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Collin Flatt was excited to celebrate Cochon’s 1st Birthday with their ‘All Pork Menu’. He left his favorite BYOB confused and distraught. Lots more after the jump.

I should have seen the writing on the wall when the much ballyhooed ‘Pork Creme Brulee’ wasn’t listed as the dessert course on the tasting menu. And if that wasn’t enough, the server’s answer to my question of why the phantom sweet had vanished should have spelled it out to me in big block letters.

‘Ummmmm, we couldn’t think of any other dessert than the creme brulee, so we just stopped doing it after the first week’.

Hell of an effort guys, especially during Pork Month. The replacement for said Brulee? An Espresso Creme Caramel that was so sweet it made my teeth vibrate. I seem to remember National Mechanics creating some bacon infused liquors. Why not use something like that as a finish or glaze on a standard dessert?

I’m a Cochon fan. It’s well documented, and the pig tattoo tramp stamp I have tells people I’m all business. I’ve sent countless friends and acquaintances to my favorite little French BYOB. Even the local Philly Wine Trust celebrated Christmas last year with a closed door drunkathon on the premises. That’s what made this dinner so frustrating.

When I walked in, the place was generally empty, except for a couple of two tops. Within 15 minutes, they seated 2 parties of 12 each, and another of 8, all with reservations. Two more groups of four showed up, and within 25 minutes, the restaurant was packed. Really poor planning leads to really poor service, and the establishment is to blame. Staggering resos for a 2 server joint is key.

Along with the tasting menu, I ordered the Pate, figuring it would be an easy win. Arriving in 5 triangle slices, the pate was sidesaddled with the usual cornichons and mustard, and the few slices of thin baguette seemed more an afterthought than an element. The protein itself was really hard to cut through and had an oily sheen on one side. Instead of being cordoned off in their own jar like the mustard, the cornichons were spilled about the plate and added a brine whether you liked it or not.

The Peasant Soup had almost no pork to speak of and was not much more than a poached egg, which was overdone, in a half-inch of liquid with a chunk of crouton. I’m ok with little soups, don’t get me wrong, but it didn’t taste like much more than French Onion Soup with an egg replacing the melted cheese crown, and a rustic name.

My love for Sweetbreads goes beyond normalcy. It’s comfort food for me, a testament to French cooking and the thymus all at once. Done right, the delicate texture and sweet flavor of the meat is etherial. But it’s a bitch to do well, and never given enough props for the challenge it presents. These particular sweetbreads were done properly until the last ill-fated step. After pan frying them to an airy, light, perfect texture, Chef Giuffi grilled the edges, leaving them slightly charred. Usually charring gives added complexity to meat, but with a shell so fragile, and innards that absorb the flavors around them, all I could taste was burnt. Sadness.

All was not lost in the meal, though. Cochon excels in slow-roasted pig dishes, and the Pork Confit was everything I had hoped for. Making confit is usually a 2 week process, and there’s not much room for error when extracting the best flavor from your flesh. The pork tore apart without any effort and was juicy enough to wring out into my wine glass. The rusty and spicy essence swimming with rendered lard sang clear across the room and all the way back to Provence. It was that good.

With a highlight that intense, and such depressing lows, I worry about important issues like consistency and attention to detail in kitchens across the city. Cochon is not the only offender by a long shot. But the Passyunk Piggery being a personal favorite and pet BYOB made it much more difficult to swallow these shortcomings.

I see a disturbing trend in restaurants that explode onto the scene with great critical reviews and unstoppable word-of-mouth, that impress wholly one day and fail fantastically the next. Are dining rooms mailing it in after LaBan rings his bells of approval?  Every chef/owner talks of return customers being the ultimate goal, but I’m not convinced. I hope that my recent meal at Cochon was an excpetion and not the rule, because their opening a year ago was a revelation for me. I’ll go back soon, but not until the bitter taste of charred sweetbreads has passed my tastebuds with the fine Burgundy that accompanied me to Passyunk Avenue.

– Collin Flatt