Dining at H. Harper Station is not quite an adventure, but it is a ride. And that may be the appropriate metaphor. The bar/restaurant (and one might engage in an all-night argument about which ought to take precedence) is located on the site of an historic railway station. The owner wisely avoided making it into a theme restaurant of the low order, but the details are subtly reinforcing. The restaurant is named after the owner's maternal grandfather, a railroad engineer, and is a self-described "watering stop," giving anyone who enters the immediate sense upon entry that she has an hour to kill before the train whistle blows and the journey continues. The historical space is well appointed, warm without being too bright, and modern without being too ickily hipster. Those who relish atmosphere will take to the place upon entry.
The drinks are fabulous. This is a craft bar with eyebrow-raising liquor selections, thoughtful drafts, and a decent wine list. The bartenders are savvy, hip, friendly, and talented. Our barkeep was Mercedes and we spent much of the night bantering about drinks. But by the end of the night we had conversed with all the hard workers behind the bar about various liquors and other life topics. What was impressive was that they seemed to understand the perfect balance between genuine friendliness and professional distance. I enjoyed talking with them immensely, and they eagerly obliged my questions, and returned them. But they did not hang around or bend my ear, or otherwise make me feel uncomfortable. What a rarity--a bartending corps that understands both personality and boundaries.
The highlight of the evening was a moment of creation. It began with the first round of cocktails we ordered. My wife ordered a tequila drink called the "Calexico." I ordered a classic Manhattan. My wife's drink brought the house down. It began with a jalepeno-infused tequila muddled with fresh pineapple, then sweetened with agave nectar and finished with fee brothers Aztec Chocolate bitters. It was a layered drink, sweet immediately, then followed by smokiness and spice, and finished by the bitterness of the chocolate. It was a real gem. We raved to our bartender, who said that they were looking for other ways to utilize the chocolate bitters. I suggested bourbon, as I think the two an excellent match. Mercedes poured a Woodford Reserve bourbon and made an old fashioned with the chocolate bitters as an experiment, and it turned out brilliantly.
As good as the drinks are, one should not expect H. Harper Station to be anything like the top bars in the country. This is not the Violet Hour of Chicago, with house-made bitters and ice carved to fit the glass. There is a limit to what H. Harper Station does, but what it does do it does very well. In fact, it may be one of the top three bars in Atlanta for craft cocktails. (Pura Vida and Sound Table come to mind as competitors).
The food should not be slighted. Traditional southern food is the cuisine, and the menu is of limited ingredients, but this does not prevent the chef from plating some inspired food. In fact, simplicity is a virtue in this setting. Any good cocktail--like most good food--ought to be about three ingredients, and I appreciate the ways in which the menu seems to reflect this, and still amaze me with a range of tastes. The emphasis on local ingredients is not unique to H. Harper Station (of course) but they are so well executed that this is one of the few places in Atlanta where I have felt at home in every sense of the word. If I lived in Reynoldstown, I would dine there weekly, or more. As it is, I am contemplating heading out for lunch once a week from Georgia State.
No comments:
Post a Comment