Craig Laban - 2007 Philadelphia Inquirer Restaurant Guide
3 Bells – Excellent
It isn’t hard to book an 11-table dining room solid for two months in advance when you have a reputation like Peter Gilmore’s, earned in his 22 years as one of the esteemed chefs at Le Bec-Fin. Yet in many ways, his greatest achievement has been to overcome the baggage of those expectations, to create a restaurant that exists in diners’ minds as something quite separate from Georges Pierre’s gastronomic palace on Walnut Street.
His tiny self-named BYOB has been a smash hit for downtown West Chester’s burgeoning dining scene since the day it opened six years ago – even if it showed some growing pains early on. Judging from my most recent spectacular meal, however, Gilmore’s has at last found its own true voice as one of the region’s finest contemporary French restaurants.
Rich pheasant consommé comes with fresh porcini mushroom ravioli bobbin in its tea-colored broth. Perfectly seared scallops become the “surf” to Gilmore’s clever “turf” of slowly braised shortribs, anchored by a silky puree of celery root. Poached lobster over spinach-flecked orzo and orange sauce is so sweet, its tender meat tasted as if it has been injected with butter. Seared strip steak of venison captures the essence of luxury game, its ruby, berry-flavored meat sparked by a peppercorn crust and the bitter richness of a creamy Brussels sprout gratin.
If Gilmores’s were be compared to Le Bec-Fin, it should be to that institution’s first venue, at 1312 Spruce St. (the storied 35-seat townhouse now occupied by Vetri_, where young Gilmore arrived in 1980 fresh from the Culinary Institute of America, and reveled in the magical ambience of such an intimate yet ambitious culinary enterprise. The physical similarity between Perrier’s original dining room and Gilmore’s is almost uncanny: Both are snug, homey spaces aspiring to a formality beyond the atmosphere of the typical bistro. Gilmore’s packs in the tables a bit tight for complete comfort, but it still spins a convincing fine-dining feel with the old-fashioned parlor décor of chintz curtains, salmon walls, and mirrored centerpiece mantel.
Veteran servers like Stephanie Hoster and Richard Rooney have mastered the close quarters, presenting the food with both drama and sincerity, while maintaining the tables with clockwork grace.
It isn’t hard to see where the staff’s enthusiasm comes from. This menu is easy to love, a blend of technically perfect classics relying on fine seasonal ingredients and the occasional twist of creativity. Dishes like the wonderfully roasted pheasant over red wine risotto, or the rose-colored breast of duckling with celery root puree ringed by a dark Bordelaise, or the succulent veal chop with fresh morel mushrooms, have a simple elegance that reveals Gilmore’s decades long immersion in the French tradition.
Every so often, though, Gilmore displayed sparks of a more personal vision trying to emerge. His “corndog” shrimp, for example, were inspired by a family trip to the Shore. But the giant crustaceans
(sometimes lobster) that arrived on skewers inside the crunch of a sweet polenta batter were more than just a whim – they were a surprisingly playful stroke of personality.
The desserts also delight with their own b lend of classics (boozy babas au Rhum) and clever twists, like the surprise core of banana cream at the heart of the molten chocolate cake. Most stunning was the “candied apple,” which is not an apple at all, as we discovered with one swift crack of the spoon. Inside this gorgeous scarlet “fruit” made of spun sugar was a cloud of silken chocolate mousse. Like Gilmore’s itself, it isn’t just the treat you expect it to be – its even better.
