Al's Breakfast Has the Cure for What Ails Ya

[Al's Breakfast, a staple on 14th in ever-changing Dinkytown Minneapolis.]

“Come on in, there’s plenty of room,” piped the server as I entered the narrow confines of Al’s Breakfast.

Each of the 14 stools was full. Two people lingered in the far corner of the narrow room, perched awkwardly behind the people eating, forming the beginnings of a line.

If you haven’t been to Al’s, it’s a place best experienced in person. I’ll tell you about it, but you have to see it to believe. It’s tiny -- like Japan tiny -- which is so unusual in extra-large USA that it’s like being dropped into another world. 

I’ve written about it before here on this very blog, how Al’s Breakfast illustrates the potential for small spaces to be full of life. It’s a diner version of William H. Whyte’s argument about Paley Park in New York City.

Here’s part of what I said back in 2013: 

At only ten feet wide, Al's Breakfast consists of 14 stools crammed into a tiny alleyway with a roof and a tiny kitchens in the front and back. There are series of rules about how to eat there (more on that below), and while the food is good, the experience is the real treat.

It’s all still true, thank goodness. I also checked in with Al’s Breakfast during COVID, as it seemed anathema to every concern people had at the time (read: space, more space, social distance). But they survived. A new owner (Alison) had taken over the place, and judging by the vibe and branding and fundraisers, it's doing fine.

At least, that's what I thought. 

This spring, I had a classroom near Dinkytown and have been spending more time over there. One morning, I had Minneapolis BET official Eric Harris Bernstein as a guest speaker and, after his delightful talk, he took me to Al’s Breakfast. To my shock, when we got there on a random 11AM on a weekday it was almost entirely empty. That would not have happened ten or twenty or years ago, when you had to forget about Al’s during peak breakfast hours. Nobody went there any more, it was too crowded. 

My curiosity piqued, and I re-formed the habit of stopping at Al's. A few visits later, I can report that it’s not as busy. I hate to be an old crank, but my suspicion is that **kids today** have trouble with the landmark. I suspect that a good percentage of people just don’t have the chops when it comes to an Al’s Breakfast encounter. 

On another visit: The place was buzzing. All the seats were taken, but there was no line and I was enjoying my Spring Special. I watched pair of students trickle in the door. 

“Come on in, just wait a minute and a seat will open right up,” the server chimed.

The kids looked befuddled. They waited for a few moments in the line, and then walked out of the restaurant again. 

This happened again a few minutes later. Two bro-looking guys came in, were next in line, and had only a few moments to go before ether too would get a coveted seat at ehe bar. 

“Is it better if we wait outside,” one of the bros asked when confronted with the awkward situation.

“No, just stand there for a minute or two,” assure the server. 

After about 90 seconds, they walked out.

“It’s happened a bunch of times,” the veteran server said later. “People take off right before they get a seat.”

Al’s Breakfast has always represented a learning curve. Learning the social conventions and rules that I went over back in ’13 is half the fun of the place. This is true for most worthwhile independent businesses (and even a QR code automated McDonald’s if you think about it). But Al’s Breakfast is unique in the Twin Cities; the learning curve is not the usual fare.

If you travel just bit to big cities that have defied corporatization, you'll find idiosyncratic local joints are relatively common, especially in other countries. Ordering from an udon joint in Osaka involves putting money into a vending machine and getting a small ticket, which you then hand to the cook, before taking your bowl of soup to a corner of a nook somewhere. British pubs or Italian espresso bars or countless examples all from all over the world have similar opaque conventions. The American equivalent, I suppose, is the drive-thru Taco Bell… But what a come-down!

Over the last few years, though, some people have lost the ability to interact. So much of our social apparatus has eroded over the last decade or two, accelerated since the massive COVID pandemic disruptions. QR codes. Self-check-outs. Door dash. Grocery delivery. Parking lot pickups. Online ordering. Amazon. Noise-cancelling ear buds. Talking on the phone. 

I am a fan of kids today; I wouldn't be doing my job otherwise. But as a whole, our social habits have grown rusty. This is true for everyone, mind you, no matter your age, but perhaps younger generations have become accustomed to bubbles, don't remember a time when interaction was normal. 

Al’s has survived and thrived for many generations, students pre and post-Vietnam, internet, cell phones, you name it. Meanwhile, the latest generation of kids have been through it: COVID, Trump, gun violence, ubiquitous technological meditation, and a half-dozen other things. This might be a problem for a place like Al’s Breakfast, that depends on the youth. 

Well, if social interaction is what you need, Al’s Breakfast has the cure of what ails ya. 

It’s like asking to share a table at a coffee shop, only more so. Get over there, take your dose of awkward encounter, and eat beautiful, theatrical eggs. Soak in the idiosyncrasy. Savor the miracle that is this 75-year-old alleyway diner. There’s nothing like it in the Twin Cities, the opposite of everything else you’ll find trending these days.

[Behind the bar at Al's Breakfast.]

Obscure Local History #9: William Marvy Eats 14 Coneys in 1926

[The Marvy Company c. 1984.]

William Marvy is one of the greatest inventors in St. Paul history, and his barber supply factory still sits on St. Clair Avenue churning out rotating barber poles. But it's a little known fact that he also liked coney dogs.

(Crossover alert!)

Here's an excerpt from the delightful book, The William Marvy Company of St Paul, all about the history of Marvy and his incredibly rotating barber pole, describing Marvy as a young teen with a head full of ideas:

Bill had one foot in the adult world of sales but was still a sixteen-year-old kid. On February 2, 1926, he 'bet Mr. Deutsch I could eat 14 Coney Islands in less than 40 minutes. I won the bet by eating 14 in 22 minutes.'

That long ago, he probably got them from the Original Coney Island on St. Peter Street! 

Saint Paul's Last Real Drive-in Peels Out

The Star Tribune reported some sad news this week, that the city's last real proper order-at-a stand and eat-in-your-car drive-in on the East Side.

"It's exciting but it's sad," [said] third-generation owner Angela Fida. "It's exciting because I'm going to start a new chapter in my life, and it's sad because I've been here for so long."

I've been going to the Dari-ette off and on over the last few years for their coney dogs, and I usually got the sense that the place was on its last legs. The vibe was subdued, no flocks of kids with ice cream cones, mostly people driving in and out 

You'd think that an eat-in-your-car outdoor-seating joint could thrive during COVID, but maybe the Dari-ette was different. Well, it was certainly different! As far as I know, there is only one other proper old-school drive-in in the Twin Cities: the Minnetonka Drive-in off Highway 7 (and the great bike trail). 

The closing of the Dari-ette is certainly a loss for Saint Paul history, and another vanishing landmark of the old days on the East Side. It's not that people stopped going to drive-thrus or even food trucks, but it stopped being a social thing in this particular way. We're too bubbled up now to appreciate the spectacle of high school kids bringing out your tray and gawking, or else most people just don't appreciate red sauce Italian fare like they used to. 

The coney dog was fine, by the way. The review is appended below. Mostly, it was the atmosphere that was the treat at Dari-ette, even if it was just a parking lot with some vintage kiosks illuminated by a cool neon sign. I'll miss knowing it was there.

[Coney guide continues:]

The unique Dari-ette lies deep in the East Side, and is the last pure “drive- in” in Saint Paul. In fact, it’s almost the last in the Twin Cities, with usually-functioning car-window menu/speakers/tray-holders. What an amazing slice of mid-century car culture!

The operation was founded in 1951 by Italian entrepreneurs who have passed down through the generations, nobody changing a thing. It’s open from spring to fall and thrives on the labor of teenagers, and if you find yourself up on the East Side, is surely worth a visit.

The menu is old-school Italian fare with ice cream, classic sandwich and burger staples. And lo and behold - the Dari-ette’s extensive menu even includes a coney dog: it’s below-average, with a solid wiener and sauce but not much else to speak of. Anyway, that’s not the point. You’re eating a coney at a drive-in! 

So long, Dari-ette! May you drive off into the sunset. 

[A coney dog and an egg salad sandwich.]

[The Dari-ette at dusk.]

[The Dari-ette in the old days.]

[The menu; most of them were still functional.]

Coney Guide Booklet and Two More Out-Of-Print Booklets Now in Stock

I'm happy to report that, after years of work (and apparently years of my life flushed down the toilet), I'm finally done with my comprehensive guide to Twin Cities coney dogs: "Coney Dogs of Greater Saint Paul." 

If you missed any of my coney dog bike rides in the past, this is a good primer on how to make up for lost time. And it turned out pretty good! The legendary WACSO offered his artwork for the cover, and I have photos of all but one of the coneys I reviewed. They are located in eight (8!) different municipalities, and offer a great range of flavor and atmosphere for the discerning hot dog connoisseur. 

Featured coney dogs include twenty-nine (29!) different coney dog reviews and rankings, past and present, as well as some tasting tips, history, and opinions. Ranked establishments include: Carbone's, Dari-ette Drive-in, Dar's Double Scoop, Gallaghers, The Gopher Bar, Keenan's Bar, The Original Coney Island™, Rooster's, Ran-Ham/Nook, the State Fair, Norm's Wayside, The Corner Bar, Mortimer's, Uncle Franky's, Neumann's, B-Dale Club, Grumpy's, Al's Corral Bar, The Coop, and the Dine-1-1 food truck. Each has a photo, ranking, and review, and the rest of the booklet includes some history about coneys in general and Twin Cities coneys specifically.

You can buy one today and I'll get it shipped ASAP.

Meanwhile, the Noteworthy South Minneapolis Dive Bars (updated and revised to include the Bull's Horn, Cardinal Bar, and the Vincent Giantvalley American Legion) and Noteworthy Dives of Payne and Arcade booklets are back in print as well. 

Find them all in my store!

Coney Quest V: The Downstream Journey Rain Delayed for Two Weeks

Sad weather we're having in Saint Paul these days. Coney Quest V will have to wait.

Let's hope the fall time improves in a fortnight!

Mark your calendars for Wednesday October 24th.

[See original post here.]

Coney Quest V: The Downstream Journey next Wednesday 10/24

[Google map is here.]

Nothing says "fall just got here but is already leaving" like a bike ride in Saint Paul (and environs) to eat vernacular coney dogs.

That's why, for the fifth (5th) year in a row, I am organizing a bike ride to eat "Saint Paul style" coney dogs.

How many coney dogs, you ask?

Three, sir. No more, no less.

Three shall be the number thou shalt eat, and the number of the coneys shall be three.

Four shalt thou not devour, nor either eat thou two, excepting that thou then proceedeth on to three.

(Five coneys is right out!)

Once the number three, being the third number, be reached...

OK OK, after that we will then bike back toward downtown Saint Paul while digesting the coneys.

(For those wondering what a coney dog is, please consult the brief coney explainer contained in the blogpost for Coney Quest IV: The East Side Excursion.)

Monty Python references aside, the challenge is this: there are some wonderful coney dogs along the river to the south. It's true. I have seen them with my own eyes, devoured them with my mouth, and digested them handily. They are excellent coneys, both surprising and traditional, and served in properly crusty settings.

With fates aligned, this year we venture forth into wild lands beyond the southern border to fetch a brace of coneys. Tally ho!

Know too that there are other benefits to the attending Coney Quest V: The Downstream Journey. They are 1) the bike ride is mostly an off-street trail skirting the Mississippi River, and 2) the fall foliage is sublime right now, and 3) these historical Concord Street bars are fine establishments of their kind.

With that in mind, show up at the (probably not long for this world, alas!) Kelly's Depot Bar around 5:30 to consume the first coney.

We will depart promptly at 6pm for a ten-mile (10-mile) bike ride southward along the river, to Celt's Bar in Inver Grove Heights.

From there, we will turn around, head north to Al's Corral Bar, arriving around 8pm, and finally returning home, bellies and hearts full and contented.

Hope to see you there!

[Facebook invite is here. 

See also: Coney Quest, Coney Quest II, Coney Quest III, and Coney Quest IV.]

What: bike ride to eat coney dogs
When: 10/10 10/24 at 5:30pm
Where: Kelly's Depot Bar in Lowertown
Why: because they're there, for now
Who: anyone with a bike and an appetite for coneys

[Tantalizing spoiler images follow.]

Interview with Pete McGough-Pose of the Everything Apple Food Truck, Which Can Run on Electricity

One of my pet peeves is a loud food truck. I love public space, sidewalks, parks, eating on benches, and street life, so I also love food trucks. That's why it's so frustrating when you are near one with a loud generator, where the guttural cranking sound of a diesel motor drowns out everything within a 50' radius and turns the food truck-proximate sidewalks, parks, or patios into a setting that resembles a metal stamping factory. 

Years ago, visiting Portland, Oregon, I was struck by the food truck plazas that seemed to have grown like moss in every parking lot. They were quiet havens, places where you could whisper and enjoy the sounds of birds, small pop-up plazas where the food trucks seemed at home. It was wonderfully organic and made for great public space.

[Pete McGough-Pose.]

And yet, even now in Minnesota, it's rare to see a food truck using electricity. That's why when I saw one the other day at Saint Paul's Bang Brewing, I had to stop and chat with the purveyor. The truck was called Everything Apple, and here's their story.

Pete: My. Name is Pete McGough-Pose, and me and my brother Keegan, we own this food truck. Everything Apple. 

We currently now... it was started by my brother and our grandfather. He unfortunately just passed away about a month ago. In that time a couple months ago, we’ve been refurbishing it getting it out to tap rooms and things like that. Polishing it up, getting the equipment up to date. It’s been going really well so far. 

Right now we’re at Bang [Brewing], like I was saying, we are all electric, so we are able to just plug into these guys through a couple of cords and run it nice and quiet. 

Normally we’ve got a couple of real new Honda generators. 

Keegan: A Honda EU 7000 and a Honda EU 3000 

Pete: Yeah those are really nice generators they’re pretty much brand new, and they’ve got a nice eco drive and everything. They can run us pretty efficiently and nice like that, but it’s pretty nice to just be able to plug in here. 

Twin City Sidewalks: It’s pretty quiet! That's one of the things that I care about. 

Pete: That’s what really nice about the really new Hondas that we have, they’re incredibly quiet. We even had a couple customers come up to us while we were serving and they asked us if our generators were running. And I took a second to just check and make sure that yeah they are. So that’s nice.  

Twin City Sidewalks: I was in Portland almost ten years ago, and saw lots of food truck parks with the plug-ins. It's nice because you can sit around with the tables and you can hear each other and enjoy being in the city while you hang out. 

Pete: I think that would be really cool too. I was talking to the owners [Sandy and Jay, of Bang Brewing] and they had mentioned how they were thinking that they were going to put in a plug-in right down here [by the curb] so that when we pull in, they can just plug in right there. 

Right now we have it worked out well where its low voltage what we’ve got going on. We don’t have  a fryer in here right now so we’ve been able to work our way around  

Twin City Sidewalks: How do you get the brats to taste so good? 

Pete: We hand case them. We grind them fresh. We have our grandfather’s spice recipe, and we mix them with small chunks of Granny Smith apple. Then we hand case them, and cook them in our professional kitchen and get them nice and fresh for you here. 

Twin City Sidewalks: Is there anything else folks need to know about Everything Apple? 

Pete: I guess we’re really new to this, I’m really new to this, so I’m not really too sure what I should put out there but I really appreciate the interest.

According to Sandy Boss Febbo, the co-owner of Bang, she prefers food trucks that can run on electricity and makes a point to book trucks that can do this.

A Honda EU 7000 runs about $4,000, which is a lot of money, so there's an equity aspect to quiet food trucks. That's exactly why I really want to see more electric options, which would be easier for entrepreneurs of all backgrounds to use.

Anyway, I hope plug-ins for food trucks catch on. It might seem petty to complain about generator noise, but as is often the case with good urbanism, the devil is in the details. Sometimes, as with Bang Brewing and Everything Apple, the little things like noise, texture, seating, shade, and street design come together to great a perfect urban experience.

Oh, and the apple brat is really good too.

VERY LIMITED SPACE for Saint Paul Hummus and Alley Tour this Saturday

Last minute opportunity!

Did you know that, in under a mile of sidewalk, you can find five (5) different unique hummus establishments in Saint Paul?

Similarly did you know that these same areas of town boast some strange alleys and quasi-alleys worth exploring?

For years I have fantasized about having a tour where people walk around an interesting Snelling Avenue-proximate area of Saint Paul and explore some of the hummuses hummi (?), weird nooks, an quasi-alleys that exist in the middle of the city. My sister and brother-in-law are coming to town this weekend and it seems like a great time to get this going.

On the tour, there will hummus or baba ganoush purveyors from Jordan, Palestine, Turkey, Greece, and the United States, along with strange alleys, short blabs about Middle Eastern urban design practices and Saint Paul history, and some miscellaneous local history highlights.

*** NOTE: This is a ticketed event and there is limited space available! *** 

Link is here. 

What: This will be a guided walking tour just over a mile in length, featuring four humus and alley stops.
When: The eating and walking tour is this Saturday at 12:30pm.
Where: The walk is about one mile. There will be snacks. Ticket price includes hummuses.
Why: Because it's there.

Notes from the Old Nicollet Walk

[Old Nicollet in 1950.]

I was first struck by this part of the city when I first came across it many years ago, around the year 2000. I remember walking into the "Market BBQ", a self-proclaimed legendary Minneapolis restaurant for 40 years...

Well, if it was so famous, how come I'd never heard of it?

Since then I've always been curious about this part of the city that seems so off-the-radar of the mainstream, so full of old remnants of the built environment, despite being a stone's throw from downtown.

With that idea in mind, I put together a tour. The Old Nicollet Walk (defined as between Grant Street and Franklin Avenue) this sprinter was a fun time for me, and more than most of the tours I put together, an exploration. I didn't quite know the story of this part of the street, and I hoped that in doing research for the walk and bringing a group of people together, I might learn about this part of the city that had always intrigued me.

Here are some themes that emerged. Thanks to everyone who came out and joined me on this exploration of a fast-vanishing and often misunderstood Minneapolis neighborhood.


Tourists and hostility

[The Convention Center is a wall around the neighborhood.]

One theme that came out of the walk was how "tourist downtown" was actively hostile to this part of the city, in both subtle passive design and active ways.

During the tour, introducing "Old Nicollet," I shared my theory why so many of the restaurants here seemed to me to be lost in time and off the radar. Eat Street, the north Loop, hell lots of other parts of south Minneapolis all seemed like places that I heard about regularly in conversation, that made lists of "places to go," but this stretch of Nicollet was never mentioned by anyone I knew. It was almost like a blind spot, Minneapolis downtown lacunae, the very essence of a marginal space crammed between the freeway and the edge of downtown.

My theory had been that it catered primarily to downtown tourists, and that's why I didn't know much about it. Thus the weird old restaurants like Pings, the (now shuttered) Japanese-Canadian place, Market BBQ, (shuttered) Jerusalem, etc.

But then one of the participants described a story they’d heard about downtown. At the big tourist hotels, the concierge explicitly tell visitors not to walk south on Nicollet Avenue, to go instead north along the “mall” area. As a result, this strange segment of Old Nicollet received relatively few downtown visitors, Jay Leno excepted.

Theory debunked.

Similarly, the massive multi-super-block Convention Center offers huge featureless blank walls along its south and western sides. All the doorways, public spaces, and activity are focused on the north, and instead of serving as an amenity for the Old Nicollet area, it detracts from the public spaces and social life of the neighborhood.

Jarring Disjunctures

[There's a massive metered parking lot here b/c of a street expansion / realignment.]

The "edge of downtown" is a strange concept, because if you go back and look at the photos and maps of the mid-century Minneapolis, there were no "edges" to downtown. Instead of hard lines, downtown slowly dissolved, transforming into a residential area as you got a few miles out. Back then, the city decreased in density gradually like a classic gradient -- often called the "urban transect." A hundred years ago, if you walked from the center of downtown into one of the residential neighborhoods around it you would find a gradual decrease in density and intensity.

Today, most of the middle ground along that spectrum has been demolished and replaced with vacant, freeway, or low-density spaces. (Stephens Square and Elliot Park are notable exceptions.) The vacant lots, apartment buildings, freeways, huge walls, and parking lots form a strange landscape within which oddities like the old Music Box Theater (formerly Loring Theater, currently a weird church from Eden Prairie) and 80s-era faded restaurants like Ping’s still cling on within the Minneapolis landscape.

[Bollards and freeways.]

Cultural Margins as Refuge

At the same time, the very isolation and marginalization of this part of the city has been, for many people over the years , a feature and not a bug. Because it is so isolated and economically neglected, what’s left of this part of the city has remained affordable and fine grained. Lots of important urban communities thrive in the margins in neighborhoods like this.

Most notably for this part of town, so close to Loring Park, Minneapolis’ crucial GBLT community has been centered here for generations. The 19 Bar, Minneapolis’ finest dingy gay bar, is a block away.

And two women who came on the tour shared a story of how they’d moved to the area in the 1970s and discovered a DIY lesbian-centered “coffee house” that began in a space in the Plymouth Congregational Church. It was a heart of the Minneapolis lesbian scene for many years, and one woman described an ongoing play about a fictional town called Toklas, Minnesota that had been performed in the coffee house for years.

[The Very Best of Fancy Ray.]

I personally recall how the massive Nicollet Village Video store served as a place for punk and queer kids to hang out all day and night, while also offering one of the two or three best selections of obscure videos anywhere in town. Similarly, the old Flame Bar and Grill, a strange country-western / R&B hybrid joint, once offered refuge for kids from all over the region.

Here’s a story about a girl from the North End who became a Flame fixture for years:

“Mr. Torp of Torp’s Music Store (also on Rice Street in St Paul) was a friend of my parents; he said country singer Ardis Wells was looking for a lead musician who could sing. I wasn’t 21, so we went over and met with her and Mr. Perkins who owned The Flame and they said ‘We don’t care if she’s not 21 as long as she doesn’t drink, we’ll take care of her, don’t worry about it’.”” 

Ardis was a female wrestler who rode elephants in the circus. “The floor would rise up with the push of a button and become a stage. Ardis Wells and The Rhythm Ranch Girls worked the front lounge of The Flame, our stage was up high above the bottles (see photos). Ardis would perform a trapeze act in The Flame while we sang, but the City Of Minneapolis shut that down because it was too dangerous. The Flame was the home of the $3.25 16-ounce steak. I still have their menus!”“

Similarly, the one or two old blocks of the southern stretch of Old Nicollet has some of the most diverse and eclectic restaurants anywhere int he city, including East African, West African, and Tibetan restaurants, all of them solid. (There used to be Vietnamese and African-American food here too.)

[At the Flame, they were playing and dancing ON TOP of the bar.]

Changing Quickly

[Old Nicollet vacant lot; note the old hospital in the background.]

Over the years, this part o the city has been under severe pressure from city planners, civic boosters, and entropy. The freeway, Convention Center, road re-design, big government housing projects, and parking lots have taken their toll. But in the midst of it, a stretch of the old urban fabric has remained in tact.

But it doesn’t seem like it will last long. After a half-century of benign neglect, the real estate market on the fringe of downtown has begun to overpower the past, and when the 1940s-era Market BBQ building comes down, the remaining continuity of the old city is going to erode beyond recognition. There will still be an old building or two, but I fear the idea of the old street, visible in the historic photos, will be impossible to conjure.

So tour it while you can!

[50s-era office building updated for the modern age.]

[The all-night diner with new construction in the background.]

[The elective early 20th century buildings (note the weird roof!) along Old Nicollet.]

[Construction, formerly the site of Jerusalem Restaurant.]

[Old Nicollet Village Video, now a Spanish-language daycare.]

[Old clock at Market BBQ.]

[Door handle at Market BBQ.]

[Tin ceiling at Market BBQ. The ceiling along with the massive wood bar (shipped from San Francisco) will be saved and replaced into the new building.]

[Market BBQ booth.]

[The old building, not long for this world.]

[The old and new housing stock along Old Nicollet.]

[Already shuttered, and forgettable, Ryan's Pub.]

[Subsidized affordable housing on the north end of Old Nicollet.]

[Subsidized housing.]

[Three eras of buildings.]

[The freeway bridge.]

[Vacant lot.]

[as-Salaamu 'alaykum.]

Walking Tour of Old Nicollet Avenue on March 22nd

[Nicollet and 17th in 1950.]

Please join me for a walking tour next Thursday of what I call "Old Nicollet Avenue," the area between the south end of the Nicollet Mall (Grant Street) and Franklin Avenue.

This is a stretch of the city that's intrigued me for many years. This is a part of the city that, at least to me, survived in the margins between downtown and the Eat Street part of Nicollet to the south. It sits nestled by the freeway and the convention center on the edge of the Loring Park neighborhood. In a way, this half-mile stretch of Nicollet Avenue feels like what Minneapolis might have been like twenty or thirty years ago, back when the city was struggling with a changing economy, crime and disinvestment, and ongoing suburbanization. And at the same time, this was the era with lots of opportunities for small marginal businesses, historic fabric, and a thriving sense of a counterculture.

[The largest onion dome of its kind in Minneapolis.]

The street is also home to a bunch of antiquated restaurants that are not long for this world -- places from another era like the now-shuttered Jerusalem's (a classic "architecture duck") and the now-shuttered Ichiban Japanese Steak House -- as well as a number of marginal-but-doing-fine restaurants like Salsa a la Salsa, Ping's Szechuan, or Awkaaba, that offer cuisine from around the world. And yet I've always felt these places were ignored by local hipsters and the downtown office crowd. Maybe they survive only on the benevolent ignorance of tourists?

I was thinking about doing this tour for many years and, I swear to god, had it planned on my calendar BEFORE the most historical restaurant on the stretch, Market BBQ, announced they were closing for a new apartment development.

So carpe veteris nicolletum. Let's explore this forgotten and vanishing part of our city on the edge of downtown and see what we can appreciate. I'm looking forward to sharing stories about old Nicollet Village Video, the Triple Espresso theater, Gangchen / Tibet Kitchen, the Marigold Ballroom, and other things that I'm uncovering about this stretch of street.

Please come if you're interested!

[Facebook event is here.]

[Some video of Nicollet, from Franklin to the freeway, in 1983, followed by a bunch of great downtown footage.]

What: Walking tour of Nicollet Avenue from Grant Street to Franklin Avenue.
When: Thursday March 22nd at 6:30
Where: Meet at Market BBQ, 1414 Nicollet
Who: Anyone! Free of charge, but will be collecting money for egg rolls
Why: Because it's there, but not for long it seems.

[Amazing Nicollet Village Video ad and more historic pictures below.]