Cleveland Classics: White Oaks Is a Glorious Time Capsule a Century in the Making

The four of us made a beeline for the lounge, where a small cluster of low-slung club chairs awaited. We slipped into them and took in our surroundings, a cozy cocoon of coffered ceilings, warm cherry wood and stained glass. Behind us, a sunken dining room overlooked a moody ravine ringed by a dense pocket of trees. A tuxedoed bartender delivered a round of dry gin martinis and we half expected Sammy Davis, Jr. to roll in smoking one his trademark Nat Sherman cigarettes.

When it comes to “Cleveland Classic” restaurants, there might be no higher quarry than White Oaks in Westlake. Since starting on this beat a quarter century ago, this time-honored restaurant has been perched at the top of my list. But one thing or another always kept me and my white whale at a distance. A recent visit with friends proved how foolish I had been. Not so much because White Oaks is the best at any single thing, but rather because it is a piece of living history that I would have deeply regretted never experiencing.

Simply walking through the front door transports diners to another era. Around since 1928, the restaurant reveals its age throughout its rambling warren of wood-paneled rooms. There’s the old-timey Bell Telephone booth in the lobby, glowing news articles from decades – and reporters – past and, my personal favorite, an early menu from when a martini cost 30 cents and a shrimp cocktail a quarter.

Prices aside, things don’t change much around these parts, and part of the secret sauce to the restaurant’s longevity and consistency is the remarkable fact that it has only changed hands once in nearly a century. Byron Spooner, who took over operations from his father, the founder, sold the business in 1971 to Anthony Small, whose son Mike now runs the operation.

After a quick exploration of the restaurant, we opted to wait for a table in one of the smaller dining rooms that overlook the Cahoon Creek. There was plenty of space in a larger dining room, but it was clear that all the action was in the bar and surrounding rooms.

If I had a nickel for every place that claimed to have once been home to a speakeasy I’d be sitting pretty. But White Oaks comes by the reputation honestly having opened smack dab in the middle of Prohibition. Sitting here, martini in hand, is as close as one can get to experiencing a gin joint during the bootlegging days of the Roaring Twenties.

Halfway through our cocktails we were guided to a white linen-toped table nearby. Soon, a crudité platter served with creamy cottage cheese landed on the table. A long-forgotten mid-century staple, the complimentary relish tray is alive and well at White Oaks.

Like that relish tray, the menu harkens back to a time when Continental cuisine dominated fine-dining establishments. Expect classic French-influenced dishes starring various meats, rich sauces and straightforward veg-and-starch sides. The restaurant has added some more contemporary dishes over the years, but those items are more the exception than the rule.

Given the supper-club vibe, we anticipated a traditional cheese fondue arrangement starring long forks and a low burner. Here, the indulgent Swiss cheese blend ($13.99) is served in a ramekin alongside a slender, sliced loaf of bread. We plucked savory escargot ($13.99) from their shallow pools of garlic butter, chasing them with uber-crisp puff pastry caps and wiping the dimpled dish dry with crusty bread. White Oaks is renowned for its apple-French onion soup, but the clam chowder it serves as part of its seasonal clambake is exceptional.

There are plenty of golden oldies served here, dishes like slow-roasted Long Island duck, pork Normandy with apples and Amaretto, and port-marinated venison with veal demi. But one dish, beef Wellington ($47.99), stands out among the crowd. This complex, multi-faceted dish has all but vanished from restaurant menus, but White Oaks refuses to let it go. This one is a showstopper: beef tenderloin coated in mushroom duxelles, encased in golden brown pastry and served on a pool of Bordelaise sauce. Slicing through the flaky pastry reveals a rosy-red center.

We also enjoyed a deftly cooked New York strip steak ($48.99), prepared au poivre-style, glazed with a rich Cognac-spiked sauce and topped with green peppercorns. The seasonal clambake ($51.99) that started with that excellent chowder also featured a bowl of buttery steamed littlenecks and a lightly breaded chicken piccata. Most entrees include a salad, vegetable medley and twice-baked potato.

To go with the food we sipped on a dusty Châteauneuf-du-Pape ($59) from the well-stocked cellar.

White Oaks will never compete with that exciting new restaurant that just opened in Ohio City. The menu reads more like a culinary history book than a roundup of social media-worthy trophies. But sometimes the real beauty of a restaurant is its place in history, the story that it tells, and the memories that it holds. Yes, it’s dated, but isn’t that the whole idea?

White Oaks

777 Cahoon Rd., Westlake
440-835-3090, white-oaks.com