[Finally] getting to Abe Fisher
t says: g and I went to Abe Fisher not too long ago – far after the buzz had begun to subside. Now, we have to say, we’re coming at this from the points of view of two people who have little-to-no emotional attachment to “cuisine of the Jewish diaspora” that Abe Fisher boasts. In our little part of SoJo, it just wasn’t something we encountered. So we basically had no idea what to expect in terms of themes, flavors, or anything …
March 2015, Sunday Diner, Party of 2. So we started off with
the brussels sprouts caesar was precisely what we imagined – very nice done, and yet another bit of proof that sprouts need not be roasted or fried to shine. the grapes made it a bit on the sweeter-than-expected side, but overall an ok start.
ever wonder how to do a sweet potato in a manner other than just with marshmallow? go there and have this. this was a thoughtfully constructed dish flirting with perfection (for a sweet potato). pickled long hots and the mild sweet potato were crazy-good with the boursin. this hit all the right notes.
pastrami hash knish also killed it – from the sesame exterior to the poached egg and of course, the meat, it was beautiful.
broccoli 2 ways was probaly the weakest dish. i have long since forgotten the details, but i do recall thinking to myself, “gee – i kinda wish this was just a plate of roasted broccoli, instead”
i ventured the pseudo-“gefilte fish” thinking it’d be really unique – and here’s an example where I think that knowing what the original dish was would have made me appreciate this one better. but for me, it didn’t offer me much more than carrot-on-carrot-on-nondescript-fish. sorry guys. I mean sure, it tasted fine, but it’s not going to win any records for making me contemplating the true meaning of food (i.e. what I typically like to contemplate when eating dinner out).
g’s sweet-n-sour meatballs were pretty tasty – a nice take that we ultimately ate all of. But come on – will this honestly dethrone the meatballs of Barbuzzo? No …
i’m a sucker for a properly-jiggly panna cotta (it shouldn’t jiggle like jello – it should jiggle like … something else …) … but as good as my dessert was, with its creaminess and bright fruit punches …
… g’s dessert made me forget about that broccoli thing and that fish thing and that meatball thing – it immediately obliterated any-and-all thoughts, as I was instantly transported to the year 1990. Boom. Life was simple again. Forget adulthood and being fettered to worries of work, bills, taxes, and responsibility. No. Not 10-year-old me, sitting in the car (where I ate most of my dinners, between after-school activities), with McDonald’s baked apple pie half-hanging out of my mouth and a stupid grin on my face. My thoughts were simple: Did I get a 100 on my spelling test? Did I practice the piano enough this week? Was there any way I could watch X-men on Saturday morning instead of going to karate class? When was Super Mario Bros 3 coming out – and would I be able to find the hidden warp whistles? As I slowly came back to the reality that I was 32 sitting in Abe Fisher, and not 10 eating McDonald’s, I admitted it: g won dessert. Screw panna cotta …
So it wasn’t a meal without a few hiccups – perhaps it should have stopped at course 2 with that knish. g and I hadn’t ventured the Hungarian duck or the Montreal short ribs – so it’s not like we did everything. But we did like the majority of what we had – and for the fixed price of $39, the damage wasn’t that bad. We’d definitely go back when they change the menu to see what else comes out of the kitchen … except they better not change that f-ing apple strudel …
after dinner sneeze 
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