Django is very in-demand right now, and one hears all sorts of horror stories about how long it takes to get a table. The first time, it took me a month. The next time, it took me about 15 minutes. In any case, once you get there, prepare to spend a while longer deliberating over the menu, which is a cornucopia of promise.
The first appetizer to scream out was an organic mushroom risotto with walnut oil and pecorino cheese ($11). It was not really a risotto per se, lacking in arborio rice and the usual creaminess. But it more than compensated with the silky intensity that simmering things in walnut oil tends to yield. A crab and shrimp cake with butternut squash salad and tarragon shrimp emulsion ($12) was still quivering with the briney freshness of the shellfish, but had little else going for it.
The two real gems were a goat cheese gnocchi with slow-cooked pork shank and mustard glacage ($11), and a foie gras and pancetta stuffed quail ($15). The goat cheese was fantastically fresh amidst the gnocchi and caramelized onions, and generously grated on top, effectively acting as two different flavors. And the foie gras was bursting out of the quail like the unfortunate goose that bore it. It percolated every morsel of the bird, ironically bringing its gaminess to life.
When it came to the main courses, the best by far was a pork loin with pork confit ($26), unabashed in its pigginess, and accompanied by a fantastic spaetzle saute. Unfortunately, many of the entrees lacked the ingenuity and intensity of the appetizers. The octopus orecchiette ragu with chorizo sausage ($24) was dubiously al dente, and the octopus was a non-entity. Perhaps they accidentally boiled the octopus and ceviche-d the pasta. The roasted tilefish with chickpea puree and bruschetta was no better than one of Starr's trite offerings ($26). The dish seemed to have been haphazardly and arbitrarily thrown together.
The farcically uneventful cheese plate ($13) compounded my chagrin. Our waitress explained that the cheeses were arranged clockwise in order of increasing strength, which was fallacious, but would have been less troubling had they not all been so boring.
If you feel any disappointment going into dessert, it will soon be swept aside. Though mint and chocolate in tandem do not usually agree with me, the peppermint-patty profiteroles ($7) seduced me nonetheless. And the chocolate terrine ($7) is easily the best dessert in Philly. Usually accoutrements like nougat and ice cream are needed to subdue the stern richness of a terrine, but here the chocolate has none of stodginess associated with its luxuriance. The chevre cheesecake with blueberry compote ($7) was the most curious, as the taste of goatsmilk is initially undetectable. The adventurous will be enchanted by its eventual emergence, yet cheesecake purists will not be offended.
Django is a great experience overall, and patently deserves its reputation as Philly's best BYO. It is extremely small, but doesn't feel compressed, and the service is brilliant. Also, don't listen to the rumors -- very little has changed under the new ownership (they daren't tamper with the terrine.) The impeccably innovative starters and desserts will make your meal and your month by themselves.
