You can imagine the place: the burger isn’t anything memorable, the fish and chips might give you gut-rot, and the bathrooms are one step above an outhouse. But the beer is cold, the fries are salty, and your friends are there, so it’s your favorite. Character and community is the x-factor that takes a place from nothing special to your preferred local dive, and you know you’re not imagining it because the place is full on a Tuesday.
I recently embarked on a tour of Fairbanks’ favorite no-frills eateries. As expected, the culinary offerings didn’t blow my mind, but any place where someone walks in from the cold wearing a hoodie and jeans, and the bartender exclaims with a smile, “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” is a place worth stopping.
The Oasis
The Oasis, “The O” as it’s known, is a small greasy spoon and bar near the UAF campus. Aside from clearly being a local watering hole, the actual oasis theme is loose, and is expressed through a giant marlin on the ceiling and some shabby, dispersed palm tree art. Directed to the Oasis by born-and-raised Fairbankians (people affectionately known as BARFs), I was promised friendly service, community and cheesesteaks.
Our server Ian was casual and warm. He took our order as members of a dart league began filing in. A couple entered with a baby in a carrier who was admired by the entire group seated around the bar. A separate young couple took a shot with the bartender and a college student sat at a table adjacent to us with a book and basket of fried pickles.
In terms of food, the Oasis is known for its cheesesteaks first, and brunch second, but the “Fishwich Deluxe” ($20) stole the show. With two hefty slabs of fried halibut, it was the kind of sandwich you can’t set down, but you’re not mad about it. I’ve seen halibut offered as a protein addition to a salad for $22.50 in Anchorage, so the amount of fish here seemed like a deal, and they cooked it right: tender on the inside, crispy on the outside.
“The Works” Cheesesteak ($19) was tangy and spiiiicy (yes that’s a four ‘i’ spicy, but maybe just because I’m originally from Minnesota). Salty meats were served up on a soft hoagie, and the sando is large enough to warrant considerable digesting time. The Reuben ($17), on the other hand, was disappointing for two reasons. First, because it came with not-enough Thousand Island and, more egregiously, it had white American cheese rather than swiss, which I am personally not at all down for.
What I was very down for, though, is the overall unassuming vibe and the energy of the woman who called out, “See you later, fuckers!” to the small crowd on her way out the door.
An aside for non-drinkers: we weren’t charged for soda water and lime, which is a nice gesture, especially for a place that relies on its designated drivers. It blows me away that this is not more common.
Ivory Jacks
This carpeted dive bar and restaurant in Goldstream Valley includes a gas station, general store, liquor store, and laundromat, as many of the cabins farther out the road are dry. Ivory Jacks, or “IJs,” is known to sponsor local youth sports and kids’ art adorns the high-ceiling walls, alongside many serious and humorous tchotchkes, and “Ode to an Oosik” paper placemats. All of this amounts to some serious Interior Alaska character and charm.
The place occasionally advertises “Gluten Free Parking,” and always boasts Free Parking, which are, a. both true, and b. actually slightly warranted, as they do seem to take their gluten free offerings seriously. The free parking lot was surprisingly full when we rolled up at 6:30 p.m.
We were promptly served beverages with increasingly rare bonafide red plastic straws as we reviewed the menu, which contained more dick references than I’ve seen on a menu in … well, maybe ever.
I went with Rick’s Halibut Sandwich because I’d just watched with jealousy as my friend enjoyed the Oasis’ Fishwich Deluxe. Ivory Jacks’ version was good but not great, with two smaller halibut chunks. Choices for sides included wild rice, baked potato, onion rings, and four french fry variations that I think you should try to name right now before you keep reading. (Answer: sweet potato, curly, steak, regular). The onion rings were ginormous and crunchy, curly fries were solid, but I went with sweet potato fries because they’re tasty, slightly less common, and I read a blog post in ~2009 that those might have more nutrients or something.
The most satisfied person at our table ordered steak, which looked to be grilled perfectly and served with Alaska grown vegetables and a baked potato. The friend to my left ate Skinny’s Chicken Sandwich, which looked to be well seasoned and on the far juicy end of the grilled chicken sandwich spectrum. Friend to my right ate Danny’s Deluxe Burger, which comes with bacon, guacamole, and swiss. The guacamole had that homogenous green that almost definitely indicates it originated from Kirkland plastic packaging, but we’re dining in a state where decent avocado is always a gift and never a given, so of course it did.
Friend at the far end of the table lauded the homemade blue cheese dressing and declared Ivory Jacks to have the best eggs benedict he’s ever eaten.
“And I’ve had a lot of hollandaise in my day,” he said, looking off distantly, seeming to be lost in the memory of all that hollandaise.
Portions were hefty. Everyone left satisfied, and I left feeling like I might have a tiny bit of gut-rot and also like I understood Fairbanks a little bit better.
I’m told if one were to continue a food tour in the category of Fairbanks local favorite dives with a decent menu, you’d check out The Red Fox on the west side and Salty’s downtown.
Jenny Weis writes for a variety of Alaska nonprofits and causes in between keeping up on Alaska's doughnut scene, sliding on snow, and gawking at cool plants and rocks along local trails.
