Osteria: Believe the Hype

story by David Winchell
photo by Rachel Stone

Osteria is not Vetri, and in many ways is better for it. That restaurant, the sister to Osteria, is a wonderfully cozy and charming home to what is probably the best food in the city. But it’s just not the kind of place you can drop into.

Not that Osteria is a neighborhood establishment, exactly: 640 N. Broad St. is around the corner from absolutely nothing. But you can eat there without planning two months ahead or spending hundreds of dol lars. Osteria is less refined and more casual than its older sibling Vetri, but the core phi losophy is the same: simple, creative, and satisfying Northern Italian food prepared by passionate people.

And Vetri doesn’t have pizza, which at Osteria borders on the miraculous. Consider the seasonal bocconcini ($16), studded with meltingly tender pork trotter meat (braised for hours) and salty fried capers. In true Neapolitan style, the wafer-thin crust is crisp and blistered from the 650°F oven.

High praise also goes to the lombarda ($18), a menu staple that riffs on the classic breakfast combination of sausage, egg, and cheese. It’s the perfect beginning to a meal, though some of the antipasti ($10-$16) are also well worth sampling. Wood-grilled octopus comes with bits of cured lemon, and a spread of house-cured salumi is enlivened by an artichoke mostarda.

Weekends are loud and busy in the cav ernous wood-walled dining room, and the harried waiters, though knowledgeable and professional, aren’t always attentive. At least you can munch on bread while you wait, or sip a selection from the thoughtful (if pricey) all-Italian wine list.

If you can’t snag a table—book two weeks ahead for prime weekend reservations—a cramped counter area accepts walk-ins and gives diners a partial view of the open kitchen; chef Jeff Michaud works the line most nights (look for a blue bandana).

Entrées are uneven: a special of spit-roasted baby pig ($35), sitting in a pool of its juices and topped with crunchy crack lings, was a knockout, but braised rabbit with polenta ($26) was disappointingly bland.

The real stars are the pasta dishes ($16): veal liver ravioli—balanced by sweet figs, toothsome pancetta, and crispy caramel ized onions—delivered on its promise of offal-y richness, and the final garnish of rosemary was bracingly aromatic. One of the line cooks invented it last week, my server informed me; it was the most auda cious pasta I had eaten in months. If organ meat scares you, guinea hen tortellini and robiola cheese francobolli are less exotic—but no less delicious—options.

The best of the desserts ($8-$10) are fruit-centric, like a concord grape clafoutis that tempered its sweetness with candied bitter walnuts. For a lighter alternative, fresh gelati and sorbetti are reliably refresh ing. Linger for a while over a demitasse of potent espresso. Osteria escapes the fatal inoffensiveness of so much of Philadelphia’s Italian food. It dazzles diners with soulful dishes that are progressive yet rooted in authentic tradition. Believe the hype: Philadelphia restaurants don’t get more exciting than this.