Philadelphia Weekly

Never mind the mollusks: Scallops with black truffle and pistachio vinaigrette is one of the few carryovers from Pearl’s menu

Photo by Michael Persico

The Delano or the Shore Club? Maybe the Sagamore, where he’s always wanted to stay? And did she check out the newly renovated Fontainbleu while she was down there? He heard it’s ridiculous.

For Philadelphians debating where to stay in South Beach, there’s no better place to talk it over than Akoya, where patrons are surrounded by zebrawood and vanilla suede, color-changing ceilings and floating fireplaces. Christ, looking around, you could be in South Beach right now. Or in Superman’s Arctic hermitage.

But at the moment, with only a few less-than-sexy stragglers dining, the reincarnation of Pearl’s first-floor restaurant seems to be a party nobody bothered to show up for. DAS’ design—cool, white, minimalist—has the good looks and lack of personality of some girls I’ve dated, and an overall aesthetic that, despite the owners’ recent rebranding efforts, still communicates “nightclub” instead of “restaurant.” Ari Weiswasser, the original chef here, left in November because of that lack of distinction.

Fast forward to the present day, and Weiswasser’s sous chef, Greg Garbacz, is now in charge. The menu, the name and the dynamics of the ownership have changed. The Steins—bros Sean and Scott and father, David—and Brett Perloff still own Pearl, but the latter is off doing his own thing with the upcoming Strongbox, surprisingly not a lesbian S&M dungeon but an intimate lounge reportedly so exclusive it may make Pearl look like Finnegan’s Wake.

For now, though, Pearl is still a nightspot. Upstairs is all bottle service and velvet ropes, while downstairs Akoya is after your dollars in a much less aggressive fashion. A few dishes—like the elegant scallops posed over forbidden rice and topped with black truffle and pistachio vinaigrette—are carryovers from Weiswasser’s term, but the playful new small plates are all Garbacz’s doing, part of a conscious move to make Akoya more approachable and affordable.

Buttery miso-glazed pork belly kebabs were perfection for only $7. Tender short rib sliders (braised in pho paste) were a $12 trip to Vietnam. Indonesian- style spare ribs cured in-house and tossed in vibrant kecap manis ’cue sauce: not so bad for $10—especially considering the accompanying mound of soulful, sweet soy baked beans mined with scraps of char sui pork. That East/West harmony blended so seamlessly, calling it fusion would be an insult.

With similar Asian flavors and dedicated tempura and yakitori sections, Akoya’s menu comes a little too close for comfort to Michael Schulson’s at Izakaya. But looking past that, Garbacz delivers better food—and the staff better service—than you’d ever expect in such swank surroundings.

Silver spoons were appropriate vehicles for glossy cut rubies of raw ahi enlivened by lime, shiso and a crispy bow of red onion. (All you chefs still making tuna tartare with sesame oil and wasabi, please take a page from the man at Akoya. Dude has made a done-to-death dish relevant again—for $8.)

Garbacz does struggle on occasion, not with flavors but with execution. I’m thinking of the purple Okinawa sweet potato chips, like a pile of nouveau sour cream-and-onions with their side of cool truffled crème fraiche speckled with chives. Delicious, but served cold.

And the button mushroom and fresh mozzarella tempura is suitably airy—clever Garbacz uses NO2 canisters to chill his batter—but not so golden. Even those scallops, wonderful as they were, could have done with a little more caramelization on each side.

This theme carried through to dessert. I loved the four-layer chocolate cake—kissed by bright, sweet-and-tart mango-yuzu puree—for its restrained sweetness. But its sidecar of bacon ice cream was full of fine ice crystals, a telltale sign of age or improper storage.

I don’t ever want to have another sundae without the nutty, salty miso-peanut butter sauce Garbacz spoons in thick, shiny ribbons over his whimsical dessert “maki.” Too bad the vanilla ice cream center melted quickly away from the chocolate chip cookie dough wrap like a little kid’s snowman on a warm day.

Including tip, everything you see mentioned above totaled only $100. We didn’t booze, nor did the poised, professional waiter ever inquire if we wanted anything to drink besides the compulsory still, sparkling or tap. Accident or not? Upstairs, the $1,000 champagne flows, but at Akoya, it’s all about the food.