Below are your search results. You can also try a Basic Search.
Sandwiched between Fresh Grocer’s alcohol and produce sections is a hot bar that offers prepared food at fairly reasonable prices. In the spirit of taking one for the team, I tried a a few options to determine the good, the bad, and the ugly. Here’s how it went.
Walking into Green Soul on a Thursday night, the first thing we notice is how rustically modern it is. It reminds me of a repurposed log cabin—with high, slanted wood ceilings, floor–to–ceiling windows, ivory–washed walls, and dining and bar areas dimly illuminated by string lights and hanging bulbs. There’s greenery and hardwood accents all around us. Jazz piano softly accompanies the murmurs of conversations in the packed seating area.
Everything about Hardena screams cozy. The outside of the Indonesian South Philly Restaurant is not much, but inside, the atmosphere is warm, compact, and well–furnished. The whole restaurant has a reddish hue, with a few tables and many chairs, and even a faux food cart front to order at.
Before coming to college, I could confidently prepare three kinds of food for myself: pasta, sautéed vegetables, and smoothies. During high school, I felt like this was more than enough to sustain me for the rest of my life. If not, I used to tell my mom that I hoped I’d make enough money to have a personal chef. I never wanted to prepare, cook, or clean up meals. Oh, how the times have changed.
If you’re looking to take a step off campus, the Italian market is a guaranteed fresh food adventure. Here are some of the best locales, restaurants, and stores that this glorious place has to offer.
At the Italian Market in Center City, Koukouzeli beckons with its modest design, boasting its menu on a blue and white exterior. Inside, you’ll find a rustic ambiance and a cozy restaurant, perfect for a quiet dinner date with your significant other.
Even on a Monday night, Libertine is packed.
P’unk Burger in East Passyunk is organic, cash–only, and BYOB in two ways: both Bring Your Own Bottle, and Build Your Own Burger.
I think I’m in love. His name is Earl, and we’ve been together for about eight months now. He’s always there for me. He takes me as I am even when I’m strung out on another man. In fact, he’s sitting alongside me as I write this. Sometimes we meet in cafes just far enough off campus that we don’t run into any unwanted familiar faces. In the warmer months, we savor long afternoons together in the courtyard of museums on the Parkway. But these days, our rendezvous tend to occur around midnight on the first floor of the Van Pelt Library, at those long tables by the big open windows. Appearing to me through a metallic purple vessel, Earl brings me a romantic solace, gently keeping me awake through the most distressing of lab reports with a soft and mild dose of caffeine. Yes, I’m talking about Earl Grey tea.
Since 1884, P.J. Clarke’s has been all about fresh food and good conversation.
It's Tuesday at 8 p.m., and Rosy’s Taco Bar is almost packed. Couples and small groups huddle around elevated tables or seat perched at the bar, deep in conversation. With its dark, candlelit, intimate, and industrial ambiance, going to Rosy’s feels like a last minute date with an intriguing stranger. The exterior appears deceptively low–key, a plain grey building tucked at the corner of 22nd and Walnut. Meanwhile the interior is surprisingly long and spacious, boasting floor–to–ceiling windows, a fully stocked bar, and an impressive array of hot sauces displayed proudly at the entrance.
The bright decor of Tony's Famous Tomato Pie pulled me in as an escape from the cold outdoors. I immediately felt as though I had been transported to a pit stop in the Midwest. Locals surrounded the bar—laughing while throwing back beer from the tap. The walls were covered in posters and exposed brick, and neon signs screamed "home–style bar". The hostess greeted us with a beaming smile, bringing over classic red plastic Coca–Cola cups. The vibe felt homey—we could have spent many hours there and not have even noticed.
Crisp sourdough bread, kale, and roasted mushrooms flavored with black garlic vinegar and pickled mustard seed. Soft–shelled cavatelli pasta made with parsley cream cheese and tossed with skillet–seared eggplant. Warm slices of olive oil cake garnished with fresh figs, with a side of fior di latte gelato that adds a pure, sweet aftertaste.
In the Comcast Technology Center at 8 a.m., the energy is palpable. People dressed in business attire are already sitting in the café and the high–top seating area with open laptops. The decor is sleek. White leather, light–colored wood and a backdrop of towering trees complement the natural lighting and high ceilings.
As a Philly native, I can attest that Philly just feels like a pickle kinda town. Briny, acidic, polarizing, and definitely the underdog of meal sides—pickles are much like our city in the sense that not everyone likes them, the ones who do like them a lot, and those who don’t, frankly, just don’t have good taste. That being said, pickles these days aren’t just limited to the deli dill variety (made out of cucumber) that you know and love. Chances are, if it’s some kind of naturally–occurring food product, you can pickle it.
Out come the jelly beans. Two tiny glass bowls filled to the rim with colorful sugary candies. This is how I know the meal is coming to an end.
Get 34th Street's newsletter, The Toast, delivered to your inbox every Friday morning.
Newsletters