It seemed fitting that for this week’s edition on soul food we had to head South … 8 miles.

From where we stay in northeast St. Pete, we drove to 22nd Street, crossed Central Avenue, and traveled the few blocks to 9th Street South, where we landed at Heavy’s Restaurant. The next day, we went 10 miles southwest to Gulfport and Baja’s Southern Cooking & More.

I know my soul music. You might even say I’m an expert. Soul food. Not hardly. I know that chitlins and gizzards are non-starters. Collard greens and smothered chicken (and pork chops) — I’m in. Turkey wings? They’re something we throw out after Thanksgiving dinners.

HEAVY’S RESTAURANT

Wednesday’s all-day rain and general dreariness had begun to lift when we showed up at Heavy’s at 3 p.m. It’s located in a small commercial stretch of the former cultural nexus of Black St. Petersburg called “The Deuces.” Hip-hop music blasted from a courtyard next door. Worship City Church sat across the street in a block building.

Just inside the restaurant’s front door was a counter lined with tins of food. Katrina — the friendly and loquacious front-of-house person — greeted us.

She was more than happy to help us make selections, and provided us samples of short ribs and turkey wing, both of which were really good, the latter surprisingly so.

We finally decided on smothered pork chops, and added a fried chicken thigh, also smothered, on rice, with two sides: collard greens and mac-and-cheese. I got a sweet tea, too. Sixteen bucks for all of it.

We waited alone in the adjacent dining room that was randomly decorated. I was heartened to see an image of John Coltrane on the white wall, as well as the famous 1958 photograph, A Great Day in Harlem.

Appearance

It wasn’t pretty — but it wasn’t meant to be. Our late lunch came in two white foam containers, one stuffed well past the top. The meats were appropriately smothered in brown gravy; the sides looked seriously enticing.

Taste and Texture

It takes some work to cut a fried, gravy-drenched pork chop and a chicken thigh with a plastic knife and fork. But we probed and persevered, and were rewarded. The chop had that grainy, robustly chewy flavor that I remembered from my youth. The chicken’s thick crust gave way to moist and tasty meat. I’m a gravy man, and this dense brown stuff added a decadent, savory dimension.

The mac-and-cheese was first-rate — thick and creamy, topped with a layer of melted cheddar for good measure. The greens were the most interesting of the lot. Katrina told us they’d been cooked in the juices of smoked turkey wings (bone nubs were in there to prove it). These collards, soggy but with a measure of crisp, combined tangy and salty with the slightest hint of sweetness.

Baja’s Southern Cooking & More

We arrived at Baja’s — situated is in a weathered strip mall on 49th Street and 18th Avenue South — at 5 p.m. Thursday. Two young women were schlepping go bags out to cars. When we pulled the door to walk in, one of them informed us that the service was curbside only — no dining in.

Nothing on the restaurant’s website or social media specified takeout only. One runner — a nice young woman named May — explained that the owner was doing some remodeling inside. For the forseeable future, Baja’s is pickup only.

Standing on the pavement, the sun bearing down on my black T-shirt as if through a giant magnifying glass, we ordered Smothered Fried Chicken ($16.59), with a mix of white and dark meat. The meal came with three sides. We chose mac-and-cheese and collard greens (to match Heavy’s), plus fried okra.

We waited in the car for 20 minutes. May brought us our bag with a smile.

Appearance

Like the competition’s, not meant to be pretty. Also like the competition’s, a whole lotta food. The separate container of okra was enormous for a side dish.

Taste and Texture

By taking the meal back to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™, we had the advantage of dishing it out on plates and using actual silverware. That made for less hunting and guessing, and easier slicing.

The white-meat chicken stood out; it was remarkably moist sans the skin, which I peeled away. The gravy was a touch thinner than the Heavy’s stuff, but still dark and rich.

The mac-and-cheese was thick and gooey, just as it should be. The greens were fine, but too salty for my liking. We popped the lightly breaded morsels of okra into our mouths by hand.

And the Winner of Salvo Into Soul Food Is …

Heavy’s Restaurant.

The meals were similar. I found out that Baja’s’ owner, Rob Lancaster, used to work at Heavy’s.

Heavy’s had the edge on sides. The mac-and-cheese had the slightest hint of sharpness, and the juices from smoke turkey wing in the collard greens made them sing. It helped that underneath all the smothered stuff was a bed of yellow rice.

Baja’s, in turn, took the chicken honors. (We didn’t get a pork chop there.) And their cornbread was moist and yummy.

Another factor was vibe. Eating at Heavy’s was an experience. We hit a part of town we don’t often go to. Hung out and chopped it up with Katrina. Our late lunch at Heavy’s offered the kind of fun that we couldn’t get from curbside pickup.

An example: After we finished eating, I said to Katrina, “Y’know, white people don’t eat turkey wings. We throw them in the garbage after Thanksgiving dinner.”

“What?!! she replied, truly gobsmacked. “Why?”

I couldn’t offer a viable answer.