Step into Jens' time machine, find solace in what doesn't change
Notes on: retro pleasures, duck spring rolls at Crush, the bar at Simon's, Sakana's Happy Coke, Raymond Carver, easy focaccia, potato chip salmon, black sesame paste.
When a striking woman of a certain age in a white cashmere trench and Doctor Zhivago papaha finds herself unaccompanied and hungry at 5:30 on a Tuesday, there is only one restaurant where a server will greet her by name, guide her to the bar and wordlessly pour her preferred Chenin blanc.
That place is Jens’, a nearly 40-year-old fine-dining institution in a Midtown strip mall you might miss if you don’t know about it, and maybe it’s just fine that you don’t. I was writing to tell you to go there, specifically to tell you to order the excellent chicken-fried steak with gravy and mash, but then I went to eat that dish myself, and the restaurant opened up its time machine and swallowed me inside. I wondered if the place is actually better left exactly as is.
I wrote my first food story about Jens’ in 1999 and the restaurant, its menu, its customers, and its interior have all remained remarkably unchanged. Jens’ core crowd has always been heavy with the cast of the public soap opera of Alaska In The Oil-Rich ‘80s — power brokers, executives, and politicos, including, for years, Ted Stevens. Conservative-leaning, they were wiser and more polished than the actors that came after them. Their hair’s gone silver now, but their haircuts are fresh. Perhaps they’ve been widowed. Perhaps they need a cane. At Jens’ it’s de rigueur to dine alone in a pressed shirt and jacket.
The food at Jens’, French with a Danish sparkle, is consistent and very good, owing to the long tenures of its chefs. The service is also among the best in town, owing to the long tenures of its servers. Visiting famous people eat there often, owing to its reputation. (Putin’s crew, for example, got a mess of takeout.) Jens’ has no need for flash. A recent TikTok food review felt gauche. Maybe 75 percent of its clientele visit at least once a week, according to its owners. The restaurant is a closed system.
Sitting in the dining room, where no one was looking at a phone, I thought about how there may be no more profound an act in this perilous-feeling moment of digital abstraction and political chaos than staying true to an old, good idea.
Think for a second of a coat that belongs to your father, one that has lasted since the days when he was still working. It’s made of wool with a beautiful label sewn inside. You could probably find a coat in a similar style today. It would be expensive and made of a viscose blend, not very warm. If you didn’t know about your father’s coat, you’d think it was all there is. Jens’ is your father’s coat. You’d be lucky to inherit it.
Jens Hansen, the restaurant’s founder, was a twinkly-eyed Danish trickster who knew food better than anybody back in the day and loved nothing more than to tip a jeroboam of Veuve Clicquot into a restaurant of outstretched coupes. The chefs he trained still shape the best menus in Anchorage. He died in 2012 but his ghost occupies the table in the corner by the door.
His very fine sous chef, Nancy Alip, took over as conservator until last year. When I went by, I found Daniel Alvarez, who bought Jens’ with his wife Priscila, behind the bar. For years, Daniel ran La Cabaña, the city’s oldest Mexican restaurant, also a special institution with a host of cherished regulars.
He told me that he and Priscila had eaten at restaurants around the world and had always loved Jens’, its tried and true menu, how the seafood comes in fresh daily and the wine list goes deep. Most important, though, was how the restaurant observes customs that make longtime diners feel known. He wants to preserve that, and the recipes, as best as he can.
“We are trying to keep the legacy going,” he said.
Daniel noticed lately that younger people are making reservations, remembering meals there with their parents. I suppose I am one of those, old enough to remember the decency my mom and dad expected from the world, to wonder whether, if we manage to hold on to it, it might be the thing that saves us.
What’s for dinner: I’m baking up some easy focaccia and topping it with butternut squash, leeks and fennel, thin-cut on the mandolin, and serving it with a drizzle of balsamic. And maybe I’ll make up a salad with apples and walnuts to go with it. This week’s frozen salmon recipe is my friend Maya’s potato chip salmon. I make mine with salt and vinegar Lays as a rule. Soup of the week: Hungarian mushroom. I’m also anxiously awaiting a delivery of black sesame paste so I can try these orange and black sesame sugar cookies:
Little treats: My kids were away this week so I binged on reading, yoga and meals with friends. Among the delicious things I ate, aside from Jens’ chicken-fried steak, were special duck spring rolls at Crush, served with Chinese mustard and various Asian dipping sauces. I was also reminded how killer their deviled eggs are. Find me a better deviled egg! Maybe a treat: I had a jolting sip of “Happy Coke,” made with icy cola and espresso, at Sakana. (Spencer, newsletter caffeine correspondent, actually ordered it. He may or may not have needed defibrillation later. ⚡️) And, 10/10 on the retro pleasure of a gin and tonic and warm bread and butter in the bar at Simon & Seafort’s as the sun sinks. Finally, I’m still thinking about “Cathedral,” a short story by Raymond Carver, on the topic of how we see.
If you missed last week’s newsletter, featuring the first of our new guest essays by DoorDasher-by-night Kyle Hopkins, here it is: “Your Dasher is approaching: what a gig driver knows about where to eat in Anchorage.”
If you liked today’s yarn and value local food stories written by a human with a heart/memory, consider becoming a paid subscriber. (If you recently renewed your subscription, THANK YOU. 🙏) You can also give a paid subscription as a gift. Subscriptions start at $8 a month/$80 a year, keep me writing and buy you access to an archive of recipes, stories and restaurant mini-reviews, as well as entry into prize/ticket drawings and early notice about events and workshops. If you’re moved to double-down on this writer-owned venture, consider becoming a founding subscriber for $240.
Write with your favorite Carver stories, black sesame paste recipes, pics of your “I danced on the table at Jens’” T-shirt, and anything. Really.
Thank you, always, for reading.
Julia
P.S. For my newest recipes and access to stories I link to, subscribe to the Anchorage Daily News and Edible Alaska (and maybe get the New York Times cooking app. It’s worth it!). Find all my recipes and writing at juliaomalley.com.
P.P.S: In case you wondered what the Girdwood Big Foot is up to:
*Eagle-eyed copy editor-for-hire Egan Millard reads this newsletter. Hire him. 🦅*
** This newsletter is produced in part with the support, inspiration and community found at The Boardroom.
Jens was a dear friend of mine, from his time for Wally at the Cook to opening EATING WITH FRIENDS. I would get off shift breaking legs at Koots and we would meet at his townhouse/condo off of 33rd around 0530 and tell lies for hours. His talent and skill live on through the many successful Chefs he trained and the great fine dining he brought to in Anchorage.
Love Jens! Terrific article.