Kanella: Top 50 Philadelphia restaurant and best-smelling bathroom

A cool thing about Philadelphia? Unlike NYC, many of its top 50 restaurants are quite affordable, and I’ve already been to two, including Kanella (1001 Spruce St.).

Kanella’s restroom doors are painted a calm cerulean that made me think of the ocean; this beautiful blue is a close tie with the blue at Crêperie Béchamel in Wayne. Between Kanella’s two restroom doors is a large clay pot, sitting on the floor below a couple of framed photographs and a little wooden man dressed in some traditional garb. As soon as I walked in, I thought, “Wow, this bathroom smells really fantastic,” which is not something you generally think when entering a public bathroom. That aroma stemmed from the vase of fragrant fresh flowers sitting on the wooden stand that holds the white vessel sink. The floors are made of rustic-looking tiles, and the mirror has a frame made of black wire curlicues. The coat hanger on the door is made of shiny copper — a gorgeous contrast to the blue paint — and the light switch plate is painted with ombré green stripes.

Kanella’s website describes the restaurant as a “Greek Cypriot kitchen.” That’s the last kind of cuisine I think of when I think of brunch, but the kedgree — rice mixed with pieces of smoked cod, topped with ah-ma-zing Greek yogurt and a hard-boiled egg — was a fantastic change of pace from the omelettes and other egg dishes I typically order. And I got a chuckle out of the fact that, before I dug in, it sort of looked like I had a Muppet on my plate; see photo below. My brunch mates also ordered the “dips of the day,” which included some awesome-looking pumpkin and feta mixture, served with freshly grilled pita. I skipped this because I planned to have a giant gluten cheat for dinner, in the form of — of all low-brow things — Dunkin’ Donuts. (It was worth it; I hadn’t had doughnuts in several years, and the Boston cream and French cruller still taste as trashy-good as ever.)

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

Elixr Coffee: Slide in the restroom, have a photo shoot

I love when people are excited to show me a restroom, because it makes me feel as if I’ve made my miniature mark on the world. When KK said, “You need to see the bathroom at Elixr Coffee,” I said, “We’re going this weekend after brunch, right?” (207 S Sydenham St., Philadelphia).

Elixr Coffee’s restroom is built out from the wall, creating a sort of box crafted of gorgeous reclaimed wood, the same material composing a lot of the coffee shop’s structure. The restroom has a heavy sliding door that’s pieced together from lots of old industrial stuff, including metal sheets from the Richmond Safety Gate Co., (which also, according to a stamp on the door made fire door equipment) and wired safety glass panels. The wall next to the door is covered with black wallpaper speckled with giant roses and hydrangeas, adding an unexpected Victorian / grandma’s house contrast. Despite the antique-style entryway, Elixr’s restroom is sleek inside, with dark wood paneling, buttery wallpaper with a diamond pattern, and a gray tile floor. A narrow door next to the toilet is hung with a full-length mirror. The toilet paper holder is one I haven’t seen before: a metal rod is affixed to the wall in the center, so both ends are open, making it easier to re-load than most toilet paper holders, where you have to push that spring, and then pop it back into the wall. Although not technically in the restroom, there’s a cool mural of some creature (a teddy bear crossed with a cracked-open bomb or bowling ball?) that has a bottle inside its mouth, and the bottle has a shark inside — the painting is on the wall adjacent to the wall from which the restroom juts, so I’m counting it as a restroom feature (and, hey, it scored Elixr an extra point!). Funny restroom anecdote? Two women stood outside the sliding bathroom door for at least 10 minutes, holding their own giggly photo shoot. Exlir is a cool space, but really? Ten minutes….? Weirdest thing ever.

As faithful Porcelain Press readers know, I judge coffee shops by their mochas. Elixr’s spare menu confused me, but I asked, and they do indeed make mochas — and mine was a good one. Unfortunately, it came in a regular mug, so it cooled off quickly in the air conditioning, and I had to drain it in less than 10 minutes — fine for after-brunch chitchat, but not ideal if you plan to sit and write for a while. The Great Pacific garbage patch turned me into a super recycler (not that I was wasteful before, but now wastefulness ranks high on my list of pet peeves), but I should have asked for a disposable cup with a lid. I’m a piping-hot-coffee type of girl.

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

The Dandelion Pub: Grandma’s bathroom in an English pub

I was excited to go into Center City Philadelphia to celebrate MA’s birthday at the Dandelion Pub, because it was my first dinner in the city since moving to the area, and because MA said I’d love the restroom. Even her friends, still skeptical about the Porcelain Press, agreed it was cute (124 South 18th St.)

The Dandelion Pub is a beautiful place — in fact, since I’m still new to Philadelphia, I got a little lost and walked a couple of blocks past the restaurant, and when I eventually found it, I realized that it was the one building that I’d walked past that I’d noted was especially pretty. The restaurant’s interior is equally beautiful, appropriately conjuring up a dark, cozy pub in merrie olde England. The Dandelion Pub’s restroom, which is upstairs in a hallway covered with vintage cream wallpaper crawling with green vines, instantly transports you to your grandma’s house. The mirror and trashcan have soft curves that scream 1940s, and there’s a lace curtain in the window, a pot of flowers on the toilet tank, old-fashioned brass toilet paper holders from the London-based St. Pancras Fixture company and framed pieces of needlepoint on the walls. The walls are white, but nicely accented by a turquoise door and a dark ceiling, which has the best feature of all: an antique light fixture that has a mint green porcelain base molded like a Doric column, and a milk glass light shade that’s painted with flowers.

The Dandelion Pub is a restaurant by Stephen Starr, one of Philadelphia’s most famous chefs (I’ve also been to El Vez — one of my top 2012 restrooms — and interestingly enough, he’s also got a handful of NYC restaurants, including Caffè Storico at the New-York Historical Society). MA’s favorite dish at the Dandelion Pub is the warm roast beef sandwich, so I ordered that, although I was torn between it, the house burger, and the zucchini and watercress risotto. The sandwich was certainly good, but I’m not a big roast beef fan, so I should have gone with my gut and opted for one of my other choices. Given my ridiculous French fry obsession / vice, I was sad that the sandwich didn’t come with fries, but I must admit that the lightly dressed watercress side salad was one of the best yet simple salads I’ve had at a restaurant. Because it was a birthday celebration, a couple of people ordered dessert. I had a bite of KK’s “Queen of Puddings,” which was layers of piping-hot brioche pudding, raspberry jam and meringue; it was a pudding of royal proportions, indeed, and just one bite was enough to satisfy my sugar cravings for the evening. Definitely looking forward to going back!

Restroom Rating: [rating=5]

Crust: Gluten-free pizza so good, restroom doesn’t matter

Pizza is one of those things that’s hard to do well with a gluten-free crust, considering that really good dough is made with high-gluten flour. But I miss pizza, so when I hear that a parlor actually offers a gluten-free version, I’m game to try it, in the hopes of landing on one that doesn’t quite replace Carlo’s Pizza on Long Island, but at least conjures up the sensation of chewy crust slathered with tomato sauce and melty mozzarella. Enter, Crust in Bryn Mawr (872 W. Lancaster Ave).

Crust’s restroom is fairly nondescript: white walls, the typical boring white sink, tan floor tiles and a plastic trashcan with a swinging lid that people have clearly missed when trying to play basketball with scrunched-up paper towels. A narrow wall right outside the restroom has white slats, which wrongly got my hopes up that the bathroom would have some kind of special, pizza- or Italy-themed decor. Alas, the most unique feature is a larged framed print of Jasper Johns’ map painting, which is actually in the dining room, but you can see the bathroom door in the same photo, so I’m counting it — especially because we had a conversation about the painting during dinner (turns out, a monochromatic version is one of NB’s favorite paintings).

MA isn’t as strictly gluten-free as I am, but it’s nice to have a friend who does sometimes  avoid gluten so that I don’t have to be that annoying person with a restrictive diet who suggests ordering a couple of weirdo wheat-free pies. We ordered two (they’re not huge, so two was perfect for three people): fire roasted veggie, topped with smoked gouda and fresh basil; and Mediterranean, a truffle oil-spiked spin on the classic spinach, olive and feta classic. I could not decide which I liked better — both were delicious, with fresh-tasting ingredients, and the gluten-free crust was the best I’ve had. Crust’s crust is actually thick and chewy, a nice change from most gluten-free pizza crusts, which tend to be cracker-like — that’s what you’ll find at places like Pie by the Pound in NYC and Jules Thin Crust in Pennsylvania, both of which I enjoy very much, but they’re not really pizza replacement contenders.

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

 

 

Melt Down: Great gluten-free grilled cheese; boring bathroom

MA kindly shuttled me along the Main Line on a snowy afternoon to find an apartment in the Philadelphia suburbs. By the time I’d found the one I wanted, it was way past lunchtime, and when she told me about Melt Down — a fast-ish food place in Wayne, my then-future town, that specializes in grilled cheese — I knew we had to go (522 W. Lancaster Ave.).

Melt Down’s restroom is very clean, and it’s not basic white and stainless steel, but it’s not very exciting. The walls outside the restroom are a sunny yellow with beige paneling, which offset dark cherry doors — a warm, bread-and-cheese color scheme that’s very appropriate for a grilled cheese restaurant. Inside, the restroom has basic white fixtures, with some nice tile work: large gray tiles, with a band of tiny gray tiles. Still, good colors alone don’t a great restroom make; a couple of pieces of artwork or other interesting decor would do wonders here, giving the restroom a little character and spunk.

Knowing my generally gluten-free lifestyle, MA warned me on our drive through Wayne: “You’ll have to eat bread.” I nodded. A good, melty grilled cheese was worth a little gluten cheating. Lo and behold, Melt Down offers a gluten-free option for all of their sandwiches — and they use a gluten-free bread that has a nice, fluffy texture like real bread, instead of some gluten-free cracker nonsense that’s just not okay when you’re eating a grilled cheese sandwich. I ordered the “goud turkey,” which had gouda and turkey (duh), roasted red peppers and honey mustard. For a mere $7.45, I got two medium-sized sandwiches (I love Pennsylvania). My eyes bugged out. “Uhhhh, this is one order?” I asked. “How am I supposed to eat all of this?” The cashier said I’d find a way, and I certainly did. Prepping for my move meant I hadn’t been eating or sleeping, but now that I had an apartment, it was time to feast. And feast I did. And it was delicious. And gluten-free! A memorable first eating experience in my new town.

Restroom Rating: [rating=2]

 

Village Whiskey: Best burger joint has barrel in bathroom

I like to think of myself as an amateur burger connoisseur — amateur because I’m relatively new to loving burgers (thanks to my dad grilling hockey pucks instead of medium rare, almost-mooing masterpieces), and because I don’t know a single thing about beef, except that you’re supposed to raise your cows eating grass instead of corn or other cows. What I do know is a good burger, and the one at Village Whiskey blew my mind (118 South 20th St., Philadelphia).

More on that masterful burger later, but first, the restroom. Village Whiskey’s restroom was not particularly thrilling. It was mildly theme-y — a large barrel next to the sink, a barrel lid from the Woodford Reserve distillery on the wall, and a “Vote Against Prohibition” photo above the toilet — but the elements weren’t tied together seamlessly. When the burgers are this good, though, I’m not complaining; I’d rather the restaurateur focus on the food and not the potty aesthetics. The floor had a hexagonal honeycomb sort of pattern, and the walls and paneling were sleek neutrals that matched Village Whiskey’s dining room well. I was befuddled by the giant barrel next to the sink. It seemed to serve no purpose other than to — sort of — hide the re-fill bottle of Dial liquid hand soap.

Back to the burger. In my first couple of weeks in Philadelphia, two people told me Village Whiskey had the best burger, so I picked it for my birthday eve dinner. Village Whiskey’s menu description is brief, indicating that the “village burger” is a half-pound patty, with a sesame roll, tomato, Boston Bibb lettuce and Thousand Island dressing. What the menu doesn’t tell you is how perfect the beef is, how special that sesame roll is (this ain’t no McDonald’s) and how much of a difference Boston Bibb lettuce makes (I normally remove the lettuce from my burgers because it’s wet and crunchy). The basic burger is $12, so add-ons can quickly make the burger pricy. I ordered cheddar, caramelized onions and truffled mushrooms, making my burger $21.50 — and then they didn’t give me the onions and mushrooms, but still charged me for them (I wasn’t paying, and my dining partner, who ordered what he called the “oxymoronic burger” — veggie burger topped with foie gras — didn’t want to make a stink about it). Even with just the cheddar and Thousand Island dressing, dripping all oozy goozy over everything, the Village Whiskey burger was likely the best burger I’ve ever had. I’m curious to know what it would have been like with the onions and mushrooms, but I almost think it would have been too much. Must. Go. Back.

Restroom Rating: [rating=3]

Reading Terminal Market: Spacious restroom in a foodie madhouse

The Reading Terminal Market was part of what convinced me to move to Philadelphia: it’s a madhouse (Manhattan me likes crazy crowds…sometimes), and the foodie-friendly wares range from chocolate-covered onions from Chocolate by Mueller to fancy oils and vinegars from the Tubby Olive.

Reading Terminal Market’s restroom is remarkably nice, especially considering how many patrons and tourists walk through its doors on a daily basis. You find your way to the bathroom through the market’s “streets” via black and gold Victorian-style signs of fingers pointing the way. Inside, the tile work is white and grass green, and every inch of it sparkles. There’s a slew of toilet stalls — a welcome sight for any woman used to waiting in a long line at busy public places — and a row of sinks underneath a long mirror. The compact white hand dryers were a model I’d never seen, but I was pleased that their power was up there with the Xcelerator. The entrance to the restroom area was unique: you get to the men’s and women’s rooms through the same entryway, flanked on both sides by corrugated steel; the right side of a man (a monstrous grass green depiction of the standard restroom man, that is) is painted on the steel on the right side, and the left side of a woman is painted on the steel on the left.

My first introduction to the Reading Terminal Market was years ago when my then-boyfriend brought me a jar of the BEST raw honey from Kauffman’s Lancaster County Produce — I keep being foiled in my attempts to pick some up because I’m there late or on a Sunday, when the Pennsylvania Dutch merchants have already shuttered their stalls. In addition to eventually procuring some of that honey, I have plenty of reasons to go back to the Reading Terminal Market obsessively during my first few months in the area: DiNiC’s roast pork sandwich with provolone and greens; gourmet grilled cheese from Meltkraft; an inaugural Philly soft pretzel (my boss, formerly of the area, has been raving about these for a while) from Miller’s Twist…and who knows, probably a million other things, because that’s what’s so magical about the Reading Terminal Market…there ARE a million things to try, like the crepes I had with Sly from the not-Parisian-but-still-good Profi’s Creperie.

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

Kiwi: Best froyo restroom, with a side of salted caramel pretzel

So, I recently decided to move from NYC to the Philadelphia area, heading back to my home state for some peace and quiet after four years in the concrete jungle. I look forward to exploring a new city’s restrooms, work I already started during my exploratory visits to decide if the move made sense and to find an apartment — and on those visits, I went to Kiwi Frozen Yogurt five times with MA. When I finally moved this week, the first task in my social calendar was celebrating at Kiwi with MA in Haverford (392 W. Lancaster Ave.). No better way to do it, really, except perhaps with a cheese steak from Jim’s.

MA and I would often head to Kiwi right after I jumped off the train from NYC, a 3.5-hour trek involving MTA, NJ Transit and SEPTA trains (public transit pro!), so I became familiar with Kiwi’s restroom. It’s nestled in the back of the store, behind the frozen yogurt machines and next to a green wall painted with giant slices of kiwi fruit. Inside, the restroom is sleek and feminine, with the top half of the walls painted with bold stripes in light and darker pinks, and a warm oak floor. Apparently, pink and green are the universal frozen yogurt colors (not just at Kiwi, but also at So Fun! Yogurt down the road in Wayne, and at Pinkberry, the originator of the American froyo craze). Kiwi’s take on the colors is subtler than So Fun!’s — it’s so bright lime green outside the restroom at So Fun! that you almost lose your taste for frozen yogurt.

I’ve had quite a bit of frozen yogurt in the past few years, and Kiwi is one of my favorites. I usually prefer a simple flavor — where Pinkberry shines — or fresh fruit toppings — here’s looking at you, Red Mango — but Kiwi excels at crazy flavors that actually taste delicious. I cannot get enough of salted caramel pretzel, with a side of Ghirardelli dark chocolate. Kiwi also very smartly pairs their yogurt flavors so that the center dispenser swirls out a logical concoction, like those magical Jelly Belly “recipes” printed on the inside of the box. For example, Irish mint + Ghirardelli dark chocolate = Thin Mint cookies. Genius! I’m not going to lie that I was excited that the first apartment I visited was 462 feet from the Haverford Kiwi — unfortunately, the apartment was appalling, but at least Kiwi is still only a few miles away. I already picked up a loyalty card and am one punch closer to a free serving, proof that I’m really a card-carrying Pennsylvanian now. Considering Kiwi is always packed, even at 10pm in early March, I think a lot of people love this place as much as MA and I do.

Restroom Rating: [rating=3]