Pour

An unlikely contender has taken the lead in my mental ranking of best high-end restaurants in Lancaster, Pennsylvania: Pour.

I say unlikely not because it's not high-end—two people can easily drop north of $50 on a couple drinks and appetizers—but because it's more of a New York-style tapas bar.

The drink menu regularly lists 20 domestics and 20 imports in bottles and ten taps from Pennsylvania to Denver, Germany and Belgium. Six reds, six whites and sparkling wines are available by the glass or bottle, and there's a healthy cabinet of port. Pour consistently mixes the most surprising and nuanced cocktails in Lancaster, playing games with Jefferson's Reserve bourbon, Blue Coat gin from Philadelphia and Thistle Finch white rye from six blocks away.

In the evening, diners spill out of a lively courtyard onto Prince Street's gallery row. Inside, cascading metal wine racks and colored lighting make the bar feel comfortably upscale—like your aunt's "modern" house on Staten Island.

But the food menu is what really astounds. In a town where frozen pastries pass for hors d'oeuvres (see "Culturas"), Pour serves exquisite morsels of perfectly paired quail, duck, swordfish and pork butt.

No, the portions aren't big. You won't take home leftovers. But the food will be worth tasting the first time.

Slow down for once. Look at your food. Take a bite. Try to identify the ingredients. Then take a drink. Then continue your conversation. This is what eating out should mean: an experience very few of us can create at home.
 
In truth, Pour may be misnamed. Even if they didn't serve drinks, you could get drunk off the food.

http://pouronprince.com/

 

Camelot Cellars Urban Boutique Winery

I held my tongue. Literally. And made gagging noises.

No, actually, my friends and I were very polite. But I felt sorry for the couples across the bar who looked like they were on dates and trying to be taken seriously. 

Then the cheese plate came out and had to be freed from its plastic-wrap cocoon in our presence, and our server forgot to unwrap the two slices of stale bread, and we were pretty sure the revealed chunks of cheese were from Kroger. 

And then the bill came out and it was every bit as much as you would expect to pay for four good drinks and charcuterie at a nice place, and my hosts picked up the tab and I felt bad for them.

Camelot Cellars. They import exotic grape juice from all over the world and turn it into crappy wine on site. Avoid avoid avoid.

http://camelotcellars.com/

Commonwealth on Queen

My brunch date and I stumbled onto Commonwealth on Queen the morning of their invitation-only soft opening. As we apologized and turned to leave, the man behind the Square register invited us to stay, as long as we gave the kitchen a little grace.

We gave them grace. After five minutes of staring at a tabletop, we learned there was no table service, so we went back to the counter to look at the menu. When my exotic breakfast order arrived looking a lot like scalloped potatoes with paprika, I held my tongue. Nor did we complain when the coffee came midway through the meal. 

It was, after all, their soft opening. But I did secretly wonder whether Commonwealth was some kind of church ministry. Nobody seemed to have restaurant experience.

Months passed. An article was published. We went back.

I ordered the Barn Burner. My date ordered the Big Ol' Breakfast Sandwich and a French press. We signed with our finger and found a table outside. 

Five minutes went by, then ten. I got up, thought about grace and sat back down. Five more minutes went by. I went inside. Sandwiches were coming toward me, so I followed them out to our table. They were cold.

Still no coffee. I was done with half my sandwich when the French press arrived. The server explained that she was in the middle of making it when they got a rush of customers. She gave us silverware.

I asked her if Commonwealth was part of a church ministry. She said not. We drank coffee. As we got ready to leave, she came back with sugar.

Commonwealth on Queen says they are a "farm to fork" cafe. Friends, local is no longer quaint, and it is no excuse for poor service. I can name half a dozen other restaurants that feature local foods, and none give me the impression they are waiting for the hens to lay before they make my omelet.

Tho' your big windows and sculpted chairs beckon me, yet I will not be a citizen of your commonwealth.

http://commonwealthonqueen.com/menu/

The Accomac Inn

Nothing says hospitality and comfort to me like the smell of wood smoke in the winter. The host took our coats and seated us immediately in a simple room with a lively fire. My barrel-aged Manhattan was strong and cold. My date's coffee came with an insulated French press and steamed milk. A variety of dinner rolls arrived piping hot. Each ingredient in the pearl barley, kale and beet risotto (smoked mushrooms, snails) tasted like itself and delicious in combination. “Risotto” was even in quotes on the menu!

When the little things are done right, expectations run high for the main event.

My date ordered the most homely-sounding thing on the menu—meatloaf with ketchup—but it came out looking like a rock star with a crispy bacon mohawk. The mild venison loaf contained a mushroom surprise, and the cranberry ketchup was a striking complement. Comfort food with a wink and a laugh.

I threw caution to the wind and ordered seafood. Squid ink risotto and saffron sauce tangled on a long plate. The humble cod was flaky and flavorful. Almonds were little nutty explosions that made the scallops taste even more buttery. It was not overdressed or overly salty. I began to wonder whether shrimp can be harvested from the Susquehanna River.

The Accomac Inn has been around since 1775. It sits on the west bank of the Susquehanna, just above Wrightsville. In the summer it serves brunch on a long screened deck overlooking the river. In the winter it hosts jazz and firelit dinners. Most of its food is grown on site or comes from local farms.

My date and I came to the Accomac on impulse after hiking Kelly's Run (near the Pinnacle in Lancaster County). We were hot and tired and wearing sneakers. Anne pulled a shawl over her Race against Racism workout shirt; I put on a sweater and tried to look hipster.

It didn't matter; no one at the Accomac blinked. We were given friendly, attentive service by a young woman who later confessed she was new. We confessed we were impostors. We stayed for dessert.

http://www.accomacinn.com/restaurant/

Checkers Bistro

Chef Daniel Quishpe was my first neighbor in Lancaster. On the sidewalk one day he told me to check out Checkers Bistro. “We’re doing something a little different,” he said. 

I did check it out, and Checkers was different. The restaurant seemed to be run through the ground floors of several former townhouses. Each dining space was appointed in a different style, from wallpaper to stucco, and the whole contraption was given a glass entrance and wood-trimmed bar. It was odd.

The food, though, was simple and delicious. You could taste the tuna in the tuna po’ boy, the beets in the beet salad. When I mentioned it was my birthday, a small complimentary cake appeared with congratulations written in chocolate syrup.

A year ago Lancaster heard Checkers would be moving into a renovated warehouse space on Harrisburg Pike. They would double their seating and adopt an existing kitchen. In a town where you can leave your neighborhood by walking down the block, I wondered if they would keep their clientele. 

To be honest, the jury is still out for me. The new space is beautiful—simple, dark furniture; theatrical lighting; photos and equipment from the Champion Blower and Forge Company that manufactured fans, drill presses and other tools there until the 1960s. 

But the menu, ostensibly a “unique blend of French, Asian and American cuisines,” just reads like glorified bar food to me. The dinner menu lists steak frites, tuna frites and sweet potato frites, as well as pomme frites, potato gratin and housemade “smashed” potatoes. And fish & chips. 

My beef Bolognese was forgettable.

I will be going back—to sit at the angled cement-like bar and try something from their handsome wine cellar—but this time I will not brace myself for “different.”

http://checkersbistro.com/

Roburrito's

Good burritos. Rude staff.
Try Neato Burrito.

http://www.neatoburrito.com/

 

Tony Stella’s Encore

Tony Stella’s Encore gets a standing ovation for service. We poked our heads in at 6:00 p.m. the Sunday before Labor Day and were immediately seated at the one table with a cancelled reservation. Water, fresh bread and a drink menu arrived as we were “settling in.” In the corner, a young pianist sang Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, one of the most excruciatingly beautiful love songs ever to pass for background music.

The recommended Napa Valley cabernet was smooth and bursting with berries. The absinthe menu was long—fully eight labels, plus mixed drinks—and included a helpful explanation about louching, the process of dripping ice water into the clear spirit until it becomes cloudy. 

Having never tried absinthe before I naturally ordered the 138-proof Grand Absente distilled in Forcalquier, France for $20. Our server reappeared with an armful of accoutrement, and as we watched the water dissolve a sugar cube on the absinthe spoon, she explained how Picasso, Van Gogh and Hemingway waited for “the green fairy.”

Absinthe became legal in this country in 2007. It is traditionally made with anise, fennel and wormwood, giving it a strong licorice flavor. For someone who enjoys both Sambuca and black jelly beans, Grande Absente was refreshingly sweet and herbal. Nursing it through dinner, it acted as a palate cleanser, like pickled ginger with sushi.

Dinner had mixed reviews. Tony himself appeared like a summer storm in a white dress shirt to present the evening specials. "I have chicken: Toscana breaded and grilled breast of chicken over spinach, onion and tomato finished with a balsamic vinaigrette. Chicken. I have filet of sole—hang tight—"

He had received a phone call mid-recital, and it wasn’t until after we overheard his performance at other tables that we realized he never completed our list. 

We ordered off the ample menu. My date’s roasted duck was dry, to the point that she regretted not sending it back. My veal was good—firm but not chewy and covered in a rich dark sauce that Tony said was his mother’s unusual recipe. I tasted garlic, rosemary, onion and vinegar. 

The complementary salad was good; it had a mild blue cheese. The complementary side of pasta was unnecessary: the pasta was out of a box, and the entrées were already too big to finish. I finished my entrée anyway. And most of my pasta. (It had good sauce.)

The meal lasted a spacious two hours. I felt pampered and relaxed. My date felt annoyed about the duck. When the pianist launched into Hallelujah again we knew it was time to go.

http://www.tonystellasencore.com/#!menus/c24tf

Thistle Finch Distillery

Lancaster County is thrilled to have its "first whiskey since Prohibition." We're even more excited that it's good! 

In fact the first batch sold out before many of us knew it existed. By the time the distillery officially opened—an impromptu affair on Christmas Eve 2013—neighborhood patrons were carting off half-cases of white rye as gifts. 

It's hard to overstate the charm of Thistle Finch. Its name is the English version of distelfink, a familiar motif in local Pennsylvania German folk art. The bottles are elegantly designed. The 14-foot-tall copper still was hand built by a few of owner Andrew Martin's skilled friends. The warehouse it lives in—hidden down an alley off Charlotte Street—was renovated by a legion of other friends and now includes a spacious tasting room where first samples are free and mixed drinks like the "Martin Mule" sell for $8.

To hear Martin tell it, the whole enterprise was cobbled together from Google searches and IOUs. 

The whiskey tells a different story. Multiple local restaurants now feature Thistle Finch cocktails. (Among the best are Lee Noble's creations at Pour.) On Bourbon and Oak, Tim Doty writes:

On the nose Thistle Finch White Rye has a strong corn scent with some fruit notes and a subtle cedar aroma. On the palate [it] delivers an amazing burst of flavors. Corn is the most noticeable flavor with lemon, apricots, ginger, cherries, and wood and grain notes in the background. ... The finish is long and smooth with the same familiar corn flavor with some warm vanilla and tart cherry flavors lingering. This is an excellent whiskey.

http://www.thistlefinch.com/

Aussie and the Fox

I happened to be in a Lancaster City Council meeting in 2013 when Mr. Fox presented his proposal to open a classy restaurant in the first block of West King Street with his new Australian son-in-law. This was not, he stressed, going to be a bar. 

No one on the council had any objections. Thirty-eight West King was a beautifully neglected old storefront, and with more people coming to downtown Lancaster for music and theater, Lancaster could easily support another quality restaurant.

But later that year—after my friend and I choked down an exceptionally dry rendition of chicken and waffles and our server intimated that people in Lancaster might not be ready for what Aussie does—I objected.

The restaurant looked beautiful. There were high-backed orange benches along raised tables in the front display windows, a handsome U-shaped bar in the center, a faux fireplace in the back and exposed brick walls throughout. The brown paper placemats were hand-stamped with the snappiest logo in the city. The servers greeted you with careful poise. And yet the food was, uh, nothing to write home about.

But it’s hard for me to stay angry at brunch, so every time On Orange was full I ended up at Aussie. Now I’m pleased to report some more sunny encounters:

• Both Australia-branded offerings are unusually colorful and flavorful. The Aussie Brekkie is a healthy pile of wild mushrooms, creamed spinach and boursin cheese under poached eggs, and the Aussie Burger, an improbable stack of beef, pineapple, onion chutney, pickled beetroot, smoked Gouda and over-easy egg on ciabatta. (Note: do break the yolk before you take a bite.)
• I rarely jump at sweet, bready breakfasts, but a short stack of Honey Crisp Apple pancakes went down light and easy with a bit of maple syrup & butter.
• A reliable source informed me that creamed chipped beef in homemade black pepper gravy is an important part of this nutritious Fox Breakfast: two eggs any style; homefries; choice of bacon, sausage, ham or chickpea sausage with toast or English muffin.
• There is an eye-popping array of (apparently natural) striped fruit drinks that come out of the juicer, and the recommended green apple/celery/ginger and carrot/celery/lemon creations taste as healthy as they look.

Finally, although I haven’t braved it, fried chicken breast is now served with “apple cider honey mustard & red onions in between a sweet cream waffle.”

It sounds juicy. 

http://www.aussieandthefox.com/menu/dinner/

Rice & Noodles Restaurant

Rice & Noodles catered my wedding. I'm serious. It was delicious—and affordable. Even my aunt enjoyed it.

There are two kinds of restaurants in the world: the ones that are all atmosphere with no substance—like musical theater with great sound and bad singing—and the ones, consistently understated, that grab your attention with the first bite.

Rice & Noodles is this last, best kind of restaurant. Regardless of the crush of people picking up to-go orders or waiting for a table, you can expect delicious, fresh, healthy Vietnamese food—"just like we eat at home," says Vy Banh.

In addition to the phở ( listen), banh mi, coffee and egg rolls that have become American standards, Rice & Noodles makes their own flan, ice cream and impossibly complicated macaroons. 

It all goes back to Vy's grandmother learning French pastries in Saigon. The family had 13 restaurants in Vietnam until Saigon fell in 1975, and started again with three restaurants in New Orleans until they flooded in 2005. 

Now rumor has it there will be a second location in Lancaster on Orange and Prince. I don't know how to say it in Vietnamese, but ¡Que le vaya bien!

http://riceandnoodlesrestaurant.com/dine-with-us/

Carmen and David's Creamery

In college David Hommel majored in ice cream. 

Well, not exactly. But he did take Penn State University's renowned Ice Cream Short Course.

The result has been a dazzling parade of 30 exotic flavors through downtown Lancaster display cases, in every season of the year. Kind of a frozen fireworks display, before Frozen meant spellbinding princesses with big eyes. 

David's "standard" flavors are molasses, toasted coconut, dark chocolate, cherry vanilla and ten others. Which should give you an idea of the rotating flavors—things with names like Zombie Nuts, Aztec Hot Chocolate, Spicy Praline, Holy Mole—and actually those are just four signature recipes that marry something spicy hot with something cold and sweet.

Yes, they also have vanilla, strawberry and milk chocolate. Collectors editions. And "we always have one peanut butter flavor, one sugar-free flavor, three sorbets and three sherbets," they say.

As Margaret Mead might say with her mouth full, "Never doubt that a small collection of exceptional dairy products can change the world."

http://carmenanddavidscreamery.com/

The Whip Tavern

The Whip is gold at the end of a rainbow of Chester County horse country. Who would expect to find authentic English pub food stationed somewhere between Coatesville, Cochranville and Kennett Square?

At The Whip I learned that black and white puddings are breakfast sausage, but Yorkshire pudding is a kind of puff pastry best enjoyed with roast beef. I learned that Scotch eggs are deep fried and delicious. And I learned that what Cork and Cap (Lancaster, Pa.) calls rarebit is more like melted Velveeta.

The Whip is not pretentious. It is a pub. You can get $2 pints and games on TV. 

But during the summer you can enjoy a mouthwatering brunch beneath the trees by Doe Run. And in the winter the fireplace, dark wood and beer-only bar are everything you need to make cold feel like a charming counterpoint to your cozy cosmopolitan life.

http://www.thewhiptavern.com/twt_menus.

 

Hunger N Thirst

When I tried H-N-T's asparagus fries I was transported to a firelit cabin in pine woods with snow falling. Yes, they were that good.

The pork belly melted in my mouth. I had a rye Manhattan that made ordinary cocktails seem like Smirnoff Ice.

Was it young love, or beginners luck? Subsequent trips have not fared as well. The pork belly was too salty. Asparagus fries went away for the summer. The popular "Cuban cigars" tasted like diner food.

I keep going back, mostly to sit at the curved copper-top bar. Two dozen beers on tap, and always something interesting. 

In July bartender Steve Wood saw my restless post-gin expression and asked if he could make me a whiskey drink. I said sure. Turns out he's a bit of a wunderkind with the beer cocktail (see Fly magazine). The impromptu concoction he delivered was a delicious stout-laced twist on what he called a boulevardier. 

The intermittent reward is a principle of behavioral conditioning. With occasional treats as good as Wood's cocktail, I'll keep walking in the door.

http://www.hungernthirst.com/

On Orange

When I moved to Lancaster, On Orange was called Wish You Were Here. "Wish My Food Were Here," my friends quipped. "Wish I Were Elsewhere."

When Melissa Watro took over in 2010 I tried it again—and haven't stopped going back. 

On Orange is the best kind of brunch place:

• Friendly service
• Coffee brought promptly
• Familiar food with a twist

In Central Pennsylvania it is one of the few places you can get a spicy breakfast dish. Two, actually: the Indian omelet and the chilaquiles.

There are sunny seats upstairs, cozy corners downstairs and tables on the back patio in warm weather. 

The hearty whole-grain toast alone is worth the trip.

Some restaurants are all attitude and no good food. Others just give you what you pay for. On Orange impresses with simple quality. It's the perfect start to a Lancaster weekend.

http://onorange.wordpress.com/menu/