In search of low-profile restaurants

That situation changed drastically in the mid-1970s, when the Vietnam War ended and a generation of peace-and-love demonstrators — political activists like Steve Poses and Judy Wicks — discovered in restaurants an ideal outlet for their countercultural creative energies. They also found in downtown Philadelphia the two necessary ingredients for an “incubator space” where a young chef could experiment with innovative cuisine: a high density of sophisticated population combined with cheap property costs, especially on narrow Center City streets like Sansom, Filbert, Juniper, Smedley, Mole, and Camac. The result was Philadelphia’s so-called “restaurant renaissance” of 1973-77.

Eventually that renaissance drove up downtown property values and forced creative chefs to find new incubator spaces in outlying neighborhoods, like Old City, Northern Liberties, Queen Village, Manayunk, and, most recently, East Passyunk Avenue in South Philadelphia. But now the renaissance has returned with a vengeance to Center City, apparently because it’s still a great incubator space compared to New York. Everywhere you turn, the usual suspects — Stephen Starr, Jose Garces, Marc Vetri, Kevin Sbraga, Marcie Turney, and Valerie Safran, among many others — are opening multiple restaurants. The number of restaurants, bars, and cafés in Center City increased by 83 percent in the past decade, according to the Center City District, and 70 more new restaurants are projected for just the first half of this year. Travel + Leisure magazine recently proclaimed Philadelphia “America’s Next Great Food City.” And, indeed, my daughters and their husbands — confirmed New Yorkers all — never fail to be blown away by the dinners they consume on their visits to Philadelphia.

Guinea pig

All of which ought to be great news for a foodie like me. I now live within a six-block walk of perhaps two dozen of the most acclaimed restaurants in America. In theory, I should be voraciously sampling Philadelphia magazine’s 50 Best Restaurants or Craig LaBan’s “four bells” recipients.

But a funny thing happened to me since my freshman year of college: I got older. My tastes changed and so did my dietary needs. Suddenly a sublime taste sensation at a hot new restaurant matters less to me than a little peace and comfort (not to mention heat in the winter). I now worry less about how my food tastes than how I’ll feel the next morning, whether my wife and I can conduct a civilized conversation on the premises, and whether the couple squeezed into the next table will inadvertently stab me with their silverware. And will the waiter refill my ice water without being begged?

Ranking Philadelphia’s best restaurants — in numerical order, yet — may be a charming exercise, but ultimately it makes no more sense than ranking Philadelphia’s best husbands. What works for Craig LaBan and Philadelphia magazine may not work for you. And an enchanting restaurant with a brilliant chef, once exposed to the media spotlight, inevitably becomes crowded, noisy, and overly experimental. Do you really want to be the guinea pig for a pistachio-crusted seared ahi tuna on a bed of floriani polenta and house-cured coppa with goat cheese and marinated kohlrabi, sautéed with red wine gelée?

Restaurant noise, incidentally, is usually deliberate: Noise excites trend-hungry customers; perhaps more important, it stimulates the cooks in the kitchen. But it gives me indigestion.

Tried and true

So an alter kocker like me learns to avoid most restaurants on any Top 50 list and, instead, I seek out quiet, comfortable, reliable restaurants that have somehow managed to fly beneath the media’s radar. My wife and I have sniffed out perhaps a dozen such places within walking distance of our home. Of these, nearly half are restaurants we patronize only in the summer, when they serve outdoors and we can escape the deafening noise inside.

Which places, specifically? My lips are sealed. Do you think I want to ruin some perfectly decent restaurants by telling anyone about them?