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Also this issue: underthetable |
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June 20-26, 2002
food
 cross purposes: Red Chopstix blends an assortment of culinary techniques into a muddled but delicious menu. Photo By: Christina M. Felice |
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Red Chopstix 1511 Locust St., 215-546-0600
Appetizers $7- $14; entrees $12-$20
Lunch, Tue.-Fri., 11:30-2:30 p.m., Dinner, Sun.-Thu., 5-10 p.m., Fri.-Sat. 5-11 p.m.
Not wheelchair accessible. No smoking. Reservations suggested. All major credit cards but Discover. BYOB for now.
In the last days of Ciboulette, it had assumed the look of the dining room of a provincial Italian hotel -- a quiet, bleached-out, Sunday afternoon kind of look that usually signals defeat. After the restaurant closed, Bruce Lim, the talented chef, went to work for Susanna Foo, probably to work on the French techniques that she employs, and which he performed with such success at Ciboulette. Now he has opened at a new spot in Center City, actually the spot that Tequila’s vacated when they moved to their hot new digs further up on Locust Street.
A little surprised by the garish red neon sign that read Red Chopstix, we nevertheless entered expecting something really special. What we found was the same silence we recalled from Ciboulette, in a dark, sparsely decorated room that looked cobbled together from Tequila's remnants. There is a large red canopy over the bar, which was not yet in use, and a large red lantern, also not yet in use. And a look at the menu indicated that Mr. Lim's fusion style leans definitely more toward the Asian dishes.
We had brought wine (the restaurant is awaiting a liquor license) and decided to try the sashimi, a sampling of three fish selected daily by the chef. That night the salmon, tuna and striped bass tasted as if they'd been plucked from the sea only minutes before. With them on the square white plate came a smattering of soba noodles, pickled ginger and a sesame soy sauce that was perfect for dipping. It was light and quite satisfying.
One companion required an infusion of the dumpling soup which she had sampled on another occasion, and though the pork and shrimp dumplings were succulent, the broth, full of diced vegetables, was milder and less flavorful then she remembered. We considered the beef carpaccio for a more continental touch, but settled instead on the duck pancake, which features duck barbecued Peking-style and wrapped in an almond pancake with scallions and hoisin sauce. This classic combination was tasty enough, marred only by the fact that the skin on the meaty duck should have been crisper. Strangely enough, when one of us had the crispy duck for an entree, it was perfectly executed -- meaty, crisp of skin and reveling in its ginger-honey sauce, along with the taro, spinach and green beans which also decorated the platters.
This was another instance where the entrees far surpassed the appetizers. As with the crispy duck, the first soft shells of the season were cooked just right, crackling on the outside, sweet within, and bedecked with Asian vegetables. When I see frog's legs on a menu I always order them, and I was not disappointed in these morsels, flavored with ginger and chives and featuring the un-Asian appearance of fresh tomatoes. More places should try frog's legs; they are not expensive and lend themselves to a number of preparations, and no, they do not taste like chicken -- they taste better.
The roast quail is justly celebrated -- a plump little bird with not only risotto but a foie gras sauce that could give anything a glaze of luxury. The house rendition of fried rice is a good one, full of shrimp, chicken and vegetables -- soft and crisp in the right places.
Desserts were a surprise -- a creamy flan slid right down and a terrific tarte tatin had us all smiling.
The service throughout the meal was most attentive and courteous, but then too, the dining room was half empty. We don't understand this desultory feeling, but after all, we too were confused, knowing Mr. Lim's reputation but finding only a Pan-Asian restaurant a notch better than most. For once I'm at a loss for words. The food is flavorful and well-served, the price is right, but Mr. Lim is an estimable chef who is wandering in the wilderness. There's Japanese on the menu, there's a nod to Thai and Vietnamese, and the techniques, such as reducing sauces and retaining the original taste of the food, are French. But the restaurant is searching for an identity -- and perhaps when it finds one the customers will come. Until then, the silence you hear? That's the sound of one hand clapping.
