Philadelphia Weekly

Five weeks. In the time it takes normal humans to buy a new car or assemble something from IKEA, David Garry and Heather Gleason opened a pub. Sure, it helped their plot on the Piazza at Schmidts was already secured; that the zoning was already in place; that a design concept was already planned. But still, five weeks … 


Fortunately, Garry and Gleason are not amateurs. The couple owns and runs Good Dog, the Center City public house with the burger whose mere mention gets aficionados all Pavlovian. They put their expertise to work, planning the menu with longtime Good Dog chef Jessica O’Donnell, tweaking the design (Garry added a sweet dart room), hiring staff and lining up local brewers to supply the 10 taps—all before the scheduled May premiere. Garry and Gleason called the pub Swift Half, after the British term for that last gulp of beer slugged down on your way out of the bar, though the name could have just as easily symbolized the speed at which they got this place up and running.


Five weeks. But the night I popped in for a pint, it didn’t feel like a place put up so quickly. 


It was one of those rare humidity-free summer evenings. Late sun on the Piazza’s arch-shaped pavers. Fightin’s on the giant Daktroniks LED. A crisp, golden, utterly refreshing Sunshine Pils in my hand, with Duchesse de Bourgogne close behind. In reality, the Piazza is no more like its inspiration, Rome’s Piazza Navona, than Vegas’ Venetian is like Venice, but at that moment at least, the alluring, sun-drenched square had the semblance of an authentic urban center.


With a ready-made restaurant space and built-in customer base, Garry and Gleason could have opened a Good Dog clone. Instead, Swift Half is its own animal, with chef O’Donnell and chef de cuisine Jeff Kozlowski doing a menu that comes off more restaurant-y than its older sibling’s. It’s still casual, though; the warm butcher-block tables, relaxed staff and low prices see to that.


As at Good Dog, the Swift Half menu hinges on the almighty presence of a great burger. The beef is the same at both gastropubs: an 80/20 sirloin blend that cooked up pink and implausibly juicy. The cheese selection is luxe (Boucheron, Sardinian Pecorino, etc.); slabs of Stilton sat on my burger like slabs of Carrera marble with fine indigo veining. It melted slow, mingling with the toppings on its descent, depositing drops of smoky bacon and beef fats into the slightly sweet, sponge-like Wildflour brioche bun. If all that sounds a bit rich, there was also a piece of bibb lettuce and some tomato.


O’Donnell cures some excellent duck prosciutto for the charcuterie plate and one heaping green arugula salad inlaid with sweet braised figs and succulent house-smoked almonds. It was a Jurassic Park mountain of a salad, with feathery ribbons of the rich, salty prosciutto like downed purple parachutes all over top. On the soup front, there was a sunset-hued carrot bisque with depth of flavor beyond its shallow bowl and texture so light it seemed aerated.


It was a great start—surprisingly tight and finessed for a kitchen that only had a few days training before grand opening. But that time crunch would soon show itself in a rack of ribs overly slathered in Oaxacan mole sauce. I might not have minded if it was a particularly distinctive mole, but despite all the right ingredients (chocolate, cumin, chipotle, clove, coriander), the dark salsa tasted muddy and clumsy. Perhaps more cooking time was needed for the flavors to get to know each other better. The accompanying plantain crisps weren’t, and the jicama slaw was wet enough to be mistaken for paper mache.


Desserts weren’t much better. The tangy, tropical passion fruit “fairy cake” was the lone bright spot in a trio of impish cupcakes supplied by Wildflour. Beneath a frosted cream cheese bouffant, the red velvet lacked freshness. So did the ganache-iced Black Forest, and both were served so cold my knife mistook them for meatloaf. 


Kozlowski’s fudge board also arrived at morgue-like temperature. Sorry to say the crusty-edged blocks of chocolate-almond, vanilla and chocolate pistachio were all either too brick-like or too sugary to enjoy.


Five weeks. It would be unfair to expect miracles. Swift Half has already expanded its menu, and I’m already plotting a return. If all else fails, I know the burger’s got my back. ■

Swift Half


Piazza at Schmidts, 1001 N. Second St. 215.923.4600. swifthalfpub.com


Cuisine: Gastropub


Hours: Daily, 11:30am-2am. 


Prices: $3-$24


Atmosphere: Handsome pub with masculine swagger of natural wood and red leather.


Service: Casual.


Food: More than just a burger—but do get the burger.