Redcrest Kitchen in Queen Village is an overlooked gem working through an identity crisis

Have you ever eaten a well-crafted meal, the kind you’d expect the hungry crowds to clamor for, only to look up and realize you’re the only occupied table in a restaurant?

It’s happened to me several times over the past few months. There was the dinner when my wife and I spooned through the schmaltz-laced romance of an oversize matzo ball soup for two followed by a meltingly tender smoked short rib with rye spaetzle and Comté foam. But this cleverly upscaled riff on Jewish deli was served to us in an essentially empty room.

There was the very quiet brunch with superbly flaky house biscuits and country gravy filled with house-ground pork, followed by a French toast mountain drizzled in miso caramel.

At a sunny lunch a few weeks later the vibe was also so sedate — despite perfect fried chicken sandwiches drizzled in Thai curried hot sauce — you could hear the sound of my teeth crunching through the buttermilk crust.

All three lonely meals happened to have transpired at the same restaurant, Redcrest Kitchen in Queen Village, despite what I considered to be some fairly delicious food. The service was outgoing. The well-rounded drink list has appeal, from produce-infused cocktails to wines from the owner’s German relatives and well-chosen brews (Maine Peeper!). The comfy banquette that parallels the room-length bar seems ready to host an energetic 60-seat crowd. So, what gives?

Redcrest’s slow start is a curious case study in the delicate art of harnessing momentum for new restaurants. Its lack of early traction appears to be the result of a combination of factors, from plain bad luck with city infrastructure to marketing mistakes.

An indecisive, ever-shifting concept resulted in an identity crisis for this promising newcomer that opened this past October in the former Bainbridge Barrel House space. Is it a $40 entree destination for a three-part homage to dry-aged duck? A laidback corner brunch hang for avocado toast and Eggs in Purgatory? Or is it a fried chicken sandwich joint cranking out some of the best crispy cluckers in Philly for lunch?

It has been all that and more, and I’ve not even mentioned the grocery shelves tucked into the corner where you can buy Luxardo cherries, Rival Bros. coffee, spices, flowers, and craft beer to go. Confused? I am, too, considering Redcrest has such a talented team in executive chef Evan Snyder, chef-founder Adam Volk, and partners Chivonn Anderson and Brandon Chamberlain.

Locals have come to know Volk for Redcrest Fried Chicken, the popular, fried chicken corner he ran with Anderson on East Passyunk for the past five years. It opened to a frenzy of deep-fried glory just before the Eagles won the Super Bowl, and this fast casual concept hummed robustly until it temporarily closed when its lease ended in July last year.

Volk concedes he miscalculated by thinking that the Redcrest brand could easily transfer in the public’s mind into a more ambitious sit-down restaurant where fried chicken was not initially a major feature. Volk, 43, a Souderton native and Culinary Institute of America grad, earned kudos in New York for his modern American cooking at Esme in Brooklyn, where he also met Chamberlain. They have the experience to run such an enterprise.

But other challenges arose. Unplanned delays from a burst city water main that turned its basement into “an aquarium,” followed by a crumbling lintel on the building’s facade, postponed its opening for another few capital-draining months. By the time Redcrest finally opened, there was little marketing budget to hire a PR firm and the common strategy of comping social media influencers free food for favorable posts has provided only fleeting bumps. (Reminder: I never accept free food from restaurants; The Inquirer pays my way.)

The biggest early misstep was misjudging this corner as a special occasion draw when this space still feels like a more accessible neighborhood restaurant and bar. But the team has smartly begun to recalibrate, recently dropping menu prices by up to 20% — lowering the short ribs by $8 a plate, for example — and shrinking what were overly generous portions to more reasonable sizes. Almost all entrees are under $30. And the multicourse, family-style tasting menu, which feels like a deal for $55, is a great option to taste the chef’s range.

The slightly smaller plates are a good thing for Snyder, 30, whose vibrant creative impulses benefit from the size constraints. On Redcrest’s previous larger plates, there always seemed to be one too many flourishes, like a duck offal “scrapple” that lacked the typical softness (and corn porridge slurry) of scrapple, to accompany the already busy presentation of a beautiful breast lacquered with pear and Szechuan peppercorns, duck fat beignets, liver mousse, and a salad topped with shaved smoked duck hearts. Or the country terrine-stuffed cabbage over white beans, whose garnish of buttery rock shrimp felt like a random distraction (and detoured some at our table from choosing it).

When Snyder hones in on smaller plates, his knack for showcasing prime ingredients shines, as with his mashed butternut squash toast flared with the spice and tang of ‘Nduja for a brilliant veggie twist on the spreadable Calabrian salami. Or his creative riffs with chicken liver mousse, paired with Concord jam and shaved smoked peanuts for a grown-up take on PB&J during my visit, or his more recent version with blackberries and corn bread.

I’d order anything as an excuse to eat a plate of the fresh sesame-dusted milk buns, but the Wagyu tartare, moistened with dill aioli and dusted with shaved horseradish, is pure carnivore luxury, especially tucked with fresh potato chips into those soft rolls.

Snyder, who previously worked at Bresca in Washington, Balise in New Orleans, and FISH by José Andrés in Oxon Hill, Md., offers some memorably original takes on pasta, from a chicken mortadella-stuffed cappelletti with robiola fonduta to hand-cut truffled taglioni with clams and uni foam.

I was especially taken by the muhammara fagottini, which transformed the Middle Eastern dip into diamond-shaped golden dumplings filled with roasted red peppers, almonds, and sweet-tart pomegranate molasses, artfully served over tahini and chickpeas.

As Redcrest keeps expanding into other phases, like brunch, it’s easy to see its potential broader appeal. Snyder doesn’t overdo basics like eggs Benedict, adding a light flourish of Calabrian chile heat to the hollandaise. And good technique, like soaking buttery brioche in a vanilla-rich base typical for ice cream, created one of the fluffiest French toasts I’ve eaten lately, its custardy sweetness tempered by the savory tang of red miso caramel.

The presence of Redcrest Fried Chicken, meanwhile, still hovers, and Volk has finally resurrected it to his project’s favor. While he still plans to open a brick-and-mortar location, Volk has used the kitchen’s facility to reboot the chicken sandwich delivery service, and also a daily lunch service in Redcrest’s dining room, where I was reminded by the shattering buttermilk crunch, moist flesh, and red curry-flared sauce of its signature sandwich why it was a sensation to begin with.

They even serve a mini-version of that sandwich as a wink to Redcrest’s roots in the kitchen’s tasting menu. If that’s what it takes to bring more attention to this worthy, overlooked newcomer, let those chicken sandwiches fly, Redcrest, fly.

625 S. Sixth St., 215-454-6951; redcrest.kitchen

Kitchen dinner menu served Tuesday through Thursday, 5 to 9 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, until 10 p.m. Brunch Saturday, 11 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Redcrest Fried Chicken available for delivery Wednesday through Saturday, and in the dining room for lunch only Tuesday through Friday, 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Closed Sunday.

Dinner entrees, $23-$37.

Wheelchair accessible.

Gluten-free options available.