It’s August 1st. I step outside the house and am hit with a wave of humidity that comes with the territory here in middle Tennessee this time of year. I don’t even want to leave the house – it makes me want to turn and run. Alas, we have tickets for Barry Manilow at Bridgestone Arena. Aura is asking for restaurant suggestions. I can’t think of any. Keeping up with the food scene in Nashville can be like trying to sweep up a tsunami with a broom. She mentions this place called aba that she’s been wanting to try. For lack of a counter option, I concede. It’s fine.
We arrive in the Wedgewood-Houston neighborhood of Nashville around 4:30PM. I refuse to call it “We-Ho” and I make my position known to anyone within earshot. I have a bizarre moment thinking about my 40 years in this city. When I was younger, this area was nothing. No, not just nothing…it was an area to be avoided. We only came down here on Sundays when the Nashville Flea Market was running.
Now, this has become one of the trendier parts of town. People walk by in suits, sunglasses, nice dresses, and the like. I’m here in my shorts, tennis shoes, and my Memphis Grizzlies hat. It seems an odd choice for this environment, and I think it’s probably an even odder choice for a Barry Manilow show. Anyway, we arrive at the front desk, thinking a table is a long shot since we don’t have reservations. But, I’m surprised to hear the hostess state that if we don’t mind waiting a moment, they could seat us outside.
“Great,” I think to myself. “Early dinner with a side of swamp ass.” We stroll outside, and while I don’t get a full look at the restaurant inside, I get enough of a glimpse to know that Aba feels like stepping into a different world. Soft lights, Earth tones, and plants that make it feel like a tame sort of jungle – it’s beautiful. We’re seated on the patio, and I notice an abundance of fans meant to keep the heat at bay. They work. The early evening air felt tremendous, and I thought back to how Wedgewood-Houston has become so en vogue. Aba is certainly doing their part to make this pocket of the city feel luxurious.
Sarah greets us and asks if we’ve ever dined at Aba before. We haven’t. She explains it’s a Mediterranean cuisine with a California twist to it. Good. It sounds as if we’ll certainly be traveling far from Nashville on this evening. I admit I missed a few details because I was so focused on the drink menu, but the “per my email” cocktail is staring at me in a cold sweat. Sazerac rye, Pierre Ferrand 1840, cynar, blackberry, and lemon. I have no idea what most of the ingredients are but it’s exotic. I feel like living dangerously, so I order it. It just about knocks me on my ass, but I’m good at diffusing conflict and I convince it to let me stay long enough to mellow and enjoy the sunshine.
It’s time to order food, and we opted to take our meal family style, getting a few plates and sharing. We started with the whipped feta. The house bread was warm and seasoned quite well, a phenomenal vessel for this exquisite feta creation. Topped with pistachios, olive oil, and lemon zest, it made for a wide array of flavor. The tang of the feta and lemon zest was balanced by the earthy tones of the pistachios and olive oil, while the pistachios added a dynamic texture to the dish. I could’ve eaten it with a spoon, and I wonder if I could’ve gotten away with it without being thrown out.
From there, we ventured on to the roasted pork belly, served with grilled peaches on a bed of harissa honey and topped with mint. Another poetic blend of ingredients. The pork belly was cooked to the perfect temperature, giving way beneath the edge of my fork. It was a no-knife-needed type of tender. The harissa honey and grilled peaches added a sweetness to the pork belly that kept the dish from teetering overboard in the salty department.
Finally, the crispy potatoes balanced the meal as a hearty and cheesy complement to the pork belly. Topped with mizithra cheese and rosemary, and served with a scallion crema, it was a fresh take on a staple side.
Okay, so maybe pork belly and potatoes isn’t too adventurous a stride into a Mediterranean restaurant. But, the menu was chock full of choices, and I’m a weak man who can’t resist pork belly when it’s on a menu. Aura and I concluded fairly early into the meal that we’d be coming back for certain – the kebab is safe for now, but I make no promises for the future.
Aba combines a positively atypical menu with an ambience that feels like dining in a storybook. It has instantly become one of my favorite dining experiences in this city.
The sun begins to set, the early crawling of golden hour, as we walk back to our car. It’s a bit of a reprieve from the heat and humidity. But, I catch myself thinking about how different that meal was to most other meals I’ve had in this city. It’s as if the thought cannot escape my mind. Im satisfied, not bloated…left contemplating the artistry of Aba’s chefs…and I have a solid buzz going. The wind hits my back, and I think this must be paradise.
Stoney Keeley is the Editor in Chief of The SoBros Network, second on Football & Other F Words, analyst for Stacking The Inbox, and a Dogs Playing Poker on velvet connoisseur. He is a strong supporter of Team GSD, #BeBetter, and ‘Minds right, asses tight.’ “Big Natural” covers the Tennessee Titans, the NFL Draft, Nashville, Yankee Candle, and a whole wealth of nonsense. Follow on Twitter @StoneyKeeley.
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