Driving through Valley Forge National Historical Park is always a pleasant experience, despite the myriad deer that seem to have taken it over. But the other sunset-gilded evening, we knew there was a treat awaiting us at the other end—Majolica, the restaurant that has suddenly put sleepy Phoenixville on the map. Other reports had been stellar, and, dear reader, we were not disappointed.

It was almost like coming into someone's home, with a plush sofa in front and a big breakfront on the side, against an exposed brick wall. The other walls of this renovated old tavern are a pale water-nixie green, covered with black-and-white photos. Shown to our copper-topped table by a courteous waitress who took our wine—isn't the best food at BYOBs these days?—we were first impressed by the wine-friendly Spiegelau stemware, and then by the sophistication of the menu. Sarah Johnson, wife of chef-owner Andrew Deery, told us that Andrew comes by way of Savona, where he honed his obvious talents, i.e. homemade stocks, homemade desserts, and meticulous French technique. They are both natives of Phoenixville, and named their charming little restaurant Majolica in honor of the area's pottery-making history.

The amuse-bouche, a dab of rosy tuna tartar on a homemade chip, the crisp rolls and little pots of butter --all contributed to the European feel of the meal. That they naturally follow the seasons (we dined from the October menu) and pay such rigid attention to details like the little base of prune puree beneath the creamy rabbit rillettes—and the fact alone that there are rillettes on the menu—heightened my opinion even more. A gastrique with the foie gras, the finely chopped mirepoix that made the Pernod-infused juices in a large bowl of mussels explode with flavor, showed Deery's appreciation of French technique. We mopped up every bit of that juice, nibbled the rillettes and exclaimed over the garlic soup. First, elephant garlic chips are set in the bowl, and then the pale beige liquid is poured around them, a la francaise. The aroma enveloped us. However, the taste of garlic was not overwhelming, more like a whisper of something you can't quite identify, making for a subtle, delicious dish. The crispy, tender veal sweetbreads, on a tangle of wild mushrooms, were sparked by an emerald green nage coaxed from anise-y tarragon.

A delightful surprise was the entremets—a lovely sorbet of cucumbers whose cool, green flavor successfully cleared our palates for the entrees. They appeared, served on more of the multishaped white china plates, with the same loving detail. A large slice of Chatham Bay cod, tender enough to be cod pudding, had its flavor boosted by roasted red peppers and a drizzle of thyme oil, and sprigs of fried thyme arranged across the top. A confit of duck came mantled with a slice of duck fat and was classically bedded on Savoy cabbage and accompanied by fingerling potatoes and a sprinkle of caraway. Save for the slight saltiness of the confit, it was a perfect dish. I eschewed the hanger steak for the braised lamb, but it was not what I expected it to be, for they had taken the deliciously fatty and tender meat of the shank and made it into a timbale, topped with a cloud of grated Grana cheese. White asparagus were arranged beside it like toothsome little logs, and, for once, this country's white asparagus tasted all right. The whole dish was lightly scented with marjoram, and I took half of it home with me, for I was already too full.

It was this fullness that prevented me from having the Hendricks Farm cheese selection, but seeing it at the next table, I knew I was missing something. However, I can always manage dessert. We tried the coconut sorbet, so full of flavor that I felt like I was eating ripe coconut. It came with pineapple chunks to make a deconstructed pi–a colada and a savory macadamia nut tuille. A little cake of pine nuts was moist and nutty, with an apricot coulis making it more so, but it was the rosemary ice cream on the side that blew me away with a whiff of Provence. For once, I couldn't handle the profiteroles or the chocolate souffle, but oh, that rosemary ice cream.

Excellent coffee from the nearby Kimberton Coffee Roasters came with cubes of sugar and tongs, and a tiny bunny as a creamer—more of the little collectible touches that dot the room, like the copper basins used as wine coolers. The decor and the table appointments show as much thought and love as does the food. Deery and Johnson have a real hit on their hands, and I know they are up to it. Driving back through the darkened fields, I was already planning my next trip to Phoenixville. Like discovering a three-star restaurant in an unknown French hamlet, who would have thought it?

Reviewed September, 2005

The mussels were finished, but we were having trouble letting go. Every time our server tried to clear the table, three hands would swoop toward the bowl, determined to mop every drop of buttery broth infused with Pernod.

Chef Andrew Deery’s uncommonly delicious take on a common appetizer was the first tip-off that Majolica might stand apart from the rank-and-file of pleasant, uncomplicated BYOBs. Then the carefully composed, seasonally oriented main courses confirmed it: Deery’s entrées are frankly beautiful, graced with elegant sauces such as the parsley emulsion that made a pretty pastel backdrop for porcini-dusted halibut. And there were thoughtful extras—a citrus-y salmon tartare on house-made potato chips, and a Valencia orange sorbet intermezzo, boldly enhanced with shredded basil and a splash of olive oil. It’s a pleasure to report that Majolica is one of the best new restaurants to open this year.

Fine-dining flourishes are second nature to Deery, who has worked at Savona, the Kimberton Inn and Passerelle, but they are new to Phoenixville, a town best known for making iron and steel as well as the fanciful glazed pottery called majolica. Those industries, honored by a mural at Main and Bridge streets, faded many years ago. Now the local economy is driven by a very different force: affluent Chester County newcomers who have settled near the tech and pharmaceutical campuses where they work. The transition can already be seen on Bridge Street, where dowdy shop fronts in the town center are slowly giving way to restaurants, brewpubs, espresso bars, antiques stores and condominiums. Deery and his wife, Sarah Johnson, who manages the dining room with a friendly, professional touch, are confident that their hometown can become a dining destination, as West Chester, Media and Collingswood have.

Majolica is its first destination restaurant. Copper-topped tables and walls painted in a green hue reminiscent of majolica pottery reinforce the Arts and Crafts aesthetic of the casual-chic 40-seat dining room, on the site of the former Phoenix Tavern. Couples at or near retirement age, cheerfully bearing multiple bottles of wine, mix easily with customers closer in age to Deery and Johnson, who are 34 and 28, respectively.

Deery is passionate about fresh seafood, and it shows. A split tail from a one-and-a-half-pound lobster curls neatly around the base of a vertically positioned claw in a chilled appetizer, ready for dipping into emphatic lemon aioli flavored with house-made preserved lemons. Another chef might place a few haricots verts around the perimeter of the plate and consider it done; here, the green beans are tied into neat bundles with fresh chives. Seared sea scallops wrapped with fresh bay leaves rest on tiny French lentils—just a shade undercooked—enriched with reduced veal stock. Large pearls of vivid orange salmon roe adorn Scottish salmon on toasted brioche that hides yet another layer of texture, a cache of braised celery. Butter, white truffle oil and seafood stock converge in a French-style nage surrounding the salmon.

Local ingredients are used as often as possible. White corn soup is nothing more than butter-sautéed kernels pureed with milk, strained, and poured warm at the table around cornmeal-dusted fried cherrystone clams, an inspired textural contrast. (Another version of the soup omitted the clams and went in a sweeter direction, using vanilla butter and fresh basil.) Frisée salad—arranged, rather than tossed—-incorporates soft, feathery greens (mine could have used more dressing), a hard-cooked egg (because the two-man line can’t realistically poach an egg perfectly at the height of dinner service), a single strip of bacon, and utterly greaseless fried potatoes cut into large dice. The rabbit appears in a two-way presentation that combines a seared tenderloin portion with legs braised confit-style in olive oil flavored with juniper berries.

Some meat dishes just missed the mark by being slightly over- or undercooked. Crisp sweetbreads lost their creamy center; the ultra-rareness of the Muscovy duck breast and the lamb loin rendered them chewy. But the steak frites is superb, a tender grilled hanger steak moistened with reduced veal stock and gilded with herbed butter that gains added flavor depth from garlic and anchovy. The fries are crisp and generously portioned.

Three cheeses from Hendricks Farm and Dairy in Telford—two goat varieties and one cow’s-milk cheese—were well-made, but too similar. The excellent coffee is from the Coffee Roasting Company in nearby Kimberton.

Deery and sous-chef Scott Ewing are as hands-on with dessert as they are with the rest of the meal. They prepare the pâté de choux pastry for the profiteroles, and roll puff pastry very flat to ensure that the raspberry napoleon is a crisp fruit sandwich, with orderly rows of whole red and golden raspberries in the center and a squiggle of pastry cream clinging to one of the pastry squares. Poached pineapple and an architectural macadamia nut tuile cookie are well-suited to the house-made coconut sorbet. Crème anglaise infused with fresh tarragon makes a provocative partner for the bittersweet chocolate soufflé, but the intense cocoa flavor blots out every trace of the sweet herb if the cream is poured into the soufflé center. You can experience the desired effect by eating the crème anglaise and the soufflé separately, spoonful by alternating spoonful.

SCORECARD
258 Bridge Street, Phoenixville; 610-917-0962

FOOD: A- SERVICE: B+ ATMOSPHERE: B
AVERAGE COST OF DINNER PER PERSON (with tax and tip, without alcohol) : $49
FOOD : Seasonal New American
WINE LIST : BYOB
GET : Mussels with Pernod butter; chilled lobster with haricots verts and preserved lemon aioli; porcini-dusted halibut with parsley emulsion; Scottish salmon with truffle nage; rabbit confit; steak frites.
DON’T GET : Roasted figs with lavender flowers, unless you can tolerate a dessert that smells like a sachet.

Majolica

Posted on Sun, Aug. 28, 2005

Like the pottery it is named for, the BYOB in Phoenixville has enduring qualities.
By Craig LaBan - Inquirer Columnist

For two talented Phoenixville natives aiming to pay homage to their town's history, it must have taken every ounce of restraint not to name their new restaurant the Blob BYOB.

Driving down Bridge Street one late-July eve, I noted the old Colonial Theatre ablaze with its annual Blobfest festivities, and the potential tie-ins to the 1958 sci-fi cult film were obvious. I also know more than a few restaurateurs (with liquor licenses, of course) who have compared the BYO craze to that insatiably hungry gelatinous monster.

But chef Andrew Deery and his wife, Sarah Johnson, no doubt, had something more elegant in mind when they resurrected the bones of the derelict Phoenix Tavern into a charming 40-seat eatery called Majolica. The name alludes to a type of glazed earthenware that was the late-19th-century glory of this Chester County manufacturing town, where Griffin-Smith-Hill Pottery produced sardine boxes, oyster plates and strawberry platters that are still collectible.

A key to the pottery's continued value is colorful glazes that remain vivid over the course of time. If my impressive meals at this nine-month-old bistro are any indication, Majolica the restaurant has a bright future, too, with the kind of sophisticated dining that can jump-start any aspiring downtown revival.

In the spirit of the region's best new BYOBs, Majolica delivers that sophistication - both in food and service - with an unpretentious and casual ease. The decor is simple yet elegant, a polished glass storefront giving way to hardwood floors, a plush waiting couch, exposed brick, copper-top tables, and artsy black-and-white photos hanging from misty green walls. Along the front wall is a beautiful antique breakfront filled with a variety of Spiegelau glassware - one of the many elegant touches that are a step above what you'll find in most neighborhood cafes.

The service team led by Johnson, who worked at the Birchrunville Store Cafe, is also a delight, eager to please and well-informed on the food.

The most notable upgrade, though, comes from Deery's kitchen, where the Savona and Kimberton Inn veteran is making the most of great ingredients in striking combinations.

You get a hint of this from the moment a complimentary amuse-bouche arrives. Whether it's a marble-size ball of fried halibut "brandade" alongside a tart cube of malt vinegar gelee one night, or a miniature parmesan cup filled with goat cheese mousse another, these tiny bites explode with complex flavors and textures.

Deery's cooking is focused enough, though, that little touches - a dusting of thyme petals, a few dabs of aged vinegar, or a chiffonade of basil - are able to transform a dish.

The sweetbread appetizer, for example, was beautifully prepared. But those perfectly crisp nuggets took on some surprising shades of flavor with a glaze of hazelnut oil, and a finely diced salad of apples, currants and celery - an underused ingredient that added a hint of anise.

Deery revels whenever possible in the bounty of local, seasonal ingredients, from the extra-ripe blueberries he turned into an intermezzo sorbet glossed with extra-virgin olive oil and ribbons of basil to the sweet diced peaches he used as a pedestal for a crisply seared slice of foie gras scattered with sea salt. Even the wonderful coffee is blended for Majolica and roasted nearby at Kimberton Coffee Roasters.

No dish spoke more clearly of summer, though, than the milky white corn soup, which our server poured from a carafe tableside around a mound of crisply fried cherrystone clams.

Deery, who spent five years cooking in Maine, also has a way with shellfish. He steeps lobsters gently, rather than boiling them, for a superbly tender cocktail of chilled meat served with fingerlings and preserved lemon aioli. His steamed mussels - a dish I've grown tired of - were among the best I've had, the mollusks tender and clean and completely perfumed by the Pernod flambe.

With dishes such as his deconstructed frisee salad and classic hanger steak frites (complete with amazingly crisp hand-cut french fries), it's clear Deery has an affinity for bistro cuisine. My single disappointment was his rabbit, which brought a lovely tenderloin in mustard sauce, but also a surprisingly bland and chewy leg confit.

The other entrees, though, more than compensated for that slip. A lamb loin fanned over earthy shiitake caps and a marmalade of ginger-poached raisins was surprisingly hearty. A notably meaty breast of duck was sparked by the yin-yang flavors of finely shaved bitter Belgian endive and sweet apricots spiced with peppercorns.

The two fish entrees were also splendid. A thick piece of porcini-dusted halibut posed over a vibrant green parsley butter with chanterelle mushrooms. And an amazingly good Scottish salmon (seared crisp outside but still moist inside) was set over the double crunch of a brioche crouton and braised celery ringed by truffle butter.

Good restaurants are often the best foragers for great ingredients, and Majolica should be commended for giving the cheeses of Hendricks Farm in Telford, Montgomery County, some much-deserved exposure, with a gorgeous plate that sides Hendricks' fine tomme-style and soft-rind cheeses with honeycomb, roasted hazelnuts and sweet berries.

The cheese plate is one of several worthy finishes at Majolica, which shows an extra effort when it comes to dessert.

At the heart of its best offerings are homemade ice creams and sorbets. Coconut sorbet, cradled in a macadamia nut tuile, has an exotic flair with ginger-poached pineapple. Profiteroles with vanilla ice cream are classic, but elicit aahs when a server pours a carafe of warm dark chocolate sauce over top. The best, however, was a hazelnut cake ringed by a sunburst of roasted figs, then crowned with honey ice cream and a fragrant purple shower of lavender flowers.

I suppose that is a far cry from Blob cuisine. I can only hope it is as enduring as Phoenixville majolica.

Phoenixville was founded on ethnic diversity. Now, it can be described as an emerging culinary haven for diverse tastes.

In a short span of time, it seems, the borough's landmark eatery, the Columbia Hotel, has received a makeover and new places ranging from hip bistros to sports bars have opened in the heart of the borough.

The latest addition is a restaurant that takes its name from a popular pottery made in the 1880s by the Phoenixville firm of Griffen, Smith & Hill.

Majolica brings what could be described as a little bit of South Street and Brooklyn's Park Slope to a borough that has worked hard to escape the fate of many former steel towns. The BYO opened only a month ago but it already has developed a following. Majolica won't appeal to the filet man or crabcake woman (pardon the gender discrimination), mainly because it dares to be different.

Its menu changes almost weekly, but it still is best defined by what it's not likely to have: conventional cuts of meat, trendy fish, or pasta dishes stamped with an Italian spaghetti house's seal of approval. The goat cheese gnocchi on a recent menu, for instance, was served as a kind of geologist's study of different tastes: The potato gnocchi was topped with a thick roof of goat cheese and served over a mixture of root vegetables.

Chef Andrew Deery, who owns Majolica with his wife, Sarah Johnson - like him a Phoenixville native - produces meals that are unusual in their combinations of tastes and even textures. He concedes that he has neither signature dishes nor conventional fare, although certain items might be called the tools of his trade. His homemade ice cream, for instance, is likely to crop up anywhere.

The wild salmon I sampled arrived in a big square on the plate with a ramekin of horseradish ice cream. What might have tasted a little too wild or fishy was tamed by a nice slathering of ice cream, which melted quickly. Deery's rosemary ice cream added another dimension, on the other hand, to a pine-nut cake. It brought both fragrance and a sweet, light taste to an otherwise dense, plain cake.

As a chef, Deery, 34, said his task was to avoid "compounding too many flavors." So he limits the number of additions or sides and tries to discover an ingredient to serve "as a bridge with the third ingredient."

Judging by my visit, which was more fun than work, patrons flock to Majolica simply because it is new and different.

Much like its namesake - tableware known for its outlandish colors and shapes - Majolica, the restaurant, might seem at first a little too ambitious and grandiose for its largely nondescript, storefront location.

From a deathly quiet, rain-swept street, I entered into a narrow room bursting with the sounds of people obviously having a good time. That only added to the illusion that this wasn't the staid Phoenixville I knew, but a place with beautiful hand-crafted architecture and a homey feel.

Majolica is housed in what was once part of the Phoenix Tavern. Deery and his wife have done an excellent job in retaining a rustic look with exposed brick walls and hardwood floors. The dining room is neatly arranged with 11 copper-topped tables and original artwork on the walls. The vibrant setting carried over into our meal, which was excellent. Also, we got to watch the goings-on of the kitchen, seated as we were by the open pass-through. Deery, who previously worked at the Kimberton Inn and Savona in Gulph Mills, said that the window had unexpected advantages.

"As a chef, I rarely get to mix with the customers," he said. "Now I can see people react when [servers] drop the plate in front of them."

Deery concedes that there's a fine line between being precocious and trendy and being creative and innovative. However, with all the sophisticated diners these days, he said, "it's a great time to be a chef."

Hours: Tuesday through Saturday, dinner by reservation only. Reservations are on the half-hour during the week, starting at 6 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays; there are two seatings: 6 to 6:30 p.m. and 8 to 8:30.

The menu: It's not easy to sum up the tightly wound, seven-entree menu, but Andrew Deery, the chef and co-owner of this refined BYO, describes it as "seasonal American with French influences." At this time of year, expect wintry fare and additions that might send you into a Google tailspin, such as chilled oysters seasoned with a champagne mignonette, or sauteed black bass prepared with a tapenade and served with rapini.

I'll have another: The menu might be small, but it changes almost weekly. That's partly to cultivate a base of regular gourmands but also to reflect Deery's innovative streak. He does have a way with seafood, and offerings such as fish, mussels and oysters are sure to be on the menu. I also loved seeing a cheese course - I tried an ashed chevre as an appetizer instead of before the (excellent) desserts. You could also follow your instincts on taste combinations (a key to Deery's cooking style). For instance, one recent menu featured roasted duck breast prepared with a blood orange reduction. Another week, it was duck with wild mushrooms and thyme jus.

How much: Appetizers on last week's menu ranged from $7 (chicken liver mousse and toasted brioche) to $12 (chilled oyster selection); entrees, $17 (goat cheese gnocchi) to $23 (veal tenderloin). All major credit cards are accepted.

How loud: The shotgun-style seating has all 11 tables evenly spaced down the length of the building. The lights are kept dim and low jazz is piped in, but it's still a boisterous BYO. It remains moderately loud on weekends.

Children's menu: No, though veal sweetbreads have been an unexpected favorite, Deery said. Families might want to reconsider dining with children. The candlelight and table-linen atmosphere makes Majolica better suited for intimate dining.

Once settled in comfortably at Majolica, it is increasingly difficult to remind yourself that you are dining in downtown Phoenixville, Pennsylvania. This stylish new BYOB (open a scant four months as of this writing) -- replete with exposed brick walls, gleaming hardwood floor, locally made copper-top tables, striking black and white photographs and original artwork, chic track lighting, and semi-open kitchen -- feels more like SoHo, Greenwich Village, or Philly's swinging South Street than it does a former steel town trying (and succeeding) to make a cultural and culinary comeback.

Majolica, which is named for the pottery produced by the Phoenixville firm of Griffen, Smith & Hill in the 1880s, is the labor of love of Andrew Deery and his wife, Sarah Johnston, both Phoenixville natives. Ms. Johnston imbues the front of the house with an understated elegance, while Mr. Deery, a veteran of Savona and the Kimberton Inn, sends forth an equally elegant array of French-accented seasonal American offerings...

So don't expect business as usual. If the eatery's ambiance belies its somewhat humble community surroundings, the cuisine is even more innovative in its striking amalgams of colors, tastes, and textures. You are not likely to find the grab 'n' growl, meat 'n' potatoes crowd congregating here. No, Majolica is a restaurant for serious gourmands and discriminating palates... and they have already discovered it in droves (just try securing a reservation on a madcap Saturday evening).

The printed menu is a succinct, focused affair -- sporting

seven appetizers, seven entrées, and five desserts (plus a select number of recited daily specials) -- which is revised on a weekly basis. This, of course, is generally a minor tweaking with regard to seasonings and accoutrements. On one occasion, for example, the carrot soup ($7.00) may be adorned with basil, on another, with cilantro. Whatever the chef's predilection, however, a cinnamon brioche crouton and sprig of the appropriate herb arrive gracing the center of a gleaming white bowl; this diminutive island is then surrounded by a sumptuous sea poured by your server at table. The soup itself, a flavor intensive and colorful commingling of carrots, carrot juice, seasonings, and touch of cream, is absolutely benchmark in its presentation.

Another exemplary starter is Mr. Deery's contemporary take on the classic French frisée ($9.00): slices of hard-cooked egg, tender diced fried potatoes, and strips of bacon surrounding an epicenter of greenery. The frisée is pristinely fresh and the engagingly light dressing applied judiciously (as opposed to death by drowning). And speaking of contemporary takes, the chicken liver mousse ($8.00) is as silkily textured as its more illustrious -- and infinitely more expensive -- cousin, foie gras. Accompanied by a bevy of artfully aligned slices of toasted brioche and baked apple wedges, this is truly a hedonistic dining experience.

On the other hand, the blue mussels ($8.00) also have a great deal to recommend them. Most presentations of this nature resemble an airdrop from twenty thousand feet. The plump and tender bivalves encountered here, however, bear the marks of individual arrangement, are sprinkled with a mirepoix (mixture of coarsely chopped onions, carrots, and celery), and bathed in an exceptional Pernod butter

Entrées carry on in style... Mr. Deery obviously has a penchant for matters piscatorial, as both the black sea bass ($21.00) and Atlantic salmon ($21.00), two menu mainstays, are absolutely superlative. The former features two beautifully pan-seared filets reclining on a tender seabed of broccoli rabe. The coup de grâce, however, is delivered by a sensuously salty tapenade, which provides the perfect counterpoint to the delicate white-fleshed filets. The latter is lustier in nature but no less carefully prepared or elegantly presented. The filet is cooked through, precisely as ordered, set on a brioche crouton, which, in turn, has been placed on a pillow of cut-on-the-diagonal sautéed celery strips. The salmon is then topped with a tiara of salmon caviar, and the entire dish is consummated with an exquisite truffle nage.

The presentation of potato gnocchi ($17.00) is yet another superb choice. These "little lumps" (as the word literally translates from the Italian) are light as a feather and gently tossed with spring peas, baby carrots, and mushrooms and crowned with two creamy discs of chèvre (goat cheese).

The only semi-disappointment among the main courses proved to be the lamb loin ($23.00). Generous slices were set on a bed of shiitake mushrooms, anointed with an excellent natural jus, and embellished with a golden raisin compote and marjoram. A beautifully executed presentation... but the lamb was quite tough and chewy.

Desserts, however, are right back on track... And the star of the show is, in my opinion, the densely rich pignoli cake topped with rosemary ice cream and finished with a luscious apricot purée ($7.00). This may appear an unlikely combo, but the rosemary ice cream, just assertive enough to complement rather than confound the other constituents, clearly propels the dish into orbit.

The scintillating coconut sorbet set on a macadamia nut tuile and garnished with chunks of poached pineapple ($6.00) is another winner, as is the celestial raspberry Napoleon ($6.00). The profiterole with vanilla ice cream and melted chocolate sauce ($7.00) is good, though not exceptional.

There is no question that Majolica has significantly raised the bar for creative, upscale dining in the Phoenixville area. My only regret is that I will not be able to visit more often.