Like Veteran Server Bunnie Sacco, Anthony’s Fish Grotto Is a Treasure That Merits Renewed Discovery

Let me begin by admitting something many local dining a-fish-ionados might find extra-fishy: For more than a decade living in San Diego, I had never been to Anthony’s Fish Grotto in La Mesa.

Instead, I’d usually set sails for the downtown Anthony’s Fish Grotto location, overlooking San Diego Bay on the Embarcadero. Visiting relatives always wanted to go there, gaze west at the panoramic blue waves, and say, “Wow, looking at all that water sure makes me wanna eat something that lives in it.”

Indeed, the main location of Anthony’s Fish Grotto seems to rest atop a giant magnet that inexorably pulls visiting relatives into its crab-cake vortex. Even if those relatives were turned away after foolishly trying to ascend the stairs into the separate fine-dining area (recently revamped into an event center called The Star of the Sea), their ego shells remained uncracked so long as they got a table in the sunny and expansive general area.

Had I realized an equally splendid and in some ways better Anthony’s was tucked away in La Mesa, much like the proverbial treasure hidden by pirates, I might have road-boated eastward down the I-8, dropping anchor on asphalt in front of the restaurant’s freeway-hugging location on Murray Drive.

The La Mesa version of Anthony’s Fish Grotto is like a house in which the front view simply does not prepare you for the Shangri La, Secret Garden-like wonder zone the residents have hidden away in the back yard.

Not that the restaurant’s front isn’t remarkable: It’s shaped like a giant clam, the doorway beckoning you to come inside and possibly find a pearl the size of the boulder that almost squashed Harrison Ford in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

But the tall sign out front also mentions—all too casually—that there’s “Lakeside Dining.” Lakeside? That implies, um, a lake.

And yet, as you enter and pass under the ceiling fish, beside the octopus-adorned lamps, and through the series of faux-underwater cave rocks (and past a wall display revealing the restaurant has been awarded “The Best Of” just about everything), there it is: a wide wall of windows overlooking a picturesque natural-spring lake. Any sounds of the highway are washed away by a waterfall and a fountain, which cycles through the red end of the spectrum.

The cavernous, pattern-heavy indoor seating area flirts with bubble-room overindulgence. But low, evocative lighting keeps things on the right side of the kitsch/class divide.

On a back wall is a museum-quality tiled mural, imported from Italy, and loaded with images of seahorses (some of them literally sea-horses), Neptune and what appears to be Boticelli’s Venus in the form of a mermaid.

Elsewhere, sliding glass doors allow access to a covered patio and a winding, tree-lined walkway where humans and ducks can intermingle and forge bonds of mutual respect and quacking.

Anthony’s Fish Grotto opened here in 1961, the third such restaurant after the original downtown (not far from its current location) in 1946, and a La Jolla spot (which eventually closed) in 1951. The restaurants are still owned by family members of the four owners—Catherine Ghio, Anthony Ghio, Tod Ghio and Roy Weber.

During my evening visit, manager Bert Amador touted the root of the place’s longevity: “The family loves what they do; they take care of it.” Amador has worked at Anthony’s since 1975 (that’s 37 years), and seems eager to stay quite a while longer.

So it went with the food server, who has the awesomest name I’ve encountered during my restaurant-reviewing: Bunnie Sacco.

Good-natured, self-deprecating and with a knowledge of the menu that goes beyond memorization into a zen realm, Bunnie discussed the lake’s history as a popular La Mesa swimming hole and fishing spot in the 1940s.

As legend has it, the site once housed a wooden shack that collapsed on its owner, who did not survive. The lake now is home to a large number of bass, and trespassing rod-and-reelers have to be shooed away on an ongoing basis.

I asked Bunnie the craziest thing that has happened during her 12-year tenure serving ocean animals to land animals, and she recalled a busy Friday night in 2002 when a SWAT team overtook the place and kept it on lockdown while they searched the area for a armed robber.

So about the food:

Anthony’s gets my vote for a sure-thing place to eat with the fishes. The fresh-catch section changes daily or every other day, according to management, and the menu often features topical themes; for example, a recent Mardi Gras menu offered jambalaya and other Creole dishes. Though the downtown and La Mesa menus are the same, the prices in La Mesa are slightly lower.

For our meal, my companion and I started with a classic white clam chowder ($3.95 per cup), served with a fresh crusty bread and lip-smackingly tangy sun-dried-tomato butter. The chowder was piping hot, augmented by hexagon-shaped crackers, and a sprinkling of crushed pepper Bunnie ground from a mill that apparently had just been sharpened.

My companion seethed with jealousy that my clams-to-potatoes ratio seemed more generous than hers; I guess the ladle scooped deeper.

We also tried the Crab Stuffed Mushroom ($10.95), featuring a large portobello with lump crab slathered with melted jack cheese and sitting in a lemon cream sauce. My companion wasn’t as fond of the cheese as I was, feeling it overwhelmed the crab. I don’t necessarily believe there’s such a thing as too much cheese; at least, I’ll have to continue researching the matter.

Choosing an entree at Anthony’s Fish Grotto is as confusing as pointing at a school of glimmering, pretty-colored fish and picking your favorite.

My companion settled on the Fresh Sea of Cortez Flounder ($21.95), which has Panko crust and an Asian orange pineapple salsa. It’s accompanied by two sides, and she had chosen a baked potato and nicely cooked veggies (green beans, wax beans, carrots). The fish was tender, much like Alaskan halibut and poignant emotions.

My indecision was overwhelming, so I paddled to combo-plate island and got the Big Bay Combo ($24.95), which features grilled garlic-butter shrimp, a crab cake, and grilled salmon—all in a neat row alongside two sides (veggies, and a mega-dollop of cole slaw with Anthony’s signature pineapple dressing).

We sampled the desserts, including the Mud Pie and Mama’s Spumoni, both $4.95 and rich in a way that suggests waiting more than 15 minutes before swimming.

The Mud Pie was a gooey hot-fudge chocolate bomb (that’s a good thing), while the spumoni—based on a recipe from “Mama,” or Catherine Ghio—is something Dreyer’s makes specially for Anthony’s. The ingredients are a secret, but I’m guessing the list is topped by “pistachio” and “rum”—as in yo ho ho and a bottle of.