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01-11-2006, 04:35 PM
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Deuce Restaurant - Craig Laban Review
Deuce
The loungey spot puts some creative twists on comfort food as it brings a different vibe to gritty Northern Liberties. By Craig LaBan Inquirer Columnist The night a Snickertini landed at a bar in Northern Liberties shall go down in history as the moment this once-hip neighborhood began to lose its cutting edge. Or maybe not. Depending on where you stand in the continuum of gentrification, it may be quite excellent to see the rough-hewn edges of this old industrial-zone-turned-artsy-urban-fringe sanded smooth in a slick new place like Deuce. The slender bar and restaurant, with its sexy red lighting, Rat Pack soundtrack, button-tufted fixtures, and repertoire of girly cocktails (a Snickertini, f.y.i., tastes like Yoohoo spiked with vodka), looks more like a slice of trendy Old City than the grungy gastropubs of Northern Liberties' first wave. Ensconced in the cornerstone building of developer Bart Blatstein's sprawling new residential and commercial complex on the old Schmidt's Brewery site off Second Street - Liberties Walk and the Piazza - Deuce is just the first of several new eateries that will define the character of Nouveau Northern Liberties. It may not be avant-garde, but it has some worthy qualities nonetheless. Owner Laura Vernola, a Blatstein employee and former marketing director for Delilah's (the strip club, not the soul-food stand), has lent the room a decidedly feminine Vegas lounge theme through designer Owen Kamihira, who has created several spaces for Stephen Starr. But it's the updated comfort fare from chef Scott Schroeder that most caught my eye. Schroeder, a veteran of ¡Pasion!, Brasserie Perrier and Jake's, is keenly aware of the neighborhood's gastropub touchstones (Standard Tap and N. 3rd), and has fashioned a diverse menu that sits comfortably beside them, at once extremely affordable ($15 max) and obsessively homemade. The beef chili, for example, is a hearty, Texas-style stew of cubed meat and beans, but it gets a surprise boost of woody gusto from house-smoked beef. Classic grilled ham and cheese is upgraded with serious ingredients - double-smoked Lancaster ham and tangy Swiss, flour-dusted ciabatta - then turned into a fabulous Cubano with pickles and spicy grain mustard that Schroeder spikes with Yuengling lager. The dedication to scratch cooking doesn't always pay off. The homemade ravioli in spicy squash puree are just too big, their overly wide crimped edges still crunchy and raw. And Schroeder isn't the first chef to fail in his quest to best the Heinz machine with a handmade ketchup (too cinnamony, too sweet). The kitchen also falls too easily for the cliches of upscale bar food - heavy on the cheap truffle oil, and deluded by Kobe beef. Deuce's big $14 Kobe burger has the promise of a truffle-smeared cardiac splurge, but the über-tender beef, in such large patty form, has the consistency of mush. I much prefer the more humble grilled meat loaf sandwich, a variation on Schroeder's mom's recipe (perfect texture) that comes with mushrooms glazed in a smoky homemade barbecue sauce that was worth the effort. I also loved the homemade steak sauce (mushroomy and lively with spice) that slathered the rare hanger steak, which, at $12, is one of the better steak deals in town. Schroeder also serves genuine inspiration by stepping aside for his Mexican prep cook, Demetrios Perez, who turns out some excellent chicken enchiladas. Ringed by an emerald-green tomatillo salsa flared with serrano peppers and cilantro, the tortilla tubes have an authentically limey kick. Deuce has also caused me to reconsider my usual anti-saladism with its clever taco salad. A surprisingly satisfying entree, it brought a grilled link of chorizo and tender pulled chicken meat scattered with house-fried tortilla strips and bits of nopal cactus over great frisee greens tossed in a chipotle ranch dressing tingling with chile heat. Talk about redeeming a casualty of fern-bar cooking. Schroeder also gains new respect for the commonly botched cheesesteak spring roll with a super-crisp thin wrapper and a perfect core of cheesy meat. Deuce's wide-ranging kitchen also produced nice renditions of a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato-beer soup, light ricotta gnocchi with sauteed shrimp, and crackling crisp chicken wings that came with an unusual variation - a salad of sliced celery in blue cheese dressing. If only the chunky salad had been more of a dip (perhaps a puree?), it would have been a stroke of gastropub genius. OK, maybe not genius. But one can't help but appreciate the effort and imagination that Schroeder is pouring into his menu, considering this newcomer could reel in crowds on style points and location alone. Even with dessert, Deuce throws its creative cards on the table. The pumpkin cheesecake with cranberry sauce and molasses whipped cream would have been a good bet if the cheesecake hadn't been soggy. The chocolate chip bread pudding, though, was a nice surprise, impressively moist with a cute little shake on the side filled with banana milk. And as if the buttermilk pound cake draped with caramelized apples wasn't rich enough, it gets dipped in french toast batter before being seared to a crisp on the grill. The most debated sweet, though, was Schroeder's fried PB&J, which is exactly that - a peanut butter and jelly on white bread fried inside a crust of crushed Frosted Flakes. Too much jelly for one person at my table. Not enough for another. Someone actually moaned about the way the chef cut it into quarters. (I thought it was just right.) With controversy like this over a children's sandwich at the neighborhood's newest hot spot, it surely is the beginning of the end for Northern Liberties. Then again, it could be just the beginning. 
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