June 23-29, 2005

food

Applied Art

ALBA'S CORE: Roasted halibut with shallot "jam," asparagus, overnight tomatoes and lemon vinaigrette, straight from Restaurant Alba's open kitchen. By: Mike Mergen

After Rose Tattoo, Sean Weinberg inks his style on Restaurant Alba.

by Maxine Keyser

"Spanish," I thought at first, remembering Goya and his duchess, and, indeed, there were a few Spanish touches at Restaurant Alba. But this new little BYOB takes its name from a Northern Italian town, and its menu is too eclectic to pin down to one cuisine. Deliciously conceived, however, is a fair description; the restaurant, smack in the center of Malvern, has given all the bobos in Chester County something to talk about besides Nectar.

Seated on tufted pale gray banquettes across from the open kitchen, we surveyed our surroundings as we sipped our wine. The walls alternate between salmon and gray, with wrought iron sconces and chandeliers shedding light. The backroom has a carpet and may be quieter, but we were fine, enjoying the murmur of the room. Excellent home-baked bread came with a dish of spicy olive oil. But, when an amuse bouche demitasse cup of white bean soup with rosemary and olive oil dribbled across it arrived, we knew we were in for a treat.

It seems the Slow Food movement is getting its message around, for hardly a place opens anymore that doesn't subscribe to their tenets. Everything here is local and seasonal, and lists provenance whenever possible. I love it, and am immediately drawn to Kelly Weinberg, our smiling hostess. Her spouse, Sean, mans the ovens and the fire, with experience drawn west of the Rockies and south of the border, from Baja to Boulder, and from his folks, who just happen to own The Rose Tattoo. From the first taste of his antipasto, which changes daily, we know that he has a style all his own. Where else do you find vitello tonnato nestling next to Moroccan carrot salad, or crostini topped with milk-braised garlicky anchovies and Italian cold cuts?

If that's not to your liking, try the grilled calamari, tender and charred, and paired with a lemon-and-garlic cannellini bean salad. The combination is perfect, the textures complementary. Or there is grilled quail, a fat, unexpectedly meaty little bird, sweet with a huckleberry glaze. The sweetness is cut by a square of bacon corn bread, moist and just a trifle salty. A tasty crab cake has a voluptuous creamy avocado vinaigrette, and the extra touch of a salsa of tropical fruits. I'm told that the fish soup is as good as on the waterfront in Marseille.

There are pastas to note: meat-stuffed angolotti with the classic brown butter and sage, and gnocchi with fresh lobster in a saffron-Pernod sauce that leaves me waiting eagerly for my next visit. But, we must leave room, so we move on to our entrees. The roasted halibut is moist and meaty, and gets an arugula salad with a warm lemon-rosemary vinaigrette, that snuggles perfectly with the fish. The only wrong note is the crispy chick-pea crepe — meant to be, I assume, like the crisp, addictive socca that is sold all over Nice. This is just a tough, dry cracker that needs reworking. It is nothing like the creamy and crunchy risotto fritter that accompanies my charred tuna. The tuna is as rare as I wanted, and bedded on an interesting romesco sauce (there's that Spanish touch — tomatoes, onions and almonds, I believe). The dish is splashed with 25-year-old balsamic for sweet/sour effect.

The Jamison Farm lamb platter features pink slices of the leg with natural juices, a smashing little cassoulet made with shank meat and garlic spinach, all with a Laguiole knife to cut it. My only complaint is that they are heavy-handed with the garlic, but there are many people who love it, so what do I know? Observe: the organic chicken is local, the pork from Country Time Farm, the strip steak from Chester County — even the polenta is from Anson Mills.

Dessert comes on a separate menu, I'm pleased to report, and, well, I would recommend all three. My favorite is the crostata — a buttery crust wrapped free-form around fresh raspberries — and, oh yes, there's lovely mint gelato on the side. I couldn't stop eating it, or, for that matter, the dense, buttery Basque cake layered with almonds and vanilla cream, with a sauce of rhubarb to sour things up a bit. The chocolate hazelnut brownie with Frangelico ganache, caramel sauce and vanilla ice cream is more than I can bear.

For a restaurant that has only been open for a few months, Alba is running smoothly and professionally. The welcoming staff is exceedingly warm and efficient, and I am interested to see what else Sean Weinberg has under his toque. I was delighted not only with the quality of the products but the spin he puts on each individual dish — a little adobe on the steak, a Venetian agrodolce on the red snapper. Remember, the menu changes often and seasonally, so if you can't get what I mention, it is not my fault. I am fully prepared to dine here weekly if the gas prices will just come down a bit.

Restaurant Alba 7 W. King St., Malvern 610-644-4009

• Tue.-Thu., 5-9 p.m; Fri.-Sat., 5-10 p.m.
• Appetizers, $7-$12; entrees, $16-$28
• Wheelchair accessible.
• Smoking not permitted.
• Reservations accepted.
• Visa and MasterCard accepted.