Olea in Old City brings back Philly’s classic BYOB style

A couple food writer friends were visiting from out of town, hoping for a unique taste of Philly dining. Something trendy, perhaps? Nah. Plenty of other cities do trendy.

Instead, I took them to Olea, a new BYOB across from the Betsy Ross House in Old City. Even though its straightforward riffs on Mediterranean flavors felt almost as retro as the BYOB from Y2K that it replaced — Chloe (RIP) — my friends were still tickled that a 32-seat dining room could thrum with such energy, intimacy, and quality food, and that any such business could survive without a liquor license. It’s such a distinctly Philly phenomenon.

“Why are there so many great BYOBs here, and how does it work?” asked my fascinated friend from New Orleans, where appreciation for small neighborhood joints is strong, but the notion of no Sazeracs or gin fizzes to boost the mood and profit margin is an absolute nonstarter.

I started down the rabbit hole of history, as we nibbled our complimentary plate of hummus and olives (that’s “olea” to you Latin scholars). I explained our pitiful (and stifling) state-run liquor system, then singled out some long-gone pioneers from 20-plus years ago that sparked our DIY revolution of vibrant BYOBs — Dmitri’s, Audrey Claire, Django, Matyson, Pif, and, yes, Chloe, too, which lasted 21 years. They helped transform Philadelphia into a land of opportunity for young culinary talent — and the greatest small-restaurant city in America.

My guests followed along politely as long-stemmed artichokes glossed in garlicky butter sauce arrived to the table, then quickly disappeared, alongside a special of monkfish medallions wrapped in crispy bands of seared prosciutto.

But I might as well have let Luis Pedrago do the talking. The gregarious co-owner of Olea — who is a living, breathing, table-tapping part of Philly restaurant history himself — took a seat on the banquette beside us as if he was ready to join our meal. That familiarity, complete with a passing shoulder squeeze, could easily be a put-off in a lingering pandemic that’s forever altered our sense of personal space. But with mask mandates now abandoned, Pedrago carries on with a not-to-be-denied twinkle in his eye and irrepressible charm.

“Oh, it’s exhausting being me because I’m always on,” says the youthful Pedrago, or who refuses to share his age. “But it’s the only way I know how to be. And I love to be face to face. Love eye contact. To make you feel like you’re part of the club.”

If you’re thinking “this guy’s familiar …” as he gazes deeply into your soul while you waver between the pork chop and seafood fra diavolo, that’s because you’ve quite likely given Pedrago your order before if you’ve dined in this town over the past 32 years. The Prime Rib, Twenty Manning, Lolita, Valanni, Melograno, Fish, Southwark, and Little Fish are just some of his stops before his latest, a seven-year stint at Noord, another great BYOB, where he was a key presence.

But when Noord owner Joncarl Lachman closed his Dutch-themed bistro last fall, Pedrago took it as a sign. After three decades of working in other peoples’ restaurants, it was finally time to branch out on his own: “Am I a late-bloomer? Yes, thank you! But this fell into my lap and I’ll never look back.”

Pedrago finally put his carpentry studies from Mastbaum High School to good use, working with his husband and business partner, cancer researcher Jamie Fulmer, to line the dining room walls with reclaimed wood and install cork tiles on the ceiling to temper the sound (at least, a little). Local artwork for sale adorns the walls, and stacks of art books are randomly scattered throughout the room, including photographer Dawoud Bey’s celebration of American diversity, Seeing Deeply, that Pedrago says signals the culture Olea hopes to convey.

“I want people to know when they come here that everybody is represented,” says Pedrago, who grew up in a family of mixed Black, Puerto Rican, and white heritages in the city’s Frankford neighborhood. An aunt connected him with a busboy job at the Union League. He eventually became a server in the Boker Room, serving the last bastion of Philly’s chicken à la King elite and their Friday night lobsters on a silver platter with drawn butter late into the 1990s. He’d gained entry to a world of service, and never left.

“The restaurant business saved my life,” Pedrago says. “I learned how to be social. I learned how to be kind. I learned how to dine and how to have a fabulous life. But you also have to care.”

Pedrago also learned to appreciate the virtues of simple food done well, and the enduring draw of an accessible neighborhood place like the legendary Dmitri’s (his favorite Monday spot). Olea’s menu resides in the Mediterranean zone, too, but hovers more Italian and Spanish than Dmitri’s lighter Greek menu.

It’s also cash only and more expensive than Dimitri’s, with entrees trending in the high-$20s. But Pedrago has a chef in Alex Ipri, who suits Olea’s long-game mission well. The 40-year-old South Philly native and longtime sous from Caffe Casta Diva (also Oceanaire and Philadelphia Fish & Co.), has a steady hand with seafood and a penchant for subtlety that relies on consistency rather than flash.

Ipri is one of the few chefs I’ve encountered who deliberately aims for “plain” flavors instead of “pungent” ones and still manages to make his dishes appealing. Garlic is almost always roasted to a mellow sweetness, rather than raw. His hummus skips the tahini, because he’s averse to sesame, but it still accents the good olives on the antipasto well.

There are some modest sparks on Olea’s octopus starter, a meaty, tender arm simmered in a cinnamon broth before it’s pan-roasted and served atop a smoky swipe of roast pepper puree with crumbles of chorizo (the mildest chorizo, of course). So I was impressed when the seafood fettuccine fra diavolo delivered a spicy kick, the chile flake-laced marinara amping up a generous helping of calamari, mussels, and shrimp.

A couple dishes wander a little too close to boring. Like the roasted chicken breast that’s rescued from humdrum by a retro Dijon cream sauce and flavorful mashed potatoes turned emerald green with pesto. Or the salmon over couscous with tzatziki yogurt sauce that would have been forgettable had it not been a good quality fillet from the Faroe Islands that was respectfully not overcooked, its silvery skin crisp, its orange center still moist.

I wish Olea had opted for the greater payoff of a whole branzino rather than a simple seared fillet with lemon vinaigrette over fregola, especially for $29. A couple pastas — some overly bouncy gnocchi in blush sauce, and the garganelli with diced eggplant that would have benefitted from a deeper roast — could also use some tweaking. The desserts are fine, especially the pistachio cake, but there’s much room for improvement.

But then there is a big magnetic bowl of mussels with a pesto-limoncello broth so tasty I could have used an entire loaf of good Mighty Bread Co. sourdough to soak it up. A juicy pork chop, its lean meat lard-injected and brined by Esposito’s for tenderness, comes drizzled in a creamy puddle of grain mustard sauce over roasted fingerlings, and is worth a return visit on its own.

Meanwhile, the most inventive dish from Ipri, whose family once owned a fresh pasta shop in South Philly, is a flower-shaped ravioli stuffed with ricotta-whipped ribeye. Pedrago had suggested a blue cheese sauce to complement the beef. But Ipri shies away from bold-flavored blues. So they settled on a tangy goat cheese sauce studded with pancetta and peas as a flavorful compromise.

The dish is quirky, for sure, not unlike Olea, which has the heart and personality to become a favorite new neighborhood BYOB. But I can’t really get those ravioli out of my mind. My food writer friend from New Orleans who ordered that dish? His plate was wiped clean.

The Inquirer is not currently giving bell ratings to restaurants due to the pandemic.

232 Arch St., 267-519-8315; oleaphilly.com

Dinner Thursday-Saturday, 5-10 p.m
.; Sunday and Monday, until 9 p.m.

Entrees, $19-$32.

Cash only.

Not wheelchair accessible.