March 31-April 6, 2005

food

Growing In Confidence

HERBACEOUS BORDER: Le Jardin scatters juicy artichokes barigoule, beans and tomatoes around its phyllo-wrapped bronzino. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

Warning to fork-fumblers: Le Jardin uses its Art Alliance setting to delicious, intimidating effect.

by Elisa Ludwig

It's easy to see why, for an ambitious restaurateur, the chance to set up shop in the historic Art Alliance building would be a difficult proposition to turn down. The high-ceilinged dining rooms, cozy bar and lovely back garden of the palazzo-style mansion exude nostalgia for an era when nothing was prefabricated and going out to dinner was a really big deal. It's the kind of striking atmosphere they just don't make anymore, and it caters to our collective Rittenhouse Square fantasies of wealth and leisure.

But Le Jardin, the latest occupant of this grand space, had to have been faced with certain challenges in the conceptual stage. What the real estate agents don't tell you about the Renaissance palazzo is that, inspiring as it is, it can be a little bit chilly and imposing. Le Jardin has resolved some of the formal, barren feel with small details, such as the blossoms on the table and matching stemware etched with flowers, which go a long way in making all that historical elegance seem personal.

The more important question, though, is what kind of food can compete with this grandeur? The ordinary meal might be dwarfed by such a room. You'd want something classic but unpredictable, substantial but not sloppy. Le Jardin's solution here was to play it down the middle. The casual bistro lunch menu is suited to the gallery's daytime visitors, while the inventive Mediterranean-inflected dinner menu matches the room's drama with a coulis for every cornice, a quenelle for every quoin.

Indeed, many of our dishes were architectural works in and of themselves — small towers of food arranged and balanced with an engineer's exactitude. A composed salad layered baby greens over chunks of sweet Maine lobster and cool balls of melon, which in turn rested on a thin layer of Parma ham. The velvety house-smoked salmon was arranged neatly on top of a warm potato pancake. Three small, crescent-shaped goat cheese ravioli were paired with a delicate roasted baby quail, and both languished in a preserved lemon and fava bean ragout. Even the house salad, which looked like a casually tossed affair, revealed the kitchen's fondness for order — and also for that Parisian melon baller — when we uncovered unexpected scoops of avocado in the mix of baby field greens, tomato and chevre. Of course, the downside of aesthetically pleasing presentations in a fancy room like this is that they make the first fork-dent a sad little reminder of your own clumsiness. Like, do you really belong in this palace?

Similarly, all of Le Jardin's culinary precision made quirks like the unsynchronized arrival of our meals seem more obvious. In general, the service was friendly, but it was also unpolished and slightly intrusive. We only got three of the four promised cheeses on the assiette de fromage. Another distraction was the light from the bright Art Alliance lobby piercing an otherwise romantically lit room. In a different setting, these flaws might have been less noticeable, but in a restaurant this upscale, you expect everything to be as smooth as those melon balls.

Foodwise, however, Le Jardin was nothing if not consistent. Strong appetizers gave way to equally strong entrees. (We bypassed the $30 three-course tasting menu and went strictly a la carte.) The grilled salmon over petite ratatouille and "tagliatelle" — green zucchini shaved into a pile of translucent ribbons — amply matched the silky fish with the rich flavors and soft textures of tomato and eggplant. In a lighter version of the usual en croute display of puff pastry, bronzino was wrapped in a phyllo dough crust, the crisp layers shattering into moist flakes of fish. Scattered around the plate were juicy bursts of stewed artichokes barigoule, tender beans and smoky tomato. The veal duet of doughy sweetbreads and a juicy roasted tenderloin was bathed in a tart rhubarb sauce with a surprise swirl of caramelized pear puree. The only misstep in the bunch was a crisp-edged duck breast, which seemed to have weathered a few too many moments in the oven, but it was flavorful nonetheless.

The dessert course was just as even-handed, though the creations were more straightforward. We were taken with the creamy caramel mousse dolloped over a syrupy poached pear and the slice of dense chocolate terrine sharpened by a crispy almond layer. Another set of well-constructed dishes, though somehow this time around, we didn't seem to have too much trouble digging in. Maybe we were getting used to the palace after all.

Le Jardin 251 S. 18th St. 215-545-0821

• Lunch: Mon.-Fri., 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m.; Sun., 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m.
• Dinner: Mon.-Fri., 5 p.m.-10 p.m.; Sat., 5 p.m.-11 p.m.
• Appetizers, $6.50-$14; entrees, $18-$28
• Not wheelchair accessible.
• Smoking permitted in bar only.
• All major credit cards except Discover.
• Reservations recommended.

-- Respond to this article in our Forums -- click to jump there