Animal House

Hoof + Fin, from head to toe, has the capacity to charm.

by Trey Popp

Neal Santos HOOFIN' IT: Beef short ribs aren't your typical summer treat, but Hoof + Fin's version lightens things up with a sangria braise and fruit topping.

[ review ]

April in Paris has nothing on May in Queen Village. Argue if you feel like it, but that will only mark your misfortune of having missed out on Hoof + Fin's patio in late spring. Was there a better table in town than one beneath the low-wattage light bulbs strung up behind this unassuming Argentinean BYO, where the boughs of a Japanese maple soften the whir of an old air conditioner that sounds like field crickets in courting season?

With weather that rewarded short sleeves but didn't penalize long ones, the crowd was as pleasantly mismatched as the table linens. A white-haired foursome in clothes fit for the opera paid at quarter till 8, ambled past an indoor eight-top where three children wriggled on their knees and in high chairs, then crossed paths at the door with a hip twentysomething whose dress fell over tights that could have been mistaken for a tattoo artist run riot from ankle to knee. The former Gayle space has been recycled into a spot that welcomes all comers.

Hoof + Fin's tile-floor interior is as loud as a boom box in a storage closet, with or without kids in the mix. Yet anyone who snagged a table outside could hardly complain — even about a pace of service that pushed dinner into a third hour before dessert. In its humble, unadorned way, it was the perfect setting at the perfect time.

But if you missed the moment, not all is lost, because summer figures to flatter Lucas Manteca's concept more thoroughly than spring. The Argentinean restaurateur has ventured into Philadelphia from his home base down the shore — he owns Quahog's and is former owner of Sea Salt, both in Stone Harbor, N.J., and heads the kitchen operation at Cape Resorts Group. Those spots are no doubt eager for high season to hit, and Hoof + Fin was champing at the same bit in May. The grill is its center of gravity, there's a raw bar to go along with it, and chef Carlos Barroz couldn't wait to round out entrées with sliced tomatoes and corn on the cob — so he didn't, even though those pleasures have a while yet to ripen.

He hadn't skipped over spring entirely. There was a lovely and light risotto studded with fava beans and asparagus, with shaved grana padano to lend a savory edge. Asparagus was even better off the grill, slicked with a silky bacon vinaigrette and scattered with more favas. (Whether a dozen spears under a poached egg rated $12 is another question.)

HALF OFF DEPOT

Why live life at full price?

A beet salad would have been more aptly named after the long stalks of watercress that dwarfed the sweet cubes of burnt-orange and crimson hiding at the bottom of a metal mixing bowl, but for the most part the menu delivered just what it advertised. Pork matambre, a flank cut that's common in Argentina, came off the grill lean and full-flavored astride a dipping cup of straight-ahead chimichurri. A whole bronzino rode out to the table in nothing fancier than its fire-blistered skin. There are good empanadas: spiced beef, or pepper-flecked corn.

Barroz takes the occasional creative departure from this straightforward fare. Red grapefruit and cilantro set off ivory slices of fluke carpaccio in a raw-bar appetizer that was halfway between ceviche and fusion sashimi. I could have done without the heavy cloak of truffle essence that almost suffocated the bright flavors beneath, however. Sangria-braised short ribs were topped with an unexpectedly literal surprise: chunks of pineapple and melon, with a raspberry off to the side. The meat was terrific, and though not everyone wants a fruit cocktail on top of braised beef, it brought a cold-weather dish into the flavor spectrum of summer well enough to recommend ordering it in mid-July. I'd go back for it.

Execution is not as consistent as it should be at prices that brush against the upper limit for a casual neighborhood spot. The $25 arroz a la Gallega was oversalted and unevenly cooked — mussels and clams, just fine; shrimp, rubbery as pencil erasers and not much bigger. A Spanish tortilla under those short ribs was splendid, with tender potatoes layering moist cheese. One that came with another entrée was dry and crumbly. Five dollars for an ear of corn is nonsense.

You'll forgive and forget that if you order dulce de leche panqueques for dessert, though. Eat them fast: Molten caramel folded in a griddle-hot crêpe doesn't get better than this. If you're on a first date and it's going well, giving up the first bite should get you to first base faster than Chase Utley facing a 3-0 count. Should it be shaping up to be a last date, think about stabbing any hand that wanders within fork range. (A tres leches cake across the way would be good cause to withdraw your weapon. If it's just banana bread pudding, strike.)

Hoof + Fin is unlikely to knock anyone's socks off — at least not anyone who goes out hoping to encounter something beyond good renditions of things they could for the most part do themselves. But maybe a home-style restaurant is just what this neighborhood, which last year proved unable to support Ansill, has been wanting. A mix of customers spanning about 75 years in age on a random weeknight certainly makes it seem that way.

If you want to join this happy crowd, just be sure to choose a cloudless evening, and tablemates who know the magic of turning bare light bulbs and a wheezing air compressor into crickets on a starry night.

(t_popp@citypaper.net)