Rekindling the Flame

When Ansill first opened its doors on the corner of 4th and Bainbridge, it represented the future of Philadelphia dining. Much like chef-owner David Ansill’s first Philadelphia effort, the sadly shuttered Pif, Ansill’s success was predicated on a studied culinary rusticity, a relaxed, sophisticated atmosphere, and a brave willingness to introduce the local fooderati to the glories of offal.

But then something unexpected happened, and after the initial flush of excitement, both spots began to struggle. I dined several times at each and during this downturn, and the problems were unavoidably clear: Something had to give.

This past summer, it finally did, and Pif served its last meal in July. And while the sadness of that trailblazing restaurant’s closing reverberated throughout the city’s dining community, the proverbial silver lining was not lost on anyone: With just one restaurant to worry about now, Chef Ansill would be back behind the stoves at 4th and Bainbridge, hopefully bringing his eponymous restaurant back to its former glory.

So—has he done it?

If the revamped preparation of bone marrow ($6) is any indication, he unquestionably has. Originally, the dish appeared on the menu as “bone marrow crostini,” and consisted of three toasted, ficelle-size baguette slices, each topped with a coin of marrow, a single parsley leaf, and a few flavorful grains of sea salt. It was one of the best, most elegantly straightforward dishes in town at the time, and I could not imagine how it could be improved upon.

This new version, however, accomplished just that. A plate bearing a single large slice of baguette, topped with three coins of marrow, arrived at the table. To its side was a glistening salad of parsley, shallots, and capers dressed with lemon juice and olive oil. When the marrow was spread onto the bread—the buttery center breaking through the seared outer layer like some sort of riff on a fried egg—and topped with the salad, it was nothing short of miraculous: Earthy, piquant and hearty despite its relatively diminutive size.

Veal breast ($13) was a standout, too, though in an entirely different way. More like an entrée than anything else (the menu is divided into cold and hot dishes, and the portions, for the most part, are tapas-sized) a lightly compressed brick of veal had been braised in a garlicky tomato-saffron-white wine broth, topped with herbed breadcrumbs, and served on a puddle of that reduced liquid. The flavors—highly developed and pure—were exactly the sort that helped make chef Ansill such a local star in the first place.

Lamb’s tongue salad ($9) was one of the finest I’ve had in years. Thick slices of were first brined for several days, then poached, and then, in a final touch of offal TLC, battered with flour and panko and fried just long enough to create a sense of tension between the outer crust and the velvety, slightly springy texture inside that tongue fans so adore. And its accompaniments—it was tossed with frisée, green peas, chickpeas, and mint, and served with a grilled wedge of lemon at its edges—framed the tongue allowing its rich, vaguely gamey flavors to really sing.

Not everything was as fabulous, though. The scallop carpaccio ($8) with bottarga (pressed, dried roe of tuna from Sicily), despite the sweet-cream flavor and buttery texture of the mollusks, was undermined by overseasoning. And pistachio cake ($7) was so dry and dense that my mouth felt as if it had been coated in chalk after each bite. The accompanying slices of saffron-and-cardamom-glazed pear, however, were excellent. The tomato bread ($5 on its own, $10 topped with Serrano ham)—a crispy slice of baguette that had been rubbed with raw garlic and tomatoes and topped with Serrano—was a bit difficult to eat. The ham was cut so thick that I had to anchor it to the bread with my fingers and pull bites off with your teeth, or try—fruitlessly—to cut it with the butter knife. Still, like almost everything else here, the flavors were spot on.

Philadelphia’s dining culture has come a long way since the heady days of Ansill’s youth, and this restaurant is largely responsible for helping that evolution along. That’s one of the main reasons its slide was so upsetting.

But it seems to be on the right track again, and judging by the food coming out of the kitchen now, by its creativity and rustically honest flavors, its old fans have something to look forward to. The entire city does.

This is the kind of comfortable, adventurous restaurant that’s required of every serious food city. And Philadelphia needs Ansill to play the roll it was always intended to. It looks like it’s doing just that once again.

Ansill Food + Wine is located at 627 S. Third St. in Philadelphia and can be reached by phone at (215) 627-2485.