Right Angles

Well-shaken cocktails and creative comfort food meet and greet at the Corner.

by Adam Erace

Neal Santos

BREADWINNER: Finishing the Corner's rich grilled cheese — stuffed with Sottocenere, black truffle and braised, pulled short rib — is a challenge indeed.

[ review ]

In 2008, about the time the Phillies were making the push to the pennant, I had my first Aviation at Apothecary. Steamy summer night. Swanky rooftop deck. The vibe was as slick as the condensation beading up along the glass.

At the time, Apothecary was in limited company of places pouring proper cocktails. These days, Luxardo maraschino and creme de violette, two of the Aviation's principal elements, are common behind any cocktail bar that wants to be taken seriously. (Even Continental has an Aviation on its drink list.) But the bar at 13th and Drury — even though it's now known as the Corner — still shakes the best.

With a tight menu of fashionably laborious libations, the Corner hasn't forsaken Apothecary's spirit. Though the original marble bar downstairs has been turned into a gleaming open kitchen and 10- to 12-seat chef's counter, the second-story bar remains untouched, and during the three-month renovation, design firm URBANSPACEDEVELOPMENT carved out the tiniest little hooch hideaway — just three stools! — under the stairs.

Behind this 2-by-2 bar is where you'll find Max Cutler most nights, recessed beer coolers, bitters vials and vintage chemistry bottles all in his wingspan's reach. Raised glass letters spell "ferrous sulfate" across the jars lining the bar top, but inside the cocktail buff finds pineapple cordial, apricot liqueur, housemade grenadine and other happy liquids informing specialties like the Final Pillage: buccaneer's slugs of white and dark rums shaken with lemon, chai syrup and egg white to a lofty froth that Cutler stains with Angostura bitters.

Unlike sulfates, the Corner's tonics may not treat Oregon Trail ailments, but they'll remedy a boring Thursday. So will Cutler, a no-bullshit nice guy who assembles his Aviation with a fat twist of grapefruit. Before you even lift it to your lips, the essential oils floating on the cocktail's lilac surface herald its botanical disposition. Close your eyes and you could be in a Floridian orchard.

Open them back up, and you're in a candlelit matchbox on 13th Street. Corduroy banquette with tables on the left. Cute booths for two on the right, furnished with gilt mirrors and Edison bulbs, framed in what looks like salvaged lumber from a turn-of-the-century log cabin. It's a good look, this Corner, as well as good-looking. The current space feels decidedly less chilly, friendlier, but the main difference between the Corner and Apothecary is food that matches the quality of its drinks.

Enter chef/partner Scott Swiderski, who, after 12 years cooking a steady diet of Angry Lobsters and wasabi mash at Buddakan, is taking a classed-up comfort-food approach to the Corner's menu. He's got chef John "Chainsaw" Taus in tow — the two once worked together in the shadow of the 10-and-a-half-foot Buddha — handling sous responsibilities, making his own mark on the menu with the grandma's-recipe pierogies that won him acclaim during his tenure at Snackbar. Puffed with creamy Yukon Golds, these tender, pan-caramelized crescents are picture-pretty under a pea-green comet of piquant chive crème fraiche, one of many tasty dishes that make the Corner a worthy destination on a block packed with them.

I found the masa tots crazy-addictive. Swiderski refers to these deep-fried tortilla/cornmeal orbs, piled on creamy, chipotle-enflamed clam dip, as Mexican falafel — a nickname that effectively conveys the tots' crusty shells and fluffy centers. With a hard-candy lacquer of maple and bourbon, the bangin' spare ribs have no equal, their succulent, slightly fatty meat imprinted with scents of cinnamon, star anise and other exotic braising spices.

The ribs arrive arranged over pickled cukes, carrots and scallions, but it's the Kirby served astride the epic grilled cheese that's really noteworthy. I don't even like pickles — for shame, I know — but this one, brined with dashi and finger chilies, is bewitching. Of course, it doesn't hurt that the spear is served with a brioche-slabbed sandwich whose primary ingredients include Sottocenere cheese, black truffles and braised, pulled short rib.

The buttered behemoth is some Man vs. Food shit, man, and finishing it seems an insurmountable challenge. I managed, thanks to invisible forces like shallot, red onion, cilantro (tucked into the sandwich) and pineapple, lingering like a lipstick stain on the beef it helps to braise. They kept the rich dish from crossing into gratuitous territory. Just don't order it in the same sitting as the gooey seared scamorza. Strewn with mint and garlic, flambéed with Sambuca, it's delicious in its own right, but with the grilled cheese becomes queso overload — even for me.

Even with talent like Swiderski and Taus, two visits proved this kitchen not faultless. The malt vinegar powder tossed with the shoestring fries didn't deliver the boardwalk punch I craved, and the under-seasoned meatballs in the bun-engulfed sliders could have used an extra spoonful of Swiderski's vivid Sunday gravy.

With Barbuzzo and Zavino on the same block, Sunday gravy is a ballsy move, but Swiderski has an ace: his Calabrese father-in-law, whose spicy, pork-suffused San Marzano tomato sauce clings to the ridges of al dente rigatoni at the Corner. (Hope that the night you visit features one of the occasional batches Swiderski stews with lamb neck bones, a move that intensifies the gravy's savory makeup.)

"Every Sunday, we go over to my in-laws' for dinner," the chef says, "and that's what dinner consists of." Which leaves me with just one question: When can I come along?

(adam.erace@citypaper.net)

The Corner | 102 S. 13th St., 215-735-7500, thephillycorner.com. Dinner served Mon.-Wed., 5-10 p.m.; Thu.-Sat., 5-11:30 p.m.; late-night menu Thu.-Sat., 11:30 p.m.-1 a.m.; bar till 2 a.m.; closed Sun. Appetizers, $8-$14; sandwiches, $9-$14; entrées, $12-$18; desserts, $9.