Treemont mystery: Good food, few eaters

If the Treemont cures a really excellent piece of cobia and no one is around to eat it, is it delicious?

I highly doubt that Chip Roman - a man of significant culinary talent but simple pleasures such as fishing and Miller High Life - ever pondered such deep philosophical conundrums. At least not before diving into his first venture in Center City. After all, the 35-year-old has managed to find unlikely success with serious restaurants in Conshohocken (Blackfish), Chestnut Hill (Mica), Queen Village (Ela, with partner-chef Jason Cichonski), and even the Costa Rican rain forest, where he oversees two venues at the Arenas del Mar resort.

If you've enjoyed Roman's food at any of these, you will likely enjoy the pretty modern plates being served at the Treemont by Rob Sidor, a Blackfish veteran who also cooked at Gayle and Rae. There's a vivid orange essence of earthy-sweet carrot gazpacho, dappled with green cilantro oil as it swirls from a server's carafe onto a precious still-life of snap peas and borage leaves inside the bowl. There are warm, crispy cubes of creamy-centered chickpea fritters served with a tangy pepper relish and a cuminy dip of spiced yogurt.

And there is all manner of cured seafood crudo to nibble, most notably those slices of cobia, whose firm white flesh is perfumed with aromatic vadouvan curry spice before a crimson splash of dashi broth infused with sweet beets washes in.

So - where are the hordes of Center City eaters to delight in such gastronomic pleasures? I pondered this during recent visits, when prime-time diners could be counted on two hands. There are even warm buckwheat cakes with honey-sweet ancho butter, for goodness sakes.

It's possible they've found the menu not quite as consistent as it should be (details to come). Or perhaps they're put off by the handsome but oddly vertical space, with one small wood-clad dining room stacked atop a small bar and dining area, feeling as cloistered from the street as a tree house. Maybe there are just too many choices competing for attention.

Those are all likely factors. But the prime reason is a matter of unfortunate location, which may seem strange since 15th Street appears to be at the heart of restaurant-rich Center City. In reality, it's very much a no-man's-land for dining. Wedged between the residential neighborhood of Rittenhouse to the west, the faded glory of Walnut Street's Restaurant Row to the north, and the touristic theater district of Broad Street to the east, 15th Street has become largely the domain of chains and sports bars, with the Good Dog Bar and Jose Pistolas the only worthy draws.

Add the giant construction site at 15th and Walnut, now a hole where a Cheesecake Factory will one day rise (oh boy!), and the Treemont's foot traffic has dwindled to near zero, with so much construction dust it's been unable to open its welcoming cafe windows.

"It feels like they've been digging since March," grumbles Roman, before vowing, "we're in this for the long haul."

If Roman has the financial fortitude to endure the leaner months, the Treemont has the ingredients to become, with refining (and maybe some noise-proofing), a reliable, fine-dining hideaway with quality entrees, fairly priced in the mid-$20s.

The small but well-rounded bar is adequate even if it isn't setting any trends, focused more on solid, affordable versions of familiar grapes for wines by the glass, and a dozen established craft-beer hits. The cocktails, deft twists on classics with a Sherlock Holmes theme - try the Manhattan-ish Noble Bachelor, or the Final Problem take on Dark 'n' Stormy - were winners.

The service, overseen by general manager Leah Kaithern Patterson, is outgoing and professional, although the well-meaning servers would do better to avoid checking back with presumptuous proclamations such as, "the skate is spectacular, isn't it?"

I wouldn't go that far. I enjoyed the uncommon treat of a bone-in skate for two (fairly priced at $40.) But like much of the beautiful food here, there were a few too many flourishes going on - poufs of corn mousse and asparagus foam, shaved radishes, squidges of lemon confit, streaks of black garlic - while the skate itself was not delicately cooked, the flesh honey-lacquered to an almost candied chew. At least it was moist inside, which wasn't true for the thoroughly overcooked salmon - the kitchen's biggest goof, overshadowed by an otherwise excellent garnish of cockles, long beans, and fennel broth.

In most cases, though, the flaws detracting from otherwise great ideas were minor. The superbly tender short rib over Anson Mills polenta needed more sauce. The briny Chunu oysters splashed with deep purple elderberry vinegar would have benefitted from the essence of a brighter, less-sweet fruit. The ricotta gnudi, greened with herbs in brown butter, were just a hint doughy. The fresh house-made goat cheese was too dry and pasty.

A number of dishes, though, were spot-on worth the visit. Beautifully fresh raw seafood, adorned just enough, is the draw for starters such as the scallop crudo with fermented tomato broth and black olives, or buttery chunks of pink "longfin" albacore tuna with citrusy horseradish broth.

The deviled eggs got a savory boost from pickled mustard seeds and hidden morsels of duck confit. A brothy crock of garlicky escargots "à la Georges Perrier" was a fine tribute to Le Bec-Fin, where Roman once worked.

A creamy mushroom "sauce Ivoire" was another nod to Le Bec, though in a more modern context over crispy tubes of choux pastry gnocchi "Parisienne" tumbled with oyster mushrooms and a colorful medley of heirloom summer squash. Pickled black plums, tangy baby artichokes barigoule, and sticky-sweet dabs of honeycomb added lovely seasonal accents to the orange-scented Berkshire pork loin. The surprising tartness of fermented barley and silky piquancy of pureed green olives were perky counterpoints to rich lamb saddle and belly.

For dessert, the Treemont keeps it fresh, with the brightness of fruit adding sparks to the indulgence. Passion fruit brings a floral tang to panna cotta topped with a caramelized pine-nut tuile. Deep green snow of basil granita adds more seasonal freshness to a strawberry- and rhubarb-topped coconut sponge cake. A sour cherry-chocolate jam and pistachio puree lend some extra liftoff to a creamy layered extravagance of a multihued chocolate cremeux - not that it needed much help disappearing from our plate.

Then again, if no one's around to eat it . . . that just means there's more for me.

Owner Chip Roman, chef Rob Sidor, and manager Leah Kaithern Patterson discuss The Treemont at www.inquirer.com/labanreviews. Inquirer restaurant critic Craig LaBan hosts an online chat at 2 p.m. Tuesdays at www.inquirer.com/labanchats. EndText

www.inquirer.com/craiglaban