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FeedTroup House Restaurant
L’Epicureo’s owners have ditched downtown and gone decidedly down-home with their newest venture, Troup House.
Photography by Angel Tucker
Troup House Restaurant 
477 Broadway, Providence, 228-8500, trouphouserestaurant.com. Open for lunch and dinner Tuesday though Saturday. Reservations accepted. First floor is wheelchair accessible. Private parking lot. Cuisine Old school Italian with a moderate wine list. Capacity The upstairs dining room holds seventy and the appealing downstairs about thirty. There are several rooms for private dining and parties. Vibe Edith Wharton meets the Moose Lodge. Price Appetizers $3.50–$9.50, entrees $14–$29. Karen’s picks Pasta, sauteed escarole, grilled ribeye. Key Fair Good Very Good Excellent 
Half-star
If a contentious election battle brings out anything (besides the proverbial punches), it’s the desire to substantiate what we believe in, proclaim our principles and fight for their validation. After three years, it seems that longtime Providence restaurateurs Tom and Rozann Buckner, of L’Epicureo fame, have staged a political uprising of their own.
Having sold their traditional Italian restaurant on the Hill (Siena now occupies the space), the Buckners opened the far grander, more innovative and expensive Downcity version in 2005. They struggled with the concept until eventually relinquishing the space last spring to The Hotel Providence. Although L’Epicureo produced some truly notable food downtown, it didn’t find its niche, in part because the Buckners never seemed comfortable with such an aggressive culinary voice. What they’ve opted for in its wake is a return to their roots, a truer sense of self laid out on a dinner plate.
The back-to-basics philosophy behind Troup House becomes clear the moment you cross the threshold of the nineteenth-century building it shares (not coincidentally, of course) with the Italo-American Club on Broadway. Not much has been altered; both club and restaurant seek to present Italian culture as they already know it rather than give it a contemporary spin.
The once-residential house has its original layout on the first floor. Two parlor rooms flank the impressive entry hall and precede a modified bar where men of decades past lounged in the green leather club chairs and Rozann now greets diners by first name. The Everest-like walls and woodwork still cling to ornate wallpaper, though modernity creeps in awkwardly with the occasional air-conditioning unit or recessed light. There’s a real old-school feel to the burgundy banquet chairs and stairway portraits, but rather than a retro cynicism that laughs at the past with good humor, Troup House simply appreciates the milieu.
While several chefs manned the kitchen at the downtown L’Epicureo (most notably Richard Allaire), Tom Buckner heads the stoves at Troup. Consequently, the cuisine is more of a casual conversation than a gastronomic smoke-and-mirrors show.
Clearly, food is an integral part of Italian-American life and the familiar ingredients are all here, some of which taste like Grandma’s on her best days and a few on her less reliable.
Risi bisi (risotto and pea) soup was served unceremoniously in earthenware cups, though the broth was bright with lemon and comfortingly chunky.
A huge slab of garlic-rubbed Italian toast topped with escarole and beans was considerably better than I’ve had on the Hill; the escarole still crunchy and the beans soft and well-seasoned. Even if you’re a die-hard traditionalist though, some dishes need updating. Ritz-cracker stuffing (deemed “seafood” for no discernible reason) in button mushrooms just isn’t tempting enough to bring into the twenty-first century without an overhaul.
Buckner seems to fall into more of a groove with entrees, the notable exception being a pork Milanese that was too thick and greasy to acquiesce to the arugula salad perched on top of it. Forgive the blanket statement, but it suits Troup: If it sounds like a pasta dish you’d find in the Carter-era, it’s a good bet. Pastas may not be homemade but they arrive al dente without fail and, in true Italian style, they’re never overwhelmed by sauces but merely tossed in them. Perciatelli (otherwise known as bucatini) is nearly dry, mixed with just enough tomatoes to allow the pancetta to dominate the dish, along with a generous amount of fresh thyme. Ziti with meatballs isn’t any fancier than you’d expect, but the simple components deliver nostalgic satisfaction.
The most extravagant dishes on the menu—fettuccini with Maine lobster claws and lemon cream ($26) and a grilled ribeye ($29)—taste like a wedding. They’re not the most refined preparations (the lobster meat looked as if someone fought to get it out of the shell), but the price leads you to believe that the dishes are special and you respond with some subconscious appreciation of the effort. The fettuccini could use more acid to play against the rich lobster, though once again, the pasta is substantial enough to hold up to a rather heavy sauce.
Steak is the one entree that evokes the original L’Epicureo on Atwells, well-charred and full of flavor. The side dishes are somewhat tired (an ice cream scoop of mashed potatoes and grilled peppers), but the ribeye is heartier than much of the pampered, overly trimmed beef in steakhouses today. Buckner’s steak wouldn’t mind if you slathered it in A-1 and might actually scoff at a precious parsley garnish with bubbling butter.
The restaurant is just phasing in its own desserts, offering cannolis and cheesecakes from nearby bakeries along with a few dishes from the designated pastry kitchen on the third floor. A baked gratin of sliced bananas surrounded by molten pastry cream was certainly a good place to start, requiring little ingenuity but still a satisfyingly homey sweet.
Ultimately, the Buckners don’t offer their diners a highly composed or affected night out but, rather, an exceedingly conventional one that most restaurateurs simply aren’t interested in delivering these days. The location is as appropriate as it gets, with an Italian heritage and a steadfast refusal to bend to culinary trends.
After a foray into the world of highly competitive cooking in which menus change nightly and concepts shift seasonally, the Buckners have given up predicting the future and decided to embrace the past. This isn’t modern cuisine; there are no goat cheese pizzas or tuna meatballs. What they present instead is the old Italy that this generation’s grandparents will be passing down to their young in photographs, stories and, yes, dinner. It may not be showy, experimental or pioneering but it is true to itself. And, in an age when personal philosophy dissipates as quickly as the latest poll results, that’s an admirable quality—even in the restaurant business.
