During the beginning of the 20th century, South Bethlehem was known for its enclaves of eastern and central European immigrant neighborhoods and churches.

In one of those neighborhoods near St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Slovenian/Windish and St. John's Windish Lutheran churches was a local eatery known to its patrons as Theresa's Restaurant (now Leon's), the best-kept dining experience on the corner of East Fifth and Fillmore streets.

Patrons who frequented Theresa's Restaurant during the 1920s through the 1980s ranged from Bethlehem Steel blue-collar workers to white shirt-and-tie office staffers - while nearby Lehigh University students chose the Royal Restaurant or other Fourth Street restaurants. But those patrons who took their meals regularly, or families who booked special occasions at Theresa's, were never disappointed with her simple home-cooked meals, or the prices she charged, as Southsider Carol Henn clearly recalls:

"The food was wonderful. I don't know how she did it, but chicken, ham, potatoes and cole slaw in Theresa's hands became gourmet dishes."

According to the 1929 Bethlehem City Directory, Joseph and Theresa Ballek resided above Ballek's Restaurant at 325 East Fourth St. Two years later in 1931, Theresa's Restaurant opened on the corner of East Fifth and Fillmore streets. Theresa and Joseph Ballek resided in the apartment at 432 East Fifth St. in the same building with their son, Billy. The apartments above were let to Bethlehem Steel workers who paid Theresa room and board.

By 1955, the widowed Theresa was remarried to Bethlehem Steel Labs employee Joseph Kelemen. Known to everyone by his last name, easy-going Kelemen always wore a clean, starched and pressed white shirt and tie when tending the bar with stepson Billy.

Twenty-five years after first opening her restaurant, Theresa offered those same home-cooked meals to a new generation of hungry patrons. Theresa was formidable in the kitchen. She was not only a good cook but also a great businesswoman. She ran her kitchen with assertive discipline and a sharp tongue.

"Theresa could be very kind and generous, but she could also be cruel and heartless. Her chief helper, an almost-blind woman about Theresa's age named Marika, essentially lived the life of an indentured servant," Henn says.

"Theresa berated her continuously as Marika worked day and night in the kitchen; she not only helped Theresa with the cooking – especially the scut end, like peeling potatoes – but also washed all the dishes by hand in steaming hot water.

"She did all the washing and ironing for the boarders upstairs, as well as for Theresa's son, Billy. When Marika was no longer able to work, she was sent to Gracedale County Nursing Home – where she finally had someone to care for her," Henn recalls.

By the 1950s, neighborhood family patrons kept Theresa busy in her kitchen as she prepared confirmation dinners, post-funeral receptions, pre-wedding suppers or graduation celebrations. On any of these occasions, Theresa lavished patrons with a bounty of food served with her own brand of cuisine.

In 1972, when Carol Henn's grandmother died, she remembered the meal Theresa prepared for her family after the funeral.

"Baked ham, roasted chicken, pork chops, roast turkey, roasted potatoes, mashed potatoes, corn, rice, green beans, hot creamed cabbage made with paprika, salads, breads, cole slaw . . . all served country-style in heaping bowls and platters.

"For that entire meal, including drinks from the bar, Mom and my aunt split the tab of $70 ($390 in today's money). Theresa simply didn't charge a lot if she knew and liked you, and she liked my grandmother very much," Henn says.

"Despite not charging or charging enough to people she liked," Henn continues, "Theresa was not poor. Heaven knows, she spent next to nothing on herself – she wore old dresses, her white signature apron . . . and men's shoes – yes, men's shoes. I don't know if she had bad feet or a large shoe size, but I clearly remember her walking around the kitchen with those untied men's shoes."

On weekdays, when steel workers went to lunch at Theresa's, recalls Henn, "There were no printed menus, she just told them what she had – usually a selection of three meats: pork, ham, or sliced beef with gravy.

"Her Friday menu featured breaded flounder or haddock. Her crab patties were terrific; she made them herself and kept them in the big freezer. Nothing was more satisfying on cold days than a hot lunch. Nothing could beat her homemade chicken soup, cream of mushroom soup, cream of potato soup or with lima beans, chicken paprikash, Windish noodle dishes, Strookla (dumplings with sour cream and cabbage noodles), and fruit-filled strudels – all made fresh every day on the huge Garland stove in her kitchen. During seasonal occasions, Theresa served kiffles and nut/poppy seed rolls," Henn says.

New York writer and publisher Harry Golden once mentioned, "A tablecloth restaurant is still one of the great rewards of civilization."

"At Theresa's Restaurant," Henn recalls, "the tables were covered with clean, white tablecloths. In the corner of the dining room were potted stalks of variegated green snake plants and the windows were clad with curtains, shades or blinds – then came the bar room. The huge double-door freezer in the kitchen is where Theresa told me to take ice cream for myself . . . and the zillions of birch beers that I drank (oh, all that foam on top)."

Many patrons who regularly ate meals at Theresa's shared similar recollections and their gastronomic experiences – still stuck in their minds today as it "stuck to their ribs" back then.

"As I look back," recalls Henn, "a vivid experience that comes to mind is Theresa's kitchen table, covered in oil-cloth where I sat so many nights and listened to women gossip or to the upstairs boarders discuss their lives here and in the 'old country.'

"There was one bare light bulb which hung from a cord above the table that gave the kitchen a glow and a timelessness that never changed-from season to season, year to year," says Henn.

"It was, and will always be, an experience I will never forget."