The day went from a blast of premature spring sun to the whipping in of wind; mid-afternoon, spur of the moment, we called one of the Philadelphia area's hottest restaurants and asked if they might have room for two. Yes, as a matter of fact, they did, thanks to a last-minute cancellation.
And so we drove down 476 and over the bridge and into Conshohocken to
Blackfish. Oh. My. Goodness. We are Top Chef watchers, Anthony Bourdain fans, cookbook collectors, studiers, attempters. We are only now, at the age that we've become, beginning to explore, very infrequently, this kind of actual (as opposed to virtual) restaurant dining.
I have never (never) had a meal like I had last night—a baby arugula/English cucumber/cherry belle radish salad; striped bass with golden raisins and pink peppercorn vierge; and vanilla creme brulee. So perfectly light, so perfectly finished, so utterly satisfying.
Philadelphia Magazine has just named Blackfish the area's top restaurant. Number
one. No wonder.
Published on February 19, 2011 04:44