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The holiday season is here. Growing up in Wynnewood, my friends and I would hop the train into town for a day of shopping and lunch.
Our first stop was the light show at Wanamaker’s. In those days, the show was narrated by John Facenda, a well-respected television newsman whose deep voice was instantly recognizable.
I have fond memories of Wanamaker’s Crystal Tea Room, which was the largest restaurant in the city. Homemade vegetable soup, assorted tea sandwiches and mint chocolate chip ice cream were among my favorites. I also liked its chicken chow mein topped with crispy noodles.
The Pub on Chestnut Street was another favorite. The open face hot brisket sandwich with rich gravy warmed me up on a cold day. The Pub Tiki was all the rage, too. It was located at 18th and Walnut streets. We would tuck into a pu pu platter of egg rolls, spare ribs, sweet and sour shrimp and bacon-wrapped scallops. I wish someone would open a Polynesian restaurant in Center City.
If we wanted Italian food, we headed over to DaVinci’s on the 2000 block of Walnut Street where the Irish Pub is today. I loved the lasagna and tossed salad on the side. Tarello’s was another option, as my family and I often went there for dinner after a movie or a show.
My father was in the automobile business and sometimes worked until 2 p.m. on Sunday — the night we always went out to dinner.
My father was a member of The Vesper Club. It was a gathering place for politicians, judges and attorneys — all men. Dinner at The Vesper Club was my first taste of grown-up dining.
The waiters wore tuxedoes. I had a crush on Pierre, a young Frenchman who bore an eerie resemblance to Van Cliburn. He fascinated me with a magical trick: He would light my mother’s cigarette — yes, one could smoke in restaurants in those days — by holding an open book of matches and tap it on the table. Voila — the match lit up. Tables were covered in white linen. A relish tray was a complimentary staple. A silver bowl was filled with crushed ice. Nestled in the ice were olives, radishes, celery and carrot sticks.
The Vesper Club’s garlic bread was so delicious, I make it at home. The chef would rub garlic on club rolls, cut in half, top them with melted butter and paprika and toast them in the oven. They were served on a silver tray. The menu was classic American with a nod to France. Clams casino and icy cold clams and oysters on the half shell were usually among our starters. Prime rib of beef, New York strip steaks, flounder stuffed with crab meat and baked crab Imperial — my mother’s favorite — were some of the dishes we enjoyed. The vegetables were always fresh.
We sometimes went to The Hunt Room at the Bellevue Stratford Hotel. I loved the portrait of Grace Kelly, the girl from Philadelphia who became a princess.
We often went across the river to New Jersey for Sunday dinner. The Hawaiian Cottage was Jersey’s version of the Pub Tiki. I have a black and white photograph of my family, including my grandparents, sitting at a long table. We all wore leis around our necks.
Cinelli’s was the place for Italian food in New Jersey. It was a large, noisy place decked out with a black and red carpet, wonderful Italian-American dishes like spaghetti and meatballs, lasagna, ravioli and so forth. No pesto in sight. I met Sammy Davis, Jr. there one night. He was enjoying dinner just like everyone in the packed room.
The Marlton Manor specialized in good old-fashioned American food. Turkey dinner with all the trimmings, juicy steaks and lamb chops took center stage here.
Chinatown was another destination for me and my family. We always went to Harry Chin’s. Harry would pour some scotch into a tea cup and serve it to my father while wonton soup and egg rolls were always part of our dinner. Chicken and shrimp chow mein, shrimp in lobster sauce, sweet and sour chicken or shrimp and steamed white rice always delighted us.
I have become a bit nostalgic for more simple dishes. I recently read the building that housed The Vesper Club may turn into a supper club, which would be an enchanting idea.
Happy Holidays to all of you.
Contact the South Philly Review at editor@southphillyreview.com.
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