Via Mare Bids Ciao to Avalon
Giulia and Vito Perricci in the Via Mare kitchen, circa 1990.
Atlantic City’s casino industry began in May of 1978 when Resorts International Hotel and Casino first opened its doors. Part of the overall experience at Resorts included fine dining at Capriccio, long considered the first and finest casino restaurant in Atlantic City. Capriccio would quickly become a favorite of both casino customers and casino headliners such as Frank Sinatra and Luciano Pavarotti.
The person in charge of the kitchen and responsible for the amazing culinary creations at Capriccio was an Italian native, Chef Vito Perricci. At one point, Capriccio was named the finest restaurant in any casino. Anywhere. The result, no doubt of Perricci’s extensive training in the noted kitchens of Germany and Switzerland and his further work in restaurants in Miami, Atlanta and Bermuda. But after a decade at Capriccio, Perricci decided it was time to break out on his own. “I’m going to get my own business,” Perricci is said to have stated at the time.
“We looked in the newspaper [for potential locations],” Perricci’s widow, Giulia, recalls from her home in Egg Harbor Township.
“We must have looked at 50 different places,” says the Perriccis’ eldest son, Mario. “Honestly, we didn’t know the first thing about Avalon. We had been to Wildwood but not Avalon.”
At the time there were two opportunities in Avalon that made it worth the trip down into Cape May County to investigate.
The first was a café on Dune Drive located next to Café Loren. Today it’s the home of Serendipity, but in addition to several incarnations over the years as a restaurant and café, it opened initially in the late 1950s as Reo’s Pizza. The other opportunity was literally around the corner at 2319 Ocean Drive, a location that had been home to Avalon Pizza for nearly 20 years.
“My parents only had $10,000 at the time,” Mario says. “The café property was for sale, but we couldn’t afford it on our budget. And we were able to initially lease the Avalon Pizza property from Paul Buchanan. So, we ended up at 2319 Ocean Drive.”
Business came slowly, at least initially, when they first opened their doors in May of 1989. One newspaper review in The Press of Atlantic City mentions that occasionally, Vito would send Mario, then 10 years old, to distribute Via Mare menus to people waiting outside of other restaurants. The business built throughout the summer months and in October, as the planned seasonal closing date approached, Vito Perricci was quoted as saying, “Why close? It’s busy, let’s stay open!”
The rest, as they say, is history. The Press of Atlantic City described the experience at Via Mare in Avalon back in1991: “Almost as if Vito and Giulia had invited you for dinner with the family and hope that you’ll sit down, relax and savor their hospitality.” The story went on to explain that “Via Mare’s menu is full of Mama Giulia’s family recipes, some 200 years old.”
Some treasured recipes may have been hundreds of years old, but according to Mario, the mode of operation was pretty simple back in the kitchen: “We’d make whatever the hell that you wanted to eat. That’s how my father operated.” So it’s no wonder that the Perriccis thrived at the corner of 23rd and Ocean Drive for more than three decades.
Eustace Wolfington was among the restaurant’s longtime customers dating back to its early days, and is still fondly remembered by the family. “I loved the food, the service and the people,” he says. “It always felt like they were inviting you into their home.”
Obviously, a recipe for success.
One regular customer from the early days enjoyed the cuisine so much that he actually brought space heaters to the restaurant, which was not heated at the time, so that he could enjoy his favorites on chilly fall evenings. After winterizing the building, the restaurant would eventually operate year-round.
Over time, Via Mare became a family operation. Mario and his younger brother Angelo joined their father Vito in the Via Mare kitchen. But as so often happens, sadly, all good things must come to an end. Vito died in 2021, followed by Angelo in 2022. Those family losses combined with the typical challenges associated with the restaurant industry in today’s world spelled an end for Via Mare.
“Food costs have gotten so out of hand,” Giulia says. “And it’s become nearly impossible to find enough help to operate.”
Finally, the building, which was almost 100 years old, needed extensive and costly renovations. “I’m 70 years old,” Giulia notes. “At this point in my life I didn’t want to incur those costs.”
All things considered, the Perriccis decided that it was time to list the property for sale, and the right offer came along. And with that, Via Mare became another place in Avalon’s past.
Headaches of the business side of the operation aside, both Giulia and Mario Perricci miss Via Mare. “Of course I miss the interaction with our customers,” Giulia adds. “So many people were like family. I already miss the interaction with them.”
Although former diners flocked to online sites to pay tribute to their favorite dishes from Via Mare, there were also those who paid homage to Giulia’s singing talents in the restaurant.
“I always loved it when the owner sang at the end of the night,” a person identified online only as Kitty posted online.
“They would ask me to sing,” Giulia says. “I would respond by singing in Italian. I loved it when they asked,” she remembers with a big smile on her face.
Collectively, the Perricci family can be proud of the strong and loyal customer base that they built in Avalon. Via Mare’s popularity is evidenced by not only the three decades that it operated successfully in town but also by the 29,000 impressions that the Seven Mile Times Facebook post regarding the demolition garnered in October over just three days. Lauren Manning, of St. David’s, Pa., will remember “The best eggplant parm EVER!” Barbara Eufrasio, of Cape May Court House, commented: “So sad to see it go. It was my favorite place for softshell crabs. But they worked very hard. I wish them well.”
So, wish them well. And maybe cross your fingers.
“I’m hopeful that I can find a place to reopen a smaller, more intimate place,” concludes Mario. “I think 40-50 seats would be perfect.”
Ciao! For now. Maybe?