What is street food? Street food is good food that's not fancy. It's a great meal you can order quickly, yet without feeling like you're supposed to leave fast. It's food the locals usually know about--food that you don't feel strange eating by yourself, but are always glad to reveal to a special friend. Street food costs less than $10 per person. You order it at the counter, or at least pay for it there.
Abe's Place
Restaurant review by Matt Superfisky
The first time I saw Abe's Place I giggled to myself and nearly fell over with delight. I was suffering from culture shock having just spent a month in Roatan, Honduras where the pace is slow and sun, sand, and "street food" are the norm. But here I was in the fast-paced high-tech rain capital of North America, trying to re-adjust to my West Seattle neighborhood and the cooler temp, and feeling, in short, lost. And then I saw it….
A freshly painted green and white fence enclosing a brick courtyard, with a small cooking shed on the north side, also freshly painted. A black and white plywood sign proclaimed that this was Abe's Place. The courtyard was littered with various sizes of homemade tables and a bachelor's collection of old chairs and stools. Knots of people sat enjoying lunch and conversation on this gorgeous but not quite warm Seattle spring day.
As I approached the counter of cooking shack--well, it's more than a shack, but not quite a building--the proprietor, Mehmet Ocak (pronounced Oh-Jack), robustly asked in a heavy accent, "Yes, and for you sir, what can I get?" Not feeling too hungry, more drawn in by the atmosphere, I asked for a take-out menu, not realizing I had just thrown him a huge curve. His eyebrows (eyebrow actually) rose then he frowned and said, "What we have is here," gesturing to a butcher paper sign that read:
Sandwiches--BBQ Beef, Turkish Meat ball $4.50."What you need menu for? It is all here." Again I was overcome with the urge to giggle. "Okay, okay," I said through a broadening grin. I intorduced myself and informed Mehmet that I would have BBQ Beef with a Fresh Squeezed Lemonade--total with tax, $7.06. One last question from Mehmet. "You like spice?" "Yes," I replied, watching him add a pinch of this and a dash of that followed by an aerial attack from a couple of unidentified shakers on a pile of meat. Mehmet spun around and started squeezing the juice, yelling to one of his regular patrons to run next door for more ice. The guy returned with the ice, and Mehmet handed me the best lemonade in the world. I took a seat at one of the homemade tables and watched with envy as the people around me ate glorious mounds of food out of red plastic baskets lined with wax paper; lips smacking and napkins wiping, those talking doing so with their mouths full.
Chili and Soup $2.50.
Cheese Bread $1.75.
Garlic Bread $1.50.
Fresh Squeeze Lemonade/Orange juice $2.00.
Soda $1.00.
Mehmet looked directly at me and announced in his hearty Turkish accent, "BBQ Beef." Like a trained monkey I jumped to my feet to rretrieve my lunch. And what a lunch it was! The mound of spicy, saucy BBQ beef was mounted on a hoagie roll, toasted with cheese, and came with a fork--I have yet to see anyone eat a sandwich here in the traditional fashion. With my first bite came a wave of wonderful flavors and textures--the meat perfect and the spices divine. The rich but not overpowering spices lingering in my mouth were perfectly offset by the lemonade, and I wondered if I would be able to finish this large lunch. As I ate, Mehmet carried on conversations with anyone and everyone within sight, asking them if they enjoyed their lunch and about their families. There were no complaints about the food, and everyone he asked seemed full and satisfied as they left, all of their baskets empty.
"This courtyard and its vibe are an oasis from the rat race," I thought to myself as I finished my sandwich and sat back with the rest of my lemonade to relax for the first time since returning home.
The lunch rush was over and the courtyard emptied. Mehmet shouted over to me, "How you like your BBQ?" "Excellent," I said through a smile, "and the lemonade is the best in the world." He laughed and suggested I try the meatballs next time, and to bring my friends. "I will," I assured him, content in my full belly and new found hiding place from the first world.
A sense of relief and belonging fell over me as I left, walking towards Alki Beach--I had found Abe's Place to help bridge the gap (the digital divide if you will) between the first- and third-world, high- and low-tech.
Abe's Place is located at 2310 California Ave. Seattle, WA. 11:30am - 8:30pm daily. (206) 933-7398 for orders to go. Half block north of Admiral Way on California Ave. in West Seattle.
Matt Superfisky
