Sprig and Vine
It might not be proper to admit from the first line that I am pork obsessed, but it should be known.
I sometimes write under the moniker “pork lover.” I used to believe most things were better with bacon, including dishes ranging from savory creamed corn to something more unexpected like brownies. I worked for a German chef for three years—goulash was part of my daily culinary vocabulary.
I only had one vegetarian friend as I was coming of age. Now, I have many. They’ve enlightened me. They’re always radiant, and they have a tremendous sense of satisfaction in their lifestyle choice. I respect that.
In fact, during the Lenten season, I’ve successfully gone sans meat two years in a row. Perhaps next year, I will take it to the next step of “pure vegetarianism” and go vegan for forty days. Why? I was stirred to do so after visiting New Hope’s new Sprig and Vine. With a quick glance at the menu, a few words jumped out at me: fennel, coconut, smoked paprika, and artichokes. I suddenly anticipated a bowl of beet and curry soup, and I was assured that it would be a departure from the Del Monte can of my youth.
Pure vegetarian or “strict vegetarian” originally appears to have meant “vegan” (before that word was invented); now it can now mean vegan or vegetarian, or represent any individual not eating meat. But—in the case of Union Square’s new forty-nine seat BYO—it’s vegan. The word vegan was coined in 1944, by Donald Watson, who combined the first three and last two letters of vegetarian to form "vegan," which he saw as "the beginning and end of vegetarian.”
Veganism is defined as a type of vegetarian diet that excludes meat, eggs, dairy products, and all other animal-derived ingredients. However, it does include protein powerhouse nuts, tangy vinaigrettes, and coconut—the axis that my culinary earth spins on.
Chef Ross Olchvary at Sprig and Vine redefined veganism for me as deeeeelicious. He shares, “I aim to surprise guests and show them that vegan food can be exciting and creative, instead of the stereotype that vegetarian and vegan food is bland and boring. I hope that guests will feel satisfied and not feel as if their meal was missing something.”
When we visited the restaurant, we dined during the day, when ladies were lunching, and the breeze was a bit much for al fresco dining, but the outdoor seating looked inviting for a return visit. The room is attractive. During prime time, cylindrical linen lamps illuminate the dining room. Clear glass vases are sporadically spread throughout the space, simply holding sprigs and branches. Mellow, ambient music plays in the background. At the foreground is Olchvary’s food—course after course of edible artwork on the table, as attractive as the ever-changing artwork on the decoratively paneled olivine drab walls. Currently, Lambertville local Florence Moonan is being featured.
The chef uses first-rate ingredients. His small plates of olives are Castelvetrano olives. They are harvested young, so they are a vibrant verde with a mild buttery flavor. They lack the bite of other olives, making them a good gateway for people who haven’t embraced the fermented fruit. He obtains his produce through his partnership with Zone 7. The local distribution company sources the highest quality ingredients from organic and sustainable farmers in New Jersey and Eastern Pennsylvania and delivers weekly to the BYO.
When we dined, the popular fried baby artichokes were served over a preserved lemon-chickpea salad with not one, but two dollops of smoked paprika aioli. This was a highlight. I applauded the textural contrast of the crunch of the artichoke and the chewiness of the chickpea. Then, there was the added dimension of the refreshing rocket of preserved lemon. Many Moroccan and Middle Eastern recipes call for preserved lemons—lemons that have been pickled in salt and their own juices.
At lunch, a variety of sandwiches are offered that nod around the globe. The Banh Mi represents Vietnam, with spicy cauliflower, carrot, cilantro, mint, jalapeno, and lemongrass aioli. The sweet potato-black bean chili burrito with scallion and cilantro rice and a smoked paprika aioli, the most popular day time item, adds a midday Mexican flair. Then, there’s the edamame falafel wrap featuring the popular middle-eastern street cart food.
Baby spinach salad is smoked in house, lightly tossed with an approachable horseradish dressing and roasted shallots. It’s garnished with Olchvary’s take on a crouton that delicately rests on the spinach as a fragile web of the thinnest slice of pumpernickel bread one can imagine.
I noticed that Olchvary doesn’t appear to be on board with that many “alternatives” to pork, poultry, and beef. The menu was void of seitan and texturized vegetable protein (tvp). Many authentic vegan chefs will also avoid the use of seitan not only because of its rubbery nature, but also due to the common gluten allergy.
There were a few dishes that included tempeh and tofu. Tofu can be fairly bland, although it will absorb the flavor of the other ingredients with which it is cooked. This tofu is branded with grill marks, allowing the bean curd to take on a nice charcoal flavor. It was smooth and firm in texture. He then surprised the palette by creating a carrot-top pesto broth. He served the grilled tofu in the broth resting against a toothsome chickpea cake and topped it off with shaved artichoke salad and braised greens. It is not often that you see one creatively using carrot tops, except for this resourceful chef, who is a former sous chef of the acclaimed Horizons, where he spent seven years in the Bella Vista neighborhood of Philadelphia. He also prepared dinner at the James Beard House during his tenure there—the first vegan restaurant in the country to ever do so.
For many, the moment of truth comes with dessert. Again, Olchvary delivered. He put out an unconventional peanut-butter-and-jelly French toast. The peanut butter was actually a rich powder, appearing almost crumb-like on the side of the plate. “I make the peanut butter powder by mixing peanut butter with tapioca maltodextrin, which is a starch derived from tapioca and [which] stabilizes fats by transforming high-fat ingredients (such as peanut butter) into powders,” explains Olchvary. The result is a decadent, peanut powder that, as cliché as it sounds, really melts in your mouth. I enjoyed the “jelly,” a red caramel sauce, as well, as I seem to favor most things with a little beer or Bordeaux snuck in. It had a lovely vinous character. It was the epitome of sophistication for the childhood favorite.
There was also a dense olive oil cake, complemented by rosemary and black pepper and completed with a scoop of blood orange blossom ice cream and a sliver of toasted shaved cake almost in a shadow of its former self fashion. And, olive oil is delicious as a perfect alternative to butter. I put down and picked up my fork at least four times. I didn’t know going vegan could be so gluttonous.
One would think that the dining experience would come to an end with a hefty bill, but it does not. No single item on the menu exceeds $10 at lunch and $18 at dinner.
I’d recommend for you to get your Main St. stroll in New Hope first, and then head to dinner—that way mandates such as the fried baby artichokes, the cornmeal crusted tempeh, and the seared coconut risotto cakes are available.
Sprig and Vine’s location—just a few doors down from Triumph Brewery—makes it convenient to pick up one of the brewpub’s reasonably priced growlers to share. I suggest you go with their top seller, the Bengal Gold IPA, an English style IPA with a vibrant amber color. The aromatic hops and nice malt backbone make it an excellent match for curry dishes or for the Moroccan grilled tofu.
With flavors throughout Sprig and Vine’s menu like black garlic, roasted fennel, and French curry, I also see a lot of interesting pairing opportunities with saisons and other artisan ales.
Guests can also head less than a mile away to the Wonderful World of Wine in Lambertville. They have wine and beer specialists to assist you with pairings. Although it should be noted that some beer may be vegetarian but not vegan.
Olchvary saw a drought of pure vegetarian in the Bucks County area. I’m willing to wager that you’ll find even city folk who are venturing north on I-95—vegans and omnivores alike—to try his cauliflower “three ways.” “We estimate that at least half of our customers are not even vegetarians, but rather foodies or people interested in trying something new or eating healthy.”
Story by Suzanne Woods
