February 5-11, 2004

food

Berth of a Legend

Stacked Deck: Loin of Cervena venison with spiced butternut squash, on board the Moshulu. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

A winter trip to the Moshulu finds its menu tethered to the seasons.

by Maxine Keyser

If he had observed the Moshulu after its disastrous collapse in 2000, John Masefield, the maritime poet, might have uttered these lines: "And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover/ And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over." It looked bad there for a while, but thanks to Marty Grims (of Passerelle and Bravo fame), the "long trick" is far from over, and the Moshulu is now set to echo to many "merry yarns" for years to come. He moved the mighty 100-year-old ship to a comfortable berth on Penn’s Landing, redecorated it, hired an expert executive chef, Ralph Fernandez, and voila! We have a stunning new restaurant that is far from the tourist trap it was once considered.

When you enter the warm foyer of this majestic ship, with its faux fireplace and ornate hangings and carpets, you immediately feel at sea. The bronze sconces, handsome mahogany woodwork and the fact that the floor lists just slightly may contribute, but it is also the view -- at starboard the lights of Camden, at port the skyline of Philadelphia and water all around -- that evokes the feeling of an ocean voyage. As befits a fine ship, there is lots of Victoriana in etched-glass partitions, potted palms and rattan-work chairs, but the tableware is a starkly modern new white pattern from Villeroy and Boch. The first martini comes in a glass with an offset handle that seems to defy gravity, and after that, each dish arrives on plates of different geometric designs, with either convex apertures or concavities for the beautifully presented food. Our waiter is deft and knowledgeable, as is all the staff that we encounter; he discreetly directs our choices while we nibble on warm, fluffy rolls and sweet butter. The wine list is long and international, and the prices, compared to those of the food, are quite reasonable. There are 20 unusual wines by the glass, and we find a bottle of a chocolate-tasting Argentinian Malbec that we don't often see around.

Maine lobster bisque, russet of color and doused with a liberal amount of Amontillado sherry, bears California chives and a bit of truffled shrimp salsa. I try to get a feel for the type of cuisine that Fernandez produces from his years of working in fine hotel dining rooms, and so far, I get a French base with Californian influences. But a bowl of roasted butternut squash soup is pure Americana, its sweet creaminess enhanced by sweet potato "hay" and spiced pumpkin seeds. Delectable tiny quail, glazed with sesame and honey and a ginger soy vinaigrette, its sweet flavor tamed by the salt of applewood-smoked bacon and the tartness of goat cheese on croutons, is definitely Asian, as is a parfait of lump crab that is mixed with avocado and set against ginger-soy-scented tuna sashimi, for a marvelous combination of sweetness and spice. The avocado is Californian, the apple and quince tart sounds straight American to me, but then there's a French Calvados gastrique beneath (a sauce made from a reduction of vinegar with something sweet -- jam or wine). Duck confit, Char Su beef and sesame noodles: I'll revise my original take to French-based Asian–fusion, with the Slow Food edict that names the provenance of nearly every ingredient.

Our voyage continues with loin of Cervena venison with all the autumnal touches of spiced butternut squash puree, and a jus of Syrah spiked with juniper, a worthy spice for venison. It's a perfectly prepared dish for a cold night, and great with the Malbec. Similarly warming is the grilled filet mignon, which comes with a tasty hodgepodge of crushed fingerlings, asparagus, Maytag blue cheese, lump crab and not one but two sauces -- béarnaise and red wine. As I said, very tasty, but almost overkill. Things calm down considerably with a tender, rare loin of lamb with a simple merlot reduction and glistening buttered spinach, but it is almost outshone by the bread pudding with leeks and goat cheese on the side -- as sagey as stuffing, but creamy as a typical bread pudding. The duck breast comes out on a bed of soothing apple barley and roasted root veggies, with a gastrique again, but this one of American cider. It's been a lovely meal for a winter's night, and we anticipate the desserts of Duane Hendershot, although I do think that the intermezzo of pear sorbet is unnecessary.

The dessert list proves intriguing, and we settle on two winners: warm chocolate croquettes filled with tapioca and accompanied by perfect coconut gelato (everything old is new again!), and the tarte tatin, titled "In Praise of Autumn." The flaky luscious apple tart is served with spicy chutney as contrast and cinnamon ice cream to top it off.

Moshulu now enters our pantheon of worthy restaurants, and though a bit pricey for a weekly hangout, it should become a habit with many patrons. It's not just for special occasions, but for an evening when you want most of your senses catered to. In this lovely setting, where summer nights can be spent at the deck café, the cuisine of Fernandez stands out as well-conceived and well-cooked. There is a lot happening on the plate, but it's not contrived or vertical -- just constantly seasonal, and when possible, local. Consequently, it's difficult to suggest many dishes, because they may disappear by the time you get there, only to be replaced by new treats. There will be many nights when you will wish for, as Masefield did, "a tall ship and a star to steer her by."

Moshulu

401 S. Columbus Blvd., 215-923-2500

Daily, 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m. and 5:30-10:30 p.m.; café menu daily, 11:30 a.m.-10:30 p.m.; Sunday brunch, 11 a.m.-2:30 p.m.

Appetizers, $7-$16; entrees, $22-$29 (café slightly less expensive)

Wheelchair accessible. Smoking is not permitted. Reservations suggested. All major credit cards.

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