Somehow I completely forgot to write about a dinner my friend Moki and I ate over a month ago. I realized this as I was going through my camera, came across the pics, and thought, “What are those from?” Whoops. Better late than never, I guess.
Abigail Cafe and Wine Bar is in the Prospect/Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. I would classify it as an amalgam of sorts. Upstairs it’s a wine bar, restaurant, and cafe with WiFi. Downstairs is a lounge, where on this night a comedy show going on.
The dimly lit dining room had the atmosphere of a casually elegant restaurant — the sort of place to take a date. And yet a hipster-looking guy was sitting on a couch in the corner with his laptop, and I could hear the laughter coming from below.
“That’s Brooklyn for you,” Moki explained.
A prix fixe menu is available on weeknights, so that’s what we went with. For our first course, mussels in a garlic wine broth.
A mild fishy smell to the mussels, but they were all open (important), they tasted fine, and I didn’t get sick (most important).
Moki ordered the arctic char for his entree.
Here’s my braised oxtail.
When the server took our order, Moki asked him what oxtail was, and the poor guy stumbled through a rambling, confused response. But oxtail is just that: the tail of an ox or steer. It’s very tasty when cooked correctly, but also not terribly filling because of the smallish amount of meat.
I’m blanking on this dessert now, but I’m pretty sure it was a pear crumble with vanilla ice cream.
But that’s not the end. Something happens when Moki and I get together — it’s as if our tapeworms merge and gain strength. Still hungry, we wandered around until we found a seedy Chinese take-out spot (I remember a lot of plastic coverings and a hazy smoke coming from the kitchen), and proceeded to order one of the worst hot and sour soups of all time — a watery mess of celery and other vegetables. So bad. Moki barely made it through two sips. I finished mine purely for the sustenance.
It was an unusual food night — started out well, ended with a whimper.
Abigail Cafe and Wine Bar
807 Classon Ave.
Brooklyn, NY
718-399-3200
That’s Brooklyn For You
Somehow I completely forgot to write about a dinner my friend Moki and I ate over a month ago. I realized this as I was going through my camera, came across the pics, and thought, “What are those from?” Whoops. Better late than never, I guess.
Abigail Cafe and Wine Bar is in the Prospect/Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. I would classify it as an amalgam of sorts. Upstairs it’s a wine bar, restaurant, and cafe with WiFi. Downstairs is a lounge, where on this night a comedy show going on.
The dimly lit dining room had the atmosphere of a casually elegant restaurant — the sort of place to take a date. And yet a hipster-looking guy was sitting on a couch in the corner with his laptop, and I could hear the laughter coming from below.
“That’s Brooklyn for you,” Moki explained.
A prix fixe menu is available on weeknights, so that’s what we went with. For our first course, mussels in a garlic wine broth.
A mild fishy smell to the mussels, but they were all open (important), they tasted fine, and I didn’t get sick (most important).
Moki ordered the arctic char for his entree.
Here’s my braised oxtail.
When the server took our order, Moki asked him what oxtail was, and the poor guy stumbled through a rambling, confused response. But oxtail is just that: the tail of an ox or steer. It’s very tasty when cooked correctly, but also not terribly filling because of the smallish amount of meat.
I’m blanking on this dessert now, but I’m pretty sure it was a pear crumble with vanilla ice cream.
But that’s not the end. Something happens when Moki and I get together — it’s as if our tapeworms merge and gain strength. Still hungry, we wandered around until we found a seedy Chinese take-out spot (I remember a lot of plastic coverings and a hazy smoke coming from the kitchen), and proceeded to order one of the worst hot and sour soups of all time — a watery mess of celery and other vegetables. So bad. Moki barely made it through two sips. I finished mine purely for the sustenance.
It was an unusual food night — started out well, ended with a whimper.
Abigail Cafe and Wine Bar
807 Classon Ave.
Brooklyn, NY
718-399-3200