After a Chef Shake-Up, Rosemary Finds Its Rhythm

Plates from Rosemary / Photography by Ed Newton

The first time I walked into Rosemary, “Afternoon Delight” by Starland Vocal Band was playing. The cream-colored walls and green ferns in the bar made the place feel like a Midwest airport Hilton circa 1983 — someplace where the present hadn’t arrived yet but had promised it was on the way.

On the menu, the steak tartare, truffle aioli, sun-dried tomatoes,­ and sauce Américaine had the feel of historical anomalies — museum exhibits misplaced among the nduja, gochujang, Calabrian chili, and huckleberry gastrique.

But this was exactly how owner Philip Breen and opening chef Elijah Milligan wanted it. On that first night at their Delco date-night hot spot in Ridley Park, this tension between the old and the new, the modern and the comforting, was very deliberate. A feature, not a bug. Rosemary was being talked about. It was drawing good crowds. People could feel the talent in the kitchen counterweighting the carefully curated nostalgia.

And then things changed.

Milligan opened the kitchen at Rosemary in July of 2023. I was there seven months later, in early January, prepping for a review that would never run because, in February — just seven months after opening night — news broke that Milligan was leaving, saying he had some unspecified other Delco project in the works. In March, it was announced that George Sabatino would be taking over at Rosemary, and by April he was already on the line, making changes — a little weird because Sabatino had cooked in a lot of different­ places (most recently as culinary director for the Safran-Turney restaurant empire), but all of those places had one thing in common: They weren’t in the suburbs. In an interview, Sabatino said he wasn’t sure if he’d ever even been to Delco before taking the gig with Breen.

Rosemary owner Philip Breen and chef George Sabatino

There’s a line, often attributed to Mark Twain, that goes History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does often rhyme. And with a history that’s as entwined, as incestuous, and compact as Philly’s restaurant history, those rhymes come with a machine gun patter. Crews work, they split, they come together in this kitchen and that one, working with and for different conglomerations of bosses who, themselves, have histories as complicated as Masonic handshakes.

Burrata with chili crisp and a plate of marinated beets at Rosemary

But at Rosemary, history was actually happening in reverse. Once upon a time (circa 2011), Sabatino was the biggest deal in the city. While he was at Stateside, Philly Mag named him Best Chef in Philly — an honor he answered by immediately leaving­ Stateside to go off and do his own thing. When Sabatino bailed, guess who took over the Stateside kitchen? Elijah Milligan.

So now it’s an ouroboros thing. And Sabatino in Rosemary’s kitchen?­ Sabatino, free from the youthful modernist influences and ego-driven experimentalism that defined his time at Stateside and, later, Aldine? It’s a killer fit. For a guy who didn’t even know the way to Ridley Park, he’s now pushing out scratch focaccia­ and half-chickens with charred lemon­ and harissa vinaigrette. The beets paired with strawberries and a cloud of whipped ricotta and the roasted carrots with lemon yogurt and pistachio almost feel like callbacks to the early days at Aldine, only with fewer ingredients. And the finger­ling potatoes — ­boiled, smashed, then pan-fried crisp and perfect golden-brown, served with nothing more than a hit of lemon and a stinging horseradish cream — may be the very definition of modern­ suburban simplicity, and also the best potato variation I’ve had in a long time.

Lump crab toast at Rosemary

The dining room is exactly the same fern-bedecked, clean, well-lighted place Breen wanted. Outside, the greenhouse and patio seating have backyard-picnic comforts as seen through the lens of an Architectural Digest photo spread (minus the occasional train roaring by just on the other side of the fence). And all involved know exactly what they’re doing, the vibe they’re chasing, as evidenced by the “Tonic and Gin” cocktail on the bar menu — all pink and sweet with its elderflower, lemon, and blueberry, named for that most desperately suburban of ’70s drinking anthems, Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” — but there’s a thin and gleaming edge of modern energy here in the plating, the orchestration of ingredients, that makes the joint sing.

Guests seated at Rosemary’s bar

Not every dish is a winner. The handmade spinach gnudi were gluey and dull and came in a broken brown butter sauce that speaks of a lack of critical attention at the pass. But come here one evening, pair a cocktail with the Japanese milk bread crab toast and happy hour slabs of glazed, fatty pork belly, and you’ll forget how far from the city you (and George Sabatino) have wandered.

3 Stars — Come from anywhere in Philly

Rating Key
0 stars: stay away
★: come if you have no other options
★★: come if you’re in the neighborhood
★★★: come from anywhere in Philly
★★★★: come from anywhere in America

Published as “Rosemary, Rebooted” in the September 2024 issue of Philadelphia magazine.