Allioli was our neighborhood hangout. It was the annex to our apartment, right around the corner, always there, always welcoming, always full of acquaintances and friends. To walk in the door was to feel like a celebrity, with greetings shouted out by customers and staff alike. Like Cheers, it was the place where everyone knows your name. We loved it so much we created a website for them. I suppose I really ought to shut it down now.
Allioli was the place we went when we wanted a glass of red wine and a snack. It was the place we went when we knew we wanted to eat well and then settle in for a night of dedicated drinking. Scoring a 27 from Zagat's in 2003 meant it was also the place we took our friends when we wanted to impress them.
Our favorite seats were at the end of the bar facing the small open kitchen. We could watch Diego, a genius chef, and his assistants prepare sizzling dishes of hot chorizo, or ensalada de pulpito (whole baby octopus marinated with peppers, red onions and potatoes), or perhaps foie gras con higos negros en balsamico (pan seared foie gras served with black figs in balsamic syrup).
We used to drop in for dinner often--sometimes twice a week. At first, Jack would say, "We shouldn't go so often-- we might spoil it for ourselves." And I would always reply, "Nothing lasts forever and someday it'll be gone. Let's enjoy it."
And now it's gone. We miss you, Allioli.
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