Ravanesi Pizzeria Napoletana

790 Baltimore Pike
Glen Mills, PA 19342
(484) 840-8912
Website

The pizza scene in the Philadelphia area is a hotly debated, often contentious topic. To make the vast Philadelphia-proper scene even more confusin, let's add the great pizza of the 'burbs to the mix. Philly may have the best pizza in the country, with Pizzeria Beddia, but South Jersey, MontCo, and DelCo hold it down as well. Ravanesi is modeled after the Neapolitan pizza of Napoli, and Dave Ravanesi's obsession is apparent in the product.

Located in a small strip mall in Glen Mills for two years now, you would not notice this place as you drove by at night, until you see the line of people out the door. They have seven pizzas on the menu. That is it. BYOB, no reservations, and no take-out on the weekends. When you are this good, you make the rules.

Dave is a great guy, hand making every pie, start to finish. He puts a level of attention into them that I have only seen by my buddy Joe Beddia. Indeed, I said it, the pizza here reminded quite a bit of Joey's pies.

See for yourself below.

Dave uses a no-yeast, 38 hour dough that lends itself to the blistering perfection and ease of manipulation. He never has more than 3 pies in his custom wood-fired oven (all hardwoods, of course, with an oak preference) and he keeps them moving so there's little loss of heat and they cook consistently in a matter of minutes.

By the time I got mine, I was drooling. Not that this was an aberration from my general state of consciousness, but this time it was food related. On top is the Sopressata Piccante, topped with San Marzano tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, spicy sopressata,  Parmigiano Reggiano, chili flakes, garlic, & extra-virgin olive oil. On the bottom, a traditional Margherita, boasting San Marzano tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, Parmigiano Reggiano, fresh basil, extra-virgin olive oil & sea salt.

Look at the color on that crust. The fluffy, crunchy dough is unbelievable, with a perfectly browned hue. The sauce had the zip of the San Marzano tomatoes, and was perfect in its simplicity. The mozzarella is made in-house, and was rich and creamy with a velvety texture. Finished with basil leaves, this pie is simple perfection. Easily one of the best Margheritas I have ever tasted.

My favorite, unsurprisingly, had the extra addition of salty meat. Spicy soppressata with chili flakes made this pizza shine. Again, the crust was perfectly baked, the toppings beyond reproach, and the execution phenomenal.

Look at the spicy little grease pools on this. Pure deliciousness.

Check the bottom of the crust. You can't beat the combo of slight char, and perfect browning.

This place blew away my expectations, and I encourage you to check it out as well. The only thing I can say is, if you go early to avoid a wait, be prepared for a lot of kids. Not that it's a bad thing, but it's something to be ready for. Also, don't forget the wine.

Wedge + Fig

160 North 3rd Street
Philadelphia, PA 19106
(267) 603-3090
Website

Wedge + Fig (or is it Wedge and Fig?) is a small BYO bistro in Old City, and I desperately wanted to like it. But I didn't.

When you walk in the front door, there is a small shop and counter, backed by a wide-open kitchen - you can see straight through to the rear windows, all the way to their ivy'd fence. There was an incredibly awkward server/host there to make things confusing, mumbling about seating and stumbling around, but the space itself is fantastic. After a brief pause that seemed like an eternity, he managed to garble that there is a backyard-courtyard with additional seating.

You then walk back around the front of the store and back this tiny easement to a magical little oasis behind the store front and far off of the bustle of Third St. I was impressed. Mostly I was relieved he was not following me down this tiny alley.

The courtyard is great, it really has a relaxing vibe to it. Which might be a prelude to the service.

They were offering a Mad Men/March Madness(?) themed menu, so I had to bite on the specials.

After my dining partner and I were the first arrivals to the courtyard, we were instantly ignored for the next table - a group of touristy German girls sitting right next to us. We had no choice but to listen to him attempt to coax them to come to some karaoke night with him. It was a feeble attempt. This guy was like a poor man's Eddie Austin, minus the charm. Anyway, after we ordered a Lance Pryce (the character's name is actually "Lane," which should have been a sign of the errors to come), a Joan Harris and a Weaver's Way Pickle, we experienced a twenty-five minute hiatus. Things kept accelerating in the awkward and frustrating manner I had grown accustomed to. When the sandwiches came out, the Joan Harris was nicely grilled. However the Lan(c)e Pryce had a long hair sticking out of the chicken salad. I am pretty sure I spotted it before it even hit the table. Hair in chicken salad is one of my ultimate turn-offs. Something about mayo and human hair having been thoroughly mixed and set, that strikes the wrong chord. I quickly called the server back from space and alerted him. He replied "oh" and took it back. An apology would have gone a long way in this situation. Much longer than barely acknowledging the fact that there was someone's locks in my sandwich. Not these lox, but these. I tried to watch the kitchen, through the enormous back windows, intently from this point on, because I wanted to make sure they did not just pull the offending stray and "return to sender." However, it was put off for another five minutes. Luckily I could (cautiously) eat half of the other sandwich.

The brioche was nicely toasted, and filled with gorgonzola dolce, Sriracha glazed chicken, and caramelized onions. It was a good sandwich. But I was already pretty disgusted at this point.

When we had finished eating the other sandwich in its entirety, the Lan(c)e Pryce made an appearance. It was at least five minutes later. Which was kind of mystifying, as it was just chicken salad. Here's the other thing. It was good. Pretty tasty. But at this point, it would take more than Farmhouse cheddar, maharaja curry, apricots, and almonds to please me. Also, this sandwich was sort of like an illusion.

It looks good right?

Check out the bread ratio.

Even better view below.

A bread sandwich with a side of chicken salad. Yum. Besides the incompetent service, the health code violation, and the fact that both the pickle I never received and the hairy chicken salad were still on the bill (paid for the sandwich not the pickle), I really might have liked Wedge + Fig. The atmosphere is quite nice, and the ingredients are locally sourced and carefully thought out. However the execution is not there.

Taco Riendo

1301 N. 5th St
Philadelphia, PA 19122
(215) 235-2294

Taco Riendo is hands-down one of the best places to get Mexican food in Philadelphia. They are authentic without (usually) having to chew through cartilage, and they are reasonably priced to boot. There are a few things to remember when ordering, however. Rule numero uno: Get the elote. This is Mexican corn at it's finest. A nice char on the kernels, ample cheese and cayenne, and a sufficient layer of mayo.

 

Rule numero dos: skip the Al Pastor. Go for the chorizo instead. Or better yet, the choriqueso. Sausage and cheese. Yes. They make an awfully mediocre Al Pastor and an awfully good chorizo. Trust me.

Al Pastor above (go here or Que Chula es Puebla for the best around), and choriqueso below.

Rule numero tres: you might want to skip the tacos, unless you are okay with a minimalist presentation. I have eaten around the menu here, and I have to defer to the enchiladas (mole especially), tostadas and tortas. Burritos are okay, but nothing spectacular. Surprisingly, the shrimp and fish dishes are quite good, and the shrimp tostadas are like a fresh salad on a small order of nachos. A great summer dish that will fill you up without making you too full to drink some beers (they are BYO) with your meal. The shrimp are a bit spicy, and come perfectly cooked, nestled in between refried beans, lettuce, cheese and fresh pico. Definitely one of my favorites on the menu.

Basically, if you are above the best in Mexican (geographically speaking), AKA El Jarocho and Los Gallos (RIP Los Jalapenos), Taco Riendo is one of the better bets. Just be mindful of what you order, and the fact that they don't take cards nor $50 or $100 bills, even if you are vocally irritated and it's 100 degrees out.