March 3, 2008
By: Ken Alan
kalan@aroundphilly.com
“When is the last time you had a twice-baked potato out at a restaurant?” my wife asked me while scooping hungrily at one.
“I think it was the last time we were here,” I answered while digging into my own. “That was what, like 1984?”
The whipped and seasoned flashback-of-flavor from those potatoes was more welcoming than I could have imagined. As I dug in, I reflected on all the crazy cuisines I have tried in just the last three months or so: Basque-influenced pork belly; clam rice with sea urchin foam; micro greens and malt served (no lie) on top of a stone; crème brulee with Pop Rocks…
It was good getting back to the basics for just awhile.
And it was enjoyable seeing the famed Towne House restaurant from an older and more restaurant-savvy set of eyes. Indeed, I hadn’t been to this Media mainstay since the mid-1980’s when my parents would take my sisters and me there every so often through our childhood.
Since it was founded in 1951 by Silvio “Babe” D’Ignazio (still very much with us in his 90’s), the Towne House has remained a landmark dining experience in the heart of Delaware County. The restaurant’s charm to be sure is how traditional it has remained.
Though the site has grown substantially over the years, the look, the food and the long-running staff are what make this one a sentimental favorite, especially in today’s world of cutting-edge cuisines and globally gastronomic influences.
Walking in was like being transported back in time to my childhood with memories of those red-brick walls bearing hunt country oil paintings. Hundreds of kerosene lanterns still suspend from ceilings while colored bottles, tiny tchokes and an effluvium of other knick-knacks are time-encapsulated here within this cheery and familiar home. Gas fireplaces crackle from various rooms.
As stated, the place is a leviathan of a restaurant with banquet rooms and ballrooms seemingly going on forever. When I think about it, at 36,000 square feet, the Towne House may very well be the largest restaurant in the county if not the entire Delaware Valley. Yet, still, they pack ‘em in like they had on this recent Saturday night.
The menu, once typical, is part of today’s dying breed of traditional American restaurants. Clams casino, jumbo shrimp cocktail, fried mozzarella sticks and the rest of the appetizer choices are throwbacks to this same place, yet from another time completely.
Good and unctuous garlic bread arrived while my daughter and I split one of our favorites: Snapper soup. Harder to find in the ‘burbs these days, the TH version was hearty, meaty and homemade tasting and came with the cursory cruet of sherry. Meanwhile, my Caesar salad-loving son enjoyed his leafy Romaine opener, though to me the dressing tasted more bottle than scratch.
Entrees were simple yet well prepared and each came with a side salad. A perfectly cooked eight-ounce grilled filet mignon, thin and velvety veal piccante, and my decadent crab au gratin (sweet with no shell bits) were each accompanied by fresh green beans and baked potato.
I hate reading that restaurant reviewers are “too full for dessert” (isn’t that their job to taste everything?) but I’ll admit to defeat in this case, wussing out when asked by our server, Chris, if we’d like to see the dessert menu that included chocolate cake, chocolate lava cake, and profiteroles.
There’s something for everyone at Towne House. I spy a young couple huddled by a own romance-inducing fireplace in The Carriage Room; a family of about twenty celebrate their patriarch’s birthday; and revelers drink as a duo strum guitars in the bar (the only smoking area).
Again, I stress that this is unfussy fare. You certainly won’t find any Wagyu beef, celeric root, or artisan cheese on the menu. No tapas, infusions or foods being plated vertically. Too, the wine list is your basic Fetzer/Clos du Bois variety but the crowd here, I can tell, cares more about who they’re drinking with then flights, cult wines or Super Tuscans.
It was good getting to D’Ignazio’s Towne House with my wife, my childhood sweetheart since even before 1984, which was the last time the two of us had had those twice-baked potatoes together.
This go-around, with our own kids with us, it was a fine evening of being back again in a place that, thankfully, keeps moving ahead in time.
