The last-ever weekend at Albie’s Beef Inn was deservedly packed, with everyone from hipsters who just discovered the place a couple of years ago, to couples who’d gotten engaged there decades ago. All were wondering how it could possibly be that one of San Diego’s most historic locales could get put out of business by a short-sighted, stupid, venal landlord.
For everyone who experienced Albie’s, it was pretty much heaven on earth: the atmosphere of a cozy home (OK, the home of your uncle who had the vintage Playboy collection); a welcoming and unpretentious staff; great food made only from fresh ingredients (where did they get those carrots, anyway?); great music; and the celestial tinkle of Fred Graslie’s cocktail shaker. It doesn’t get any better than this.