January 6-12, 2005

food

Brilliant Orange

TURNING THE OTHER CHEEK: Pumpkin can change your mind about unusual ingredients -- even veal cheeks. Photo By: Manuel Dominguez Jr

Pumpkin lights a beacon of BYOB excellence on South Street West.

by Elisa Ludwig

When I heard they served veal cheeks at Pumpkin, the BYOB that opened last fall on one of the most deserted blocks of South Street, I regarded its fashionable orange and white logo with deep suspicion, and wondered if the whole boutique restaurant craze had gone too far. It seemed like fancy food was taking over, colonizing the city with heirloom tomatoes and baby salad greens. Soon we'd be eating skate wings at the Linc.

But these fatalistic fantasies were the workings of an ill-fed mind. Everything changed when I actually visited the place. From the outside, Pumpkin has the minimalist look of so many other shoebox BYOs: pale green walls decorated with miniature still-life paintings, antique window frames and a ledge of tiny candles. The small room, which adjoins an open kitchen, could not accommodate much more in the way of decor. It can't accommodate too many guests, either — on one visit a long table with a lively group of 10 was arranged in the center and the noise was so overpowering we felt like we could pass along their gossip.

And that pretty much sums up the complaints portion of this review.

I was particularly won over by the service, which was that elusive ideal you seek in all restaurant experiences: friendly but not obsequious, helpful but not cloying, knowledgeable but not pretentious. The setup is thoughtful down to the smallest details, like cloth hand towels in the bathroom and a packet of pumpkin seeds with your check.

Lest you expect a whole lot of gourd, the eponymous veggie is otherwise absent from the proceedings. The rustic Mediterranean menu changes daily, but a rotating cast of selections means you can find some of the same dishes in the mix from one visit to the next. Recently, the reprised numbers have included roast radicchio with fontina and aged balsamic vinegar, mussels with mustard and saffron, and veal sirloin. While classic recipes are occasionally given an updated twist, there's never so much chef ego involved that you don't understand what you're ordering.

One of my dining companions noted that among the six appetizers and five entree selections, there were scant options for less adventuresome or fat-phobic diners. I say tough nougies: If you don't like food, don't eat here. Pumpkin is not the sort of place to visit if you want to cut the skin off or substitute salad or eat dressing out of a plastic cup.

Our dinners seemed to be designed for maximum flavor with a minimum number of ingredients: Mild whole grilled quail, contrasted with a tart salad of grapefruit and orange sections, bitter radicchio and densely sweet fig balsamic drizzle. Scallops, seared to a well-seasoned crisp atop a tangy artichoke ragout and briny Moroccan cured olives. A room-temperature Tuscan bruschetta with sweet and creamy chicken livers. There was not a loser in the bunch, and the reappearing mussels with mustard and saffron were plump and delicious, too.

The entrees, with their homey earthenware and simple presentation, are instantly appealing. It's always a relief when the garnish doesn't command more attention than the rest of the plate. A traditional Provencal-style stew combines clams, mussels and melting mouthfuls of striped bass and monkfish, scented with fennel and saffron and topped with toasted bread. Whole bronzino is grilled and paired with feathery braised fennel and a black olive tapenade.

There was no beef on the menu when I visited, but the above-mentioned veal sirloin, with its wonderfully crisp, smoky crust accompanying a sauteed mélange of exotic mushrooms and velvety potato puree, will make you rethink your attachment to steak. Green lentils cooked with bacon and mustard sauce are the complementary bed for a perfectly grilled pork loin. And those dreaded veal cheeks are absolutely worth ordering — they're so tender you can understand why the greens on top of them are wilting.

Desserts are similarly astounding. Pumpkin gets its ice cream and gelato from Capogiro, and one spoonful could turn a lesser dessert into a mere cone. Here, it's a deserving match. Warm bread pudding with raisins supports a scoop of impossibly rich dark-chocolate gelato. A lemon curd tart in what looks like a hand-formed crust goes tang for tang with blood orange sorbet. But even the nonfrozen confections are memorable. A cookie plate with finger-shaped hazelnut biscuits, chocolate chewies and butterscotch-chip cookies epitomizes the restaurant's homemade, unfussy charm. Best of all, though, is a blackberry linzertorte with a buttery, nutty crust that should rightfully win any bake-off it enters.

It took a couple of flawless meals, but I've come to see that Pumpkin is not a cause for worry of any kind — it is, in fact, probably the best thing to happen to this burgeoning neighborhood and certainly the best new restaurant I visited all last year. I'm now swallowing my words, along with some pride and a few delicious morsels of trendy meat.

Pumpkin 1713 South St., 215-545-4448 Tues.-Sat., 6-10 p.m.

• Appetizers, $7-$10; entrees, $17-$24
• Wheelchair accessible.
• Smoking not permitted.
• Reservations recommended.
• Cash only.