A Finer Diner

Mark Bee wants you to know that this isn't your mother's Silk.

by Elisa Ludwig

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Published: Sep 4, 2007

GLAZE OF GLORY: Chef Peter Dunmire's Thai ribs are topped with crushed peanuts and chopped cilantro. Photo By: Michael T. Regan (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Nobody was complaining about the old Silk City. Though its decades-old decor had seen better days, and the club area's bathroom was so unappealing that it made you reconsider ordering a second cocktail, it was what it was. But now, in its new incarnation, Silk City is much more than anyone ever hoped for.

The redo, courtesy of Mark Bee of N. 3rd fame, has unified the two halves of the space, turning the club end into a crimson-lit dining room with disco ball chandeliers and ironic black-light paintings. The diner portion now has its own atmospheric lighting — even the specials boards pulse with changing colors, like a Spencer-issued disco lamp from the '70s. Taps and bottles of spirits line the area behind the counter where a milk-shake blender once stood, and there's a list of cocktails like the Pink Panther (strawberry puree, vodka and pineapple juice), as well as a nice selection of wines — drinks you never would have wanted to drink in the old Silk. And, just like N. 3rd, the waitstaff is a lineup of slim hipsters so attractive that you feel embarrassed to ask them to schlep your dinner.

Here's a more important similarity with Bee's other joint: The food is remarkable. Chef Peter Dunmire, the unstoppable force behind N. 3rd's dreamy wasabi-spiked tuna burgers and addictive soba noodles, has rewritten the diner's menu with characteristic understatement. Burgers, sure. Buffalo wings, whatever. In writing, it all sounds pretty basic. The real impact is at the table, when even a hummus appetizer turns out to be intricately crafted and richly flavored, with a surprise sprinkle of dried chickpeas on top. Formica tables notwithstanding, this "diner" is less Flo and more French bistro.

Consider the beet salad, a restaurant staple that, with its familiar pairing of nuts and cheese, is starting to seem a little played out. Now, picture Dunmire's version, which brings those same elements into a whole new composition. Wedges of sweet roasted root are tangled in a nest of frisée laced with a creamy whole grain mustard dressing, dotted with crumbles of buttery Maytag Blue, shards of red onion and crunchy toasted walnuts. It's a hell of a beet salad, and like everything here, it's huge.

The majority of appetizers can stand on their own as bar-snacky meals. Of these, the most outstanding is the succulent Thai glazed ribs, which are laid out flat like the keys of a piano, crumbled peanuts clinging to their edges, their sweet sauce mingling along the plate with sprinklings of cilantro. I couldn't resist the thinly wrapped empanadas of pulled pork and sweet potato, either, with their golden pineapple salsa and cool cilantro sour cream. Three-cheese macaroni is of the liquidy school — no oven-toasted noodles here — with the sauce oozing over pasta tubes and a light but judicious dusting of garlic bread crumbs.

I was slightly less impressed with the bronzed, crimp-edged pot stickers, whose crab, shrimp and scallion filling is a bit lackluster. Slender spring rolls, tightly rolled cigars filled with duck and mushroom, are perfectly serviceable though also quite mild, depending on a crosshatching of mustard and sweet chili sauce to give them needed kick. Yet both of these dishes come with an Asian slaw of carrots, cilantro and cabbage that in and of itself is delicious.

You're almost more rewarded here by the more banal-sounding choices. There's an arm-dripper of a hot roast beef sandwich, a long soft roll layered with tangy melted gruyere and a slather of horseradish sauce, bursting with caramelized onion and more layers of thinly sliced beef than any person rightfully needs. A side of jus is perfect for moistening the excellent fries, which are thick and toothsome, salt-glittering strips of the skin-on variety.

The fries alone make the steak frites a worthwhile choice. Tumbling from a mountainous pile, they practically own the plate, though the tender pink and black hanger steak, oozing with a pat of herbaceous Maitre d' butter and a red wine baste, manages to hold its own.

The fried chicken is a study of contrasts, with a gnarled buttermilk crust evenly sealing in juicy, juicy meat. Though the batter is a little too acrid for my liking, I can't remember meeting a more ideally textured breast. A wedge of grilled corn bread is crumbly and warm, and just barely sweet.

Even the meatloaf, that blue-plate basic of diners everywhere, is memorable. The slab of ground beef is a couple of inches deep, its edges nicely crisped, luxuriating in a pool of rich portobello mushroom gravy. Mashed potatoes, equal parts lump and fluff, and buttery peas are its traditional yet superior accompaniments.

Portion size be damned — there's no reason why you should ever skip dessert here. There's only a few selections to be had. A banana split. A root beer float. A giant white bowl of fruit crisp. When I visited, it was apple — thin, cinnamon-y slices with a scoop of vanilla ice cream absorbed by the crisp's bumpy brown sugar crust.

Then there's the bread pudding. It's another holdover from the old Silk City, which was routinely lauded for its gooey dessert. This time around, it's made with chocolate chunk brioche, crowned with vanilla ice cream and zigs and zags of chocolate and caramel sauce. It's at once airy and dense, velvety and comforting. You may never forget the old one, but a few bites in, you'll probably feel ready to embrace the new.

(e_ludwig@citypaper.net)

Silk City

435 Spring Garden St.

215-592-8838

www.silkcitydiner.com

Hours: 5 p.m.-1 a.m.; brunch, 10 a.m.-4 p.m.

Appetizers, $4-$10; entrées, $8.50-$17

 

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