Get FREE email communications from Fodor's Travel, covering must-see travel destinations, expert trip planning advice, and travel inspiration to fuel your passion.
Sorry! We don't have any recommendations for Philadelphia right now.
Welcome to the third wave of Philadelphia dining, an era in which locals are more likely to chat you up about their favorite chorizo tacos, wild-yeasted ales, or tasting menu than anything cheesesteak. Yes, the famous sandwich is still around (eat one if you must) but is slowly losing traction to its distant cousin, the roast pork. This is the Philly sandwich to try, be it a traditional rendition at John’s or DiNic’s in Reading Terminal Market or a new-school take, like the one topped with lacto-fermented broccoli rabe at High Street on Market.
Speaking of Old City’s High Street, its chef/partner, Eli Kulp, represents a group of Philadelphia chefs that has had a massive impact on the dining scene in the last few years: the ex–New Yorkers. Like Kulp, Peter Serpico of Serpico, Eli Collins of Pub and Kitchen, Greg Vernick of Vernick Food & Drink and other talented former 212-ers have shifted their careers here from some of NYC’s finest kitchens and restaurant groups. Even in East Passyunk and Fishtown, white-hot neighborhoods that are dethroning Center City as Philly’s dining nucleus, inflated rents are bargains compared to those in the Big Apple.
The recent influx of out-of-town chefs complements Philly’s homegrown talent. This has always been a scene that has fostered and supported its own, and the last several years have seen young chefs rising through the kitchens of Stephen Starr, Marc Vetri, and Georges Perrier and going on to debut compelling, idiosyncratic, solo projects. Like Pierre Calmels, who left the storied (now closed) Le Bec-Fin to open tiny Bibou in Bella Vista, and his LBF successor, Nicholas Elmi, who won Top Chef after opening Laurel on East Passyunk. (To give you an idea of the depth of talent in the 215, Elmi is the second Philly chef to win Top Chef.) And then there’s Michael Solomonov, a former Vetri capo who went on to found Zahav, the restaurant that ignited America’s passion for Israeli cuisine, and win a James Beard Award. Solo (as he’s affectionately known here) is in conscientious empire-building mode with longtime business partner, Steve Cook, and mentoring a new generation of young chefs. You can still catch him working the bread station at Zahav most nights, between annual research trips to Israel and surfing breaks at the Jersey Shore.
The Israeli, Iraqi, Turkish, and Yemenite recipes on the menu at Zahav are just a handful of the cuisines represented in this multiethnic town. Philadelphia has a long history as a city of immigrants, from Western Europeans in the early 20th century to the Vietnamese, Mexicans, and Africans of today. Chinatown reigns as the city’s hub of hand-pulled noodles, breakneck dim sum, and siphon coffee before it was cool, while Middle Eastern, Ethiopian, and Senegalese hideaways occupy tree-lined storefronts and old banks in West Philly. Vietnamese pho halls and bakeries congregate along Washington Avenue in South Philly, also home to the city’s vibrant Mexican population. In the Italian Market, many of the old businesses have given way to industrious taquerias. You can follow the trail of fresh-pressed tortilla crumbs from Bella Vista down into East Passyunk, a hood where it’s not uncommon to hear Spanish, Vietnamese, and five different dialects of Italian just walking down the street.
When the Reading Company opened its train shed in 1892, it was the only one in the country with a market tucked away in its cellar. The trains are long gone, but the food remains. And while disagreeing over the best cheesesteak is a popular pastime in Philly, pretty much everyone can agree on pancakes at the Dutch Eating Place, the roast pork sandwich at DiNic's, whoopie pies at the Flying Monkey, and double chocolate-chip cookies at Famous 4th Street. Recent years have seen worthy newcomers to the entrenched mix: German deli Wursthaus Schmitz, Valley Shepherd Creamery's grilled cheese counter, and La Divisa Meats, for example. Get here early to beat the lunch rush. Seventy-five-minute tours every Wednesday and Saturday highlight the market's history and offerings (call 215/545–8007 to make a reservation).
When you're ready for an atmospheric break, stop by Anthony's Italian Coffee House in the heart of the Italian Market. Here, to the strains of Frank Sinatra, you can sample a fresh panino with prosciutto and mozzarella or indulge in homemade cannoli or gelato imported from Italy.
Enjoy your espresso on the umbrella-covered 9th Street patio when weather permits.
Converted from a private club with blacked-out windows, this Dublin-style pub has been packing them in for rivers of Irish draft and kitchen specialties. Guinness-battered fish-and-chips could have been produced on the "auld sod," and the malt vinegar to sprinkle over it all does little to dampen the crisp crust. The first-floor bar is noisy and spirited—show up before happy hour to snag a seat—but the mood gets a bit quieter as you climb the steps to the dining room or walk downstairs to the basement bar.
It's all about the ice cream, hot fudge, and homemade whipped cream. They scoop Bassetts ice cream and make fabulous sundaes, but the bakery is pretty standard.
At the far eastern end of the Parkway sits this small café, a glass-enclosed pavilion that offers good views of City Hall. On the menu are a range of good hot and cold coffee-based drinks, along with breakfast items, pastries, and familiar sandwiches and salads; you can also have a cocktail, beer, or wine at the little bar or at your table. It closes by 7 or 8 pm.
This two-level gourmet shop has a dazzling array of prepared foods, mouthwatering pastries, and creamy gelato. Sampling the wares can make for a good snack, but if you require something more substantial, head to the recently redone café upstairs.
Geno’s, open since 1966, is a fresh-faced upstart compared to neighboring rival Pat’s, which has been slinging steaks since 1930. That gulf manifests itself visually in the contrast between Pat's understated aesthetic and Geno's over-the-top use of neon, which burns so brightly astronauts can probably see it from space, and the fact that Geno's meat is sliced, not chopped. Some aficionados claim that the two serve wildly dissimilar products; others just don't get it, but it's always fun to taste-test, as the buses full of tourists who frequently make their way down this way can attest.
This Philadelphia institution was founded on the principle of artisanal baking, which explains why its loaves have such an intense flavor and crackly crust. Stop here for a round of cracked wheat or multigrain or for a small treat such as a chocolatey cookie or lemon bar. The bakery also lends its dough-making techniques to a menu of fresh pizzas topped with fresh veggies, meats, and herbs, available at its adjacent Metropolitan Pizza and Cafe.
If the rumors are true, and Philadelphians do drink more Belgian beer than Belgians do, then it's because of the owners of Monk's, the seminal café with a pipeline of sours, dubbels, and saisons straight from the motherland. Whether steamed in classic style with white wine and shallots or with cream, mussels are a high point at Monk's and the fries that accompany them draw raves from the regulars who crowd the place.
New cheesesteak restaurants come and go, but two of the oldest—Pat's and Geno's, at 9th and Passyunk—have a long-standing feud worth weighing in on. It comes down to a matter of taste, as both serve equally generous portions of rib-eye steak, grilled onions, and melted provolone, American, or Cheez Whiz on freshly baked Italian rolls. The main differences, as far as we can tell: Pat's meat is chopped, and its shop’s exterior is a bit more understated than Geno's neon extravaganza.
For a pan-Asian fix, grab a stool at the sushi bar at the futuristic Pod, where you can select your favorite raw fish from a conveyor belt.
The Shops at Liberty Place house a large food court on the second level, above the retail stores. You can find anything from salad to burritos to those familiar Philly cheesesteaks.
Tria's brown interior and minimalist signage give off a wallflower vibe, but the tables packed with chic urbanites grazing lightly contradict its inner beauty. The knowledgeable staff is serious about the restaurant's focus—the "fermentation trio" of wine, cheese, and beer—but not in a snobby way. They'll casually toss off suggestions for a cheese plate that's a phenomenal medley of textures and flavors. Then they'll recommend a zippy white wine that sets it off perfectly. The café has gotten so popular, it's multiplied several times with locations on Spruce and Walnut Streets.
Sign up for Travel Tips & News
Thank you for your interest!
