Behold, a very good sandwich. Meg van Huygen

Hattie’s Hat is the only place on Ballard Avenue that doesn’t make me mad these days. (Okay, the Tractor and the Lockspot get a pass, and the Smoke Shop would if it were still open, but that’s about it.) Dimly lit, frozen-in-amber Hattie’s is an essential respite from all the aggressive farmhouse cheuginess crashing in on you from all directions. On that block especially.

I hate to act like a big boomer about missing the good ol’ days and drinking out of the hose, but it’s hard to reconcile what we see today—the candy-colored condo wasteland of wizard-themed bars and 18-dollar pho—with