On The Sharp Edge

SOCIAL SCENE: With clean design and greenery, Verge breathes new life into the former social services building. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

Verge has ambition, and might just bring East Falls with it.

by Elisa Ludwig

It's worth visiting East Falls' Verge for the architecture alone. Housed in an old social services building retrofitted with wine cabinets, dramatic lighting fixtures, a gleaming open kitchen, and "reclaimed" soybean countertops, Verge has given a boxy, utilitarian structure an inspiring new life as an upscale restaurant. Conceived as part of the larger Mills at East Falls complex, a mixed-use community of retail stores and design studios, Verge has an urban utopia, resort-y feel about it: the breads are artisanal, the parking is free, mobile phones are not permitted. Inside, a bar divides the space into sleek modern lounging and dining areas. Outside on the expansive patio, recycled soda bottle tables and chairs overlook the Schuylkill River and Kelly Drive.

Upon being seated we were given a basket of bread, a dish of olive oil and the classic water upsell (a pet peeve; surely diners can be trusted to order Pellegrino when they want it). But the old still-or-sparkling question was also our first clue that Verge takes its liquid refreshments seriously. The wine list is extensive, focusing on small producers and affordable selections by the bottle, as well as at least a dozen selections by the glass. An additional list details specialty cocktails with pomegranate and blood orange juice that are named for nearby streets—a little gesture of local pride for a neighborhood on the come-up.

A combination of smaller and larger plates offers enticements both for the bar crowd and an older, more moneyed dining audience. The incongruous third category on the menu is sides, which includes comfort food like mashed potatoes and onion rings. In general, Verge's new American cuisine is ambitious and sophisticated, albeit slightly dated in its fondness for food pyramid, squeeze-bottle sauce presentation. Even the smaller plates have a big-plate-sized list of ingredients, with at least one surprise flourish per dish. In a risotto threaded with braised oxtail meat, glazed pearl onions and tiny cubes of carrots, it was the chocolate vinaigrette—though with only a thin brown line encircling the plate, any cocoa flavor was subsumed by the stronger notes of lemon, sage and meat. Its exotic elements notwithstanding, the dish was oddly wholesome, a fancified version of beef stew.

We enjoyed the warm polenta terrine, cubes of cornmeal with bulls-eyes of sausage—a geometric configuration of tastiness. The plate was embellished with roasted-pepper pistou, shaved Asiago cheese and lambs lettuce. An already rich petit buckwheat crepe, stuffed with Westphalian ham, slices of black mission figs and goat cheese, was amplified by a rosemary port glaze. Hearty, heavy dishes one and all—and these selections came from the late summer menu. One can only imagine what sort of rib-sticking concoctions await for autumn proper.

Entrees were equally elaborate and occasionally confounding. A pan-seared duck breast was perfectly tender, sweetened by its "bourbon lacquer" and surrounding clear drops of vanilla gastrique. An accompanying corn flan atop a savory pecan oatmeal cookie delivered a confectionary thrill. The entire combination would have been excellent without the poblano essence—a bright green squeeze of sauce that was inedibly bitter. There's a limit, after all, to how much essence a diner can take.

More straightforward were the enormous, lemon-scented cannelloni filled with ricotta and lobster and finished with a sweet garlic sauce. The seafood was fresh and the soft filling was nicely accented by the crisp edges of crepe.

Of all the entrees we sampled, the biggest disappointment was the sauteed Great Lake walleyed pike, which, with its many ingredients, promised great things. But sherry bacon butter and spicy peach fondue could not change the fact that the fish was bland and unalluring, and the hush puppies were desiccated little balls of breading.

With a sip of La Colombe, we could forgive. The dessert list includes fresh sorbets and ice creams, which, like all the restaurant's breads and pastries, come from the nearby Bakery at the Mills (another component of the larger Mills complex). Beneath its shattering crust, pumpkin créme brulee was velvety smooth and redolent with allspice. Yet it was (forgive the pun) run-of-the-mill stuff compared to the confit of strawberries served with lemon-basil sorbet and a long strip of butter cookie. The shockers here were lemon-marinated olives—if you didn't know better, you'd think they were really thick grapes—and a sugary frozen plum tomato. A bit too intensely flavored on all counts, this dish could have used a few more cookies or a scoop of vanilla ice cream instead of the sorbet to balance out the wacky vegetables. Still, its innovation did not go unnoticed.

With touches like these, Verge makes a bold impression. The challenge will be to attract a local following as well as diners from other parts of the city, diners who might not expect to encounter creative food and fine wine in East Falls, let alone recycled soybeans or dessert olives. Verge is ostensibly named for its proximity to the water, but its name also seems to befit its location. As East Falls continues to transform itself, this old government building will be a reminder of what a reimagined neighborhood can look like.

Verge 4101 Kelly Dr., 215-689-0050

Hours: Mon.- Thurs., 5-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat. 5-10:30 p.m.; Sun., 11 a.m.-3 p.m.; 5-9 p.m.

Appetizers, $5.50-$10; entrees, $17-$21.50

Reservations only for parties of six or more. Wheelchair accessible. Credit cards accepted. Smoking permitted on patio, contingent on no guest complaints.