Little Walter’s gives traditional Polish flavors a spirited modern makeover

I worried I had come to the wrong address. The weathered sign over the corner at Coral and East Hagert Streets read “Erica’s Sport Bar,” the faded relic of a pool table bar in East Kensington that had been closed for years.

But then I sniffed the air: plumes of wood smoke carrying the scent of roasting pork tinged with caraway and mustard. I spotted a giant neon pierogi glowing in the window, its wavy outline beckoning like a golden sunrise. And then I peered through the open door. Were people at the pinewood bar using dill pickles to stir their frosty martinis?

Indeed, I had arrived at Little Walter’s, Michael Brenfleck’s spirited next-gen tribute to Polish cuisine. A handsome wooden sign engraved with flowers and a dapper little piggy in a bow tie was, in fact, leaning against a wall inside the entrance, waiting to be hung. But slow city bureaucracy left it stuck in limbo more than a month after Little Walter’s opening.

It did little to derail the energy and distinctive character of Brenfleck’s vision for this heartfelt and hands-on update to the Polish traditions of his family’s ancestors. It was already blooming in every corner of this vibrant 50-seat space: the bare tabletops made from a single honey locust tree, the church pew banquettes and vintage hutch, and paprika-and-cream-colored walls hung with painted Polish pottery and folk art murals lend a quaintly rustic, grandma-chic vibe to the room. But the open kitchen turns out thoroughly modern plates tuned to 2024, with free-flowing seasonality inspired by local farms, dedication to scratch ingredients, and a wood-fired range that, despite best efforts at ventilation, sends everyone home smelling vaguely like a campfire-roasted kielbasa.

I can think of far worse scents than one of Brenfleck’s stellar kielbasa links. They’re snappy around the edges and radiate a smoky savor that hums with marjoram, coriander, and garlic. But there are other vibrant flavors here, too. Loaves of crusty, fresh-baked rye sourdough are made from local grains and served with a smoky whipped lard spread called smalec — all the better to sop up the juicy surówka seasonal salads, including heirloom tomatoes with charred garlic scapes and lacto-fermented beets over beet top-black walnut pesto. And then there are the plates brimming with crisply browned half-moons of pierogi, available four different ways, from appetizers through dessert.

The thoughtful bar program also has a distinctive Polska-Philly personality that assures Little Walter’s exudes a youthful East Kenzo energy, from the pickle juice martini (its Polish name is piłkarz, or “footballer,” a nod to former Eagle Duce Staley’s 201-yard “Pickle Juice Game” against the Cowboys) to the Urbanista twist on the Citywide, a shot of bison grass vodka alongside a can of malty Polish Żubr lager. I’m also a fan of both the Polish Sazerac made with Kinsey rye, dried mint, and a caraway-washed vodka, and the house-infused honeyed krupnik used for everything from cocktails to the cheesecake.

The arrival of Little Walter’s, an homage to both of Brenfleck’s late maternal grandparents, Walter and Mildred Bubick, comes at a fortuitous moment for Polish food in Philadelphia. The area’s traditional Polish enclave of Port Richmond nearby has been in decline as a result of the generational drift to the suburbs and beyond (Polish Americans make up 5% of Pennsylvania’s population), as marked by the closing of standbys like Syrenka and Krakus Market. Only Dinner House Polish Cuisine, a no-frills touchstone for homespun Polish comforts cooked by Bydgoszcz-born Ela Balka, has held steady; her thin-skinned pierogi stuffed with mushrooms and sauerkraut, tender golabki, pickle soup, and breaded pork chops remain peerless examples of grandmotherly culinary excellence.

The tides recently began to shift ever so slightly back toward tradition this year when the Lunar Inn, a gastropub focused on natural wine, gave way to the “pierogi and pils” collaboration between Carbon Copy, the West Philly-based brewery and winery, and Mom-Mom’s Kitchen, a food cart-turned-brick-and-mortar pierogi specialist whose co-owner, Kaitlin Wines, told me she hoped their return to the old neighborhood would become part of the “Port Richmond Loop” of shoppers coming to stock up on kielbasa (at Czerw’s and Swiacki Meats) and pound cake (at Stock’s Bakery). Her $75 “pierogi feast for two” is a hearty deal that’s absolutely worth pausing the loop journey for a moment to sit and enjoy alongside a few pints of Bindle Pils.

Little Walter’s, located just one neighborhood to the west of Port Richmond, brings a level of creative finesse and contemporary exploration to the Central European table that’s unlike anything else locally, aside from Pittsburgh’s Apteka (which is also remarkable because it is plant-based). Brenfleck’s professional background is largely in Mexican and Mediterranean cuisines, having spent years cooking alongside Tim Spinner at La Calaca Feliz, then as executive chef at Spice Finch. He’s applied skills gleaned from those experiences to his lifelong appreciation of the Polish Christmas Eves he grew up with in Allentown, feasting on halušky (cabbage and noodles), mushroom soups, and pierogi.

Little Walter’s menu is largely an enthusiastic embrace of new flavor combinations for Brenfleck. (Though the crispy bits of pork skin that lend unexpected crunch to the whipped lard served alongside the bread are a clear chicharrón salute to his love of Mexican cooking.) His work with sausages is particularly impressive, especially the kielbasa — he makes one of ground shrimp and coriander that bolsters a brothy smoked monkfish dish — but there’s also a blood sausage filled with koji-fermented rye berries that’s particularly irresistible alongside a salad of pickled sweet peppers from Green Meadow Farm.

Brenfleck’s pierogi dough is similarly distinct, made with potatoes and a little whey from the house farmer’s cheese. The result is a skin that isn’t as thin as Dinner House’s, or as elastic with dairy as Mom-Mom’s, but it has a hearty chew that browns nicely and bolsters the savory fillings of the ruskie (with farmer’s cheese, potatoes, and roasted garlic) and the z grzybami, made with Mycopolitan mushrooms and smoked Gouda, served with buttermilk ranch.

The dough for his vegan pierogi, made with potatoes, flour, olive oil, and tehina, is filled with a Mediterranean-themed coal-roasted eggplant and a garnish of “horsey” sauce, an unapologetically Arby’s-esque horseradish mustard mayo made with sweet onions and cashews, alongside a charred pepper relish of Jimmy Nardellos.

If there is one characteristic that defines Little Walter’s take on Polish cooking as novel, it is the rustic spell of the wood-fired hearth. That’s where large format cuts of whole pigs sourced from Smith Poultry and Green Meadow spin for hours on a rotisserie for the daily wieprzowina z rożna, a roast pork with crispy potatoes cooked in the drippings and bigos cabbage-meat stew. It perfumes the room with its blend of seasonings that Brenfleck refers to as “Shabaski spice,” a mustard, marjoram, and caraway Polish riff on the Yemenite “Shabazi” spice from La Boîte that he used at Spice Finch.

The sleeper hit off that range is the chicken cutlet, a deboned breast and thigh encrusted in leftover rye bread crumbs that is fried in cast-iron skillets bubbling with schmaltz over the flames. They’re served with a tart smear of apple butter and an ever-changing garnish — beet-pickled cauliflower in August, green bean salad with mustard vinaigrette in September.

Unlike many small restaurants in Philly, where creativity can slip at the end of the meal, Little Walter’s keeps pumping on all cylinders, from dessert cocktails (try the Jaskiniowiec, made with a creamy raspberry nalewka tincture and hazelnut, or the Baristka espresso martini made with Herman’s coffee and Polish vodka) to the actual desserts called “desery.”

The honeyed cheesecake spiced with the cinnamon house krupnik was a delight. And Brenfleck’s seasonal fruit take on Polish water ice — more true to the Jersey Shore than Kraków — was my favorite. Late summer’s sweet cantaloupe was whipped into silky, soft-served peaks drizzled with tart blackberry gastrique and the unexpected crunch of puffed rye berries. Distinctive. Refreshing. Of the moment. I can’t wait to try fall’s new Potomac pear water ice with cider syrup. The vegan chocolate pierogi with peanut butter ganache and vanilla ice cream is also a clever, thematically on-point draw. But the dark chocolate dumpling skins and potato-bound peanut stuffing didn’t deliver quite the Reese’s depth of indulgence I’d hoped for — so there’s room for improvement.

Little Walter’s isn’t perfect. The room is so noisy it can be hard to hear the food runners explain the dishes, or even to talk among yourselves (unless you’re the one shouting on your third plum brandy cocktail). But Michael Brenfleck’s debut is already impressive in the most important ways, from the menu’s clear-eyed identity to its neighborhood bar vibes and genuinely warm service. At a moment when the city’s Polish flavors are surging back to relevance, Little Walter’s makes the case as one of Philly’s best new restaurants of any sort.

2049 E. Hagert St., Philadelphia, Pa. 19125, 267-239-2228; littlewaltersphilly.com

Dinner Tuesday through Saturday, 5 to 10 p.m.

Entrees, $21-$34

There are some gluten-free appetizers and entrees, although bread and pierogi are made on-site.

Wheelchair-accessible bathroom and entrance on ramp toward back of building on Coral Street.

Menu highlights: surówka seasonal salads; kielbasa; pierogi (ruskie, vegan eggplant, chocolate-peanut butter); chicken cutlet; rotisserie pork; cantaloupe water ice with puffed rye berries.

Drink highlights: The Polish theme extends to the bar, where a robust fermentation program bolsters the pickle juice martinis, honey-spiced house krupnik, a Polish twist on the Sazerac with caraway-washed vodka, and the Urbanista, a bison grass vodka riff on the Citywide (alongside Żubr lager).