Tarpy’s magnificent setting highlights delicious fare.

Deep in the woodsy seclusion of the Pocono Mountains in Sterling, Pennsylvania, where black bears roam, sits the French Manor, an early 1900s cobblestone mansion turned bed and breakfast. From the driveway dotted with carriage houses and meticulous gardens to massive stone hearths and white-linen dining tables, it is a paragon of understated elegance.

It’s been nearly ten years since I was a guest at the old estate. And yet, after just one night, I left completely affected, finally grasping the vinegar-and-oil melding of rusticity and chic and how the two work so impeccably well together.

That’s exactly the feeling I got all over again last week when Guy and I had dinner at Tarpy’s. True, the blinding lights of the new (gasp) strip mall next door is a glaring distraction from the charm of Tarpy Flats. But that’s easily forgotten, and virtually unseen, once one enters the expansive roadhouse.

Vast stonework sets the stage. The open-beamed ceiling and dancing fireplaces finish it off. Moderately sized, individually named dining rooms make the enormous place feel quaint, full of individualistic personality, with a hint of mystique. That Friday night, we had a cozy table for two in a rather lively Vintner’s Room.

Cocktails were in order while we perused the menu: a Kahlua and cream ($5.50) for me and a gin and tonic ($6.25) for Guy. A basket of warm bread quickly followed.

We lingered over our drinks and bread awhile and decided on an appetizer of Dungeness crab cakes ($10.95).

The stark-white linens were topped with butcher paper, and a glass full of crayons taunted nearby. So we did what any normal couple would do on a night out without children in a fine restaurant enjoying cocktails and good conversation: we played tic-tac-toe.

Our crab cakes arrived just in time for one of us who wasn’t me to save face in the wake of an embarrassing losing streak. The two plump cakes were perched strategically atop a bed of dressed cabbage and vegetables. An abundance of moist crabmeat waited patiently inside. They were a divinely light tease, just enough to leave us longing for our meal.

I’d left my wine selection to the expertise of our server, and she’d selected a glass of Gloria Ferrer Chardonnay ($9.50) to accompany my dish. Guy sticks with what he knows, so he chose another gin and tonic.

As difficult as the dinner selection was initially, I knew I’d made the right choice when my linguini with prawns and lobster ($29.95) made its formal appearance at our table in front of me. I just sat there and stared, unsure of where to begin.

More than a handful of firm, fresh, insanely enormous pink prawns played peek-a-boo in and about the pasta. Buried deep in the rich lobster sauce and under the swell of linguini were three half-tail-sized bulks of lobster.

Guy’s behemoth rib-eye steak ($23.95) was doused in an abundance of grilled mushrooms ($2.95) and served atop a fluff of mashed potatoes and splashed with an herb au jus.

He looked as perplexed as I about where to begin, right up until he tasted a baby mushroom. That was the last I heard of him for a few minutes while he browsed the rest of his plate. For a moment there, I think he may have forgotten about the whole tic-tac-toe debacle.

“Save room for dessert,” I urged. He grunted a “Yeah, sure, that’s gonna happen,” in my direction and moved on.

I began with the prawns, twisting strands of linguini carefully in each bite. Before I knew it, I had emptied the bowl of most every last one. The pasta was a bit starchy, lost in the drench of sauce perhaps. So I pushed my way past it and to the lobster. They were like little treasures in a chest of rich cream.

“How is it?” Guy asked of my lobster with a hint of want in his voice. It was definitely a tone of, “No, please, don’t just tell me; let me taste for myself instead.” And so, with a respectable amount of guilt over tic-tac-toe playing against me, I placed one of the half tails on his plate. It didn’t last long there.

Ultimately, by the time the seafood was gone, I had to call it a day with my pasta. As excellent as the fish was, the lobster sauce was simply too rich for my taste. Perhaps halved, the sauce would have been far less profound and still plenty to go around.

Guy thought his rib-eye was the best he’d had in recent memory, impeccably prepared and thoughtfully seasoned, taut with spices and rub. His mashies were fluffy but thick in texture, potatoes holding up beautifully.

By the time we talked politics over coffee in the still bustling dining room, it had been two hours since we sat down, and we’d been drawn into the conversation of a large party at an adjacent table. It certainly wasn’t for lack of service but was instead a testament to how comfortable we were just soaking up the warm ambiance and the new company, enjoying the alone time over a superb meal. It doesn’t get any better than those rare kinds of evenings.

Someday, maybe I’ll take him up to the Poconos, to that great old stone mansion I found years ago, full of charm and a bit of intrigue, hiding in the forest and surrounded by a fog of classic beauty and rustic mystique.

Or maybe, as of last Friday night, we’ve already been there.

Tarpy’s Roadhouse

2999 Monterey-Salinas Highway, Monterey

647-1444

Open daily 11:30am-10pm