The Ugly American Review: Red, White and Bleu

For decades, Pennsport has been known for Mummers, Two Street, and corner shot-and-beer bars. But a recent influx of first-time homeowners has created a demand for a hipper haunt. The opening of Ugly American, where chef David Gilberg dishes up his freewheeling vision of contemporary American food, gives those neighbors a place to call their own. An alumnus of Matyson, Gilberg has a style that mixes Philly’s ubiquitous buy-fresh-buy-local philosophy with a decidedly French methodology and a wry sense of humor.

In fact, Gilberg initially served one of the restaurant’s signature items, the Garbage Plate, as a joke. But while the chef may have intended it as comic relief, early customers didn’t laugh, and the dish has become a mainstay. While the menu can seem unfocused, with bar classics sharing table space with more serious cuisine, dishes like the Garbage Plate show a reverence for lowbrow regional specialties that’s only half ironic.

At Nick Tahou Hots in Rochester, New York, where Gilberg grew up, the trademark Garbage Plate is a greasy pile of mass-produced carbs and gristly overcooked meat that’s suitable for drunken students only. There, the Garbage Plate starts with a starchy bed of home fries and pasta salad, to which natives add their choice of meat, chopped onions and hot sauce. Gilberg’s version stars two flavorful medium-rare beef patties over fresh pasta salad and some of the most consistently perfect french fries in Philadelphia.

Two other menu items have roots in Gilberg’s home state. Beef on Wick is the unofficial sandwich of Buffalo, New York. The dish takes its name from the kummelweck roll, a German version of the kaiser that’s studded with coarse salt and anise-scented caraway seeds. Like all desserts and baked goods at the Ugly American — including the addictive biscuits served with every meal — the wicks are made by Gilberg’s wife, Carla Goncalves. Piled high with thinly sliced roast beef, the rolls get a layer of fresh grated horseradish before being plated with fries and a side of jus. Fiery Buffalo wings round out the homage to upstate New York. Gilberg turns out a straightforward version of the bar standard, though he adds minced fresh habanero chilies to the familiar buttery sauce that coats the wings. The accompanying dip’s piquant bite comes from good Danish blue.

Much of the menu is dedicated to this kind of casual pub fare, but other dishes flaunt an unexpected French accent. Gilberg’s take on spaghetti and meatballs, a nod to the building’s old tenant, La Vigna, is a labor-intensive creation that lacks both meat and pasta. The “meatballs” are based on duxelle, the classic French preparation of finely minced mushrooms sautéed slowly for two hours with butter and shallots. Gilberg uses this concentrated, savory paste just as he would ground meat. The mushroom balls, bound with pecorino ­romano and fresh thyme, are hearty and satisfying. The illusion of pasta is created with a nest of vegetable ribbons peeled from carrots, parsnips and zucchini, and sauced with an earthy truffle cream.