Blueplate

Food traditions are difficult to nudge aside, even when the replacement may be better. James Malaby learned that shortly after he bought the Hilltop restaurant in Mullica Hill in 2006, intending to breathe new life into its old menu.

After turns at Brasserie Perrier and Jake’s in his native Philadelphia, Daniel in New York, the Amelia Island Ritz-Carlton, and other sojourns, Malaby, 34, had honed his identity as a creative New American chef. He thought he was doing the breakfast regulars a favor when he nixed the commercial creamed chipped beef the diner had been serving for 35 years and made his own from scratch.

“The locals liked it better the old way,” says Malaby, who lives in town himself, “so it had to stay.” But as the name change suggests, Malaby did reinvent the place—not so much visually (he basically just painted), but on the menu. Blueplate, then, is a balancing act.

Breakfast and lunch belong to the locals. They might be right about the creamed chipped beef. Although it’s from a mix, it’s thick, rich, and delicious. The scrapple—from Ralph and Paul Adams (RAPA) in Bridgeville, Delaware—is excellent, too. Home fries, another strong point, are crunchy and laced with sautéed onions. The joe is medium bodied and toasty—a blend roasted by Talkin’ Coffee in Deptford exclusively for blueplate (Malaby eschews the capital B).

The two departures from diner tradition are commendable—bacon-egg-and-cheese quesadillas, and custardy French toast stuffed with blueberry pie filling. The packets of Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup are a bit kitschy. Most undinerlike was a 45-minute wait for our order of grilled cinnamon buns. They were worth the wait, but there’s no excuse for it. Fortunately, you can entertain yourself by pondering the local artwork on the walls or perusing the ad-filled placemats. Nothing like having breakfast and knowing where you can get a bail bond.

Malaby steps into the spotlight at dinner. The hip menu makes the flowered carpets, tasseled window treatments, and library chairs that fit in at breakfast and lunch seem a bit homely at night. Fortunately, Malaby’s cooking brightens things up. Risotto, flavored with carrot and apple juices and Andouille sausage, has a sunset tint and a fleeting sweetness that balances the sausage’s dusky spice. India and America happily embrace in a dish of delicate pan-seared crab cakes with a raita of curry, cucumber, and sour cream (instead of the traditional yogurt). The caramelized onion and Fontina tart, a blueplate favorite, is a golden-brown beauty. Rack of lamb was perfectly cooked. Osso bucco braised in red wine and chicken-and-beef stock was rich and tender. Malaby serves sweet puréed parsnips on the side—another international handshake that works.

Unfortunately, execution is not always up to snuff. Gingered-chicken spring rolls were dry and bland. New York strip steak was dry as well. Pan-seared, fennel-crusted duck breast was extremely overcooked. The dish was somewhat redeemed by the enjoyable side of cannelloni stuffed with Swiss chard and duck confit.

Desserts are made in-house. Apart from a dribbly and undercooked bread pudding, the sweets were good, especially sour cream-and-apple pie, fluffy chocolate cake, and spiced apple cobbler.
Diner? Bistro? A bit of both. For the most part, the balancing act works.