Abigail St. is F*cking Great
I get it — you love Bakersfield: “It’s soooo good. Have you tried the El Pastor? No? Ohmygod.”
That tapas taco ship has sailed, mi amigo. Sure, it’s a fun atmosphere in which to get tequila-tanked. It’s a great introduction to communal seating. Slugging beers out of mason jars is legitimate. The guacamole has actual avocado in it. What’s that, shaved beets? Wowza! But, for chrissakes, there are more restaurants in the city than goddam Bakersfield.
The hidden gem, nay, the hidden hero, of OTR is Dan Wright’s Abigail St. There simply isn’t a better-run, better menu-ed dining spot in the entire swath of land south of Liberty (or SoLi as it is oft-referred) and north of Central. From the moment you walk in to the moment you begrudgingly tromp out the door, everything happens exactly how it should.
What Makes it the Shit?
For starters, it’s owned by the same fella as the OTR staples Senate and Pontiac: Dan Wright. Secondly, it’s generally managed by the unmatched Percival ‘Perry’ Streby, who with a firm touch and a sidelong glance runs the most professional waitstaff this side of the Potomac. (note to self: google Potomac)
When you order food there, which is tapas-style (but more generous than you’re used to), they bring it out one plate at a time in the order of their choosing. And it’s perfect every time. They know what’s good in what order. Let them decide. There were two of us, and four plates was the perfect amount to feel full but not gross.
If you like grape beverages: They have wine on tap. Not shitty wine; good wine. Yes, good wine can be served on tap and yes you can get wine drunk and yes it’s easier to throw up when you’re in one of those bicycle taxis than it is in an Uber and it’s a cheaper fine too.
The staff. They exhibit the perfect behavior: There and helpful when you need them and completely leaving you the fuck alone when you don’t. If I was rich I’d tip them all in Tesla leases. As it stands now I do like 18 or 20% of my bill.
However, this is the crown jewel of the place:
You ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO GET TO THE TURKISH COFFEE. It comes out in this little copper pourer thing that is reminiscent of an opium den in Turkey or the big spoon-like apparatus that a steelworker uses to pour molten metal. Anyway, what they pour with it is liquid magic, and it tastes like what french-kissing an angel would be like. Or like Celine Dion singing directly into your mouth.
I ran out of things to say about this place. It’s next door to Senate. If you’re looking at Senate, it’s to the left. There’s not really a sign. Go there. Pray to god it’s open.
Abigail St. is perfect for:
- Romantical dates
- Getting generally drunk on wine
- Really goddam amazing food
- Seeing the aforementioned Perry
- Wondering why it’s called Abigail St. but never asking anyone