325 Chestnut St
Philadelphia, PA 19106
(215) 574-9440
http://www.buddakan.com/Event Date:
Hostess: Robin G.
Invited Guests:
Frank S.
Michelle S.
Judy G.
Dave H.
DETAILS:
Cuisine: Asian, Japanese, Seafood
Style: community dining table available
Hours: Mon - Fri (Lunch and Dinner); Sat and Sun (Dinner only)
Reservations: Recommended
Attire: Dressy
Prices: Expensive - $20-25
Payment: All major credit cards and diners club
Alcohol: Concise wine list and specialty cocktails
Parking: Valet parking
Handicap access
Smoking: Non-smoking section.
REVIEWS:
PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER
by Craig LaBan
Sunday, December 20, 1998
Craig LaBan Philadelphia Inquirer Published: Sunday, December 20, 1998
"Namu Amida Butsu ... Namu Amida Butsu ... "
My friend John the Scholar intoned this chant of Buddha's name. It was, he assured me, a Japanese invocation "to allow even the most simple practitioners to attain salvation."
I can say for certain that John was the only member of our table devoting more consideration to the svelte slope of Buddha's golden belly than to the spring rolls and plump chicken dumplings before us. We were most simple practitioners, indeed, but the appetizers were disappearing quickly.
His fascination was understandable, though. Despite the beautiful and rich young throngs of diners who gathered in Buddha's aura — clustered over the glowing runway slab of Buddakan's onyx community table; sharing food; scoping each other with the hippest glances Old City could muster — the Deity remained a 10-foot tower of seated serenity, bathed in the radiance of a blood-red light. Even the swelling consumer din of dinner at Philly's hottest new scene restaurant could not rattle his meditative cool.
It says a lot that Buddakan owner Stephen Starr could pull this off, given that the nightlife visionary has a relationship with the Buddha that reminds me of Ally McBeal and her hallucinations of a dancing baby: dubious, yet deep.
"The Buddha just popped into my head," said Starr, who once considered a Cuban-themed restaurant for this airy space on Chestnut Street. "People, no matter what their religion, get a warm feeling when they see the Buddha."
The Zen of spontaneous instinct has often paid off for Starr, the music promoter turned nightclub owner turned serious restaurateur. So it is not surprising that he has magnificently transformed the giant box of this former post office into a grand temple of sleek design.
Behind the heavy wood front doors, with stacked circle handles recalling the reels of a movie projector, a fantasy of cinematic dimensions unfolds on a scale of grandeur uncommon in Philadelphia. The quiet rush of a falling water wall marks your entrance to this new world, opening onto a soaring room wrapped in twinkling gauzy walls and a floaty Kitaro sound track. Extremely tall hostesses take your coat and hand you off to servers clad in white pajamas, who move among furniture and tables that seem to have their own auras.
We were seated, on two visits, at a Siberian table next to the open kitchen, which is one poorly conceived aspect (the noise level is another) of an otherwise stellar design. The square vastness of this room has been broken into multiple levels, with intimate nooks and moody lights. But the hustle and glare of the kitchen were as distracting to nearby tables as an open door at the back of a movie theater.
Ironically, it is what the kitchen produced that offered the biggest surprise, since it was far better than might be expected from your typical trend emporium. Chef Scott Swiderski, formerly of China Grill in Miami, has engineered a contemporary menu with Asian twists that may not be groundbreaking, but consistently delivers well-prepared, large-portioned dishes nipped with just enough creativity.
And pastry chef Jonathan Thomas, master of "crying" chocolate that oozes across the plate and coconut rings suspended in spun sugar, dangles enough drama over dessert to lay off the extra serving of duck fried rice. My mouth still puckers with joy at the tart memory of his passion-fruit-and-coconut confection.
Swiderski has left enough elements of familiar Asian cooking to ease unadventurous customers along, and most of these standards are done quite well. The cigar-shaped crispy spring rolls, filled with shrimp and scallops, were delicious with mustard and plum sauce dips. Nicely stuffed ginger chicken dumplings were ideal over a pool of soy, rice wine vinegar, and sesame. And "eel dice," Buddakan's version of barbecued eel over avocado and rice, was as fine as any respectable sushi bar might produce.
Ginger-cured salmon, curled like a rose on the plate, was cleverly presented with a delicious wasabi-spiked Bavarian cream, a sweetened horseradish spread that became addictive over inventively fried sheets of nori seaweed. Mashed potatoes also get a Japanese jolt of wasabi in a side order worth requesting, permeating the buttery puree with an almost eucalyptus spice.
There were dishes that could be improved. The soft-wrapper Vietnamese spring rolls should have been more tightly wrapped to give their fresh ingredients a better snap. The addition of vanilla to duck and foie gras dumplings, a staple dim sum at Susanna Foo (where one of Swiderski's sous-chefs recently worked), was one ingredient too many, with a garish flair that negated the rich foie gras. And the lobster crepes were fine, but not good enough to merit $5 more than the other interesting appetizers.
Buddakan, to be sure, is not for those on monastic budgets. I'd be an "angry" lobster, too, if I cost $48. However, the sumo-sized portions intended for sharing bolster a sense of fair value. And despite the wait staff's casual white jammies (one waiter's polka-dot underwear proved ill-advised), I found the staff to be highly skilled, organized, well-informed and courteous.
Of the entrees, which begin at $17, several were outstanding. The crispy skinned five-spice duck was moist yet lean, with a dynamic pineapple salad marinated in sake and anise spice that gave it the flavor of honeyed tea. Perfectly rare slices of wasabi-drizzled filet mignon were shingled around a mound of deliciously sweet mashed potatoes. And a lusciously thick white fillet of black cod (also known as sablefish) melted in the mouth beneath a reddish sheen of smoky miso glaze. The two-pound portion of ginger chicken, its skin stuffed with scallions and cilantro, may not have been a revelation, but we happily ate the entire thing.
The hot-cold contrast of freshly grilled lamb chops over cool eggplant salad left us a little flat (the meat could have been more tender, too). But the kitchen's only true flop, Dragon salmon, was simply incinerated by the heavy-handed spice of its sambal chile sauce.
My biggest wish for this kitchen, though, as it skillfully lures its audience in, would be to become a little more daring. For example, the one even remotely racy item, sizzling whole fish, was not even served whole. The ginger-rubbed fillets of our striped bass were removed and cooked separately, then served atop a decorative deep-fried carcass for dainty eating. No mess for the beautiful people posing at the community table, perhaps, but a disappointment to diners who relish picking over bones in public with the knowledge that these are what infuse the meat with truly enlightened flavor.
But then again, I nitpick. For Buddakan has already done well in striking that rare balance between those seeking fine dining and those in search of a scene. It can be a real asset to a city ripe for dramatic dining when Zen masters and "simple practitioners" alike can feast in the golden glow of a giant Buddha's belly. Even if they don't find salvation ... Namu Amida Butsu ... they can at least savor a tasty meal.
PHILADELPHIA WEEKLYby Lauren McCutcheon
October 5, 2005
You may think it's pointless to read a review of Buddakan. You probably believe you know what the place is all about.
Maybe you've sucked down a baker's dozen Sumos in Sidecars or felled countless villages of Chocolate Pagodas. Perhaps you've blown the bank on all four versions of the Angry Lobster, bumped untold elbows at the centerpiece community table, or charmed the white pants off a tan server. Who knows? You may even have scored a Saturday-night reservation.
But even if you haven't done any of the above-even if you don't know anyone who has but suspect the restaurant's regulars to be the same who-are-they people who occupy Old City's $4,000-a-month condos and million-dollar lofts-you've probably been to the big B, at least for a calamari salad.
So. Let's just say you're acquainted with the 10-foot gilded Buddha and family-style service. Let's go further and assume you've heard tell of the restaurant's forthcoming sequels in New York's Meatpacking District (the same nabe as a future second Morimoto) and at the Pier at Caesars in A.C. (along with a third Continental). You're wondering: Why cover familiar territory? Why reprise a told tale?
I'll tell you why. It's nearly a year since Buddakan master Stephen Starr-recently crowned Restaurateur of the Year by Bon Appétit magazine for his 300 other Philly restaurants-birthed one of his entertain-centric eateries. The food page misses him. I miss him. Hear this: I miss you, Stephen. Why won't you call?
Buddakan's menu has changed little over its seven years-and its chef has changed not at all. Scott Swiderski, plucked lo last millennium from Miami's China Grill (oft-referenced as the model for Buddakan), has been slinging cashew chicken and wasabi mash since the start.
Can't blame the guy for sticking around. His workplace thrives every night of the week, and shows no signs of slowing. Its secret? Consistency. The menu, the decor, the service are nearly identical to those of 1998. The formula obviously works. But does the food still stand up?
Say this much, it's as good as ever. Those ballyhooed potatoes, softly spiked with Japanese horseradish and fluffed with cream and butter, remain a reference point for fusion comfort fare.
Cashew chicken, while not quite transcendent, endures as a primary example of the refinement potential of Chinese takeout, what with its plum wine sauce that soaks into white meat and glosses cashews, green onions and nickel-sized cutouts of carrot, zucchini and yellow squash, served with airy jasmine rice in a jauntily lopsided bowl.
Presentation hasn't shifted either. Best-selling staples like sesame-and-togarashi-crusted tuna and dry-aged beef in bite-sized slices continue to be arranged like fallen dominoes along their plates' edges.
The beef-supple and flavorful, soaking in fragrant soy-mirin-half encircles a lofty haystack of matchstick Szechuan fries drizzled with Chinese mustard. It's not exactly a manly meat-and-potatoes meal, but it's tasty and fun to pick at.
That tuna, however, could use an update. Too much wasabi in the dressing overwhelms the morsels of prettily striated, carefully seared, ruby-centered fish. Although crisp frisee salad is a nice touch, superfluous mounds of wasabi paste and pickled ginger take us back to dot-com dining, as does the $29 price tag.
There are moments of bliss: UFO-looking ravioli stuffed with buttery puree of edamame and truffles, tea-smoked spareribs so tender that their bones are nearly edible, a delightfully uncloying and refreshing cilantro martini, and finger-lickin' five-spiced mini donuts with three irresistible dipping sauces.
There are moments of disappointment: Tuna carpaccio over warm flatbread is boring and vaguely fishy, barely improved by its side of honeyed soy sauce. And when the star of a $14 bento box of six chocolate desserts is a tiny dish of cocoa-dusted almonds, it just feels gimmicky.
But most of all there are moments of familiarity. Japanese black cod still tastes fresh enough to swim out of its soy sauce. Banana towers and chocolate pagodas still rise tall, stuck with clear, pointy sugar straws, as delightful to behold and as they are to destroy and consume.
Sweet, bitter and crunchy watercress, chicory, Napa cabbage and radicchio still mix with tempura squid rings and sublimely simple miso dressing to make for the perfect calamari salad. That calamari salad outsells every other menu item at Buddakan. Will it sell in New York, where diners have seen it all? Will it sell in A.C., where squid is exotic? Who knows? It sure as heck sells here, because it's the same as it's always been. But you already knew that, didn't you?
