Reporter's Notebook | Kicking calories with Kitchen at Penn

Hello, freshman 15. It’s nice to see you on my love handles.

Since moving away from my mom’s burnt broccoli and whole grain pasta, I have gravitated toward the ubiquitous ice cream, cheese steaks and mac ‘n’ cheese that surround me at Penn. As much as I’d like to be mature and take responsibility for my freshman 15, I blame you, Wawa. And you, 1920 Commons. Penn, I blame you.

But here comes Nate Adler, a Wharton and College senior who evidently shares my loathing of Penn’s limited selection of healthy foods. Tired of hearing his friends yearn for home-cooked meals post-Thanksgiving break, Nate decided to take his Wharton hubris into the kitchen. Literally.

With nothing but my wits and my notebook, I venture further west than I’ve ever been and arrive at 45th Street and Springfield Avenue to find out what exactly Kitchen at Penn — which has its grand opening on Feb. 16 — is all about. As the cab slows to a stop, a tiny door alongside a roll-down metal gate comes into view. A clothing hanger dangles in the window bearing a handwritten sign — the only physical indication that I had arrived at my intended destination. Although seemingly obvious in the title, Kitchen At Penn really is nothing but a kitchen. At Penn.

As Nas’ Get Down blares in the background, Adler, Chef Jordan Miller and College junior and Assistant General Manger Joanna Ehrenreich chop, dice, stir, blend, mix, occasionally dance, prep and taste. The vibrant colors of the deep yellow winter squash and almost obnoxious purple of the Japanese Okinawan potato brighten the otherwise stark kitchen.

Adler greets me warmly and Ehrenreich — with hands stained red from slicing beets — offers me a taste. Reluctantly, I take the vegetable from her hand and place it in my mouth. Though I never quite enjoyed beets, I clearly had never tried Adler’s rendition — I actually really liked them.

Adorned in both a hat and T-Shirt embroidered with the company’s quirky logo — a bike riding along a fork — Adler shows off the meal he has prepared for Delta Delta Delta’s Tuesday night dinner. On tonight’s menu: for starters, a spinach salad with goat cheese, cooked beets, walnuts and a balsamic vinaigrette, and a Caesar salad garnished with shredded Parmesan cheese and hand crafted croutons. For the entree, Adler concocted a playful take on spaghetti and meatballs, cutting calories by using squash and turkey meat.

His “super sides” seem delectable enough to stand alone — a simmering Dijon cauliflower and blend of orange and purple potatoes. While Adler hand-folds the dessert — a creamy banana pudding — he swears me to secrecy and lets me in on the recipe. Don’t ask — I’ll never tell.

As Adler and Ehrenreich wrap the chafing dishes in tin foil and load their maroon Chrysler, it becomes clear that the meal has taken my seat in the car. Ehrenreich motions me forward to sit on her lap, to which I sheepishly comply.

We spend the cramped car ride listening to the shrieking alarm tell us time and time again the door needs proper closing. After what seems like an eternity, we arrive at the TriDelt chapter house. The two single-handedly unload the car, which is filled with enough food to feed 70 girls.

I watch as the sorority girls gorge on the healthy eats Adler and his team have prepared. Oddly enough, it resembles a family dinner — an assemblage of “sisters” sharing in a freshly prepared home-cooked meal. The girls scramble for the menus and information on what it is exactly that they are eating and how they can get Kitchen’s food again.

Kitchen’s humble storefront, if it could be given such denomination, captures the talent and the heart of its founders. When Adler and his delivery men bear the cold weather and hand-deliver the meals via bicycle, they will bring a little piece of home with them as well.

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