Trader Jose

Philly's Iron Chef opens yet more territory with Garces Trading Co.

by Trey Popp

Neal Santos SALAD DAYS: Lyonnaise duck salad is just one of a gang of excellent plates at Garces Trading Co., where Jose Garces has once again succeeded in nailing a non-Latin concept.

[ review ]

Pat Buchanan speared a fractal tuft of frisee from his Lyonnaise duck salad, catching a bacon lardon in its springy kinks. "You've got a wholesale invasion," he was saying, "the greatest invasion in human history, coming across your southern border, changing the composition and character of your country." The chicory crunched between his molars, slipping slightly where a poached egg yolk had slicked the white-green shoots. "Look," he went on. "They've got their own language, their own culture. They don't want to be Americans."

Bill O'Reilly took his eyes off a grilled pork chop to scope the deep-dish pizza, Garces Trading Co.'s luscious contribution to Philadelphia's tomato-pie renaissance. It's the liberals, he declared. "They, under the guise of being compassionate, want to flood the country with foreign nationals, unlimited — unlimited! — to change the complexion, pardon the pun, of America." O'Reilly went for the pizza. The roasted San Marzanos here are as concentrated as tomato preserves packed during an August heat wave. "That's insane. We don't have America then. America disappears."

A drop of olive oil glistened for a moment on the crease between his lips. "That's where Pat Buchanan is right. You let that happen, there's no more United States of America. It's gone."

OK, OK. The McLaughlin/Crossfire/Factor circus didn't actually come to Jose Garces' latest small-plates smorgasbord to make wild-eyed predictions about some Anglo-Hispanic culture-clash cage fight. Those quotes date from 2007, the last time the punditry worked itself into a lather over immigration reform. But if the Senate really does intend to kick off another round of foaming at the mouth, wouldn't it be beautiful if Garces Trading Co. catered the floor debate?

Cuisine is culture, and Philadelphia's Iron Chef keeps proving that there is apparently no limit to his talent for assimilation. Fast on the heels of Village Whiskey, a simulacrum of Swing Age Americana, Garces has served up another decidedly non-Latin venue. Garces Trading Co. basically embodies the American idea of a Euro-style café-cum-gourmet shop. Characteristically, the restaurateur nails the vibe, all the way to the Dansko clogs beneath the host's charcoal suit.

If all second-generation Hispanic immigrants wage culture war the way Garces does, our children will be buttering their bread with Brie.

The well-stocked cheese counter is one way to go at Garces Trading Co., but there are better values elsewhere on the menu and in the store. For starters, the boutique wine shop managed by the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board. It's the first PLCB outlet wholly contained within a restaurant. Competing restaurateurs must be gritting their teeth over this partnership. With operating hours that more or less mirror those of GTC's kitchen, which is open until about 10 p.m., the wine shop blurs Philadelphia's BYO line in the most advantageous and customer-friendly way possible.

The selection is trim by retail standards but expansive compared to most wine lists, with bottles ranging from less than $10 to more than $100, and varietals that cover both mainstream bases and plenty of eccentric territory, too. Ten-dollar bottles of a dry Vinho Verde rosé were just the thing to beat the recent heat wave. So was Louis Latour's Duet Chardonnay-Viognier blend, which, while it lasted, carried the lowest price listed in the country ($8.99). That and one of the restaurant's ice buckets is reason enough to come feast on salads, pastas and a deep-dish pie.

You'll pay $24 for the latter — plus another $5 to $8 for every topping — but the beauty that emerges 30 minutes later is as delicious as it is expensive. The oven-roasted San Marzanos truly are jam-like — though of course unsugared — in their intensity. Yet the difference-maker is the unexpected thinness of the crust, which is more like a pastry than a bread dough. No spongy substrate for this deep-dish pizza. This specimen really merits the label "pie," its depth a function of full-flavored fillings rather than overactive yeast.

There are other excellent things to nibble on at the bar-height wooden tables by GTC's big windows, or at the dinner tables that fill out the middle of an unfussy room sheathed in clean white subway tile. Lamb ragu over broad ribbons of pappardelle sounded wintery, but a sweet sunchoke purée lightened what might otherwise be a heavy dish. A halfway-deconstructed carbonara — whose completion awaited the puncture of a poached egg to spill its yolk through the guanciale-flecked nest of fusilli — captured spring with outstandingly fresh peas. So, in an altogether brighter way, did strips of baby artichokes in a honeyed bath of preserved lemons, its hue as yellow and translucent as a flash of canary wings through a sheet of rain. Those lemons, in a less watery mode, also prickled through the fatty richness of an excellent, though pricey, focaccia sandwich crammed with velvety bresaola.

HALF OFF DEPOT

Why live life at full price?

There's a weekly rotation of entrées meant for two to share, but the kitchen's apparent difficulty to adjust on the fly is a drawback. When Tuesday's temperature races up to 90 degrees, who wants to double down on cassoulet? Bouillabaisse (Thursdays) or paella (Fridays) sound more promising. Maybe you'll have better luck matching your visit to the pre-ordained special.

And maybe you won't — but who really cares when the menu has you so covered for variety? Grab a couple claws of butter-poached lobster, which nestle up to creamy butternut-squash agnolotti dressed with sage. Or pair up the orangey chicken-liver mousse, slicked with a sweet shallot confit, with bitter fronds of endive decked with orange segments and Anjou pears. I kept looking for flops in execution during a sprawling dinner and a smaller lunch, but never met much of a slip.

The retail section of the store tries hard to justify often-high prices, succeeding about as often as it fails. Value hunters will search the cheese case and the proprietary coffee blends in vain. But bread from New Jersey's Hudson Bakery is priced competitively, and superb little canele — eggy within, caramelized to a crisp without — are well worth $6 a half-dozen. Free and easy sampling of higher-end goods like infused olive oils and aged vinegars at least makes the shopping fun, as does a drink case boasting treats like Fentiman's old-fashioned, naturally fermented cola.

Which, come to think of it, sounds like the sort of deep-dish pizza accompaniment Pat Buchanan and Bill O'Reilly could get behind.

(t_popp@citypaper.net)

Garces Trading Co. | 1111 Locust St., 215-574-1099, garcestradingcompany.com. Open daily, 8 a.m.-10 p.m. Cheese, $6; charcuterie, $8-$11; antipasti, soups, salads, $5-$11; pizza, $12-$24; pasta, $10-$28; grilled fare, $22-$28; plats du jour (for two), $28-$45; desserts, $2.50-$6. Wheelchair accessible.