If you grew up in Northeastern Pennsylvania, the phrase "Top of the Eighties" usually triggers a very specific set of memories. It isn't just about a meal. It's about that winding drive up the mountain. It’s the feeling of your ears popping slightly as the elevation changed. Then, you'd see it—that distinctive building perched right on the edge of the world, or at least the edge of Luzerne County. Top of the Eighties Hazleton wasn't just a place to grab a steak; it was the definitive "special occasion" destination for an entire region.
Honestly, it’s hard to explain to people who weren't there. You had this panoramic view of the Conyngham Valley that looked like a postcard. On a clear night, the lights from the valley below twinkled in a way that made a regular Tuesday feel like New Year's Eve. It was fancy, but in that approachable, Pennsylvania way. You wore your best clothes, sure, but the staff treated you like family.
The View That Defined an Era
Let’s talk about that view first because that was the hook. Perched on a cliffside along Route 93, the restaurant offered a literal bird's-eye perspective. You weren't just eating dinner; you were watching the weather roll across the mountains. Sometimes the clouds would sit so low in the valley it felt like you were dining on an island in the sky. It was breathtaking.
The architecture was designed to capitalize on this. Huge windows. Wide-angle views. It didn't matter if you were at the bar or tucked into a booth; you were getting a show. People used to plan their arrival times specifically to catch the sunset. It’s one of those things where the memory of the light hitting the table is just as strong as the memory of the food itself.
What People Actually Ate
The menu was classic. We’re talking about the height of American continental dining. You had your Prime Rib—which was basically the gold standard there—and seafood that felt incredibly exotic for a mountain town in the 80s and 90s.
Their salad bar was legendary. Nowadays, people scoff at salad bars, but this wasn't some wilted lettuce and browning croutons situation. It was an event. It had everything. You could practically fill up before your entree even hit the table. And the bread? Warm, crusty, and served with real butter. It sounds simple, but when you're twelve years old and it's your birthday, that bread basket is everything.
They did a lot of things right:
- The French Onion Soup: Thick, gooey Gruyère cheese that you had to practically fight to get off the spoon.
- Steak Diane: A tableside classic that felt like peak sophistication.
- Seafood Alfredo: Rich, heavy, and exactly what you wanted on a cold PA night.
The Cultural Weight of a Mountain Top
You have to understand the context of Hazleton during the restaurant's peak. This was a town built on coal and industry, a place where hard work was the default setting. Top of the Eighties represented the "reward." It was where you went when you got the promotion, when you graduated high school, or when you finally worked up the nerve to propose.
It’s where the local business community did their handshaking. If you saw a group in suits in the corner, they were probably closing a deal that would affect the whole valley. But right next to them, you’d have a family celebrating a 50th wedding anniversary. It bridged that gap. It was high-end, but it never felt elitist.
📖 Related: How Many Cups in a Gallon: The Answer That Saves Your Recipes
The Transition and the Changing Landscape
Things change. They always do. The restaurant industry is notoriously fickle, and even a landmark like Top of the Eighties wasn't immune to the shifts in how people eat. In the later years, the competition from chain restaurants down the road in the Laurel Mall area started to bite. People’s tastes moved toward faster, more casual options.
Then there were the ownership changes and the rebranding attempts. It eventually became The Pines, which tried to maintain that upscale mountain-top vibe while updating the menu for a new generation. They did a great job with the renovations. The interior got a facelift, moving away from the heavier 80s aesthetic toward something a bit more modern and airy.
The view, however, remained the one constant. You can change the carpet and the wine list, but you can't replicate that drop-off into the valley. Even as the name on the sign changed, locals still often referred to it by its original moniker. That’s just how NEPA works. If a building has enough history, the new name is just a suggestion.
📖 Related: Why Your Silver Dollar Pancake Recipe Is Probably Missing One Key Step
Why We Still Talk About It
Nostalgia is a powerful drug. When people talk about Top of the Eighties Hazleton now, they aren't usually debating the sear on the scallops. They’re talking about the people they were with. They’re remembering the grandmothers who are no longer here, the first dates that turned into thirty-year marriages, and the feeling of being "up on the hill."
It represented a specific moment in Pennsylvania's history—a time when a night out meant something a little more formal. It was a destination. You didn't just "end up" there; you went there.
Practical Insights for the Modern Diner
While the original Top of the Eighties is a memory, the site itself continues to be a point of interest. If you’re looking to capture that same feeling today, here’s how to navigate the legacy of mountain-top dining in the Hazleton area:
- Seek the View: If you’re visiting the area, the drive up Route 93 is still worth it. The scenic overlooks near the old restaurant site still offer the best views of the Conyngham Valley.
- Support Local Landmarks: Places like this survive on local support. If you find a "legacy" restaurant in NEPA that still offers that old-school service, go there. Don't wait for a special occasion.
- Respect the History: If you’re talking to a local, ask them about their Top of the Eighties stories. You’ll likely get a ten-minute narrative about a prom night or a retirement party. It’s a great way to understand the social fabric of the region.
The legacy of Top of the Eighties is really a lesson in "place-making." It wasn't the most expensive restaurant in the world, and it wasn't trying to be a Michelin-starred avant-garde spot. It was exactly what Hazleton needed: a place to feel special, a place to look down at the world, and a place to share a really good meal with people you loved.
Next Steps for Reliving the Memory:
- Check Local Archives: The Hazleton Standard-Speaker often runs "looking back" segments with old photos of the restaurant's interior and staff.
- Visit the Site: While the business may have evolved, the physical location remains one of the highest points in the area. Driving past at sunset still provides that same sense of awe that diners felt forty years ago.
- Document Your Own Stories: If you have photos of your family at the Top of the Eighties, consider sharing them in local historical social media groups. These digital archives are the only way to preserve the "human" side of the restaurant's history.