La Terrazza

Amiable ambiance and homestyle cuisine at this multi-level New Hope eatery.

By: Pat Tanner

   This multi-level restaurant in New Hope, Pa., portions of which are almost 200 years old, had been the Towpath House until three years ago, when it was taken over by Antoinette and Armando Agnoli. Mr. Agnoli, the chef, hails from a small town near Rome, and is also the proprietor of Roma Antica in Washington Crossing (although that restaurant is currently up for sale).
   The main dining room is below ground level, with stucco walls and floors consisting of big stone slabs. A wood structure meant to conjure a grape arbor dominates the center of the room, and in its midst is a round brick fireplace. I imagine the room offers a cool and refreshing respite in warm weather, but in early spring it still had a dank, chilly edge. Although we sat fairly close to the fireplace, which was burning wood at full tilt, it didn’t help matters much, and we came away reeking of wood smoke.
   A round of crusty, rustic Italian bread greeted us, and this was graciously refilled as needed. The wine list, with its old-fashioned collection of labels, reflects Mr. Agnoli’s patriotism: it is almost completely Italian. Of four whites and four reds offered by the glass, we chose two wines from the Abruzzi region at $6 each: a fruity, somewhat watery trebbiano and a smooth and more impressive montepulciano.
   We were pleased with our appetizers, one being a house salad that greatly surpassed the usual. Along with nice greens in walnut vinaigrette, it contained two warmed balls of goat cheese and walnut halves ($6). Also good was a generous, classic, garlicky Caesar salad ($6.50). My salad of roasted red peppers, anchovies and provolone cheese ($7) was elevated by triangles of excellent cheese but diminished by bland California black olives straight out of a can.
   I would classify the food at La Terrazza as good homestyle Italian-American food, despite the purely Italian credentials of the chef. I mean that in a complimentary sense. Mr. Agnoli’s food tastes like what comes out of the kitchens of my Italian-American relatives, especially in that there is nothing newfangled or trendy anywhere in sight. Button mushrooms prevail, not portobello. Pasta comes dried, from a package, not fresh.
   Chicken Parmigiana ($15) is a case in point. The plate is heaped with generous slabs of breadcrumb-coated, pounded breast meat, covered with a good tomato sauce and hidden under enough melted mozzarella to cause an avalanche.
   Nothing subtle, but I enjoyed it, as did everyone at my table. Veal Genovese ($17.50) was likewise generous, and had thin slices of sautéed veal and mushrooms in a garlicky white wine sauce. I bypassed the red snapper special, a $25 extravaganza that included langoustines and several other types of shellfish in a cognac pink sauce flavored with sun-dried tomatoes, shallots and pignoli. It looked mighty impressive, though. Other specials included lobster done a choice of two ways — with spicy marinara sauce over linguine, or in white-wine sauce.
   I chose instead linguine alla Romana ($15.50), which had been recommended by our server. Here, good quality imported pasta was topped with six extra large shrimp and tossed with artichoke hearts, shreds of fresh basil and hunks of mellow garlic. The sauce, with a pleasant hint of oregano, was primarily white wine and olive oil, and avoided the bane of many such sauces by being neither too oily nor too salty.
   My favorite dish was a true and unpretentious classic: penne Matriciana ($11.50), which featured bits of prosciutto and red pepper flakes in a delicious, thick tomato sauce to which Parmesan (or perhaps pecorino Romano) had been added.
   The décor is offbeat and eclectic: real (but completely dead) vines hang over the windows, and like the stands of white birch branches that flank the arbor, they are strung with small white Christmas lights. A couple of small animal masks, some watercolor prints of Italy and bunches of fake grapes complete the slightly off-balance scene. Frosted globes hang over each table, providing subdued (if not dismal) lighting, and these are entwined with grape vines. Upstairs, a tiny four-seat bar rests just inside the outdoor terrace, where seating is available in good weather, and which gives the restaurant its name.
   The dessert collection consists primarily of frozen classics of the very popular Bindi line, imported from Italy. But along with the selection of sorbets in fruit shells, tartuffo and semi-freddos were offered housemade tiramisu and ricotta cheesecake. The latter ($6) was notable for its lack of sweetness, which let the cheese prevail. I always like the crumbly, non-sweet version, which this was, but it is definitely an acquired taste.
   In sum, La Terrazza is a lot like my Italian relatives: amiable and generous, but also predictable and a bit set in its ways.