Swallow

The shrimp risotto with peas and mint was the only total disaster - a huge lump of pasty rice on the plate with lots of starchy peas and absolutely no flavor, and none of the creamy luxury of a well-done risotto. The crab cakes were decent in a straightforward way (little binding, lots of sweet crab), but with nothing more than a plate of bitter salad greens as a garnish, the dish was missing something (a sauce? a starch? a cooked vegetable? any interest at all?).

The duck confit, which also came plopped unceremoniously over a plate of salad (and topped with a rubbery fried quail egg), was not much better. These legs get simmered in molten fat for nearly 12 hours, which would normally mean sublime tenderness. But the slightly bland meat refused to come off the bone without shredding - which is not a great sign in a neighborhood where the signature gastropub (Standard Tap) makes one of the best duck confit salads anywhere.

And Swallow will have to prove itself to the neighborhood crowd first if it hopes to gain the momentum to finally soar. Philadelphia is no doubt the fertile landscape for independent restaurants that the Caminos discovered on that fortuitous day trip from D.C. nearly two years ago. But the competition is stiff, the standards high. And a rowdy bunch of Eagles fans ticked off by a rival license plate will look like friendly birds indeed compared with a Philadelphia diner scorned.