The Oakland bar closure I never wanted to cover, Friends and Family

As the Nosh columnist for openings and closings, it’s my job to report on a lot of sad restaurant news. I inform folks when their beloved local bakery shuts down, when pizzerias close wordlessly, and when their go-to date night restaurants suddenly ghost them. And, while it’s not always easy being the bearer of bad news, this particular story feels like a knife to my own ribs. This is a closure I hoped I’d never, ever have to write about.

Friends & Family, the lauded, buzzy, deliciously well-received queer bar and restaurant on 25th Street in Oakland, is bidding farewell on December 30.

I’ll get the confounding details out of the way first. Despite its success, Friends & Family is closing because it’s not making enough money. There are a lot of factors that play into that, such as unpredictable foot traffic and the rising costs of literally everything. It was a James Beard semi-finalist for outstanding bar in 2022 and named one of the 50 best bars in the country by The New York Times. Chef Gaby Maeda is clearly one of the best to ever do it; her acclaimed menu is crafted using only a panini press and two induction burners. But on a much smaller and more intimate scale, the impact this little queer bar bathed in soft magenta light had on us, the regulars, can not be overstated.

From the missed connections bulletin board to selfies in the bathroom, Friends & Family left a lasting impression on the author. Credit: Cecilia Seiter for East Bay Nosh

Let me wax nostalgic, if I may. Friends & Family was my neighborhood bar, easily walkable from my old place on 29th Street and Broadway. And this really was the spot for lovers, truly. I’ve sat under the glow of its fuchsia lights with all of my best friends and laughed and cried over martinis and les eggs and rice cakes and hot and sour mushrooms more times than I can easily recall. It never mattered if I entered through the long, dimly lit hallway on a date with a woman, on a date with a man, or completely alone; the very point of Friends & Family was to embrace us in all of our multitudes, which it did effortlessly, always begetting a brilliant warmth to settle deep into our bones.

Friends & Family was the place for gladly suffocating in the poetry of slurping down oysters in the presence of a heartstopping woman. It was the place you could bring your straight guy friends without panicking about how they’d be received — though designed for and by queer women, Friends & Family’s hospitality was extended to all. Where else would we have ordered a Negroni sbagliato with Prosecco in it in the summer of 2022? And truly, what better place to grab drinks post-Hump film festival at the New Parkway than here?

Like other sapphically-inclined patrons, I’ve left notes for beautiful, elusive women on the missed connections wall (signed, the girl with the martini tattoo). I’ve taken many a thirst trap selfie in the bathroom mirrors. (It’s a rite of passage, trust me!) I’ve made new connections at its sold-out queer speed dating events, and I’ve soothed myself with a hearty solo dinner at the bar after a breakup. Oh, and I’ve become a carrot cake convert. The void Friends & Family leaves in its wake will not be easily filled. How could it be, when it provided a space that rose so seamlessly to every occasion?

Friends & Family’s warm hospitality is extended to all who walk through its doors. Credit: Courtesy of Friends & Family

The shrinking number of gathering spaces for queer women in the U.S. offers no respite, either. There are roughly 38 remaining bars designated for lesbians in the entire country. Thirty-eight! Of these, only one or two of them are in the Bay Area, but you need to cross the bridge to get to them, and unfortunately, you won’t find Maeda’s crunchy, umami-rich, roe-topped les eggs at either of those places. This is a loss of unspeakable proportions.

A glimmer of hope remains, however. When I asked about future plans, owner Blake Cole said she hopes to open a new concept with Maeda down the road. Let’s all pray that the eggs make it back onto the menu.

My most recent visit to Friends & Family was a send-off dinner with two of my closest friends. They wanted to wish me well as I prepared for my departure to LA, and of course, we chose to gather at our trusted mainstay. It was a school night, but we pushed past the limits of adult responsibility and stayed late, embraced by the tender glow of the gently bustling room.

The next morning, my friend S. texted to report she was battling a throbbing headache. I apologized; it had been my idea to order another drink and stay far too late, to sit in my favorite space and soak in precious time with people I love.

“I’m sorry. That third martini was hubris,” I confessed to our group chat. “All I wanted was to stay and talk just a little bit longer.”

Customers are invited to draw and scrawl with crayons on the table covers at Friends & Family. Credit: Cecilia Seiter for East Bay Nosh