We were driving west on Kennedy Boulevard in Tampa one afternoon last week when something caught my eye.
‘Finest Cuban Sandwiches on the Planet,” the sign said. The boast came courtesy of The Floridian, a strip-mall eatery less than a mile from the I-275 West onramp.
‘Okay, then,” I mused. “We’ll just have to do some field work.”
I wanted to make this FFF an across-the-bay showdown, so went searching for places in Pinellas. There were plenty to choose from, but Caribbean Cafe in central St. Pete really touted its Cuban. While stopping short of claiming to be the finest in the world, the menu describes its version as “an explosion of flavors that meld together into a harmonious mouthful that insists on another bite!”
Whoa! It’s on!
CARIBBEAN CAFE
On Tuesday, we made the mistake of hustling out to this place on Central Avenue and 49th Street 15 minutes before 6 p.m. closing.
We pulled into an empty parking lot and walked into an empty restaurant with counter service and a functional interior anchored by basic tables with curved benches made of slatted wood.
The counter guy seemed surprised — and perhaps not altogether pleased — that we wanted to eat in. I can’t say that I blame him.
Caribbean Cafe was out of beans and rice — it’s only side dish — so we made do with a 12-inch Cuban ($10.85), pressed, a small bag of Lays Classic ($1.50) and two fountain sodas at two bucks each. An oldies station played at low volume.
Appearance
The Flintstones-size sandwich had been cut in half, each side filling up a container covered in brown paper. The meat was stacked thick, really thick.
Texture and Taste
I’ve had my share of Cubans during the decades I’ve lived in the Tampa Bay area, and the best ones deftly balance the flavors: meats (usually ham, roast pork and salami), half-melted Swiss cheese, mustard and dill pickles — so that they, um, meld together in harmonious mouthfuls.
This Cuban sandwich was extremely meat-intensive. It contained several thick slices of deli-style pork that didn’t taste roasted, even more ham, and a couple pieces of salami. The meat was so dominant that I could barely detect the cheese and the pickles. And that’s too bad, because the bread was nice — thin and tender without the explosion of crumbs that some Cuban bread emits.
This was the Americanizaton of the Cuban sandwich, meant for hungry guys on lunch who want it big, want it meaty and want it cheap.
THE FLORIDIAN
As I looked at the Floridian’s sign at 2:30 Thursday, I was nonplussed at how I spotted the narrow strip pronouncing its global preeminence while in a moving car on the opposite side of Kennedy.
The restaurant’s interior is about as plain as it comes: beige walls, brown tables and chairs, a counter by the door.
“So you make the Best Cuban Sandwiches on the Planet,” I said to Regan, the counter person. “Do you personally vouch for that?” She paused. “Yes,” she said, then started laughing.
We ordered the 10-inch Cuban Combo with black beans and rice ($13.99), to split. By rights, we were due one fountain drink, but Regan handed us two styrofoam cups,
Appearance
Regan had kindly halved our meal onto separate containers. Fred and Barney may have been disappointed in this sandwich’s size, but not I. The meat betwixt the bread was generously portioned but not intimidating.
Texture and Taste
This was one flavor-balance Cuban, with the ham in the lead, the roast pork a minor player, and the salami and Swiss providing spicy cameos. The bread was thin and easily chewable. It was a bit too mustard-forward, but that’s a small complaint.
Major kudos to the black beans and yellow rice. This dish can be bland in the wrong hands, but The Floridian’s was legit, with flavors that melded together into harmonious mouthfuls. It rivaled the versions I’ve had in the cluster of Cuban joints on and around Columbus Drive.
And The Winner of the Tampa-vs.-St. Pete Cuban Sandwich Scuffle Is …
The Floridian.
It hardly needs saying. This was a first-round KO.
I’m one of the last guys who’ll complain about too much meat in a sandwich, but Caribbean Cafe managed to get me there.
The larger question lingers, though. Does The Floridian serve The Best Cuban Sandwich on the Planet?
After much consideration, he’s my answer:
How should I know?
I’ve only had maybe a couple hundred of them.
