Tinto
In the first few weeks of its existence, foodies and scenesters converged on Tinto, hungry for more of Jose Garces’s modern Spanish cuisine. But rather than Amada part deux, this time he switched focus to the pinxtos (small plates) of the Basque region. Having forgiven Tinto a few stumbles as it took its baby steps, a recent visit showed that this restaurant is still going through puberty.
Like Amada, Tinto has dishes that pander to foodies and dishes that pander to scenesters. As one might expect, the former are invariably more successful. The cheese selection was both diverse and delicious – Epoisses, La Peral and Monte Enebro (perennial favorites of mine) were served at optimal ripeness. With the exception of a farcically over-garliced Chorizo de Pamplona, the cured meats were inoffensive. Classics like Hongos (wild mushrooms) a la Plantxa, and Higos con Jamon (serrano ham-wrapped figs, drizzled with a viscous balsamic and fruity olive oil) were well-executed and eminently munchable – as pintxos should be. Vetri’s house-cured Chorizo remains the best ‘Spanish’ charcuterie in town.
Garces’s own creations are a little hit-or miss. The amuse bouche was quite impressive – a crisp tuile of baked Mahon cheese (a trick usually practiced with Parmeggiano Reggiano), with a smoked tomato aioli that was intense but not overwhelming. Similarly, the bacon wrapped lamb brochettes, neck-high in eggplant puree, would have been a barnstorming success if only the lamb had been a little less cooked and the eggplant a little more flavorful. Tinto should eschew gimmicks like truffle oil and ersatz ‘Kobe’ beef, which have no place in a serious restaurant. More alarming was the inconsistency I observed in one dish, the montadito de pato (a tartine of Serrano ham wrapped duck confit with Black cherry and La Peral), which was the highlight of my first visit. Though the duck confit had previously been tender and succulent, it was now scraggly and emaciated.
For a restaurant whose name means “red wine,” and whose logo is a corkscrew, I was expecting a tad more emphasis on wine. With so many bottles tessellating the restaurant in decoration, Tinto could surely find the space for some reds that aren’t from Rioja or Priorat. That said, the 2003 La Bastida Rioja Crianza, available by the glass, was sleek and charming. Equally apposite was the 2005 the Camin Larredya Jurançon Sec, from the French side of the Pyrenees, which was ripe, powerful and voluptuous.
Overall, Tinto is a useful addition to Philly’s collection of Spanish restaurants, but has not yet done enough to distinguish itself. Amada, its older sibling, is still the reference point for classic and modern Spanish preparations (with a higher ratio of hits to misses). Basque cooking is utterly dependent on the resplendent produce that is sadly not available in this country, and truffle oil is no way around this.
- Adley Zayan