The scene is all too familiar: you and your friends have decided to eat downtown. Violent arguments begin to ensue as you decide between one of the 89 Steven Starr restaurants in Philadelphia. Finally, you think to yourself, "For the love of God, why isn't there a place that's reminiscent of 1920s Paris in this damn city?" Well my friend, pine no further -- Caribou Caf‚ is the answer to this all-too-frequent prayer.
It's tough to describe the ambiance at Caribou, but it definitely holds a certain je ne sais quoi. Giant vintage French posters hang above the well-stocked bar (read: tons of wine). Initially, these colorful advertisements for Cognac Monnet and Puccini's La BohŠme look as though they've been stolen from some metrosexual's bedroom. But in the end, they undoubtedly add to the caf‚'s swanky feel. Soft, big-band standards play in the background, creating the illusion that you'll soon be strolling down the Champs-Elys‚es, as opposed to um ...Walnut.
I hit this place up for brunch, but I should have opted for dinner. Caribou Caf‚ offers a prix-fixed menu ($29), entitled the Tour de France Gastronomique (think of it as eating your way through the country for 29 bucks ... remember, lots of wine). The menu changes often, each time focusing on a different region of France. Snails and frog legs aren't your bag, baby? No worries -- the Caribou burger is fantastic.
If it's not already unmistakably clear, you need to break away from Alma de Cuba and go to this place. The staff is incredibly polite (surprising for a place that serves frog legs), and the food is amazing. However, a brief word to the wise: don't try speaking French to your waitress unless you want to feel like a grade-A jackass -- most of the staff hails from behind the Iron Curtain.
