April 8–15, 1999
food
A cozy setting for dessert or a six-course feast.
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RoseLena's
1623 E. Passyunk Ave., 215-755-9697. Lunch: Tue.-Sat., 11 a.m.-3 p.m.; Sunday Brunch: 11 a.m.-3 p.m. Dinner in Grace's Dining Room: Tue.-Sat., 6:30- 8:30 p.m.; Coffee Bar: Sun., Tue., Wed. and Thu., 11 a.m.-11 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 11 a.m.-12:30 a.m. No wheelchair access upstairs. Free parking across the street.
In a house in South Philly
Covered with laces
Was a quaint bar for coffee
And a dining room—Grace's.
With apologies to Ludwig Bemelmans, I am talking about RoseLena's, the coffee house that grew, attracting film crews and diners from all over. The film crews scout out the charming Victorian decor, and the kitschy objets that co-owner Terry Masino displays everywhere. The diners come for the excellent coffee and desserts, and also for the six-course dinners that are served upstairs. There's something very in-group about calling 24 hours ahead to choose from the ever-changing list of seven entrees—it's like having your own private party.
Terry and her husband Al envelop you with affection when you enter their parlor, and escort you to the second floor to Grace's Dining Room: three rooms bedecked with lace and satin curtains, festooned with ropes of pearls, antique candlesticks and bottles, and even sporting a mannequin dressed in Terry's mother Rose's wedding gown. It's so candlelit and whimsically romantic that you expect Blanche DuBois to slither out from behind the drapes.
Sitting at a comfortable table set with carefully mismatched antique china, listening to Sinatra and sipping a glass of complimentary wine (you are welcome, however, to bring your own -we did) can really put you in a receptive mood. And the food that starts arriving from the kitchen where Terry's son Chris holds sway, keeps up the feeling. There are no choices at your party except the entrees, but everything that appears is safe and familiar—nothing to alarm limited diners.
An antipasto plate contains a grilled portobello mushroom with garlicky melted Boursin cheese, some grilled sopressatto salami, and a fried, cheese-stuffed ravioli. A red pepper coulis complements each offering, moistening the meat with its flavor and adding more dimension to the mushroom and pasta. Mop it all up eagerly with flaky Italian bread, and you're ready for the soup course. The waitress is so friendly and competent that she paces each course perfectly.
Steaming bowls of a rich, peppery chicken broth are brought out, thickened with sliced crepes, chunks of chicken and carrot. It's a hearty dish, especially dusted with Parmesan cheese, and made even more heartwarming by the sight of the rain pounding on the window beside us. The only problem is that the bowls are small, and the broth disappears long before the accoutrements. They should use either bigger bowls, or fewer ingredients, so everything comes out even. An entremet of raspberry sorbet comes next, and efficiently clears the palate for the entree. I wish I had the space to describe the various plates and cups that contain each course. I'll just say that no pattern is repeated and every diner receives different ones.
The entrees we pre-selected came from a list of two chicken preparations, two of fish and three of meat, and the price quoted covers the entire meal, a bargain even if it weren't so good. I chose two thick veal medallions ($46.95), probably the eye of the chop, that are wrapped in prosciutto, lightly sautéed, with the juices then reduced into a wine sauce sparkling with fresh lemon and arugula. Sautéed spinach adds to the unique pepper of the arugula, and blends well with the lemon flavor. Perhaps a bit too much salt from the prosciutto, but otherwise a successful and generous dish.
A companion's rack of lamb ($44.95) is best of all—six medium rare chops, encrusted with chopped hazelnuts. The nutty taste cuts the richness of the meat, and a large portion of broccoli rabe balances the dish with its bitterness.
The chicken and shrimp classic ($40.95) is the only thing in the meal that I can fault. I do not favor veal with crabmeat, or surf 'n' turf, and certainly not a good herbed chicken breast topped with grilled jumbo shrimp. Even the sauce of cream and cognac does not meld these disparate tastes, and, as the final insult, there's a bed of squid ink pasta beneath it all. The marine flavors of shrimp and squid are fine on their own, the chicken and cognac sauce is a marriage—why lump it all together? Here the chef betrays his Italian roots, and produces the American idea of what "continental cooking" truly is—piling as many so-called "gourmet items" as possible onto a dish, and totally obscuring its basic intent. (I will not say "deconstruct" again, I promise.) Anyway, go with the meat; it comes, as do the vegetables, from purveyors in the Italian Market, and reflects their pride of place.
After these enormous portions, we have trouble doing justice to the salad course—a refreshing combination of Belgian endive, greens, feta cheese and chopped walnuts in a tart, balsamic vinegar-edged dressing. It does provide a perfect sharp note before we delve into dessert. We decide to take our coffee downstairs in the parlor where the effects of an upright piano, a wind-up Victrola and assorted trinkets make you feel you're in an old movie, maybe The Rose Tattoo, or Moonstruck. Here we really indulge ourselves, as I'm sure all of RoseLena's patrons do. (The following prices refer to the cost if you're ordering à la carte; dessert is included, however, in the cost of the meal.)
We go for a rustic, spicy crostata ($6.50) of apples and walnuts with a creamy rum zabaglione, that is more understated than it sounds. The maple syrup-soaked bread pudding ($5.50) is not so quiet, and hits us with caramel and vanilla gelato, as well. The Dolce Torte ($5.75), a recipe that we're told dates back to Michelangelo, consists of a tight roll of pie dough, studded with raisins, walnuts and citrus peel. It goes perfectly with RoseLena's Pousse Cafe ($4.50)—a delicious coffee concoction of espresso and caramel sauce, the cream topping further caramelized by a blast from a blowtorch, wielded by the lovely waitress.
At the bottom of the menu is a note: "My most heart-felt love to my husband and sons for allowing me to fulfill a dream-Terry." That's what this restaurant is all about—love, and family, and a large portion of dreams.
