His Dark Materials

Bold, complex flavors sprout at Christopher Hora's hyper-minimal Root.

by David Snyder

Shirley Nicole Fonner OX-ING DAY: Chef Hora's raviolo entrée (served open-face) features tender rabbit and oxtail meat drizzled with an uni beurre blanc. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

In the fall of my sophomore year of high school, I developed a crush on a cute blond girl in the marching band. To protect her identity, I'll call her Mary. Sitting in study hall one day, I devised what I thought was a brilliant plan to catch Mary's attention.

I passed her a note on which I had written only two things — her name at the top and my signature at the bottom. I left the white page entirely blank. The idea was to illustrate to Mary that I had so much more to offer her than words could convey. To paraphrase a line from Singles, not having an act was my act.

My best friend thought the move was genius. But, as you probably guessed, he and I were the only ones. I had hoped the intensity of my silence would speak volumes to Mary. And it did — it told her I was a dork.

This embarrassing moment was a long-forgotten memory — that is, until I walked into Root, chef Christopher Hora's California-style bistro on Spring Garden.

Root's 40-seat dining room has but one decoration — a giant sassafras root jutting out of the top of the northern wall. The rest are left entirely blank. Unfinished butcher block tables and sleek leather seats line a cool concrete floor. The room's only light comes from candles — one on each table. These faint orange beacons are reflected by the walls' high-gloss white paint, giving the room an eerie glow. The restrained, ethereal tones of the Cocteau Twins' Milk & Kisses augment the intensity of Root's stark milieu.

Hora believes clutter is distracting. The point of the minimalist décor, he maintains, is to get people to focus on the food. I'll confess that part of me — the part that wrote that note in study hall — truly respects this deconstructive move. In practice, though, diners aren't interested in a philosophy lesson. We just want to eat good food. Ironically, such brassy minimalism threatens to create the very type of distraction Hora is trying to avoid. I don't know whether the menu handed to us with the large corner burned away was set aflame accidentally or sacrificed to generate more light. Either way, it could be a sign that the room's a little too dark.

But Hora doesn't even need anti-décor décor to get people to focus on his food. As one would guess from his restaurant's name, he uses fresh, local ingredients. "It makes no sense why anybody would do it any other way," explains the California native, whose family owned a farm in that state growing up. Indeed, it's tiresome to hear restaurants brag about going fresh and local given how ubiquitous the practice has become. But what I like about Hora's cooking is that fresh and local is not treated as a goal or a gimmick. Rather, it's merely a launching point from which Hora builds complex yet accessible flavors in bold, refreshing ways.

The best example is the open-face raviolo. Dense mounds of rich rabbit and oxtail are piled high on house-made pasta, granting the stuffing center stage. But it's the beurre blanc topper that delivers a surprise. Made with shallots and uni, or sea urchin roe, the sauce adds a bright seam of acidity and a touch of sweetness that delivers a refreshing lift you don't expect in such a traditionally rich dish.

Our 2005 Capcanes Mas Donis Barrica Montsant paired brilliantly with the raviolo. This Spanish Syrah/Garnacha blend, $12 at the PLCB, has just enough dark fruit and gaminess to complement the raviolo's rich meat, while its mineral notes support the liveliness that the uni beurre blanc brings to the dish.

Hora's Chinese- and Thai-influenced lobster "two ways" also shows skillful depth. Pan-seared lobster and a grilled claw crown the plate, while the thick, doughy e-fu noodles Hora learned to make during a three-month stint in China swim in a delicate tom ka sauce. The PLCB's 2006 Clos Reissier Pouilly-Fuissé, an $18.99 white Burgundy, was an effective match here. This Chardonnay's medium body and light butteriness matched the dish's richness, thereby allowing the sauce's subtle flavors to shine through.

Deceptively simple dishes have nuance, too. Hora's crunchy duck spring roll is coated with a wonderfully fragrant peanut, ginger and sesame crust. The capers and fragrant mango sofrito sauce accompanying the tile fish in the tare tar trio were a pleasant surprise. Peanuts, chili sauce and sesame wonton chips elevate the flavor of the bluefin tuna member of the threesome. And to round out the flight, there's pan-fried Czech topinky, a housemade dark rye bread, which you rub with raw garlic before pairing with a portion of classic raw beef.

The pork tenderloin, definitely the simplest dish on Root's menu, was one of my favorites. Hora describes this classic as "straight Czech beer hall food." (He previously owned a restaurant in Prague.) But the dish's tender potato pancake, tart and salty Green Meadow Farms blue cheese and sweet caramel- and beer-braised cabbage all do their part to strike the perfect notes.

There are times, however, when Root's boldness leads to imbalance. The tapenade and cabrales, a spicy Spanish blue cheese, on the Valencia flatbread were so fierce they savaged my palate. Execution, too, should have been better in spots. Both times I had the raviolo, I found small bones in the meat. I enjoyed the crunchy textures of the daikon and watermelon that come alongside the poached ono, a relative of the king mackerel that's abundant in the South Pacific. But unfortunately, the fishiness of the particular piece I received overwhelmed the more subtle flavors at play.

Desserts were mixed. The deconstructed cheesecake was missing an element to contrast with the intense filling, a cream cheese, crème fraîche and mascarpone mix. And the bacon maple ice cream that accompanied the French toast soufflé was a little too ambitious: The maple flavor hits its mark, but the double-cured, non-smoked bacon Hora uses proffered more of a bacon fat mouthfeel than the taste of real pork. I wish the kitchen would have leveraged the sweet, tart cactus apple coulis, also known as prickly pear, a bit more in the kaffir lime tart instead of using it as decoration. But the double chocolate beignets — chocolate sour dough with a chocolate ganache glaze — are something special. Make sure to dip them in the addictive White Russian milkshake.

Hora named his restaurant Root because the word represents the foundation for everything that grows. Here's hoping the chef continues to do just that — all while keeping his roots planted right where they are.

(david.snyder@citypaper.net)

Root | 1033 Spring Garden St., 215-765-0904, rootrestaurant.com

Hours: Open for lunch Tue.-Fri., 11 a.m.-2 p.m.; open for dinner Tue.-Thu., 5-9 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 5-10 p.m.; open Sun.-Mon. by appointment

Appetizers and salads, $6-$13; Entrées, $14-$27

BYOB

Wheelchair accessible