Talula's Fable

Taking on the most celebrated "restaurant" of them all.

by David Snyder

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Published: Aug 5, 2008

David Snyder SABLETOOTH: Bryan Sikora's warm tartine of smoked Alaskan sable is plated with crumbles of chorizo sausage and a dollop of delicate, earthy whipped turnip. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

There is no restaurant more fawned over or harder to get into than Talula's Table, a venture founded in 2007 by chef Bryan Sikora and his wife, Aimee Olexy, the original owners of Society Hill's Django.

But Talula's is not a restaurant. It's a gourmet market, named after the couple's daughter, Annalee Talula Rae, on a picturesque tree-lined street in Kennett Square. This unassuming boutique transforms into a private BYOB at night, where Sikora and his team prepare a sublime eight-course tasting menu.

Food writers both local and national have showered Talula's with praise, and it's had an effect: According to Condé Nast's Portfolio.com, securing the single nightly service at the eight- to 12-person farmhouse table is the toughest booking in the United States. Reservations are taken on a first-come, first-served basis a year in advance. Oh, and they book only one reservation a day. Phone lines open at 7 a.m. Godspeed.

If you are lucky enough to get a reservation, though, rest assured that Talula's will become the yardstick by which all other meals you ever eat will be measured. But if you know how to play your cards right, you may not have to wait 365 days to get in. (More on that later.)

Talula's reservation policy instills patience, but its tasting menu will teach you to appreciate the fleeting nature of the moment. The selections are hyper-seasonal, changing every four to six weeks, and some of the dishes contain ingredients that may become unavailable before the polished servers even clear your plates. I loved the fresh salad of buttery wild Alaskan spot prawns — poached in licorice root and served with new potatoes, fresh garden herb pesto and toasted almonds — that Talula's offered in late June, but they're in season only for about a month every year. More recently, I enjoyed beef tortellini in a sauce made from Early Girl tomatoes, which carried a bright acidity that struck a balance with the pasta's sweet, braised short rib meat. But Sikora won't be able to source those same tomatoes by the time this review goes to print.

A key factor that sets Talula's apart is the care Sikora and Olexy put into sourcing their ingredients. Like many area chefs, Sikora stays fresh and local. But the couple take it a step further — clipping fresh tarragon from their personal garden for the rich summer squash lobster tart; foraging a local trail for epazote, a pungent Mexican herb Sikora uses to make oil that accompanies a mushroom and goat cheese papusa, a humble tower of maitake and white beech mushrooms and cakes made from masa harina, a traditional Mexican flour.

But there's a bigger reason Sikora's food stands out: He has an innate ability to construct dishes that excel on two levels simultaneously. On one hand, he's able to create a forum on a plate that allows each ingredient to grab a bit of the spotlight — their identities are surprisingly clean and crisp, each component delicately expressing its voice at just the right time. But as the flavors continue to layer, they roll into one clear, unifying composition. The result: dishes that are remarkably deep without sacrificing simplicity.

One of the best examples of this is the warm tartine of smoked Alaskan sable. The velvety texture of the sablefish, also known as black cod, carried just the right amount of smokiness to build a slow, seamless bridge to the accompanying smoked chorizo. But the most important inclusion was whipped turnip, its delicate earthiness connecting all of the elements together.

The watermelon ice and fresh cucumber served alongside a ceviche-like snapper crudo is another playful summertime combination. Hidden crystals of hollow Balinese sea salt flash across the palate like fireworks in the distance. For an unambiguous finish, hot pepper oil unfolds into the gentle spice of watermelon radish before tempering to a refreshing cool.

From first course to last, it's a hell of a ride.

But my biggest revelation about Talula's is that once you're there, you realize that the experience is as much about people as it is about food. Sitting at that 10-foot farmhouse table, which Olexy's uncle built from a long-leaf yellow pine tree recovered from the area, makes you feel like you're a guest in Sikora and Olexy's home. The warm amber glow of the Tiffany-style chandelier, the intimately personalized attention — it all helps create a communal setting that can't be matched by anything in the city.

It's in this spirit of sharing that I'll reveal a different type of experience you can have at Talula's, one that's been kept a closely guarded secret — the chef's table. Olexy, who manages reservations, recently began seating parties of four or fewer at a 6- by 8-foot butcher block island in the the kitchen.

Generally speaking, the experience of a chef's table is not for everyone — expect to hear the dishwasher churning loudly, pots clanging chaotically and, of course, the occasional F-bomb. But Talula's kitchen is much more sedate. As Sikora chopped fresh herbs alongside us, he admitted that he lost his aptitude for swearing once his daughter started to pick up the words.

You don't have to wait a year to book the chef's table, but that doesn't necessarily mean you can reserve it — currently, it's by invitation only. Those lucky enough to score a nod are either people who have dined there before or have otherwise forged a relationship with the staff. My advice for getting in: Ask to be on the waiting list in the event of a cancellation or befriend someone who's already dined at Talula's and beg them mercilessly to take you to the chef's table.

Everyone should be fortunate enough to experience Talula's Table. It truly humanizes the dining experience, and that's the way it should be. Sure, regulars will grumble that the more people who are able to reserve the chef's table, the harder it will be for them to get in. But something this special is meant to be shared. And, in some ways, for the experience to remain special, it has to be rare.

(david.snyder@citypaper.net)

Talula's Table | 102 W. State St., Kennett Square, 610-444-8255, talulastable.com | Hours: Market open daily, 7 a.m.-7 p.m.; dinner served daily, 7-11 p.m. | Eight-course tasting menu, $90/person plus tax and gratuity | BYOB | Reservations required

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