Philadelphia Weekly

Rock the float: Chifa’s house-brewed root beer is infused with molasses, sarsaparilla, vanilla and canella.

Photo by Michael Persico

Jose Garces is the Indiana Jones of local chefs, convincingly whisking us away to exotic destinations. I’ve never been to Spain, but if I go, and it doesn’t look like Amada, I’ll be a little disappointed.

This time, Garces beckons us to come fly with him, to float down to Peru, where for centuries an entrenched Chinese immigrant community has interpreted Cantonese recipes through South American ingredients. In Lima, this cross-pollination blooms at restaurants called chifas, the inspiration for his latest adventure.

For Garces, who experimented with chifa cooking under mentor Douglas Rodriguez and later, worked up a Latin-Thai concept for Washington Square, the idea has been percolating. When 707 became available, Garces moved swiftly. A chef, Amada’s Chad Williams, was promoted; a field trip to Peru organized; small plates planned; sculptural plates from Old City’s Hudson Beach Glass ordered; red light bulbs screwed into restrooms so sexy the only things missing are a basket of Trojans and “Roxanne.”

Chifa opened in February, and Jun Aizaki’s design is gorgeous. Tropic zephyrs seem to course through the space, fluttering potted palms and floral skirts, gently spinning the gold communal table’s lazy susans. Blue-and-white calico vases cover one wall; plantation shutters and intricate tiling another.

Beaded curtains shimmy around circular booths backed by mist-shrouded Machu Picchu panoramas, and at the ceviche bar beyond, chefs slice iridescent squares from whole fish loins, embellishing them with an apothecary of pickles, gels and espumas.

Chifa’s ceviche menu is divided into tiriditos and mixtos. The former—like the bluefin tuna with coconut and cilantro tapioca (too sinewy for its $16 price tag) and the pristine hiramasa arranged like lounge chairs around a pool of vibrant pineapple nectar spiked with ginger, mint, chili, charred pineapple and “mustard air”—are more Garces’ interpretation of fish-and-citrus cocktails, while the latter are more traditional in flavor and composition. Still, the two sweet shrimp in the bright Ecuadorian (a mixto) were poached separately rather than “cooked” in the natural acid of orange, lime and tomato.

Dropping $10 to $16 per ceviche is fine, but the portions (about 2 ounces of fish) are so teeny, I’d rather spring for another $12 signature cocktail like the Lima Bean Fizz, a sprightly tonic of organic cucumber vodka, mint bitters and muddled Thai basil and lima beans. Adding 2 ounces or subtracting $2 would make a giant, positive impact.

I understand the $14 lobster noodles can only contain so much lobster, but there were just as few of the exemplary noodles made by Chinatown’s East Asian Noodle Company. The bacon-and-pea-studded rocoto pepper cream sauce was about as exciting as my server, which is to say not at all; its unbalanced richness clobbered the delicate butter-poached crustacean, and the share plates were changed so infrequently, I was still tasting it on several other, better dishes.

At other times, Chifa can be your wallet’s BFF, with savory scallion pancakes ($6) and feather-soft steamed Chinese buns filled with luscious pork belly and pickled daikon ($8). Slathered with spicy-sweet guava butter, warm pan de bono (South American yucca-flour cheese rolls) took the place of bread, but were more like a bonus appetizer.

Garces and Williams treat the Chifa Chicken like a duck—a Peking duck, that is. They poach, hang and lacquer half an air-chilled Giannone bird in molasses, soy, vinegar and spices for six hours straight. Roasted crisp and juicy, the chicken is paired with bok choy, almonds and soy consommé for one of the most flawless, flavorful roast chickens in town.

I washed this $22 bargain down with pastry chef Ann Giles’ clever root beer float; it foamed and fizzed like a science experiment when rice pudding ice cream met house-brewed root beer infused with molasses, sarsaparilla, vanilla and canella.

On a lighter note, the coconut/passion fruit quintet (mousse, meringue, sorbet, curd, noodles) tasted joyful and lively, even if its fussy presentation made it seem something to ponder rather than to eat.

But any beef I had with Chifa disappeared when the complimentary après-dessert surprise arrived: a chewy, gooey, Rice Krispie Treat topped with edible potato paper tattooed with a Chinese dragon. You’d have to be a heartless robot not to smile at that, even with a lofty check riding shotgun.