Second Line

Khyber Pass Pub trades punk for po'boys.

by Adam Erace

NACHO AVERAGE SNACK: The Khyber Pass Pub's gigantic nachos come topped with shredded smoked pork butt and salsa verde.

Neal Santos

[ review ]

Saying people were miffed when the Khyber announced it would be turning into an izakaya is like saying people were miffed about Ruben Amaro dealing Cliff Lee after the '09 season. There were letters. There were phone calls. There were 62 comments on the Meal Ticket post that broke the story, a thread of protesters hurling die-yuppie-scum vitriol like acid-dipped dodgeballs.

"I will never go there again," said one commenter of the long-running Old City rock club. "The Khyber was probably the best place to see a band in Philly. Way to fuck it up assholes."

"Way to ruin one of the city's last unique venues and open yet another cookie-cutter yuppie joint," said another.

And perhaps harshest of all: "You are essentially replacing an iconic Philly bar/venue with an Applebee's."

Five months later, the Khyber is not Japanese — it's now the NOLA-inspired Khyber Pass Pub, and the Haterade well is dry. "The people who were coming to Old City didn't want to come to the Khyber," reflects Stephen Simons, who owns it (and Royal Tavern and the Cantina twins) with business partner Dave Frank. "And the people who were coming to the Khyber didn't want to come to Old City."

The Cliff Lee thing worked out, and, judging from the packed house on a recent snowy weeknight, so has this.

Entering the Khyber's front room, where the hulking bar still hogs all the space, neither regular nor newcomer can tell alterations have been made. (Look close to see it's gained 10 taps, for a total of 22, including a second beer engine.) Passing through the doorway into what was once the buck-wild performance space is where old-timers might get misty. It's a dining room now, the most noticeable update aside from the bathrooms, which no longer threaten to give you herpes.

This is no Applebee's, but the eatin' is certainly good in the neighborhood. The izakaya concept never did take flight — Simons and Frank are keeping chef Todd Dae Kulper on ice for another project. Instead, the pub debuted with longtime Royal/Cantina chef Mark McKinney and a menu as Southern as an afternoon sweet tea on a plantation porch.

Frank, who first fell in love with New Orleans shortly after Katrina, gives backbone to the theme. "The city has become a bit of a second home to me," he explains. "When I'm not there, I miss the food, the vibe, the culture. I missed good gumbo and barbecue. [Khyber Pass Pub] was our opportunity." With Simons and McKinney, he set out to stock a menu full of Southern-sourced ingredients like Best Stop andouille, Steen's cane syrup and Benton's bacon, whose smoky drippings are deployed to the best brown-paper-bag of popcorn you will ever eat.

Leaving a tulip of Hill Farmstead's mahogany Holger Danske rauchbier streaked with greasy fingerprints, I munched the kernels while awaiting a fried-shrimp po'boy served on a Leidenheimer bun shipped from Louisiana. Khyber Pass Pub gets the de rigueur rolls by the pallet — that's 1,400 rolls, flash-frozen and stored off-site — but I never would've known by the just-baked taste, collapsing slightly around the "dressed" (lettuce, tomato, mayo, pickles) filling of crunchy, cornmeal-crusted crustaceans laced with Creole mustard.

The po'boys are fashioned in four other styles (including the classic oyster), plus one faux-tein, vegan fried "chicken." As for the actual fried chicken (brined for 24 hours, coated in a flour/cornmeal mix and, untraditionally, deep-fried), it had a salty, thick exterior that channeled the Colonel a little too much for my taste. Two sides come with all platters; pass on the dry buttermilk biscuit, but definitely get the juicy, hot sauce-spiked collards.

Regulars of Cantina and Royal will recognize the shared DNA with Khyber Pass: vamp lights, stiff drinks, a killer burger and vegetarian/vegan choices you actually want to eat. (Charred tomato soup, talking to you.) There are grilled wings in a trio of sauces — the bourbon-kissed chipotle barbecue bests the wussy honey-habañero and respectably spicy Buffalo — and nachos big enough to feed a family of four. Here, jack-webbed tortillas take a Dixie detour with green-tomato salsa verde and a heaping of shredded smoked pork butt. Once dressed with Kansas City, North or South Carolina sauces, this pig goes on to become pulled pork sandwiches and platters, but on the nachos, the unctuous tatters are naked, save for a spritz of vinegar that animates the hickory fumes.

Even the specials, chalked on a familiar blackboard, look printed in the same handwriting. Like at other Simons/Frank establishments, it's just as long as the printed menu, and the wise mine it for treasures like McKinney's boudin balls. These bayou arancine come three to a crispy-fried order, golden shells cracking open to reveal funky-fresh Carolina rice good and "dirty" with bits of pork shoulder and liver. Steen's syrup makes its sticky-sweet appearance here, in a dip kicked up with Creole mustard and Crystal hot sauce.

"The challenge" for the burger, according to McKinney, "was to top the Royal Burger, or at least equal it if we didn't want to be laughed at." Though I'd rank Khyber's burger below Royal's, I'm not laughing because it's a worthy opponent. The patty is an identical 80/20 Midwestern Angus blend and delivered the same wallop of beefy satisfaction. Both have bacon and onions, but instead of pickled long hots, chili mayo and smoked Gouda, the Khyber's gets Creole mustard and smoked cheddar on absorbent Baker Street brioche.

I finished the burger and drained an Oskar Blues pils as the thrum of the crowd mingled with the O.G. jukebox. Though the live music that once echoed through these walls may be dead, the Khyber isn't by a long shot.

(adam.erace@citypaper.net)

Khyber Pass Pub | 56 S. Second St., 215-238-5888, khyberpasspub.com. Lunch and dinner served daily, 11 a.m.-1 a.m.; bar open till 2 a.m. Appetizers, $3-$13; entrées, $10-$18; desserts, $6.