Lend Me Your Eaters

County-man Chip Roman wows the BYO crowd at Blackfish.

by Trey Popp

FRONT OF THE HOUSE: The Fayette Street facade of Chip Roman's 50-seat BYO. Photo By: Michael T. Regan (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Center City gourmands would have recognized the scene at once. An evening breeze was stirring some coolness into the remnants of a 90-degree Wednesday, and dinner-bound couples stood on the sidewalk with telltale tote bags of red and white wine. Even at 8:30 p.m., their patience outweighed their grumbling stomachs � no one was ready to split for the next-closest BYO. Of course, when you're standing on the main drag in Conshohocken, the runner-up restaurant could be 10 clicks down I-76.

Even if there were a competitor next door, it's a safe bet that folks waiting for a table at Blackfish would stay put. After years working under the likes of Mark Vetri and Le Bec-Fin's Georges Perrier, chef Chip Roman has brought the restaurant renaissance to the suburbs. With an adventurous menu rooted in seasonal foodstuffs, his kitchen is turning out plenty of reasons for increased traffic on the Schuylkill Expressway � at least for drivers starting in downtown Philly.

The dark wood floors and cream-colored walls behind Blackfish's narrow Fayette Street storefront don't boast much in the way of decoration, but three stacks of cookbooks piled on a side shelf provide a clue about what Roman values. Names like Thomas Keller, Alice Waters and Charlie Trotter populate the spines of this informal, farmhouse-style shrine to great American cooks. As a declaration of the company Roman presumably aspires to join, it's a deftly understated touch. It's also kind of like attempting an inward somersault off the 5-meter platform before you master the high dive. Good thing the rookie restaurateur nails the entry.

Blackfish's menu changes slightly from week to week, and a glance at the ingredient list shows why. In late May, ramps played into a handful of dishes. Also called wild leek, this North American native plant has a short season and scant commercial value despite its pleasant, pungent flavor. According to our server, Blackfish's specimens came from a nearby garden that would probably be empty of them by week's end.

Pickled ramps accompanied a savory Parmesan panna cotta appetizer, its austere flavor set off nicely by the earthy sweet-ness of roasted red beets. Equally colorful was a starter of perfectly seared day-boat scallops paired with fragrant trumpet mushrooms within a swirl of well-aged balsamic vinegar. My favorite first course featured delicate mushroom-and-duck raviolis submerged in a cloak of mushroom "froth."

The menu didn't use quotation marks, but that word is basically code for foam. Considering the derision foam can inspire among critics of so-called chemistry-class cuisine, it's understandable that Roman would substitute froth, or emulsion, as another menu item had it. In my view, foam merits plenty of skepticism, especially when it's employed as a device that mainly seeks to call attention to itself. But that's not how it plays at Blackfish, where the food is far more about the earth than the lab. In the case of the raviolis, the mushroom foam was an ideal way to convey a depth of flavor that likely would have been too heavy in a denser form, especially at the end of a hot day.

A restaurant's creativity often crests in its appetizer menu, but Blackfish's entrées were, if anything, more ambitious. A Long Island duck "cassoulet" � quotation marks per the menu, this time � recast the wintry dish for spring. Out went the stew in its typical earthenware dish; in its place was a fan of sliced duck breast leaned up against what was more like a warm salad of fresh beans. A fillet of red snapper made for the most daring dish of the evening. A hot pink rhubarb sauce tasted as bold as it looked, with an interplay of tartness and sweetness that was more suggestive of the Far East than most main courses in the Western culinary canon � an impression reinforced by the presence of daikon on the plate.

After the originality of the mains, the dessert course was a bit of a letdown. Freshly fried beignets beat the pants off any Saturday-morning doughnut hole, but even dipped in the accompanying ramekins of vanilla and raspberry sauce and shared among three people, they got a little boring. A molten chocolate cake had spent just enough time in the oven to lose its ooze, which was too bad, because the chocolate itself was very good. A bowl of fresh fruit fared better underneath a foamy layer of rich sabayon scooped from a copper pot at the tableside.

But these are fairly minor quibbles. If Blackfish came to Philly, it would be among the best BYOs in town. It also deserves special commendation for its stemware. Wine snobs carry their own glasses to a lot of local BYOs for a reason � namely, because some of them provide tiny tumblers that suggest orange juice rather than good cabernet. Not so at Blackfish, which furnishes oversized glasses whose huge bulbs are equal to the best red wine in your cellar. It's a good thing, because with food like this, you're going to want to bring the good stuff.

(t_popp@citypaper.net)

Blackfish

119 Fayette St.Conshohocken, 610-397-0888

Hours: Lunch Tue.-Thu., 11:30 a.m.-2 p.m.; Dinner Tue.-Thu., 5-10 p.m.; Fri., 5-11 p.m.; Sat., 5:30-11 p.m.; closed Sunday and Monday.

Appetizers, $7-$13.
Entrees, $27-$34
BYOB.
Wheelchair accessible.