It's snowing fat feathery flakes this Saturday afternoon in Philadelphia, but inside the Resurrection Ale House (2425 Grays Ferry Ave.; 215-735-2202; www.resurrectionalehouse.com) there's the sort of warm, burnished glow that comes from a copper ceiling, brass taps, and amber pints of beer. The bartender, a bearded fellow called Rocco, tucks a long strand of hair behind his ear while holding forth on the similarities between Philly neighborhoods and New York boroughs. ("South Philly is Brooklyn," he proposes.) A couple at a table drink canned Natty Bohs poured into glass mugs, while a pair of friends at the bar sip Kulmbacher Eisbock between nibbles of house-baked cookies. As Serge Gainsbourg croons through the speakers, I look out the picture windows at the cars lumbering down sloppy Grays Ferry Avenue, past metal awnings and brick fronts, the tall tower of Greater St. Matthew Baptist Church with its parking spot for the pastor and first lady, the huge complex that was once the old naval hospital but has been renovated by Toll Brothers into a gated condominium community, and am grateful for my dry barstool perch.

If there's a recipe for the new Philly corner tappy, Resurrection's owners, Brendan Hartranft and Leigh Maida, have followed it with this, their third venture in roughly eighteen months. The recipe goes something like this: Renovate a tavern in a transitioning neighborhood. Serve gastropub fare, including something for vegans, and install a dozen or so taps of international brews. Then welcome everyone, including neighborhood old-timers and newbies, and host special events like the Mommy and Me Happy Hour on Monday afternoons, where moms get a dollar off draft beers and a chance to network with other women. It may all sound a little precious, but it works in Philadelphia, where an influx of hipsters during the Aughts had folks joking that the city has become New York's sixth borough (Rocco's metaphors aside), and where the state's stifling beer and wine laws make it almost cheaper to drink at a tavern than at home.

The Resurrection Ale House is a midpoint stop in a Saturday given to exploring Philly's sprawling, vibrant food and drink scene. I'm not a stranger to the city; I've kicked around my fair share of pubs, and I have my must-visits for whenever I'm lucky enough to be in Philly to see friends. But I'm still impressed with the depth and breadth of restaurants and bars here. In asking friends for recommendations on new places to visit, I was told of Chinese dumpling haunts and oyster houses, barbecue joints and locavore havens, bars and confectioners. Today, my role is part tourist, part gourmand, and while the messy weather prevents the kind of ambling discoveries made on foot, it does provide a good excuse for holing up in a clean, well-lighted place.

I begin my day across town on Chestnut Street in the heart of Philly's historic tourist district. Independence Hall is mere blocks away, and as lines of tourists shuffle down the sidewalks under black umbrellas, my husband and I slip into Chifa (707 Chestnut St.; 215-925-5555; www.chifarestaurant.com), one of Iron Chef America's Jose Garces' five Philadelphia restaurants. This one is devoted to its namesake, "chifa," the phonetic pronunciation of a Chinese character representing the Peruvian/Chinese culinary hybrid born of late 19th century Chinese immigration to Peru. From the outside, Chifa looks like an old-fashioned Chinese restaurant, with tomato-red grillwork and a pair of dragons rampant; if you blink, you might miss the "Comidas Latinas" sign. Inside, it's hip and stylish, yet utterly comfortable—just the place where you expect to contemplate a list of cocktails (it is Saturday, after all) that includes a Chinese Five Spice Rye Manhattan and a Lima Bean Fizz. I choose the latter, a springy green concoction of house-infused cucumber vodka, Thai basil, lime, and, yes, pureed lima beans that have been strained out of the drink but leave a sort of earthy vegetal quality. Between sips, I take advantage of Chifa's two-course $18 lunch special, inhaling a Peruvian ceviche of corvino and pickled pearl onions—served, like the complex cocktail of flavors it is, in an old-fashioned glass—followed by the beef noodle bowl, an aromatic mix of frilly mushrooms, tiny cherry-colored rounds of hot peppers, slivers of bok choy, and beef slices. Meanwhile, my husband digs into a hot pot of glazed cod and mustard greens that boasts the unimaginable combination of tofu and bacon. "I'm glad someone thought of that," I murmur between stolen bites.

Lips pleasantly tingling from the spicy broth, we drive southwest to South and 19th, where I stop for a yard of fabric at Spool (1912 South St.; 215-545-0755; www.spoolsewing.com), a shop that caters to sewists whose DIY tastes run more to wonky quilt patterns made with retro style fabrics than country calicos. Its sister store, Loop (1914 South St.; 215-893-9939; www.loopyarn.com), is a yarn goldmine for knitters and crocheters. From there we walk further west to Grays Ferry Avenue, sampling curry-infused fudge and a black magic cupcake at Betty's Speakeasy (2241 Grays Ferry Ave.; 215-735-9060; www.bettysfudge.com), a tiny confectionary bursting at the seams with sweets and chocolate drinks.

The evening takes us to yet another part of Philadelphia: trendy, busy Rittenhouse Square, where we meet friends at Tria (123 S. 18th St.; 215-972-TRIA; www.triacafe.com), a sliver of a restaurant specializing in three fermented items: beer, wine, and cheese. Since opening at 18th Street in 2005, Tria has added an additional location in Washington Square, plus a Fermentation School in the Medical Arts Building on Walnut Street to accommodate the popular focused tastings. The Rittenhouse location is snug and crowded, with limited seating and a bar that runs half the length of the restaurant, but the staff remain cheerful as they squeeze through the throng delivering small plates of grilled artichoke and Bulgarian feta panini and gorgonzola-stuffed figs. They recommend small batch beers, but also approve when we choose a little-known Lagrein from the aptly-named "Funky Reds" portion of the wine menu.

Tria serves dessert, but no trip to Philadelphia is complete without a stop at Capogiro (119 S. 13th St.; 215-351-0900; www.capogirogelato.com). Some might argue that gelato has no place on a snow day, but they've never had Capogiro's Cioccolato Scuro—so dark it's nearly black and as rich as chocolate ganache. We spend several minutes taking advantage of the free samples, licking Thai coconut, pistachio, and persimmon flavors off tiny plastic spoons. No one cuts you off here because the flavors change daily, and you never know what will strike you. I settle for a small double scoop of pear sorbetto spiked with Wild Turkey and mocha, while my friend digs into the black chocolate and cinnamon. Warm air fogs the shop windows, and we watch bundled couples shiver through the late night downtown air before we take our final bites and walk out to join them.

—Mary K. Zajac wrote about Zion Lutheran Church's annual sour beef supper in the October issue.