Simon Pearce

There have been few dining experiences that have paralleled my recent outing at Simon Pearce. Tucked along the banks of the Brandywine River in Chester County, Pennsylvania, Simon Pearce is both a visceral and cerebral happening.

 

There have been few dining experiences that have paralleled my recent outing at Simon Pearce. Tucked along the banks of the Brandywine River in Chester County, Pennsylvania, Simon Pearce is both a visceral and cerebral happening. The remarkable glassware strewn throughout the monolith of a building makes for magnificent eye candy. And the food made my heart leap, palpitate and otherwise skip beats with pleasure. The gristmill come glass factory look works extraordinarily well in these parts. The area is rustic and wreaks of old money. So, the artisanal glass making paired with spectacular dining strikes a balance for a memorable night out for these parts.

Simon Pearce is an import from Vermont and brings with it the expert dining event you would expect from a fine New York eatery. Within its confines, Simon Pearce boasts an 'interactive' glass blowing factory, a shop for purchase of said wares and the dining room. The craftsmen were hard at work and eager to share their insight as well as answer the queries of this uninformed cook on the finer points of creating beautiful stemware. The collared whiskey glasses that were being created before me really did look as though they belonged on the bar of an estate or, at least, being gently twisted, twirled and swished within my palm.

The dining room is brightly lit, especially for the type of fare you come to expect from a typical fine dining establishment. Alas, the planners of this striking dining room chose to capitalize on the fine lines of the floor to ceiling window overlooking the river as well as creating great effect on the glass accents tastefully adorning the tables. And rightfully so. It is refreshing to spare the squinting under low light for the wee hours of the morning while hunting for the alarm clock. The lighting dictates the tone of the room; the conversations were lively and the atmosphere was relaxed and far from starchy. Our spirited waiter was relaxed and comfortable, but well learned in excellent service and making us feel welcome. Often, including the staff as an extension of our company enhances a meal with friends. In this case, we were not disappointed.  After the third "can you come back in a moment" we got a chuckle and meaningful suggestions rather than pompous pretension. Bravo!

Alas, we had to make some decisions. Although the menu is not a heaping tome of far-flung concoctions, there were some difficult decisions to be made. Splendidly articulate in concise descriptions rather than voluminous banter, the menu offered more than something for everybody. Rather, several tempting choices for the discerning diner. The only disappointment we all shared, was that it really cam down to "eenie meenie minee moe" to make selections.

The amuse from the chef came in the form of wonderful little brioche squares dolloped with Crème Fráiche and succulent smoked salmon. This little pro bono selection was merely the hint of the culinary excursion for which we were about to embark. The little wild rice, currant and golden raisin muffins that arrived in lieu of traditional rolls did well, too, to mark the start of a gastronmical adventure.
 
To get us started, we went with the night's feature appetizer Lobster Spring Roll. Plenty of lobster and what tasted like a subtle plum sauce. Fried crisp without a trace of the tell-tale oil slick. Also, the Pan Roast Clams. Cooked precisely done. Tender and full of flavor. They scored extra points by serving lightly toasted crostinis to sop up the Chardonnay broth. We also sampled the Chestnut stuffed half-moon shaped ravioli-like Angliotti. Divine. Lastly, the Warm Portabella and Spinach Salad with Fresh Mozzarella. The dressing was laced with really good olive oil and the mushroom was (go figure) not over cooked and warm. Often, this poor Frisbee-sized mushrooms is mistreated and cooked limp. The mushroom critic amongst us, Brian declared his selection the winner. We all argued our respective selections were, in fact, the winner. What a great disagreement to share.

I did not make my selection of entreé. I narrowed the list to three choices and left the ultimate decision to our waiter. He chose the Tilapia Filet with Crabmeat on a mound of toasted Orzo and crispy little snow peas. He must have had the plate in hand and one foot out the door as the fish was nestled amongst the garnish at the last possible moment. This filet arrived cooked to perfect texture and piping hot. I never new that a flat filet like Tilapia could make it from kitchen to table without loosing but a degree of heat in its delivery. Across the table, Mrs. Cantankerous went with the Seared Pork Loin. Again, cooked perfectly to show off the flavor of the ingredients rather than some far-flung presentation, the kitchen did well to exercise their creative restraint. Mr. Mushroom went with the Maytag Blue Cheese Crusted Filet Mignon. Now, I am certainly no Texas cattleman, but this bovine must have come from royalty amongst the cow population. The smell wafted from table's edge to table's edge. Immediately, Brian insisted that, again, he had made the winning selection. Mrs. Mushroom was graced with the Lobster Macaroni and Cheese. Seriously! Ann was served a heaping mound of, what appeared to be, equal parts pasta and gorgeous lobster. The cheesy sauce was far, far, far from that familiar blue and yellow box. This sauce was spiked with scads of truffles.  We switched halfway through the meal. Ann, in her saintly sacrifice, found the courage to part with her dish and send it my way. The lobster was cooked perfectly. By this point in the meal, I was expecting nothing less. The truffles were well applied and not merely there to solicit 'oohs and ahhhs' from the patrons. This dish, in this humble cook's opinion, was the winner. Again, with the disagreement. Mr. Mushroom argued his case as did my home team. There were no conclusions made. Each dish was eagerly consumed and was voted the best.

Dessert was not necessary. After the culinary religious experience of which we had all just fell victim, more could not possibly mean better. Again, with the inability to discern the penultimate selections. Ann opted for the Trio of Crème Bruleé. On its own, Crème Bruleé does well as a favorite for dessert eaters. A trio, including the mighty orange Crème Bruleé, is overly indulgent. I opted for the feature dessert of the evening. A Semmifreddo with a uniquely sweet pomegranate sauce garnished with Buttermilk Ice Cream and little caramelized cumquats. As our waiter was sure to remark, the ice creams are created on site. Of course. My wife opted for the White Chocolate Mousse served on cookie crust and garnished with fresh currants. The texture of this mousse was none like I have ever experienced nor, in my wildest dreams, could ever hope to recreate. It defined a mouse that somebody who has spent years making mouse could only hope to create. Brian's Egg Nog Bread Pudding with Vanilla Ice Cream was one of those desserts that is inexplicable in description and unparalleled by any dessert I have ever tasted. The consistency of the pudding, as well as the balance between the caramel sauce and ice cream made for absolute bliss. This time, Mr. Mushroom was right. His was the winner. Only because we had to let him win. All of the desserts were phenomenal.

At the close of our meal we concluded that it had, in fact, been a flawless evening. That is to say, of the years I have been writing 'experiences' (rather than reviews who am I?) this was one of the best meals, if the not the best, I had the shear pleasure of experiencing. I hope Simon Pearce stays around for a long, long time. I have children that, one day, will need a place to take their spouses for their anniversaries.

 

 

 

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