March 20, 2008
By: Brian Freedman
bfreedman@aroundphilly.com
Like a good-looking kid sitting all alone in the middle-school cafeteria because, for whatever inexplicable reason, popularity has not been forthcoming, Bar Ferdinand can’t seem to recapture the buzz it generated when it first opened almost two years ago. Which is a shame, because it’s certainly worthy of far more attention than it’s recently received.
I think it’s mostly a matter of context, of having had its restaurant birth around the same time as Amada, that justifiable darling of the local and national press. Or maybe it’s a matter of location: Second and Chestnut is far easier for the non-locals to find than…well, almost anywhere in Northern Liberties.
In fact, understanding where Bar Ferdinand now stands was one of the main reasons for revisiting it now. The other was more basic: I wanted to see if the food was as interesting as it was when I first sampled it, and how it had or had not evolved over the intervening two years as it found itself outside the glare of obsessive foodie attention.
The food was as interesting—and as well-executed—as I remember. That edge of whimsy that set it apart from its neighbors is still very much working its magic. The restaurant’s signature dish, the now-reasonably famous manchego frito on a skewer, showed all the sizzle and pop I remembered.
This, as always, was composed of all the good things in life: fried cubes of cheese stuffed with membrillo (vastly underappreciated quince paste); a whimsical accoutrement in the form of frozen apple foam; and a sauce whose walnut depth and quince-induced sweetness anchored it all. What’s not to love?
On the other end of the skewer spectrum were the ostras, more aggressively savory complements to the somewhat sweeter pleasures of the stuffed manchego. Here, the brininess of the oysters and the nutty quality of the fried panko crust were played up by the addition of smoky chorizo, a brined guindilla pepper, and a duo of blood orange and parsley sauces whose individual vibrancy made them perfect--and more interesting--stand-ins for the standard mignonette.
Ms. M. fell head over stilettos for the crab and jumbo shrimp salad, or gambones y cangrejo. The components themselves, as is Ferdinand’s modus operandi, were not only fresh but prepared in such a way that their baseline flavors were afforded the opportunity to shine (no oppressively complex twists here). The shrimp were marinated in sherry vinegar and olive oil spruced up with thyme and garlic, then tossed with a salad that included jumbo lump crab meat, bell peppers, raw shallots, a bit of orange, and a fresh hit of mint.
Grilled octopus--one of the great joys of the Spanish table--was given a more haute treatment than it usually receives. Instead of simply being served with a squeeze of lemon and a quick twist of pepper, its accompaniments included briny fried capers that popped against the teeth, gently spicy arugula, and preserved lemon (done, like nearly everything else, in-house) whose sour bite was attenuated by a soft sweetness.
Gratin of baked caña de cabra (a goat cheese), all funkiness and tang, was shot through with the bite of roasted garlic cloves. Sage and raw Lancaster County honey provided a sense of perfume, and the pine nuts an unexpectedly earthy echo of the cheese. A braised pork-belly special, scented with cinnamon and thyme, found a buttery home between the fluffy halves of home-baked brioche and an apple-paprika sauce--the slider gone Spanish…kind of. Crispy, slightly oily churros had no need for the cup of 64 percent chocolate off to the side, but certainly took on an entirely different--and thoroughly appealing--character when dipped.
Those churros, in fact, seem to speak to a greater truth about Bar Ferdinand. For much like that chocolate sauce, the bright glare of local press attention does not seem to be a necessity to the restaurant’s existence. In fact, it’s doing perfectly well outside the spotlight.
And for the rest of us, it represents an embarrassment of riches in a way. After all, five years ago, it would have been unthinkable that this town would someday have enough forward-thinking, tapas-y destinations that any of them would be able to fly a bit beneath the radar.
But such is the nature of Philadelphia dining right now. And in a way, an attractive, inventive spot like Bar Ferdinand
not getting all the attention it deserves speaks volumes about how far we’ve come. Popularity, in restaurants as much as in middle-school cafeterias, is not always an accurate measurement of quality.
Visit Bar Ferdinand
