- Red Meat & Beer at White Flag, a Pair That’s Tough to Beat
- 27 food reasons for New Yorkers to come to Tulsa
- Dine Amidst Vibrant Tropical Colors at Sisserou’s Restaurant
- Live Music, Food trucks & Made-in-Oklahoma Products
- Pig Brains and Tofu… Sheer Heaven
- Cherry Street: Not a Place for Lullabies
- Every Burger Served at White Flag is Creative
- Tulsa Chef Serves French Californian Cuisine with a Southwest Flare
- Neives’ Mexican Grill is Like Family
- KEO Keeps Getting Better
Abears on Greenwood – Shrimp & Catfish Basket
Leave the glitzy hotels and glassy skyscrapers of downtown, cruise a few blocks down Archer — doing just what Bob Wills did in “Take Me Back to Tulsa” when he sang “let me off at Archer and I’ll walk down to Greenwood” — walk through the old wood door of Abears, and you’ll enter a different world.
A room smaller than a New York studio apartment — and that’s small! — painted white. A counter along each side with about twelve chairs. A few old guys sitting around talking. A woman with her two small children waiting for a take-out order. A very hospitable owner to welcome you.
The menu is very simple. I ordered the Shrimp & Catfish Basket, which came with fries for $9.65. I upgraded to fried okra for an extra 50¢. The okra was good, and the shrimp (3 big ones) and the catfish fillet, both fried, were exceptionally good. “Really glad you could come,” the owner said as I left, “and I hope you’ll be back.” “As soon as I can,” I replied, and meant it.
Abears on Greenwood, Tulsa
111 N Greenwood Av
closes at 5:00 PM, closed all day Sunday and Monday, may stay open to 7 PM when there’s a night game
Born in NYC, age 0, on my birthday. College in Oxford at age 16. Law School in New Haven, Conn. 6 years travel in Africa and Asia. Haven’t done much lately. Still, I’m the only Tulsa member of the little-known Omega Society. www.theomegasociety.com
I speak enough Chinese to order food not on any English menu. Spanish French Italian too (not fluently but food-ently) My favorite restaurant is Jean-Georges in New York. But those NYC chefs would sell their soul to get the produce available from the farms around Inola.
“A writer writes alone. His words tumble forth from a magical inner void that is mysterious even to himself, and that no one else can enter.” And yet, the most important thing to me the writer is YOU. Without you to hear them, my words are worth less than silence.