Whether its purpose is for decoration, illumination, or food,
the fish tank has quietly become a fixture in the Philadelphia
restaurant scene. This earSHOT reporter traveled far and wide across Center City, to Tattooed
Mom's, the newest and best hangout on South Street, The Tank Bar,
atop old-school restaurant fixture Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and
the charming Tai Lake in Chinatown to see what was floatin' around.
Tattooed Mom's features a youthful decor, with toys on the table and model airplanes
hanging from the ceiling. The room's playfulness offsets the serious
drinking clientele and satisfying menu. Mom's fish tank is not
a tank at all, but a window display designed by T-Bone. A table
for two looks out onto an alleyway, which has been disguised as
the ocean. The peaceful scene relaxes customers who can watch
the "fish," suspended by wires, swim against the blue bricks,
and sway among "kelp" made from Solo cup lids with glitter glue.
"I think it's adorable. T-Bone is the best for that kind if thing,"
swears Mom. "We're working on an octopus and some mermen and mermaids."
Keep stopping by at Mom's to see the strangely still and soothing
display gradually extend along the whole back room.
The Tank Bar is so cozy and womb-like it's hard to stop from going fetal. The
bar seats about 15 people who don't mind getting close, and of
course there's standing room. The fish tank provides the room's
main source of light, along with votive candles placed along the
bar. Laid back and on-top-of-it bartender Maria Marroletti spoke
frankly about the tank.
"Yeah, fish are peaceful," she said. "That's what I've heard.
Kids love it, but we don't get a lot of young people in here.
This is more of a romantic first-date place. I see a lot of couples
staring at it instead of talking."
Marroletti herself is less than enthralled by the tank. "I just
keep my back to it and work. I think it's horrible. I don't believe
animals belong in captivity. But then again, they're fish, maybe
they don't know any better."
The tank doesn't take care of itself, you know. Clark is the appointed
keeper of the tank at the Tank Bar, but all employees take turns
feeding the fish. One New Year's Eve, the tank sprung a leak,
soaking customers in the restaurant downstairs. The water level
slowly sank.
"The fish kept swimming around like 'Umm, what's happening?'"
recalls Marroletti. An employee had to siphon off the rest of
the water and ended up with a mouthful of slimy fish gunk - yuck!
If you want a mouthful of the real thing, go visit the fist tank
at Tai Lake in Chinatown. There swims your dinner, in its live form. Striped
bass, giant shrimp, frogs and eels swim away their last living
moments as they await (unless if they don't know any better) certain
death. The menu is big, the clientele eats heartily. According
to the manager on duty, who was too polite to tell me to take
a dive, frogs are eaten regularly, but not as often as shrimp.
"Lots of people like to eat the frogs. Our seafood is most popular."
- Alex Richmond
spot
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