Sweet Amelia’s — not to be confused with Sweet Amalia — brings intriguing seasonal flavors to Kennett Square

At some point in the ever-exploding cosmos of this region’s restaurant scene, we may run out of names. At least it has begun to seem that way this year after I wrote about an excellent new restaurant in the Italian Market called Alice, named after chef Dave Conn’s late mother, then quickly realized it was easily mistaken for Alice, the Roman-style pizzeria in Center City. (Mention of both places has more than once confused in our house for a conversation about our daughter, who also happens to be named Alice.)

Good luck trying to keep straight the multiple Japanese places in Philly called Oishi, Oishii or Oishii Poke. And now another vowel-adjacent name kerfuffle has sparked in the suburbs across state lines. It’s happened between Sweet Amelia’s, an eight-month-old American bistro in Kennett Square and Sweet Amalia Market & Kitchen, the dreamy oyster destination, market, and sandwich cafe in South Jersey (connected to a Cape May Point oyster farm by the same name), that was one of the Inquirer’s Top 10 restaurants in 2021 and 2022.

Both Sweet A’s are named for the owners’ daughters. But Sweet Amelia’s Zack Hathaway, 29, a chef who co-owns this 34-seater with wife and co-chef, Karessa Hathaway, 29, says he was oblivious to the potential name conflict until got a call from the New Jersey operators when he was literally hanging his sign over the former Verbena space.

“It’s not lost on me their frustration. I’m empathetic to the difficulties of building a name,” he said. “But I depleted my bank account opening this. I can’t rebrand now.”

I get that start-up chefs — and young parents — are often too deep in their own challenges to look up. But even the most casual market research would have flagged the conflict, something any smart new business should do in advance. And Zack, who was chef de cuisine for two years at Wayne’s At The Table, has been a part of the local scene long enough to be aware of one of its more celebrated players. It has ultimately been no big deal for Jersey’s Sweet Amalia, co-owner Melissa McGrath says, beyond some confused customers calling the wrong place (”I hope they’re doing well.”). But this was also an early unforced error that hints at inexperience that occasionally flares in other aspects of Sweet Amelia’s, from the details of service (don’t clean tables with towelettes perfumed like baby wipes, for example) to several questionable culinary choices.

Fortunately, the Hathaways have the talent to succeed. They met at Johnson & Wales, worked for a caterer in Charlotte, N.C., a country club in Chevy Chase, Md., and in Washington D.C., where Karessa was a line cook at Tail Up Goat and Zack ran City Winery’s kitchen. And they’re establishing a worthy identity here as ambitious operators with a seasonally driven menu that, at its best, feels relevant and sometimes daring.

The chicken skin tea sandwiches are a case in point. These crunchy-puffy beauties are an homage to the multi-month culinary journey these two took across Australia six years ago. Their tribute to a favorite sandwich from a restaurant in Adelaide begins by braising skins from nearby Lindenhof Farm in buttermilk and cayenne, frying them into crispy sheets, and then layering them on white bread with seasonal garnishes — like end-of-season tomatoes with fennel aioli in October alongside a dip of spicy Portuguese piri-piri.

With its emphasis on sourcing sustainable ingredients from local farms and interpreting them with bold and creative flavors, this sandwich speaks volumes about this couple’s sensibilities. If they’d worried this corner of Chester County was a little conservative in tastes, the five pounds of chicken skins rendered each week allayed those fears.

It’s the only static item on a menu that’s otherwise in constant flux to reflect the ever-shifting produce from local growers like Full Table Farm, which provided the fall fennel bulbs tempura fried alongside harissa aioli into crispy petals bursting sweet anise juice; or the fried Kennett-grown maitake that pulled apart like the earthiest bloomin’ onion ever.

A pheasant from Keiser’s Pheasantry showed off the kitchen’s butchery chops by turning the breast into a roulade stuffed with leg meat sausage over creamed kale, crispy sweet potatoes, and a Madeira sauce. It was delicious, though scant for $46, emphasizing how challenging it is for small restaurants to serve prime local ingredients with perceived value. I had even more sticker shock from an unremarkable fried pork chop for $42 that, despite its local farm pedigree, was straight-up comfort cooking, served beside mashed potatoes and collard green sauerkraut.

Sweet Amelia’s occasionally wowed me in other areas. Solidago Farm grew the Fairy Tale pumpkins that Zack turned into one of Sweet Amelia’s most memorable dishes, a thick “steak” of pumpkin meat cooked sous-vide with garlic and sage, then seared over a crispy polenta cake and ringed by pale green poblano pepper barbecue sauce with sautéed chicken of the woods mushrooms. A follow-up pumpkin dish in November was less exciting, with dry chunks of pumpkin in garam masala atop an overly thick lentil stew and a fresh “pita” so puffy it looked like an English muffin. (A more traditional stewed pumpkin, perhaps with a naan flatbread, would have been better.)

The inconsistent texture of sauces, often leaning on the heavy side, are another sign of inexperience. But they did not entirely detract from some of the most compelling ideas — like the sherried creaminess of roasted chestnut bisque topped with a crisp porcini rice ball; or a halibut Wellington wrapped in oceanic layers of nori and smoked salmon beneath its elegant puff pastry package. Or the “cobbled” sunchoke nuggets that get smashed then fried over a cranberry pink vegan aioli.

Karessa, who worked with pasta at Tail Up Goat, as well as Cicala at the Divine Lorraine, produces some of the menu’s most appealing dishes, from delicate green tortellini stuffed with mortadella in a richly creamed leek sauce to agnolotti with sweet koginut squash and a maple sauce piqued with enough guajillo heat to cut the dish’s sweetness. Karessa’s farfalle was also perfect in pomodoro sauce with chunks of smoked eggplant — until a garnish of deep-fried anchovies crackled with a startling shock of salt. (Better to melt those anchovies into the background than go full-out brackish).

I loved the flavors of lamb tartare in black garlic vinaigrette, but the meat was cut into unappetizingly large, marble-sized chunks of raw flesh. I also admired the flavor profile of corvina steamed in basket-woven young ginger greens. But it was also awkward to eat that big hunk of fish bobbing in a bowl of dashi. (Zack promises to extend his local sourcing priorities to seafood next year, by the way; I can think of a great oyster farm in Cape May...)

So many great ideas. And only a handful of small tweaks are need to make them as good as they can be to consistently merit this price range.

The Hathaways are savvy to collaborate when necessary. For desserts, they turn to Zack’s pastry chef sister, Ashley Hathaway, who created a lovely pecan torte with buttermilk anglaise and a dense vegan chocolate-pumpkin cake with seasonal kumquat jam. (Avoid the chesnut phyllo roll, its praline center lacks crunch).

Their smartest collaboration, though, is with R5 Wines, the Downingtown wine bar serving the owners’ stellar Sonoma vintages, and whose tasting room license allows Sweet Amelia’s to pour exceptional Cali Rhône-style grenache, viognier, and a charmingly versatile, light-bodied red called counoise. In a promising development, the Hathaways will also begin running the kitchen at R5 in February, turning out some of their best snacks and charcuterie to pair with the already worthy pizzas and wines.

The only question is what will this collaboration be called? Sweet Amelia’s Does Downingtown? R5 and the Kitchen Gang? It’s still under discussion, Zack says. Hopefully, they’ll Google first before making the sign.

102 E. State St., Kennett Square, Pa. 19348

Menu: sweetameliasksq.com

Phone: 484-732-7943

Dinner Wednesday-Sunday 5-9 p.m. Lunch Thursday through Sunday, 11 a.m.-3 p.m.

Wheelchair accessible.

Can cater to all dietary restrictions. About 25% of menu is gluten-free or able to be modified.