Cooking through the seasons with live fire, handmade pastas, and close relationships with farmers, Andiario has been one of Pennsylvania’s most compelling locavore dinner havens since 2018.

The challenges of the last year, though, have somehow helped it become even better. Tony Andiario and Maria van Schaijik narrowed their focus to survive, jettisoning their a la carte menu for different takeout meals each week. When they transitioned back to indoor dining at their cushy West Chester restaurant, they embraced an ever-changing $75 tasting format that’s retained that spontaneous spirit.

One week brings maccheroncelli with squab ragù and Green-Walk trout with chanterelles. Another offers soft-shell crab with pea shoots, chilies, and black locust flowers. Or scallop crudo with spring strawberries and wood-grilled short ribs.

I’d get menu envy if Andiario ever teased his offerings online. But the chef gets a thrill from creating each menu as a weekly surprise. I knew we’d scored when our first bite — a hot fritter of purple cauliflower with Floriani polenta, black walnuts, and raisins — arrived with a deep grape splash of Lambrusco to harmonize.

Then came silvery Boston mackerel cradled in a fragrant roasted fig leaf. Long coils of dowel-rolled fusilli tangled with squid in minted cherry tomato sauce that shimmered against a quenching Siclian Etna Bianco. Crispy thighs of Keiser duck confit arrived over a summer cassoulet of sweet corn, beans, chanterelles, and lardons on a stunning platter made by Media’s “creek-to-table” ceramicist Bob Deane.

The local sourcing circle gets even tighter with outstanding breads from the couple’s bakery, La Baguette Magique. And someday, eventually, they’ll also serve the pastured animals, orchard fruits, and beans they hope to cultivate on the former Christmas tree farm they bought last year. The seeds of Andiario’s pandemic challenge, it seems, will continue to grow a bountiful future.

Fiorella’s, the butcher shop, used to be my favorite Italian Market destination for sausage spiced to order (Hot? Sweet? Fennel? Yes!) until it closed in 2018 after 125 years. That could have been it for the Italian chapter of this Christian Street storefront in this ever-evolving neighborhood.

But Marc Vetri had other ideas. He’d been cooking-up a casual pasta bar concept. And this slender space with six burners, a long counter and antique vibes was perfect to showcase the noodles that have always been the most inspired part of the more expensive experience at Vetri Cucina. With a new chandelier lending a twinkle to the original tin ceiling, Fiorella’s 20 seats finally opened to long lines — just weeks before the coronavirus shutdown.

But Fiorella has navigated its pandemic pivot with aplomb. With 30 outdoor seats now in comfortable sidewalk shelters, plus 10 still inside, 150-plus diners a night come for lively dinners. They power up on cocktails like Stoop Juice and the Dirty Pasta Water martini. They nibble crispy mozzarella en carrozza and summer lobster salad over corn soup, then butterscotch budino topped with jam-filled waffle rails for dessert.

But mostly they come for pasta and chef Matt Rodrigues’ crew doesn’t disappoint, from classics like cacio e pepe to fleeting seasonal wonders like fig-stuffed cappellacci draped in speck. There are chewy coins of stamped corzetti in vibrant pesto; sopressini infused with smoked paprika cradling mussels in a simple but flavorful seafood gloss. Yet none are as magnetic as the rigatoni in a ragù of fennel sausage made to the Fiorella family recipe.

“‘Name the restaurant after us? We’d be honored!’’’ Dan Fiorella told Vetri. “The sausage recipe? ‘That’ll cost you.’”

Whatever Vetri paid to bring that link of Italian Market history back full circle to his pasta bowls, it was worth it.

Friday Saturday Sunday has endured its share of pandemic takeout experiments and start-and-stop closures. But as I savored an epic meal recently in the upstairs dining room of this intimate Rittenhouse townhome, from a bite-sized biscuit dabbed with beef tartare and caviar to the caramelized crunch and pudding heart of the cannelé finale, dinner there felt like of a triumph.

The crisis forced Chad and Hanna Williams to embrace a tasting menu when they reopened, and Chad has benefited from the next-level focus of creating tastings that tell a story. As I took opening sips of deep purple chicha morada then nibbled through one spectacular bite after the other — truffled sweetbreads over caramelized plantains, ethereal beet cappelletti, marrow-glossed Wagyu steak, and bay leaf semifreddo over rhubarb and crunchy meringue — the story unfolding here is one of a complete restaurant whose close-knit creative team is humming in synchronicity.

With one of the city’s best soundtracks lending the meal an old soul groove, this eight-course feast featured contributions from the entire kitchen. Chad’s love of tangy buttermilk was showcased in the whey-creamed dashi that swirled around halibut dusted with local bay. Tiny empanadas stuffed with crispy pig face were a fabulous collaboration between chef de cuisine Sashia Liriano and pastry chef Amanda Rafalski, with a sorrel dip from line cook (and hot sauce queen) India Rodriguez. Liriano’s BBQ veal cheek, meanwhile, whose smoked pepper-black plum sauce was inspired by FSS’s pandemic barbecue pop-up, was the most memorable of all. Its tender meat came wrapped inside a leaf of grilled chard beside a crispy mille-feuille of shaved yam that, when pressed, fanned out into a silky puree of more yam. I wanted more. I did with every plate. Ultimately, each dish was a perfect chapter in the most compelling meal I’ve eaten this year.

“It’s not as picturesque as ... the rolling hills of Sicily, but it’s insanely beautiful in a very Philly way,” says chef Michael Vincent Ferreri of the view from his new eighth floor perch at Irwin’s in the Bok building.

It wasn’t long ago he was earthbound at Res Ipsa, the tiny BYOB where his hand-rolled trofie in minty pesto and magnetic agrodolce chicken drew crowds before the pandemic shut it down. Since Ferreri’s arrival to Irwin’s, he’s turned this sit-down sibling to the energetic Bok Bar across the hall into a must-visit destination in its own right.

It’s one of the most distinctive dining spaces in town — a former nursing classroom still tagged with graffiti, the bathroom wallpapered with yearbook pages of classes gone by. But Ferreri has essentially transported his modern Sicilian repertoire to this soaring aerie with the bonus of an excellent bar. So take a sip of your Zio Ubriaco cocktail and sparkling Barbera rosato, and feel the breeze from the patio’s open French doors.

There’s the Ferreri family’s coveted eggplant caponata to savor, tinted to a tangy-sweetness with caramelized tomatoes, cocoa, and golden raisins. There are exquisitely intricate seasonal salads, grilled chunks of octopus with salsa verde, and a perfect fritto misto platter brimming with crispy head-on shrimp, branzino and fried lemon wheels you definitely should eat. But pasta is Ferreri’s passion, and they’re all fantastic, but especially those chewy trofie, the gnocchi sardi in eggplant ragù, and what I consider a definitive spaghetti alle vongole with its briny, oceanic savor and impressive clam-to-noodle ratio.

After a whole grilled dorade for two, save room for fig leaf semifreddo. And then another terrace-side sip from Irwin’s dozen amari, which help bring that view into clearer focus. No, it’s not Sicily. But South Philadelphia rarely has looked so beautiful.

Kalaya has been a game-changer ever since Chutatip “Nok” Suntaranon brought her sky blue dumplings, intricate curries, and bold Southeast Asian flavors to her Bella Vista BYOB three years ago. And the pandemic hasn’t slowed her down.

Kalaya never closed or laid off staff. And with double the seating now thanks to its colorful sidewalk cabanas, Suntaranon’s kitchen keeps sharing new treasures from her Southern Thai roots. There are multiple variations now of her exquisite tapioca dumplings, shaped like tiny birds with chile red beaks and stuffed with cod and sweet radish; or hand-pinched into azure flowers called shaw muang filled with ground chicken.

There are turmeric sticky rice cakes layered with ground shrimp and drizzled with sweet coconut. Ground duck laab whose wicked spice is also aromatic with cinnamon. Huge lumps of crab bask in a golden karee thickened with eggs and evaporated milk edged with chili oil, a saucy alternative to Kalaya’s rightfully renowned crab fried rice.

If you’ve already tried the stellar chicken curry, ratchet up a heat level with the pork ribs, whose lusty gravy lit my lips with a numbing glow. The goat curry is a soulful homage to Suntaranon’s father, its peppery stew fragrant with star anise, clove, and curry leaves that magnify the tender meat’s earthy depth.

But my favorite Kalaya splurge is the bubbling hot pot of tom yum. Its broth is tangy with tamarind, galangal, lemongrass, and a flickering spark of chilies, then filled with barramundi, mushrooms, and massive head-on freshwater prawns perched royally on its rim.

“That’s my personality because it’s luxurious and striking to look at,” says Suntaranon, a noted fashionista (even while cooking) whose passion for beautiful aesthetics informs everything she does.

And Suntaranon still has so much of her stunning repertoire yet to share: “I’m not even close to halfway there.”

It’s been no small task for Laser Wolf to emerge from the long shadow of Zahav. But since debuting just before the pandemic with its bottomless feast of salatim, hummus, and fragrant charcoal-grilled skewers, this casual sibling from CookNSolo has indeed forged its own essential identity as a spirited homage to the Israeli grill house.

Unlike Zahav’s evocative Old Jerusalem mood, Laser’s airy industrial space, its garage doors opened to colorful sidewalk seating, pulses with the Philly energy of its Kensington corner. Reservations are still a beast, but room for 40-plus walk-ins nightly has also retained a sense of accessibility for locals, who come to sit at the bar and drink inventive arak cocktails while they dine.

Andrew Henshaw, Zahav’s talented chef de cuisine when it was crowned America’s best restaurant in 2019, has a spontaneous freedom here liberated from the expectation of Zahav’s greatest hits. You taste it in his ever-changing array of 10 seasonal salads — a summer bounty of sour cherry matbucha; the smoky kale babaganoush, a sweet corn salad glazed in charred corn stock spiced with dried chilies and schug.

Henshaw’s mastery of the coals, though, most deeply imprints this menu, even the char-kissed foie gras on crispy pita with nectarines we folded to eat taco-style in all its drippy, crunchy, creamy luxury. And then there were the myriad kebabs (guava-marinated chicken; sumac-tanged lamb kubideh; garlic-blasted Romanian beef). Huge dry-aged chops and Iraqi-spiced short ribs with passion fruit glaze. And now my favorite new branzino: a partially deboned two-pounder marinated with tomatoey fried onions sparked with ginger, caraway, and cumin. It roasts over the flames until its skin crackles with grill stripes beneath a fresh herb salad. Amazing! Follow that with vanilla soft serve topped with cherries and pistachio, and you’ll understand: Laser Wolf has earned its own spotlight.

“We put a little funk in everything,” says Randy Rucker with a wink from behind the open kitchen counter at River Twice.

The Houston-born chef and jam band aficionado could’ve been talking about the Grateful Dead tunes weaving a mellow mood into the background of his culinary atelier off East Passyunk Avenue. He could also have been talking about the fermented treasure trove of pickles, allium ash, and shoyus stacked behind him in a seasoning library he uses like a painter’s palette to craft gorgeous modernist plates with complex flavors.

Rucker, though, was talking about the massive strip steak he’d dry-aged to an intense minerality before serving it with juniper-infused miso jus, a sharing splurge available Sundays, the restaurant’s only a la carte night, when the natural wines are flowing and his coveted Mother Rucker burger is also available.

The recent decision to go to a seven-course $85 tasting menu the remaining evenings didn’t just make sense economically for this snug 20-seater with 28 weather-dependent outdoor seats. It suited a chef whose talent for channeling seasonality into beautiful contemporary plates with spontaneity is currently near the top of Philly’s food chain.

I’m still dreaming of the luscious orange curls of shaved Little Sweetie cantaloupe dabbed with earthy sunflower seed chile macha and the salty pop of trout roe. Or the lightly seared tiles of bluefin that anchored a summer necklace of peas and flowers over yuzu emulsion. Gamey quail, tenderized with shio koji, came with stinging nettle salsa verde and a pretty shower of marigold petals.

“Tweezer food? 100%,” Rucker concedes.

But with a hit of funk at every flavorful turn, from a Cato Corner cheese course to the fermented mulberries and coffee granità lending the chocolate cremeaux new intrigue, River Twice is proof that precious plates can also be soulfully delicious.

My raves for Jesse Ito the last few years have been focused primarily on Royal Sushi, his serene hideaway for raw fish luxury that serves Philadelphia’s finest omakases. But that intimate eight-seat counter was closed until late September, giving me a chance to revisit Royal Izakaya, the moody, no-reservations Japanese tavern that fronts the tasting room, which reminded me of just how much I love that more casual a la carte experience.

It helps to have a knowledgeable server like Christy Nguyen to guide you through the inventive cocktails and stellar sake list (try the Sempuku Shinriki 85 made from heirloom rice). But holy torikatsu! The food is so good, too!

With Ito momentarily less focused on omakases, the Izakaya’s sushi selection has been permanently enhanced, with lusciously rich negi toro rolls made from fatty bluefin trimmings, pristinely cut sashimi, and intricately adorned Royal Chirashi boxes of fish imported from Japan’s Toyosu market.

But the Izakaya’s sweet spot remains expertly cooked Japanese food from Ito’s dad and partner, master chef Matt Ito, plus some fresh ideas from new chef de cuisine Justin Bachrach (formerly of Cheu). Fresh bao cradle mahogany sweet teriyaki duck. The crispy karaage wings arrive anointed with chile-soy vinegar. You can get meaty fish heads fried or grilled, as I did with a king salmon collar whose lemony flesh was impossibly moist. Cleanse the palate with the spicy pickles, then dive into one of Philly’s great beef values, a $20 hanger steak Bachrach pairs with an earthy sweet swipe of black sesame yakiniku sauce.

And then another surprise, a black sesame panna cotta with miso dulce de leche. The old Royal Izakaya never served dessert beyond mochi, let alone such a stunner. It does now. And my appreciation for this Queen Village gem continues to grow.

The roadside produce stand is a South Jersey staple. But I’ve never encountered one as dreamy as Sweet Amalia Market & Kitchen, whose sunflower yellow façade has been a beacon for some of my most coveted flavors this year. Not just for gorgeous produce from the farmland surrounding its perch along Route 40, but also for pristine Jersey shellfish and some of the most craveable sandwiches anywhere.

Oysters — fried, baked, and raw — are a prime draw, considering it’s named for co-owner Lisa Calvo’s Sweet Amalia oyster farm on the Delaware Bay. Before its reinvention, this building was used to sort Calvo’s harvest for delivery to Philadelphia restaurants — including Pub & Kitchen, where she first met chef Melissa McGrath. The two teamed up after McGrath returned from a stint in San Francisco, where her hoagies earned national buzz for a friend’s wine shop. And their new collaboration has become one of our most compelling casual showcases for this region’s treasures of sea and land.

The blackboard menu is chock-full of temptations for a feast at the outdoor picnic tables. There are buttery Sweet Amalias and brinier oysters from Barnegat Bay to choose from raw. I also can’t resist them baked in garlicky bread crumbs, or fried in cornmeal and tucked into brioche with celery root remoulade, as good as an oyster roll gets.

But it turns out I’m obsessed with every sandwich, from the clam roll with bacon and horseradish-dill aioli, to the chicken cutlet Caesar hoagie, and one of the best Italians around, artfully layered on a seeded roll with mortadella, soppressata, ‘Nduja aioli, and Parmesan. Did I mention the smoked fish chowder? The market shelves with local sauces and cheeses? The tomato pies and flaky strawberry-rhubarb confections? The only problem with this roadside stand is that I may never leave.

I can’t imagine anything more lit for 2021 than a veg-forward feast inside a natural wine shop. Put Greg Vernick, chef Robert Newcomb, and wine director Ray Gazdzinski behind the controls of this new tasting-menu series at the wine shop beside Vernick Food & Drink, and you have one of the most exciting fine dining experiences Philly now has to offer.

True to the polished minimalism that helped Vernick redefine modern American dining next door, these plates are honed with focused flavors — but also a whimsy his a la carte menu sometimes lacks. The “flight of fruits & vegetables” brought a slate of tiny produce cooked within multiple versions of themselves — a watermelon cube compressed with its chile-spiced juice; the most carroty carrot glazed in carrot essence; the zestiest cherry tomato dipped in gazpacho; a corn soup shooter doubled-down on earthy sweetness with a dusting of powdered kettle corn.

I loved the striped jack crudo over minced gala melons compressed with mezcal, whose sweet, smoky juice was enriched by foie gras mousse streaked with chili oil on the side. But Vernick’s most playful creation? A deep-fried baton of sweet king crab leg in crispy brik paper served in a lettuce wrap beside a heady shrimp mustard dip.

Gradzynski’s Euro wine pairings elevated every dish. A minerally Lignier Aligoté for the crab. Tibouren rosé for warm ricotta custard topped with smoked mushroom gelée, charred apricots and chanterelles, as well as the exquisite turbot over squid ink-blackened corn sauce with clam ceviche and XO spice. Carlo Giacosa’s Barbaresco even harmonized the Coca-Cola agrodolce and cherries with the duck. A low-key white chocolate tart for dessert, meanwhile, became intriguing with the wine geek boost of a 15-year-old Boal Madeira. Timely and timeless. Sophisticated but casual. This wine shop tasting is Team Vernick at its next-level best.