Shortly after I checked into my shipping container, Austin dropped by with a wheelie suitcase full of beer. (Imagine reading that sentence to someone 20 years ago.) We crushed a few Creature Comforts Athenas together and talked about some of the conceptual themes in the previous week’s Atlanta.

Shortly thereafter, we began our evening in earnest, at Kimball House. Google describes Kimball House as a “sleek eatery & raw bar” that “serves farm-to-table entrees with French flair.” All those words are true. The place is excellent, owned and run by punk rockers and Brick Store Pub alumni. It’s so excellent, in fact, that they do a thing called a “cocktail beer,” which is a small pour of whatever Pilsner they have on tap for a couple bucks that you can drink while they make you your fancy liquor drink.

*extremely chef’s kiss emoji*

A distinctly Southern wallpaper hangs above deeply-tufted black leather booths, circular marble tables, and classic bistro chairs. The dim-but-sufficient lighting is provided by a couple multi-globe chandeliers above the dining room and about a half-dozen single-globe pendants above the bar. The bar itself is impressive, a long and narrow L, with unmarked Perlick taps, and tall, booze-stocked shelves that require a library ladder.

We split a dozen oysters. I had an Airliner and an Allagash and another Creature Comforts and a bar steak. It was divine.