Taste: Reviews: Bar Harbors
Ben McNamara is back at the New Wave, but his food, as we know it, hasn’t fully arrived. His first tour of duty, from 2000 to 2003, took this no-frills Queen Village sports bar to a new level, introducing escargots and roasted quail to a venue previously known for quesadillas. The New Wave was at the forefront of the ambitious bar-food trend, though certainly there was nothing about the room to suggest serious food: The barside was (and still is) decorated with autographed sports jerseys and photos, the restaurant side with autographed rock-’n’-roll albums. McNamara left for the Dark Horse pub in Society Hill, returning to the New Wave fold in August. When I made my first review visit, he’d been on duty for six weeks, but I sensed a work-in-progress. Certain dishes weren’t available, our orders were hit-or-miss, some wines weren’t available, and the Guinness tap was on the fritz. Later, when I called to interview him, McNamara volunteered that some things needed fixing, even before I asked. Inconsistent execution was the biggest problem I found during this transition period, partly because McNamara has been leaving in the early evening after a day of baking and prep work.
Like Peter Dunmire at N. 3rd, McNamara has a white-tablecloth background, but he doesn’t mind working in a spot with multiple TVs and a pool table. He’s cooked around a bit, at the Dickens Inn, the Garden, the Monte Carlo Living Room, and at his own restaurant, Isabella’s, in Northeast Philadelphia. Some well-loved dishes from Isabella’s menu are still with us, while others are not. The Isabella’s salad is here, a big bouquet of spring mix attractively encircled with wide ribbons of roasted red pepper and sautéed portabella mushrooms, topped with a round of pine-nut-studded goat cheese. The quail with mushroom and chorizo stuffing is history, because hardly anyone ordered it. The elegant escargot appetizer remains, an arrangement of tender snails around sautéed spinach and delicate puff pastry filled with mushroom duxelle, but the Pernod-accented lemon sauce wasn’t the least bit warm. The braised lamb leg, one of the better dishes of McNamara’s early fall menu, has been replaced by a Provençal-style rack of lamb with garlic, Dijon and herbed bread crumbs; the steak frites has been ousted by a tiny, tasty six-ounce filet mignon stuffed with herbed goat cheese, served with green peppercorn sauce and mashed potatoes. Halibut arrived dry and underseasoned, and its platter-size plate made the small portion look even punier. On another evening, the Peking duck was so dry it was inedible, and accompanied by a cassis rosemary sauce with the consistency of syrup.
McNamara ultimately hopes to de-emphasize sandwiches and commonplace items, such as the Caesar salad, to give the New Wave a stronger fine-dining identity, though the come-as-you-are vibe won’t change.
I hope he doesn’t jettison the marvelous burger and its many topping options, but the open-face chicken cheesesteak needs a serious tweaking. On mine, the wine-braised chicken was dry, the brie had melted away to nothing, and the toasted baguette base was burned. He’s keeping the fried calamari, which is cut too thin and fried too dark for my taste.
McNamara began his career as a baker and a pastry chef, and he continues to make all the desserts. The kitchen did him no favor by burning the top of a reheated apple crisp, which I wouldn’t have liked anyway because it was mushy and overpowered by cinnamon. His Key lime pie is rather sweet. The
chocolate-glazed cheesecake and the fudge-like flourless chocolate cake are outstanding.
New Wave is a fun, friendly bar with a talented chef. It’s not nearly as good as it was five years ago. McNamara will have to spend more time on the premises and tune up his band in the kitchen to set things right again.
