April 28-May 4, 2005

food

Eye-Opener

la isla bonita: Flourishes in design and plating -- as with the ceviche sampler (above) -- accent Isla Verde's style. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

Juan Carlos Rodriguez and his Isla Verde noisily wake us up to tapas.

by Elisa Ludwig

The siesta never really caught on here in the States, but fortunately tapas, right behind it as the second-best Spanish export of all time, have gained more ground. Tapas, ingeniously designed to encourage sharing and gluttony at the same time, are the ultimate party food. And now there's especially great news for lovers of Mediterranean bar snacks: At Isla Verde, the club/restaurant that opened in Plaza Americana just a few doors down from Congreso de Latinos Unidos, tapas are available all day long.

Nestled between Norris Square and the Centro de Oro in North Philly, Isla Verde was designed as a South Beach-style nightspot, and on a warm night, it's easier to make the conceptual leap. The front room, which becomes a dance floor at night with live salsa music, opens through retractable glass panes out into the evening air. In the back, a platformed bar is encircled by banquettes and flat-screen televisions. The colors are muted in neutral shades of sand and taupe, but changing neon tubing along the ceiling gives the place a little Morimoto-like flash.

Also influenced, at least indirectly, by Stephen Starr is the menu here, designed by chef and partner Juan Carlos Rodriguez, an alum of Alma de Cuba. For the most part, it's modern pan-Latin cuisine with some Italian flourishes. But you'll also find that quite a few traditional Spanish ingredients wend their way into the tapas offerings: Manchego, chorizo, bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with almonds.

Unlike its cousin, "small plates," an invention for people who like to order an appetizer when everyone else has a 12-ounce rib-eye, tapas are all about variety and it is meant to be accompanied by many drinks. The house drinks here are classic mojitos and a signature martini made with pineapple-soaked vodka and a hint of coconut rum. I was warned about the potency of the latter, and I would be remiss if I didn't mention that this delicious little concoction will truly knock you on your ass.

After digging into the wire basket of freshly grilled flat bread with rosettes of sweet herbed butter, we moved on to the main attractions, which were lined up in all their diminutive glory on white geometric plates. Four crisp tacos stuffed with chicken and corn choco, or stew, with pickled jalapeno peppers and a sprinking of fresh cilantro were small enough to eat with two fingers, though you might need a third to scoop up the spillover filling. South Beach nachos are actually fried root-vegetable chips (plantain, boniato, malanga) served with a tangy red onion and tomato salsa and creamy melted Manchego cheese with bits of sauteed peppers. The Spaniards should consider adding this one to the repertoire.

A whole subsection of the tapas menu is devoted to ceviche, with all conceivable kinds of raw fish and seafood cooked via acidic marinade. The enthusiastically named "ÁQuiero Ceviche!" is a choice of two and a good solution for the indecisive. We went for the Ecuadorian shrimp, which were mushy — a shame because its roasted vegetable sauce was sweet and lush. The salmon ceviche, with a biting relish of red onion, cilantro, capers and lime juice, had a more substantial and toothsome texture.

The intriguing chicken plantain soup, credited to the chef's grandmother, sounded like some kind of savory smoothie you might drink out of a coconut shell. In actuality, the broth was much thinner than that and fragrant with notes of cumin and garlic. The house salad, combining mixed greens with silky roasted peppers, smoked corn and crumbled queso blanco in a sweet lemon vinaigrette, was another surprise hit.

We also sampled some of Isla Verde's more formal dinner entrees, like the ropa vieja over white rice. The beef was a little too salty and, in fact, much too ropy — almost too tough to chew. The chuleto puerco, an enormous pork chop, on the other hand, was marvelously tender, rosy and rimmed with just enough fat to melt on the palate. Dressed in a garlic cilantro mojo, the meat was aptly paired with soft mofongo, savory plantains mashed with garlic.

Technically, I think dessert lies outside of the tapas domain, but we figured if we shared a couple we'd be keeping the spirit alive. There are not many to choose from, but they are worth sampling. Amaretto flan was cool and subtly sweet atop a swirl of mango-and-berry coulis and decorative cinnamon flowers stenciled on the plate. The apple pastilla, a kind of Spanish-inflected turnover, embedded slices of caramelized fruit in flaky phyllo pastry with a dusting of confectioners' sugar.

When we left, the place was just beginning to fill up. We were told that the real party, with the band, the dancing and, most likely, many rounds of house martinis, doesn't get started until later. We'll have to come back when we've had our siesta.

Isla Verde 2724 N. American St. 215-426-3600

• Hours: Mon.-Sun., 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m.; 5 p.m.-11:30 p.m.; tapas and pizza till 1 a.m.
• Appetizers, $6-$12; entrees, $15-$25
• Wheelchair accessible.
• Reservations accepted.
• Smoking permitted in bar and patio areas.
• All major credit cards.