Swallow

Some dishes exemplify simplicity done right; others are just simple.

June 22, 2008|By Craig LaBan, Inquirer Restaurant Critic

It isn't every day that visitors get razzed by a pack of rowdy Eagles fans for having the wrong license plates - and still fall in love with Philadelphia as the destination of their dreams.

But Jason and Cindy Caminos, oblivious to the Eagles-Redskins game underway during their day trip from Washington D.C. that October afternoon in 2006, knew they'd found a home for Swallow, the bistro they'd envisioned since they were both students at the Culinary Institute of America.

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They found those hecklers in the Italian Market "kind of charming," says Jason. And as the two walked the streets of Northern Liberties, they could still sense a special quality there, a signature blend of gritty urban vibrance and small-town accessibility that makes Philadelphia such fertile ground for cozy neighborhood restaurants.

"It reminded me of the Lower East Side when I was growing up," said Jason, a native New Yorker. "It was instantly apparent that people actually know each other."

Jason, 36, no longer views New York as a city with "real opportunities" for young people who aren't already financially privileged. And rents in D.C., where the Caminos cooked for the previous seven years, are exponentially higher than in Northern Liberties, he said.

So the corner space they opened in March on second block of the Liberties Walk promenade would seem a perfect spot to plant their neighborhood bistro. Northern Liberties is rich in gastropubs, but it is short on unpretentious BYOs serving homey pork chops, big fresh salads, and frogs' legs fried to a crisp.

The Caminos would seem well-equipped for this mission. But something is off-kilter at Swallow, and not just because of the cutesy double-entendre name, with winks to the bird and the bodily function.

The space's bordello look is a nod to the neighborhood's history as a red-light district, but it seems only half-done, with purple damask wallpaper that clashes with blood-red chandeliers, and tiny tables on bare wood floors that foster an awful din. The servers, meanwhile, were totally amateur and seemingly flummoxed by something as basic as bringing water or an extra spoon.

But this is also a city that routinely forgives a lack of polish in service and decor for real talent in the kitchen. The food can still be a savior. Swallow's menu, though, has struggled with consistency and the kind of culinary inspiration that entices diners to travel farther than a few blocks for dinner.

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