that highlighted the savoriness of the dish rather than adding any unnecessary sweetness to it.

 

Desserts followed in the same vein. Ciabatta bread pudding’s savory spice—star anise, cardamom—was lifted by sweet-tart slivers of pineapple and a hefty addition of lemon and orange zest. Ricotta budino, with its almost soufflé-light center, acted as a mild, calming presence on the palate after all the demands that had been placed on it during the rest of the meal.

 

That is what Melograno’s fans will recall set it apart back in its original location, that ability to excite and challenge even as it comforts, the way it is both a neighborhood spot for a nice, casual meal and a destination that has people driving from all over town to visit. And while Melograno is still far from perfect, or even as great as it has the potential to be, its best dishes, its best riffs, still have the power to inspire a second glance, a new consideration, a refreshed appreciation for an otherwise humble ingredient. No matter how you describe it, no matter what adjectives you use to recreate the details, that’s good eating.