Philadelphia Weekly

Triumph Brewing Company
117-121 Chestnut St. 215.625.0855. www.triumphbrewing.com
Cuisine: American.
Hours: 11:30-2am.
Prices: $5-$16.50.
Sound advice: Controlled to loud.
Atmosphere: Cozy, casual, minimalist, stunning.
Service: Knowledgeable, friendly, accommodating.
Food: Shared, scrumptious.

Real talk: Pennsylvania beer laws blow. It's 2007, guys. Other states are laughing at us. Texas has drive-through beer barns. Same goes for Georgia. In Louisiana you can buy beer at your child's daycare upon scooping them up after work. Can't we just apologize for whatever demented Dutch puritanical wickedness brought this on in the first place, kick off our shoes, pop a cold one and call it a day already?

What are we, Utah?

That you can't pop in for an Anchor Steam sixer at Sunoco while filling up is insane. A quick jaunt to the Super Fresh for the wife's lady things should be rewarded with the chance to pick up a crate of Theakston Old Peculier. Beer distributors are nice, but any brew worth its weight in hops will run you about what it costs for minor noninvasive surgery. Ditto bar takeout. The result: thousands upon thousands of Philadelphians convincing themselves Schmidt's doesn't taste so bad.

Drink enough swill and you might forget that making good beer is a time-honored tradition practiced by skilled artisans--craftsmen with a studied passion for barley, wheat and hops. Not to worry: A trip to Triumph Brewery--the newly opened brew-pub/gastro-heaven in Old City--is all the reminder one needs.

The bartenders at Triumph love beer. Consequently, they love their jobs. They're happy to talk you through the myriad beer choices Triumph has to offer (all brewed in-house, naturally). Watching a bartender pour a pint topped with a dense, sexy head heaping a couple inches above the rim is a pleasure.

That same glass is wash-rinsed by a space-age jet stream contraption to get rid of "any remaining trace of soap residue" that might exist after a trip to the dishwasher to ensure "soap molecules don't disrupt the head from forming as nicely as it should."

They really talk like that at Triumph. That might sound annoying. It's not. It acts as a deterrent, keeping those happy to drink Michelob Ultra at bay, a point illustrated by the following bartender anecdote: "One night a guy walked in, moseyed up to the bar and ordered six Miller Lites and six shots of J�ger for his party. I had to tell him we don't serve either. He walked out."

See.

Not one beer here--not the saison, maibock, dunkel, or amber--misses its mark. And sampling all of Triumph's wares is strongly encouraged by a staff that won't be happy until you find the one that sits well with even the most finicky of palates.

But enough about the beer. Let's talk food.

Much of the grub is meant to be shared; four or more portions of each entree are spaced out on rectanglular dishes and easily scooped onto your individual plate.

We'll start with the dud: Seared shrimp and scallops are served with an overly tart marmalade. Seafood and marmalade? The combo is as odd as you might expect, but it serves to illuminate the beauty of eating in the a-little-for-everyone style Triumph employs. Dine with enough people here, and someone will surely like whatever it is you're not that jazzed about.

Take the yellowfin tataki. Served with fried capers, cucumber and garlic chips, I found the tiny bits of should-be-rarer tuna a bit rubbery. Two at my table didn't mind, and sopped the dry fish up with bits of gazpacho emulsion planted around the plate while I moved on to something I enjoyed.

Like the portobello fries--thick planks of portobello mushroom breaded and fried to golden perfection. The fontina-crusted veal medallions are a moist delight, sitting on a cloud of silky potato mash and spinach that's been sauteed to perfection (one of cooking's most overlooked and difficult techniques).

Grilled lamb chops sit atop the same mashed potatoes, each serving accompanied with a healthy tree of broccoli that hides a robust marsala-like sauce in its top. It's delicious enough to make us forget the menu advertises the dish being served with completely different sides (Italian butter beans, pesto and candied olives).

Crispy, oh-so-delicate, thinly shaved frizzled onions come to the table in a paper cone and are quickly ravaged. Short-rib ravioli swimming in an earthy mushroom broth, proudly wearing thin ribbons of parmigiano reggiano, are stabbed at with vigor--the ripped shreds of meat which stuff the pasta are about as good as I've ever tasted. The salad has heaping helpings of sherry vinaigrette-dressed watercress layered carefully into hearty leaves of endive.

Nothing much disappoints at Triumph. If it does, so what? On to the next thing. The staff are knowledgeable and accommodating. The beer is fantastic. The food is remarkable. Oh, man. I didn't even get to the stunning, sturdy, unaffected, modern industrial decor.