Roxanne’s second act is just as outrageous as its first — but now it’s as delicious as it is provocative

Here we were, together again: me, a pile of raw beef, and the white lava flow of Alexandra Holt’s bespoke Whiz. The first time I encountered it, two years ago, I shuddered.

I had quite the opposite reaction to this latest version of Holt’s “raw cheesesteak.” I loved the grainy spice of the fresh-baked rye toast. An intriguing whisper of cold-smoked gouda wafted though the frothy new version of her velvety white “American cheese” sauce. And it beckoned my fork back for another bite of this irresistible, contrarian riff on Philly’s signature sandwich made with beef tartare and a peppery shallot dressing.

It’s possible I’ve evolved on this subject, having slogged through several bad (cooked) cheesesteaks during a recent hunt to find gems for a fresh list of Inquirer-recommended cheesesteaks. But the primary reason is that the ever-experimental Holt has simply continued to grow, tweaking her edgy, art-forward concept with high-quality ingredients (love that Happy Valley teres major) and fine-tuning the details until it landed square at the crossroads of weird and wonderfully delicious.

The evolution of the raw cheesesteak is a parallel for the progression of Roxanne in general. The original 25-seat BYOB often felt more like a performance art supper club designed for shock value than a restaurant. Its darkly themed plates featured cakes molded into bloody brains, dagger-stabbed pastries, and aioli scribbled onto lunch meat into angst-ridden emojis, reflecting the mindset of a chef bouncing back from a bad fit at her previous job.

“I opened the first place out of sadness,” Holt said, “and needed something extreme at the time to see if it could help me.”

At the end of last year, Holt left her space behind in the Italian Market for a more expansive space in Queen Village — a lilac-colored room with well-spaced tables and cozy tatami nooks refurbished from the former sushi-house occupant. There’s a new wine list showcasing local vintner Vox Vineti (with cocktails to come) and a staff of four employees to supplement what was previously a one-woman show.

Holt has a singular talent for expressing herself vividly through food, and there’s been a noticeable lifting of the spirit in her work at Roxanne 2.0, a cheeky playfulness guided by deft technique, carefully curated ingredients, and a distinctively artful perspective that imbues her cooking with a palpable joy. Pepperoni polka dots add a whimsical pop of pizza spice to a pristine white cod glazed in lemon poppy butter, posed over a raft of white asparagus in a green pool of dill oil, while a tangy yuzu broth poured tableside over crispy-skinned arctic char literally shimmers with gold dust.

In between closing the first Roxanne and opening the new one, “I fell in love,” Holt said, “with a person, and with this city. And it’s made a huge impact on the restaurant I didn’t know I needed or wanted.”

As the daughter of a single mom in the Air Force — the restaurant’s namesake, Roxanne Holt — who grew up in 15 states and six countries, then worked her way as Culinary Institute of America-trained pastry chef from Chicago to Baltimore to a Michelin-starred perch in Germany, this long pause to her wanderlust has given Holt the opportunity to shape Roxanne into the fascinating destination it can be.

Holt’s budding relationship with her boyfriend, Jeremy Emami, a former steakhouse server, has both inspired several dishes and lent a sense of stability to the front-of-house operation, which he helps run alongside alongside his best friend, Cuzzy Angiolillo (of the once-and-future Cuzzy’s Ice Cream). A growing attachment to Philadelphia’s “true-self attitude” has also made the peripatetic Holt realize, “I finally have a home.”

Holt still cherishes solitude in the kitchen as a solo chef, which reinforces her idiosyncratic approach to food. She also remains so reclusively shy that she refuses to pose for photos. But she’s comfortable nonetheless working in a semi-open kitchen for guests to see. And in the serenity of this new space, decorated with her own art — potato sculptures fixed to the ceiling near the bathroom, a skateboard branded with McDonald‘s golden arches, pictures of her cat, Beer — she’s also given herself the time to polish her craft as a cook.

Holt said she has been resisting the compulsion to change her menu daily (“It was like I wanted to fail.”). She’s turned instead toward refining and focusing her cooking — improving the depth of her sauces, refining the many breads she bakes, mastering the efficiency of juggling an intricate 15-item a la carte menu and a tasting menu simultaneously on her own — and her ideas, which are still unconventional by any measure. A cheeseburger with blue cheese and raw onions for dessert (plus a side of chocolate sundae)? She gets me!

Not everything works for everyone: The starch-on-starch pile of the “potato on potato” duo — pommes purées and a gratin layered beneath cheese sauce— was too heavy for me. And even a big scoop of caviar, it turns out, can be obliterated by the overwhelmingly tart richness of Key lime pie. Holt’s version was so good in its own right that it might have been more ironically cool to have served it without the trendy caviar bump.

When Holt’s creations work — and that’s more often now than before — they are stunningly original. They can be both visually arresting and challenging to the taste buds, as unexpected flavor combinations come braced with a persistent bolt of acidic brightness — such as the carpaccio-like mosaic of tart kiwi rounds layered green-on-green over a pistachio-enriched Caesar dressing. If you’ve experienced ramp fatigue this spring, Holt’s take on the garlicky wild greens is a revelation — quickly sautéed and laced beneath a translucent mound of diced sweet Dino melon. Mixed together with a housemade Boursin of sheep’s milk farmer’s cheese piped over the top, it’s an ethereal take on sour cream and onions.

The whey byproduct of the cheesemaking process is essential to another of Holt’s best new creations: hot rigatoni. Toothy pasta tubes are tossed in a meaty ragù of lemongrass-curried beef and leeks glazed in a boldly spiced gravy of whey enriched with koji and chili crisp heat. Fragrant Thai basil leaves scattered over top activate the dish for all the senses.

Holt’s penchant for quirky, palate-bending pairings has undeniable appeal, even with dishes that are only three-quarters perfected. Her octopus, for example, was exceptional, a plump arm as straight as a riding crop, yet tender and delicately crisp. But it deserved something more engaging than a dollop of onion dip on the side.

Holt’s work to improve her skill in cooking proteins — not a given for a career pastry chef (and a smart reply to any savory chef who is clueless beyond a dish of pudding) — has also paid dividends. The dry-aged pork chop with green peppercorns and braised endive mustard was succulent. A textbook link of boudin blanc showed her skill with delicate charcuterie: The sausage is stuffed with a delicate white emulsion of chicken, cognac, and pork, and served beautifully browned alongside the snap of spring peas and sweet muscat grapes.

My only major disappointment here was a relatively small duck breast, which was dry and salty. It was also completely overshadowed by the spectacular sauce of duck jus bordelaise with steamed Oishii strawberries, whose bright acidity cut through the richness of the sauce and a wedge of Stilton perched on the side. At $55 — the most expensive entree, and $74 when supersized for two — the duck itself should not be a juiceless afterthought.

Holt made up for it with a rare burger that was absolutely gushing with beefy juice on a crispy, sesame-seeded house-baked bun, layered with a thick slice of Red Rock blue cheese and raw onions in creamy mayo. Some might find it odd that it’s listed as a dessert, but it’s an homage to her post-shift burger indulgences with Emami at Fountain Porter. It’s also served alongside a chocolate sundae that completes her classic combo order at Wendy’s, drawing it ever closer to the traditional dessert zone. That the sundae is drizzled with an intense fudge sauce made with 66% dark chocolate that Holt makes from cacao pods she grinds herself is all the more reason to dive in.

It also reinforces Holt’s course-warping mindset that “dessert” simply implies “an ending,” not necessarily something sweet. Her ricotta-filled sfogliatelle is all the more memorable for the tangy chanterelles vinegar it came bobbing in.

And Holt’s feisty old instincts are also still fully at play in her other finales, which you can order a la carte or in a $95 six-course tasting that features plenty of political commentary. One dish, “And suddenly, I hate the color orange,” is a presidential reference. Another dessert, called “American Bounty,” is a chocolate truffle molded into the shape of a Glock.

The desserts I enjoyed most were the ones inspired by nostalgia — like her lush chocolate layer cake, or the panna cotta with fresh tater tots for dipping alongside whole Mandarins that, when peeled tableside, evoke more of her late-night snacks with Emami.

Holt’s most daring new dessert, though, is the floating island, a vanilla-rich poached meringue shaped like a breast topped with a marzipan nipple that hovers over a saucy moat of strawberries. On most days, this delicious classic is meant to symbolize Holt’s long relationship with loneliness. But on the night of our visit, that nipple was dripping with a trickle strawberry sauce like blood “in honor of the birth of [a chef friend‘s] baby.” Ouch! Congrats?

“It’s just how motherhood seems to me — it takes a lot out of your body,” said Holt, who doesn’t have any children yet, “but I’d like to.”

Pair that sentiment with a check served inside the pages of the children’s classic Good Night Moon, and Holt, in this new act and her bright new outlook, has conjured what must be the most bloody optimistic dessert ever made.

“So much of [the first Roxanne] was about the past and things that happened to me,” Holt said. “But I don’t think about the past as much here anymore. I cook the things I want to see in the future.”

607 S. Second St., Philadelphia, PA 19147; roxannephilly.com

Dinner, Monday, 6-10 p.m.; Thursday through Saturday, 5:30-10 p.m.

Plates, $14-$78 (duck for two); six-course dessert tasting menu, $95.

Wheelchair accessible.

While baking is done on site, much of the menu (including all sauces) is gluten-free.