The Secret Sauce of Delco’s Clam Tavern

Baked clams at the Clam Tavern / Photography by Ed Newton

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.

Clam Tavern owner Tony Blanche talking to a diner

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.

Nearly two decades later, I can’t tell you how many family birthday dinners we have had at the Clam Tavern, where my son started working as a dishwasher in 2021 and now works behind the bar. “I met him in utero” is how Tony likes to put it to customers before making sure the baked clams on the table came out just right and buying a round of drinks for a couple celebrating their 25th anniversary.

Drinks at the Clam Tavern bar

And that’s just the kind of place it is, a place where generations gather for tasty but thoroughly unfussy food and a certain je ne sais quoi factor that most restaurants would kill to have, a combination of comfort, familiarity, and authentically good vibes that can’t be manufactured.

A server delivering dishes at the Clam Tavern

It’s the kind of place that doesn’t raise an eyebrow when a customer walks in bearing a gift certificate that was issued when there was still a thing called the Soviet Union and a guy named Gorbachev running it. That’s what two sisters from the area learned after they found a $25 Clam Tavern gift certificate from 1984 among their mother’s possessions after she died. Notably, the gift certificate stated that it would expire one year from the date of issuance, which, also notably, was well before Tony bought the place.

“This is called the hospitality business” is what Tony likes to say. “We’re here to spread joy and cheer.”

Baked clams

Tony also spreads joy and cheer by doing things like driving his 1976 Cadillac Eldorado convertible all the way to Newfield, New Jersey, to pick up prized Sweet Amalia oysters, because they’re among the best oysters on the market but he can’t get them delivered to Delco.

If you spend a little time around Tony or at the Clam Tavern, you get the sense that making you happy is what makes him happy. Now that’s a good relationship.

Published as “The Clam Tavern’s Secret Sauce” in the October 2025 issue of Philadelphia magazine.