Hospitality, history, and a whole lot of heart.
In celebration of Delco restaurants and the people who make them great, we are declaring this Delco Eats Week. Check back daily for stories from the sprawling print feature on the county’s food scene in the October issue of Philly Mag.
Nineteen years ago, I walked through the door of the Clam Tavern for the first time with my very pregnant wife, Suchita. Her due date was two weeks away, and she was craving linguine and clams. I wagered that a place with “clam” in the name was probably a good bet. It was.
That night, a tall man with a shaved head and a tight beard strolled through the dining room, shaking hands, yukking it up with customers, making sure everybody was having a good time and enjoying their food. He recognized our rookie status and introduced himself as Tony, explaining to us that he’d owned the place for five years but had worked there as a kid, washing dishes and shucking clams.
One month later, with my wife two weeks past her due date, her parents wanted to take us out for a “last meal” before her scheduled induction the next morning, and she chose a return. The next day, a healthy baby boy was born — without requiring induction, something she credits, in part, to the food…