Philly pretzels, with a twist

IN THIS TOWN, soft pretzels are big. Everybody knows that. The brown-paper-bag-wrapped, carbo-licious, gluten-ful treats show up in shopping carts outside our ballparks, at myriad busy intersections and near most I-95 exits. No week in a school cafeteria would be complete without pretzel day. No parade would happen without them, nor would a lunch truck open in the morning without enough to sell . . . for breakfast.

But suddenly, it seems our beloved local snack has risen above its humble status - beyond its standard size, even. Take, for example, the twisted treat at Frankford Hall, Fishtown's trendy, 2-month-old, open-air German beer garden. Its dough: Imported from a top-secret baker near Bavaria. Its measurements: 11 inches square. Its weight: 10 ounces. That's more than half a pound of pretzel, a pretzel the size of a seat cushion, a pretzel as big as a breadbox - well, almost.

How much would a snacker put up for one of these massive, just-baked, yeasty bows? Eight bucks, plus tip.

Frankford Hall owner Stephen Starr, the restaurateur who brought us the Continental and Buddakan and Morimoto and Barclay Prime and Parc and El Vez and another Continental and . . . calls his uber-pretz "the cornerstone" of his newest project. "In Philadelphia, we immediately relate to the pretzel guy standing on the corner, which connects to the German concept," he explained. Translation: Frankford Hall's big pretzel is its top seller. (The spot also offers a 5-ounce twist for five bucks.)

Here's the thing, though. These newcomer pretzels don't look much like Philly's favorite street food. Whereas our familiar twist is long, with a pair of narrow holes astride its knotted center, these loops-come-lately are heart-shaped three-holers.

They look less like Philly Soft Pretzel Factory, more like SuperPretzels or hard pretzels - you know, the kind that could chip a tooth.

Pretzel historians (yes, they exist) say this more squat shape is in line with the original pretzel, which, they claim, dates back more than a millennium to Italian monks, French monks, German bakers or possibly someone Greek. Wherever, however it arrived, the "bretzel" stuck on mostly in southern Germany and came across the Atlantic a couple of centuries ago with the Pennsylvania Dutch - who, as we all know, spoke German, not Dutch.

Some modern-day revivalist pretzel bakers are purists. They make their twist the same way they've been made for centuries. The recipe is plain, if not simple: just flour, water, yeast and, most typically, a gentle substitute for the slightly suspicious substance known as baker's lye (see sidebar) and salt.

Jessica Nolen, pastry chef at South Street's 2-year-old beer hall Brauhaus Schmitz, said that last year her kitchen rolled more than 9,000 such laugenbrezels, which makes them as big a seller as their house-made brat - and second in sales only to Germany's other specialty: beer.

Nolen adds a little malt powder to her recipe, which helps with browning and imparts some toasted sweetness. She pairs her fresh-from-the-oven pretz with sweet Bavarian mustard, spicy German mustard and thinly sliced daikon radish. Cost: Three bucks.

Over at the 4-month-old Farmers' Cabinet, the warm, just-baked pretzel is plump, rich and delivered on a rustic-chic slate slab. It comes with two mustards: sweet lingonberry and smoky rauchbier (that's a smoked German beer). How much? Five dollars.

In University City, MidAtlantic actually makes its own mustards (Dijon and barley), along with a creamy rarebit fondue to go with its Bavarian-style braid, which costs $9 - $4 with mustards only at happy hour.

Not all these pretzel-making newbies are doing the twist. Some snazzier bars and lounges just roll out dough, slice and bake - and serve up nuggets by the basket. At the swanky lounge at the Ritz-Carlton, former "Top Chef" contestant Jen Carroll tosses her soft-pretzel bites in brown butter and serves them with three dips: cream cheese, Dijon mustard and a béchamel sauce she describes as "an homage to Cheese Whiz."

About 15 to an order, they'll set you back eight bucks, five at the Ritz-Carlton's daily happy hour.

The menu at South Street's Supper refers to its irresistible sea-salted nugs (four for $5) as "hors d'oeuvres." Fishtown's Kraftwork delivers theirs by the dozen ($6) with a PBR-cheese fondue.

Kraftwork chef Brian Lofink described his softies as "a crisp exterior and soft inside, real nice and smooshy - with a little bit of chew." Maybe these new pretzels aren't so new after all.

GRAPHIC: The best in "real" Philly soft pretzels -- a taste-test.