Reading Terminal Market is one of my favorite places in
Philadelphia. It's a culinary mecca of all things good. Between the hustle of
shopkeepers, tourists and local businessmen, there is no shortage of cuisines,
all of which are good. But I keep returning to Molly Malloy's.
Those of you familiar with my reviews know
this particular critique is already different. The idea behind my column is to
give the "Average Jo" a one-shot opinion of whether to spend their
time (and hard-earned money) on an unknown restaurant. I review after my first
visit, asking only this question: "Would I come back here?" The fact
that I've made several stops to Molly's already offers it some street cred.
I'm again reminded of why, of all food
venues in the market, I choose to stop in this one. Molly Malloy's is located
at the far east end of the market behind one of two produce stalls, in close
proximity to both the restroom and the exit, and is the perfect perch to sip a
local brew (they offer 20 on tap, in addition to four usual suspects, and a
healthy list of 24 bottles, mostly domestics peppered with the occasional
interesting craft pick). They are, to my knowledge, the only place in the
market that serves alcohol, which helps their cause. They draw a collection of
regulars: mostly blue-collar workers and older men who look as though they
could be novelists when they're not sipping microbrew. Their lunch menu (as the
market never closes later than 6pm) boasts an affordable selection of bar-type
appetizers, sandwiches hot and cold, and a trio of burger options (beer,
turkey, or veggie, starting at $9.50) with a plethora of interesting toppings,
including assorted cheeses, grilled pineapple, and braised cabbage.
Now Molly's is not without faults. The
service, at least at the bar, is hit or miss. My most recent visit was a
disappointment in that field. My favorite bartender was absent. He's the type
of seasoned professional who can read a diner within moments. He claims to have
mere intermediate beer knowledge, but he's current with his brewers and has an
educated opinion. I've watched him direct wavering patrons in the direction of
local brews that have always proven satisfactory, and he's offered me useful
insight on more than one occasion. Unfortunately he doesn't work a regular
schedule and thus you never know when you're going to catch him.
In his place a middle-aged blonde is
bordering on inattentive. Everything takes just a hair too long, considering
the sparsely seated bar. Worse, when I ask for a small taste of Weyerbacher's
"Blithering Idiot" (10oz, $7), she says, as if to deter me,
"It's a barley wine; it's 11% alcohol." I reply that it's been some
time since I've tried it, and she concedes to giving me a tablespoon in a shot
glass. Despite my desire for an IPA, I order it to spite her, along with the
"Not-Your-Mama's Summer Grilled Cheese", a non-traditional sammy of
goat cheese and house-made tomato jam spread. The food at Molly's is hearty, no
frills, but tasty as hell. When my plate arrives, my sandwich sits
unceremoniously in the center, garnished by a lone pickle spear, a messy smear
of jam spread to the lip of the plate. They won't win many points for style,
but the sweet and tart tomato spread nicely offsets pungent earthy goat cheese
on two perfectly-browned slices of brioche.
You already know the answer, but tradition
begs I ask the question: "Would I come back here?" Even if I hadn't
already been back several times, the answer would be "yes". While the
family-style food court tables fill up with diners, Molly Malloy's proves an
oasis in a room full of chaos. I can hear myself think and people-watch with
abandon while the masses mill around the market. It's not perfect, but the food
and beer are good, and that's good enough for me.
Molly Malloy's
Reading Terminal market
1136 Arch Street, Philadelphia, PA
(267) 525-1001
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