Here, opposite Eastern Market and its Saturday morning rhubarb and peppers — and, now, its food trucks selling confit pork belly tacos — the oldies play and the pit smoke rises.
Hunkered down in the heart of Nashville’s Gulch, The Station Inn stands like a stubborn stone that can’t be budged – sturdy, cinder-blocked, a timbre from another time. Inside the beer signs light up in the dark room. Patrons grab mismatched chairs at long tables. And the twang of a banjo hollers out against the wooden thump of doghouse bass.
March 15, 2016
Golden Gate Donuts is a place where you go to hustle the odds. While the new Oakland rises with its condo blocks, shiny brewpub tanks, and fine-leaved husks of French pâtisserie, the old Oakland loiters here, over coffee and crullers, scuffing latex fields from Lotto scratchers with smooth-edged nickels.