Philadelphia Inquirer
A woman of true grit(s)
The former Striped Bass star works wonders with the lowly grain.
By Rick Nichols
May, 23, 2004
Inquirer Columnist

Seventy-two reservations are on the book the night I drop by Alison Barshak's fresh-faced, barn-plank-tabled cafe in Blue Bell.

It is a Wednesday, coincidentally the very night that Striped Bass, Philadelphia's centerpiece seafood restaurant, is - after a financial meltdown, new ownership, and expensive cosmetic surgery - having its eagerly awaited reopening.

A decade ago, Barshak was Striped Bass' opening chef and public face - a brassy, ginger-haired cover girl, the toast of the town.

Suffice it to say that she left in a huff, had a bit of a pratfall in her solo flight (called Venus and the Cowboy), dusted herself off, worked in New York for a while, and, a few years ago, resurfaced in one Blue Bell location and then at this big-windowed, buttermilk-walled cafe in a mini office complex done up in a country-retreat motif.

But that was then and this is now. And there is little talk (and such talk as there is is what you might describe as whimsical) of Striped Bass, save for plaudits to various fish vendors Barshak met and still uses.

That is how on this particular evening she can offer, unlike your typical suburban eatery, chile-dusted skate; early-season wild salmon; "dry" sea scallops (not the flavorless ones packed in preserving solution); and, in a lush composed salad, juicy commas of fresh crayfish.

It is the crunchy, fried manchego-suffused grits cake on which the buttermilk-and-avocado-dressed salad sits, however, that is on Barshak's mind.

That and the culinary possibilities for the rest of the 150 pounds of fresh-ground grits that - on a road trip with her boyfriend in mid-April - she bought at the 19th annual World Grits Festival in St. George, S.C., between Savannah and Charleston.

Generally speaking, grits (either white or yellow) are simply ground corn - the particular grind rendering the corn as finer cornmeal, or polenta, or the somewhat flakier Southern-style grits.

But there are grits and there are grits. The boxed, bleached, quick-cooking variety will result in a soupy, farina-looking puddle. The coarse-ground corn grits that Barshak watched farmer Roger Myers grind from the kernel at the fair are another story.

They take close to an hour to boil, and they set up firmer, chewier and slightly rougher around the edges. In other words, they have the body you might expect of a starch with your entree - say, a block of fresh, snowy halibut perfectly sauteed by sous chef Justin Hilbert and adorned with mild, garlicky ramps and slivered shiitake mushrooms ($25).

In this case, the grits have been enriched - lowly grits! - with truffle oil and truffle butter.

In the case of the seared duck breast, on the other hand, a touch of licorice-y star anise has been added. And heavy cream, a nod - though apparently unintentional - to creamy grits, a staple of South Carolina Lowcountry cookery.

Grits are the chicken of the grain world, a neutral canvas. Might a hint of vanilla jazz them up under foie gras? Could a shred of duck confit marry them better with the duck breast?

Barshak says her grits safari was a whim, a Southern getaway and a chance to sample blue-highways fare - grits with red gravy; chopped pork barbecue at a place called the Tasty Hut off I-95; roasted chicken and big corn tortillas at an only-Mexican-spoken counter.

But for a chef, every bite is a taste memory. No experience is ever wasted.

So, on the night Striped Bass is reopening, Alison Barshak is moving on - tending her mesquite grill, offering unsuburban seafood, fiddling with her stash of ground corn - showing here in Blue Bell the sort of spirit that once upon a time they called, well, grit.

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