August 10–17, 2000

food

Sunny Delight

Window seat: A table with a view at Solaris Grille. photo: Michael LeGrand

by Maxine Keyser

Solaris Grille

8201 Germantown Ave., 215-242-3400. Lunch: Mon.-Sat.,11:30 a.m.-5 p.m. Dinner: 5-10 p.m., Mon.-Fri.; Fri.-Sat., 5-11 p.m. Sunday: Brunch, 10:30 a.m.-4 p.m.; Dinner, 4-9 p.m. Wheelchair access. Reservations suggested. All major credit cards. In the warmer months, Solaris has a café (only lunchtime) in the Morris Arboretum. They will also make up a picnic lunch for you, for déjeuner sur l’herbe.

There is a town with cobblestone streets and red brick sidewalks, with weathered stone houses and rambler roses, where boutiques are chic (if in some cases terminally cute) and the clothing is khaki.

No, it’s not Pleasantville — but almost. It’s Chestnut Hill, not too far away from Center City, where you can mingle with the preppy throngs or simply survey them from the outdoor terrace at Solaris Grille. Bee-lit birch trees, plantings galore and spacious umbrella tables make this one of the most pleasant places to pass a summer evening.

Sip a glass of wine (a Lockwood Sauvingnon Blanc, $7 a glass, from the accessible list) and check out the menu. The waitstaff, mostly young, attractive and female, is only too happy to help. You would expect throwback food in this throwback kind of town, but on the sandwich side, among the burgers and BLTs, you spot a Cuban sandwich of ham, cheese and Chorizo sausage, with plantain chips ($7.99). And then you see avocado-corn salsa with seared scallops ($17.99), or pepper-crusted tuna with Indonesian soy sauce ($18.99), and you realize that global warming has hit this menu in the nicest way — the cuisine of John Anderson.

I remember his food from the late Husch in Narberth, and later, Striped Bass, and that style is still in evidence. So boyish that he looks like he just wandered in from Germantown Academy, he nevertheless touches his first-class ingredients with originality. The Solaris chopped salad ($7.69) is not just a salad, but a molded timbale of chopped asparagus, snap peas, cucumber, roasted peppers, blue cheese and bacon, bound by an avocado-creamy, balsamic dressing. It is lovely to look at, velvety green, and everything in it has the snap-crackle of freshness. A vegetable spring roll ($5.99) may be just stir-fried Napa cabbage, carrots and mushrooms within the crisp wrapper, but you would swear there was meat there, such is the richness of the vegetables. The two plump halves are served with a hoisin dip, and like all the other dishes, could easily be shared. If vegetables are not your thing, consider jumbo coconut shrimp ($8.99). Every matron in Chestnut Hill served a version of these at one cocktail party or another, but even old faves sparkle here. The shrimp are colossal, and the coating is crunchy enough to give each bite variety. They are just right with the citrus marmalade dipping sauce.

Among the entrees, we find another of those throwback dishes, like the shrimp, but with a modern spin. Buttermilk-battered chicken breast ($13.95) is a marvel of crispy, meaty chicken — how does he do it without the skin? It’s paired with perfectly cooked spinach, and some indecently good mashed potatoes, done with sour cream that picks up the tang of the buttermilk in the chicken’s batter. As if this were not enough, there’s a light tarragon cream sauce to lend an anise note, but it just gilds the lily.

Another down-home offering is corn-crusted rainbow trout ($15.99). They take the entire trout, bone it, dip it all in corn meal and then lightly fry it. What results is a golden sort of envelope of sweet flesh that contains an avocado corn salsa. On the side there is black bean dirty rice, and a mildly hot chipotle cream. This sauce answers the heat in the salsa, and the rice is a soothing contrast to the crisp fish and spicy accoutrements.

A daily special that has "contemporary" written all over it is grilled Chilean sea bass ($24), a fish that seems to be making its way back into the lexicon, after having been over-fished a year or so ago. It’s incredibly moist, topped with frizzled leeks and bedded with a lobster and asparagus risotto, with just a little lobster cream sauce. Anderson is an expert saucier, but perhaps he is over-generous with them. There seems to be a cream sauce on 75 percent of the dishes. I’m sure you can order it up on the side, if there are dietary cautions, and taste a bit, because it would be a shame to ignore these sauces completely. In any case, Chilean sea bass needs all the flavor it can get, and it gets plenty from the rich and attractively pink-and-green risotto. It reminds me of the kind of thing Anderson did at Husch — his fish dishes were always exciting. The particular Sauvignon Blanc that we’ve been drinking doesn’t hold up to this dish; it really calls for a fat Chardonnay.

At dessert, I see an old nemesis — the assorted tray. Lately, so many places have taken to printing desserts on a separate menu, or simply reciting them, that I had been lulled into complacency. Here it is again, mine ancient enemy, so plastic-looking, so contrived. We manage to fall for a banana cake sprinkled with almonds, and a tiramisu, which is interesting because it has a light caramel sauce as well as the coffee and liqueur flavors. The banana cake, looking like a giant Oreo with a cream center, does not taste strongly enough of banana for me. It’s quite moist, though, and the portion is huge.

Should the weather not be pleasant, the interior of Solaris is quite fine, too. The varied rooms all have the same, cool, laid-back quality. In one bright room, the walls are sponged blue; in a more secluded area, the main colors are purple and burgundy. There’s a faint echo of the Age of Aquarius in the solar designs that decorate both rooms. You will find the same friendly service, decent wine list and comfortable prices. And, of course, the same good food. There are burgers ($7.49) or the aforementioned Cuban sandwich, or grilled panini ($6.99) for a lighter meal.

When we exited onto the quaint cobblestones of Germantown Avenue, the moon was like a lemon lollipop. It shone tranquilly over the pretty houses — just another night for the folks who live on the hill.