A Mahi Mahi Melee
Mahi Mahi — aka “dolphfish.” I prefer “mahi mahi.” Even though dolphinfish does not refer to the adorable mammals, I still imagine forkfuls of Flipper. Can’t help it. I’m pleased to see that most restaurants use the Hawaiian-language name of the ubiquitous warm-weather fish. Some restaurants refer to it as “mahi,” assuming, I suppose, that their customers are in a big hurry. Okay, enough rhetorical silliness. This week I ate at two restaurants to see which one serves the better blackened mahi mahi: Root + Clay and Fourth Street Shrimp Store, both in St. Pete. ROOT + CLAY Root + Clay is the resident eatery at the Racquet Club of St. Petersburg, a half-mile east of 4th Street North. The space has housed several restaurants (including a short-lived Filipino concept), but Root + Clay — which opened in 2024 with a covers-the-bases American menu — looks as if it’ll stick. We arrived at 6:30 on blustery Monday under a cerulean sky, and sat at a four-top on the large outdoor patio under a sail shade that matched the color above. Wind rustled the trees, accompanied by the thwack of tennis balls from games being played on clay courts. It wasn’t chilly, but, given the wind gusts, I put on a light jacket over my Orlando Magic T-shirt. I ordered the Blackened Mahi (they forgot the second “Mahi”) Entree ($19) with “root mash” and broccolini. Bonnie got the Coconut Shrimp ($13) appetizer. Appearance The hefty plank of mahi mahi, well blackened, sat atop the orange(ish) mash. A lemon wedge was welcome, a container of tartar sauce unnecessary. Taste and Texture At first bite, I thought the mahi mahi might be a little dry. I was wrong. It was just the blackened seasoning announcing itself. The fish was more meaty than flaky, which I appreciated, and had a faintly sweetish flavor. The spice provided a hearty crust but could’ve been a little stronger to add some heat. The mash — made of sweet potato, potato-potato and celery root — was terrific, with a subtle flavor all its own that was new to me. I favored bites that combined fish and mash. The broccolini was, quizzically, closer to cold than warm. FOURTH STREET SHRIMP STORE I’d been to this 42-year institution, a few blocks north of downtown, once before, but had little memory of it. Apparently, I didn’t feel the need to return. Seeing as I’ve driven by the place countless times, I figured it was time I gave it another try. With two dining rooms and ample outdoor seating. Fourth Street Shrimp Store is far bigger than I remembered. At 6:30 Wednesday, wanting to avoid traffic noise from busy 4th Street, we sat at a four-top in the back dining room, which mixed a nautical theme with bric-a-brac signifying St. Pete history (i.e. Webb’s City). Our server, Kelsey, was energetic and all smiles. I ordered the blackened Mahi Mahi dinner ($18), which came with coleslaw, and chose rice as my side. Bonnie got blackened salmon ($18). Appearance An apt representation of what you get a no-frills seafood restaurant. We were glad we didn’t split the entree because it would not have been enough for two. The meals came out quickly. Taste and Texture When compared to Root + Clay’s, this filet was notably thinner, and therefore a bit dry in spots, chewy in others. The blackened seasoning was barely evident. The large-grain rice was clumpy and mostly dry. As for the coleslaw, it was standard budget-restaurant fare — overly wet, but not enough to prevent me from eating both my portion and Bonnie’s. I also stole quite a few of her fries, which were nicely done. And the Winner of the Blackened Mahi Mahi Battle Is … Root + Clay. One of the easier calls I’ve had to make in quite a while. Note: In case there is any doubt, Root + Clay is open to the public.
A Bitter Tussle Over Brussels Sprouts
What once prompted groans at the dinner table has become a staple of restaurant appetizer menus. How could it be that Brussels sprouts made this leap? Here’s how: In the 1990s, growers developed less bitter variants through selective breeding. Chefs started using high-heat roasting, frying and sautéing instead of boiling. Brussels sprouts began to pop up on restaurant menus, and by the 2010s, often doctored up with other ingredients, they became trendy. Somewhat surprisingly — at least to me — the trend stuck. With new FFF dishes harder to come after four years, I relented on Brussels sprouts. Let’s see how it plays out: Our two contestants are Stillwaters Tavern in downtown St. Pete; and Olivia, with locations in downtown St. Pete and Hyde Park/Tampa. And because one definitely cannot live on Brussels sprouts alone, we split an entree at each place. STILLWATERS TAVERN We’re running out of time to truly enjoy al fresco dining, so at 6 on Tuesday — with the temp at 80 and a light breeze — it was a no-brainer to eat on the sidewalk under the restaurant’s covered patio. The traffic on Beach Drive was light and the foot traffic moderate, making for a low noise level. We settled in at your basic four-top and ordered the Tavern Brussels appetizer ($10.99), with maple bourbon glaze and bacon; and the Birria Grilled Cheese sandwich ($18.99). Appearance The Brussels sprouts were amply charred, the bacon barely visible. I’m used to cast-iron crocks being hot. This one wasn’t. Taste and Texture I don’t eat this particular vegetable enough to determine if it has become less bitter, but the bitterness was definitely there. In this case, the accompanying ingredients helped tempered it. I’m no chef, but I think the kitchen made a good decision by keeping the glaze subtle, giving the dish an understated sweetness. The charred husks gave way to supple innards. The bacon pieces were small and the dish would’ve benefited from having more. Regarding the sandwich: The damp, shredded birria beef, Mexican-style, blended well with the melted white American. The sourdough toast wasn’t stuffed to the hilt, so the sandwich ate tidily enough. A one-napkin affair. OLIVIA It sits on the busy corner of 1st Avenue and 2nd Street North at the base of the Ascent apartment building. The only sign — an elegant muted gold — faces east. It all adds up to an upscale Italian restaurant that exudes confidence. And it should, because Olivia is helmed by prominent Bay area chef Chris Ponte, who has shown a Midas touch in his quarter-century as a local restaurateur (Cafe Ponte, On Swann, Ponte). We arrived at 5:30 Wednesday and sat at a banquette next to a window amid an expansive, elegant dining room that seats 136. Our young server, Enzo, was attentive and fun. We ordered “Brussel” Sprouts (I couldn’t resist pointing out the misspelling), $10, from the Contorni (sides) menu; then, with Enzo’s help, went big by getting Tableside Chicken Parmesan ($35) with an add-on of rigatoni and bolognese ($8). (The Olivia in Tampa has the same menu as the one in St. Pete.) Appearance A small, gold-colored crock (also not hot) was stacked high with grated parmesan and crispy prosciutto, the sprouts mostly hidden. As for the chicken, which came later, a food-runner brought us a plate holding two boneless, breaded breasts, followed by another food-runner who poured on a cheese-infused vodka sauce, which oozed over the bird like lava. Taste and Texture Like at Stillwaters, the accompanying ingredients served to ameliorate some, but not all, of the sprouts’ bitterness. (And I appreciate that a certain level of bitterness is at least part of the point.) Instead of a sweet tinge, this version used a parmesan aioili to emphasize the cheese flavor. The sprouts were well charred and firm. The prosciutto provided both saltiness and crunch. Boneless chicken breasts in the hands of lesser kitchens can be chalky. These were moist and tender. The velvety sauce was rich but not overly so. The rigatoni was perfectly al dente. The bolognese leaned brown and beefy, whereas I prefer mine with more tomato flavor. And the Winner of the Bitter Tussle Over Brussels Sprouts Is … I equivocated on this one. The two versions were so different. I’m actually still equivocating as I write this … Okay … Olivia. By a husk. While I credit the effort and creativity that each place put forth to make a worthy serving of Brussels sprouts, I would not order either one again. That’s on the vegetable, not the restaurants. I would, however, order both the grilled cheese at Stillwaters and the chicken parmesan at Olivia again.
A Searing Tale of Two Tunas
Tuna that’s cooked all the way through is beige, bland, nugatory. Tuna that’s seared is ruby red, flavorful and, I’m told, good for you. It’s for those reasons and others that I chose to feature seared tuna this week. We’ll get around to cooked-through tuna … never. Our contestants are two relatively new restaurants that are part of established brands: Noble Tavern on the eastern edge of St. Pete’s Grand Central District; and Broke N Bored Bar & Grill on Madeira Beach. NOBLE TAVERN Monday, 5:45 p.m. — we’d forgotten it was the Rays’ home opener as we drove toward the restaurant, which is a four-minute walk from Tropicana Field. We worried about finding a parking spot on or near Central Avenue and whether Noble Tavern would have a wait time. Um, not to worry … Bonnie lucked into a parking space on the same block, and the eatery had no wait, probably because the game was in the 7th inning when we walked in. The large space is beautifully laid out, with two dining areas wrapped around a large middle bar. We sat at a comfy banquette. The sound design was impeccable. Even when the place got crowded post-game, the mix of lively conversation and music never became a hindrance. Noble Tavern — an offshoot of Noble Crust that’s been open since October — specializes in shared plates. We ordered the Ahi Tuna ($22), and because one cannot live on tuna alone, we added the Green + Mean Flatbread ($15). Appearance The tuna was beautifully presented, sliced into pieces larger than the usual. Wedges of avocado and a substantial salad filled out the plate, along with three sauces. The flatbread, just the right size for two, was covered in arugula and drizzled with pesto sauce. Taste and Texture The two dishes arrived together, so I alternated between them. I’ve had seared tuna where the raw part was chewy. This was not that. This tuna had a luxurious, melt-in-your-mouth quality and a mild flavor. One of the sauces contained wasabi, which gave the dish just the right measure of spicy heat. The salad was a welcome lagniappe. The flatbread had two cheeses — mozzarella and fontina — the latter providing sharpness. The crust was crispy in spots but, thankfully, not cracker-like. The complex flavor combo included bitterness from arugula and a hint of sweetness from caramelized onion. Finally, something I rarely do in restaurants — succumb to dessert. But this dessert was Cinnamon Roll Bread Pudding. “We would be doing ourselves a disservice if we pass this up,” I said to Bonnie. She gave me an if-you-insist look. It was heavenly — warm pudding with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream on top, surrounded by a decadent brown dulce de leche, its richness tempered by the ice cream. I took a few bites of banana, but mostly concentrated on the stuff that made me order it in the first place. Bonnie tapped out about halfway through. I was glad. BROKE AND BORED BAR & GRILL The second Broke N Bored — the flagship is on Redington Beach — is located at the eastern end of a small strip of bars and shops on Madeira Way. It opened late last year and shares a building with the five-year-old Cambria Hotel. At 6 p.m. Wednesday, the vast space was doing solid business, which would become increasingly robust as time went on. We joined a large table of friends. I sat across from a handsome Turkish man who didn’t quite understand why I was shooting pics and taking notes. I offered to put him on my FFF email list so he could find out. He balked. After some back and forth, I said, “I’ll add you. It’s the best thing you’ll do all month.” Our server, Chris, was brash and funny, a take-charge type who deftly managed our barrage of orders. I got the tuna entree ($30). In keeping with the healthy-eating theme, I chose saffron rice and broccolini as sides. For liquid refreshment, I got a Modelo draft. Appearance A handsome, appetizing plate of food. I was pleased to see the tuna flecked with sesame seeds. The halves of cherry tomato added a dash of extra color to an already colorful dish. Taste and Texture This seared tuna was just as it should be — tender and mildly flavored. The soy drizzle and Thai chili aioli added a hint of welcome sweetness. It’s been a while since I finished a helping of broccoli, but I scarfed this one up. These broccolini stalks were less fibrous than thicker broccoli and therefore easier to eat. The rice added balance, but was a bit too clumpy for my liking. And the Winner of the Searing Tussle of Two Tunas Is … Noble Tavern. From strictly a tuna standpoint, this was a tie. I slightly preferred Noble Tavern’s salad over Broke N Bored’s sides. The two experiences were vastly different — one a calm dinner for two at a refined downtown restaurant; the other a partying table of 12 in an elevated beach bar that got increasingly boisterous as time went on. It was trivia night, which we didn’t know going in. I’m not a fan of trivia nights, and neither were the guys I sat with. At our group dinners, the women sit together at one half of the table, the men on the other half — similar to a junior high dance. We sometimes mingle after the eating is done — if the women allow it.
An Epic Breakfast Burrito Battle
I’m not much of a morning eater, but I do like a good breakfast burrito now and again — especially on a road trip. Unlike a plate of bacon and eggs, you can eat it in a car, although I don’t recommend doing so while driving. I’ve never had two breakfast burritos in one sitting, but there’s a first time for everything, certainly as pertains to Friday Food Fight. My driver was otherwise occupied, so I lit out on Tuesday morning to make two stops at places five blocks apart in downtown St. Pete — Southern Grounds on Central Avenue and Red Mesa Mercado in the Edge District. I was worried about parking, but I needn’t have. There were plenty of spaces available in the 10 o’clock hour. I brought my burritos back to the FF Lab + Photo Studio™. SOUTHERN GROUNDS No surprise, the last day of March gifted a gorgeous morning — 75 degrees, breezy and bright. Southern Grounds is a Jacksonville-based chain that has been open in St. Pete for about nine months. I called ahead with my order, parked right in front, and popped inside. I was pleased to see nearly all of the tables occupied by young folks eating, talking, working on their computers. I’m pretty sure I was the only senior in the joint. After a short wait, I grabbed my Breakfast Burrito ($16.05) and dashed. RED MESA MERCADO At 10:30 business had slowed down to … me. I ordered my Southwest Bacon Burrito ($11) — one of several types on offer — at the window under a vast covered patio and waited less than 10 minutes to pick up my grub. Then it was back to the lab. Bonnie helped me set up the photo table, which included clippings from a rose bush she’d just bought. Red Mesa Mercado The burrito came in a simple paper wrapping, with no sauces or other frills. It was a beige lump, so I cut it in half for its photo session. The flour tortilla was pliable and tender, the scrambled eggs soft the way I like them. Add in cheddar cheese, bacon (which makes everything better) onions and plenty of green peppers for crunch and it made for a balanced, delicious breakfast burrito that was easy to handle and not messy in the least. Southern Grounds This one came in a takeout box and was fancier than the one at Mercado (see lead photo). The burrito was considerably plumper than the competiton’s, but still held together well. The finely cubed fried potatoes were a welcome surprise. The eggs were a little past soft and the cheese had begun to congeal. The menu says the burrito contains sausage, but I tasted cubettes of steak, which gave it a pleasant hint of smokey flavor. I sampled the three sauces, but prefered to eat it as-is. And the Winner of the Epic Breakfast Burrito Battle Is … Red Mesa Mercado. This decision required some beard-stroking. It was that close. I’d gladly eat another of each — or both, for that matter. I enjoyed savoring them side by side. For the record, I made decent headway but did not come close to finishing both.
A Slurpy, Sloppy Ramen Rumble
I’m featuring soup before the temps reach the 90s and the humidity feels like a giant dog is breathing on your back — not that there’s anything intrinsically wrong with slurping hot liquid in that kind of heat. It’s just not for me. In a previous column, nearly three years ago, I squared off two ramen-specific restaurants, so for this take I wanted to see how a couple of pan-Asian places would fare. They are: Eastern Kitchen & Sushi in northeast St. Pete and The Glass Noodle downtown. Before I begin, a nugget of advice I picked up: Don’t order ramen on a first date. Eating it is not pretty. EASTERN KITCHEN & SUSHI A few restaurant brands have cycled through this prominent space at the south end of a strip center on busy 4th Street, but I’m betting that Eastern Kitchen sticks. Eat-in business was understandably slow when we arrived just after 6 on Tuesday, but takeout was brisk. The interior — a tidy collection of tables and booths with an open kitchen to the right — was kind of dark, so we sat at a behemoth booth next to a window and the manager let us roll up a blind to let in some light. I ordered Tonkotsu Ramen ($15.95), which comes from the Fukuoka region on Japan’s Kyushu island and is known for its pork bone broth. I chose fried tofu as my protein. Appearance It came in a large cast iron bowl and had a cloudy broth customary for Tonkotsu-style. Steam poured out. I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about my food getting cold. Taste and Texture But I did struggle to cool it down. I tried stirring, blowing, dropping in ice cubes. I burned my mouth. After about 15 minutes, getting increasingly hungry from looking at food too hot to eat, it was time to improvise. I scooped some of the ramen into a small plastic bowl and placed some squares of tofu on a plate. Finally, the eating commenced — cautiously — and I soon returned to the main bowl. While I detected nothing akin to pork flavor, the broth charmed me with a luscious umami. Given a do-over, I’d have gone with something other than tofu, which I rarely order. It had a slightly crispy exterior and typically flavorless, squishy innards. I held my face inches over the bowl and slurped, with a napkin in my left hand to wipe my mouth after every bite. It was work — messy, splashy, tasty work. Fortunately, I was not on a first date with Bonnie, who finished her meal quickly and looked on amused as I struggled. Miraculously, my off-white Wayne Shorter T-shirt emerged unblemished. THE GLASS NOODLE Located on a stretch of the 600 block of Central Avenue crammed with eateries, The Glass Noodle has a garage door that opens to the sidewalk. When we showed up at 6:30 Wednesday, Don and Linda — who, per usual, beat us there — had grabbed a four-top bordering the entrance. The sun warmed my back. It was lovely — until pelting rain came down after dinner. (Then again, we needed the rain.) Most of the tables were occupied, but the ambient noise (inside and out) did not hinder our conversation. The lighting was perfect. The only choice of protein for my Ramen Noodles ($16.95) was chicken. Appearance An attractive presentation, with sizeable pieces of chicken and vegetables visible in a broth that was clearer than that of Eastern Kitchen. Cilantro and a smidge of crushed peanuts sat on top. Taste and Texture I was pleasantly surprised to find that this ramen was ready to eat. I didn’t have to resort to Rube Goldberg-esque machinations to cool it. This version had a thin, chicken-based broth, with large pieces bird, broccoli and bok choy, plus strands of carrot. The noodles seemed shorter, so my slurping came more easily and less sloppily. The veggies retained a modicum of crunch. I asked for a knife and fork to cut the chicken pieces in half. I couldn’t figure out how to eat the bok choy in single bites so finally removed them. I wore a black polo shirt to be safe, and I’m fairly certain it emerged free of splash-stains. And the Winner of the Ramen Rumble Is … Eastern Kitchen. Yes, eating the soup at Eastern Kitchen was hard going, and the place didn’t have quite the atmosphere of The Glass Noodle, but that pork bone broth won the day. A Random Note (Regarding the Food Pics): I occasionally get needled about the cluttered tables on which I shoot the photos (with an iPhone). The tableaus are by choice, not necessity. I prefer to capture the dishes “in the wild,” so the reader/viewer can get a sense of what it was like to eat at a particular place at a particular time. (Occasionally, and perhaps unfortunately, some detritus finds its way into a pic that I didn’t notice as I was clicking.) For the most part, I find staged food pictures staid and dull. And then there’s this: It’s a lot quicker to photograph the dishes the way I do. Wouldn’t want my food to get cold.
SoCal vs. Tampa Bay in a Burger Battle
Ladies and gentleman, it’s an East vs. West burger bout this week! I just spent eight days traversing Southern California, where In-N-Out Burger reigns supreme. The chain first opened in 1948 in Baldwin Park, about 20 miles from of Los Angeles. It’s been creeping eastward, with locations now in Tennessee. I couldn’t find a Florida chain to match up with In-N-Out, so I went with Five Guys, which was founded in the D.C. suburb of Arlington, Virginia in 1986, by five brothers. It first entered the local market in 2006, and the Tampa Bay area currently has 10 locations. I’d never been to In-N-Out and only once to Five Guys. In-N-Out Burger We arrived at a San Diego location near the home of our hosts — Bob (the Driver) and Vicki (the Navigator) Dillon — at 7 p.m. Sunday, with a pink-hued sunset as a backdrop. A line of cars that would do Chick-fil-A-proud snaked out of the drive-thru. No matter — we were eat-in people. The interior, decorated in vivid red and white, was bright, energetic and crowded. The place exuded efficiency. Plentiful staff bustled about. Counter people smiled as they took our orders. A guy on the sound system barked out order numbers like it was bingo night. I ordered a cheeseburger ($4.40) — with lettuce, tomato and onion — fries ($2.40) and a large chocolate shake ($4.05). We didn’t wait long for our numbers to be called. Appearance The cheeseburgers were served on the end of a red plastic tray, double-wrapped, facing upward. The fries got more real estate. Taste and Texture In-N-Out’s rep is well-deserved (especially when you consider the price). The sandwich proved a comfortable hand-held, even after I discarded the wrappers. It didn’t fall apart or drip sauce and burger detritus onto my hand. The bun was lightly grilled, the cheese subtle, the lettuce, tomato and onion crisp. It all blended beautifully with the patty, which was thin and tasty (made of beef that’s never frozen). This cheeseburger had exceptional balance. Each In-N-Out makes its fries in-house, with each order cooked fresh in sunflower oil. So, y’know, health food. These fries had a distinct potato flavor and were notably not greasy. I liked them well enough, but I prefer my fries at least a little greasy. I was not impressed with the shake (other than the price). The thick stuff required melt time, then two straws to draw mouthfuls. Its chocolate flavor was tepid. FIVE GUYS We hit the Five Guys in the Tyrone area of St. Pete just after 1 p.m. Thursday under a cloudless sky, the temp around 70. Perfect. The interior had a similar red-and-white motif to In-N-Out but with much more space between tables. The walls were festooned with signs bearing testimonials and one that said “There Isn’t a Freezer in This Joint.” Except for the room. It was cold in there, and I was glad I wore a long-sleeve shirt. In the hallway leading to the restrooms, I wished for a parka. The affable woman at the counter took our order. Mine was the Little Cheeseburger ($8.09) with lettuce, tomato and onion, Little Fries ($4.69) and a Chocolate Shake ($5.19). Because I was in mensch mode, I picked up my brother Kurt’s tab. Appearance The brown paper bag had little grease stains on it, which I didn’t see as a bad thing. The burgers came wrapped in shiny foil. The fries spilled out of their paper container and we had to scatter them on the paper bag. Taste and Texture The first thing I noticed was an agreeable char on the burger, which had a richly beefy flavor and was thicker than In-N-Out’s. The toppings were fine. The bun was soft and pliable. Like the competition’s, the sandwich held together nicely. The fries were thick, many of them limp, and not as gut-bomb greasy as the first and only time I had Five Guys about 20 years ago. Big ups to the shake. It had an abundant chocolate flavor, a smooth texture and easy drinkability. And the Winner of the SoCal vs. Tampa Bay Burger Battle Is … Five Guys. A very close decision. I enjoyed both meals — probably more than I expected. The burgers came in at essentially a dead heat. Five Guys won the fries and the shake. I rarely discuss price in FFF, but the value proposition clearly goes to In-N-Out. Consider the cheeseburgers, which were similar in quality: Five Guys cost 84% more than In-N-Out. No burgers for me for a while. Post-Cali trip, I need to drop at least five pounds, preferably eight. Wish me luck.
Eating Irish at Two Pubs — Pre-St. Paddy’s Day Edition
I think we can all agree that St. Patrick’s Day is more about drinking than eating. But my days of looking for any excuse to imbibe heavily — I remember a particularly drunken Arbor Day — are well past me, so on this most Irish of holidays we turn our attention to food. (For you non-observers, St. Paddy’s Day is March 17th.) In my experience with Irish pubs, they tend to excel more at pouring Guinness drafts than serving creative, high-quality Irish food (which may ultimately be an oxymoron). So I tweezed out a couple places with menus that had potential: Irish 31 in Tampa (which also has locations in Westchase and Seminole) and The Irish Pub on 4th (previously McArthur’s Irish Pub) in St. Pete. I couldn’t establish a 1-on-1 matchup between dishes, so I tried a couple at each place. I’ll rank them at the end. IRISH 31 Irish 31’s brick building cuts a nice figure at the corner of Swann and Rome avenues in Hyde Park. It was hovering around 80 degrees and breezy when we arrived at 2 p.m. Monday, so it was a no-brainer to sit outside on the patio. Our server Suaaz — who was covering the entire restaurant, including behind the bar — had an infectious energy (she gets her steps in during a shift). We ordered a bowl of Mulligan Stew ($11) and a Shepherd’s Pie Boxty ($17). If you’re unfamiliar with the latter, as we were, it’s a traditional Irish potato pancake — in this case, three stuffed potato balls. Appearance Mulligan stew’s origins are most closely linked to the hobo camps (or Hoovervilles) of the Great Depression. So not Irish, per se, but why sweat such details. It’s an anything-goes dish, usually including some mixture of beef, potatoes and vegetables. Irish 31’s version resembles chili. The stew had large chunks of ground beef and tomato, no potato. See boxty below. Taste and Texture This Mulligan stew was not chili. It’s most distinctive aspect was the tomato-based sauce, which is hard to pin down in words — sweet(ish), with a piquancy that pleased these tastebuds. The ragged chunks of ground beef worked well with the stewed tomatoes and cooked-down pieces of onion. This might have been the first time in decades I’ve knowingly eaten lima beans, a bugbear since my childhood. But these were in a stew, and they were small, and they were okay. The three boxties had a light crust made of panko bread crumbs, which gave way to mashed potatoes and shepherd’s pie. I would have preferred more filling, but perhaps that would have made the balls fall apart. Who knows. They were tasty. The boxties came with a small boat of succulent brown gravy, which I inhaled. IRISH PUB ON 4TH McArthur’s, which was ravaged by the 2024 hurricanes, reopened in March ’25 under the new name, and with a spruced-up interior. The pub occupies a nondescript building and could use a more conspicuous sign on 4th Street. We arrived just before 1:30 Tuesday, the weather a carbon copy of the day before. I could see a table out back, but we chose to eat inside. With its color scheme of dark browns and deep green, and the shades drawn, the place was dark enough that my eyes had to adjust. We took a seat at a banquette in the corner next to a window and opened up the Venetian blinds to let in some light. Alexis, the manager, served us in a breezy, efficient manner. We ordered lunch portions of Guinness Stew ($13.99) and Corned Beef & Cabbage ($12.99). Appearance The corned beef and cabbage (lead photo) included meat that was shredded (promising) and a clump of potatoes that was fried (not so much). I asked for an extra container of cabbage, and Alexis gladly obliged (at no charge). The Guinness stew looked rich and yummy. Taste and Texture Alexis said there’s plenty of Guinness ale in the stew, but I couldn’t taste it outright. which was probably for the better. The meat, vegetables and luscious gravy laid atop a bed of mashed potatoes, which I appreciated as change from the chunked potatoes in most beef stews. A few pieces of meat were on the dry side, although I’m told (by my wife) that I’m terribly picky in this regard. Other morsels were melt-in-mouth. As for the corned beef & cabbage: I’m spoiled by my friend Dominic’s homemade version. Seeing as I’m not getting it this year, I figured I’d give The Irish Pub’s version a try. It was … okay. The corned beef was mostly dry, and while still flavorful, it proved chewy, even stringy in spots. I didn’t understand the potatoes. I’m no CB&C expert, but I know enough that the potatoes should be boiled. These were like overcooked home fries. Now to the Rankings … 1 — Guinness Stew, Irish Pub on 4th. 2 — Mulligan Stew, Irish 31. 3 — Shepherd’s Pie Boxty, Irish 31. 4 — Corned Beef & Cabbage, Irish Pub on 4th. This was my third time eating corned beef & cabbage in a restaurant — Irish Pub on 4th’s was the best of the three — and based on a this admittedly small sample size, I’ll go ahead and say that the fabled Irish-American dish is better left to home chefs. A Final Note: Have a Happy St. Paddy’s Day! And if you attend one of the area’s many pub celebrations, take a rideshare. Then again, you already knew that. Consider it a reminder.
A Chocolate Cake Surprise
Never in the storied annals of Friday Food Fight has the competition resulted in a draw. It’s in the FFF bylaws. No ties. Until now. It was unavoidable — as you’ll see. What’s more, while two restaurants squared off, we have a three-way tie. All will be revealed, I promise. For this chocolate-cake Food Fight, I opted for eateries over bakeries. We found two restaurants in downtown St. Pete with chocolate cake on the menu — Social Roost and Bacchus Wine Bistro — a few short blocks apart. We embarked late Tuesday afternoon with me intent on eating chocolate cake, and chocolate cake only, back to back. (Bonnie could not partake. A Lent thing.) SOCIAL ROOST We arrived just after 5:30 having bulldozed through gusty headwinds. Even though the mercury had peaked in the mid-80s earlier in the day, the sun had dipped behind the buildings and I was glad I’d brought along a hoodie. We sat inside the tastefully appointed, nearly empty dining room. Our server — I think her name was Sam but I neglected to write it down — seemed only mildly amused when a grown man ordered chocolate cake for dinner, along with the only sensible beverage: Milk. Appearance One of the reasons I chose restaurants over bakeries was to see how they would present the cake. Social Roost’s was gorgeous, with the wedge resting on an artfully misshapen plate, sided by some fruit and whipped cream, plus two circles of raspberry sauce. It came with a spoon. Taste and Texture As expected, the cake was decadently rich, but not overly so. Three layers of coarse(ish) cake blended elegantly with slabs of lush, thick icing. The outer edge was flecked with little chocolate chips. Nice. The berries (straw, blue, rasp) provided lively pops of brightness, and the sauce was exceptional. Overall, the flavor skewed toward dark rather than milk chocolate — a major plus in my book. I knew I had more cake to eat, so stopped about halfway into my Social Roost portion and boxed it up — although I really wanted to keep going. BACCHUS WINE BISTRO The restaurant’s sidewalk tables were well populated as the clock approached 6:30. The wind had died down, but we chose to sit inside at a cozy two-top next to the window. Across the playfully designed dining room sat a dessert case, where I eyeballed the cake. Our server, Hannah, was a born performer. She waited on us with an ironic grandeur that kept us entertained. I thought she might burst into song. Appearance I was pleased to see contrasting presentations between the two restaurants. The cake sitting on a large black board gave it an air of regality. Puddles of sauce — caramel (nope) and fruit (yes) — joined whipped cream and strawberries. It came with a fork. I examined the cake. A feeling of déjà vu came over me. Take a closer look at the photo above. Yup. Same exact cake, right down to the gleam coming off the top layer of icing and the chocolate chips. Taste and Texture What’s the point? And the Winners of the Chocolate Cake Surprise Are … Social Roost, Bacchus Wine Bistro and … Mike’s Pies. According to Ricky, the co-manager of Bacchus, the Tampa bakery provides desserts for several dining establishments in downtown St. Pete. I should’ve known that restaurants, few of which make their own baked goods, tend to source desserts from the same vendors. I got clowned. It happens. I know what some of you are thinking: Dude, you could’ve broken the tie between the restaurants based on service and atmosphere. We had such a sweet time at each place — bantering with hosts and servers, eating chocolate cake for dinner — that it seems unfair to single one out. Dude, you could’ve just pronounced Mike’s Pies the winner. A tenable argument. One that I reject. Dude, why didn’t you just go to a third restaurant and find another version of chocolate cake? That may be the best argument of all. To which I respond: a) I found it tricky enough to find two nice restaurants with chocolate cake on the dessert menu; b) I didn’t feel like it. A final thought: I hope you got enough pictures of chocolate cake.
Gnocchi That’s No Joke at Two Italian Restaurants
When I informed my colleagues that gnocchi would be the dish of the week, one of them, who shall remain nameless, replied, “It’s like poured cement.” So I took that to mean he — excuse me, the person in question — is not a fan. I’m not either, although I’ve only had bites of gnocchi here an there and to the best of my recollection have never ordered it. I want to see if, on closer inspection, it tastes better than hydraulic binding. The most common form of gnocchi (kneeYOkee) is a potato dumpling served with sauce. Here’s a brief, oversimplified history: It dates back to Italy in medieval times, when the dumplings were made of grain. After potatoes arrived in Europe in the 1500s, spuds gradually became the primary base ingredient. Gnocchi is not a common menu item among the multitudes of local Italian eateries, but we found two nearby: Original Flavor 1889* in downtown St. Pete and La Dolce Vita Trattoria in Clearwater. ORIGINAL FLAVOR 1889 The restaurant is squeezed with other small storefronts into the 400 block of Central Avenue. I’d heard of OF1899 plenty of times, but never laid eyes on it. When Bonnie and I arrived at 6:30 Tuesday, both wearing cardigans, the small(ish) eatery was already doing a robust business. With its light hues and dashes of neon blue, the dining room evinced a cheerful energy. We sat at a four-top in the corner, next to the window. I instantly noticed how comfortable the chair was. Our effervescent server, Brittinee, amplified the upbeat vibe. As she hustled between waiting tables and serving folks behind the bar, her smile never flagged. She knew the food, too. We ordered Gnocchi Partenopei ($21) and the Fresca Salad ($12) to split. Brittany suggested adding a meatball ($4) to the gnocchi, which turned out to be a valuable suggestion. Appearance The way I see it, there’s no viable way to pretty-up a pile of potato dumplings, although the red tomato sauce helped. A sprig of basil atop the lone meatball was kind of funny. The colorful salad balanced the scales. Taste and Texture The gnocchi had just the right level of firmness, although it had no potato flavor — essentially no flavor at all — which is probably the norm. The sweetish sauce, made from San Marzano tomatoes imported directly from Italy, earned nectar-of-the-gods status. The meatball proved essential in fortifying the forkfuls with an added flavor dimension. My best bites combined a single dumpling, a piece of meatball and a slur of melted cheese. Big ups to the salad and its fig balsamic glaze, with an extra kudo for the shaved carrots. LA DOLCE VITA TRATTORIA We arrived at the Feather Sound restaurant at 6:45 Wednesday under a gorgeous, pink-hued sunset, amid the last gasp of sweater weather. Every window in the large space dangled with strings of white lights, creating an ethereal glow. We sat at a four-top cloaked in a white tablecloth. Our server, Joanna, didn’t concern herself with establishing rapport, and we didn’t care. She was knowledgeable and efficient. Straight away she brought us bread with a terrific sundried tomato spread. We ordered Gnocchi La Dolce Vita ($23.90), and Insalata Della Nonna ($10) to split. We doubled up on the meatballs ($4 each). Appearance The food was dwarfed by the large round plate, but we could tell there’d be plenty to eat. The salad comprised a heap of iceberg lettuce, some onion slices and a few cherry tomatoes, accompanied by balsamic dressing in small containers. Taste and Texture People, I am excited to announce that not all gnocchi is the same! La Dolce Vita’s version is stuffed with asiago cheese. So, yes, it had flavor, albeit subtle. The dumplings were far softer than Original Flavor’s, and didn’t require much chewing. Like the night before, the go-to bites combined gnocchi, sauce and a piece of meatball. Although I like my occasional iceberg lettuce, the salad didn’t convey much creativity. It proved a solid starter for a couple of hungry folks. And the Winner of the No-Joke Gnocchi Nail-Biter Is … Original Flavor 1889. Although I appreciated La Dolce Vita’s stuffed gnocchi, I leaned toward the firmer dumplings at OF1889. The San Marzano tomato sauce contributed mightily to the decision. OF1889 easily won the salad contest. And permit me one more shout-out to Brittinee, who proved instrumental in making our visit a lovely experience. * I wondered about the name, too. Original Flavor 1889 is not exactly the kind of branding you’d expect from a restaurant that bills itself as a “contemporary Neapolitan pizza & wine bar.” By way of explanation I’ll quote the menu: “The mouth-watering flavor of Napoli originates all the way back to 1889 in the fire of the traditional 8,000-pound brick oven.” OF1899 does indeed bake its pizzas in that same type of oven, sans wood, at a toasty 734 degrees. A Final Note: My gnocchi this week was not like poured cement.
A Ceviche Squabble, a Tapas Tussle
What do you mean they cook the fish in citrus? Count me out. That was my first reaction to the idea of ceviche — when I didn’t eat much fish and I was an idiot. These days, I only eat ceviche on occasion, but I find it interesting how each restaurant produces a distinct version. I’m hoping that occurs again this week with two Latin-inspired tapas restaurants a mile apart in St. Petersburg — Pulpo Kitchen + Lounge and Bohemios Tapas Cuisine. To accompany the ceviche, we ordered small plates at each place. PULPO KITCHEN + LOUNGE With no website other than Facebook and no sign other than a small one on the door, Pulpo seems to be after that urban, hidden-gem vibe. Ordinarily, I’d maintain that such an approach is not a fit for St. Pete, but Pulpo filled plenty of tables on an early Tuesday evening, so what do I know? The restaurant occupies a classy building in St. Pete’s Grand Central District. We arrived a few minutes before 6:30 to discover that Don and Linda had beaten us to the restaurant yet again. Although the weather was perfect, we passed up the patio to eat inside. The elegant interior was comfortably dark, with a dining room split by a curved bar. We sat at a banquette. Our winsome server, Liana, was a pro who showed impressive command of the menu. Pulpo makes its Peruvian-style Ceviche ($24) with a single type of fish, and on this night it was red snapper. Bonnie and I added Ropa Vieja ($20). I got a 16-oz. 3 Daughters Beach Blonde Ale (from a can, $8.50). Appearance Ceviche is one of the prettiest dishes there is, and this version more than lived up to the standard. The yellow plantain chips added even more color. The man who brought out the plate told us that pomegranate seeds provided an extra little something. He also counseled us to remove the salad on top and stir the ceviche before eating it. These quick suggestions amplified Pulpo’s commitment to service. Taste and Texture Although I’m a ceviche neophyte, I know enough to know that I prefer it with fish only rather than mixed with shellfish. The red snapper sumptuous, and there was plenty of it. Small cubes of sweet potato added a softness that played against the crackle of the pomegranate seeds. Because the ingredients were cooked in citrus and spiced with ají amarillo chili pepper, this ceviche combined a potent tang with the kind of heat that intensifies in your mouth as you continue to eat. It never got to be too much, though. We piled the stuff on the chips and also ate it with a spoon. In all, the dish successfully packed together a complex, harmonious collection of flavors and textures. The Ropa Vieja featured shredded, braised brisket bathed in a mild tomato sauce over brown rice. Delish — and an ideal complement to the ceviche. (Thanks to Liana for the suggestion.) BOHEMIOS TAPAS CUISINE Unlike Pulpo, Bohemios has two big signs hanging above its ample storefront on Central Avenue and MLK Street. Bonnie and I arrived at 6:15 on Wednesday and had the tastefully appointed, nicely lit dining room to ourselves. Flamenco guitar music played at a comfortable volume. According to the Bohemios website, its tapas offerings are 60% Spanish and 40% Latin American. Our young (Cuban) server, Yuerika, took excellent care of us. We ordered Mix Ceviche (Puerto Rican-style, $18), Huevos Rotos ($18) and Patatas Bravas ($12). Appearance The presentation was not as fancy as that of Pulpo’s, which is more aligned with fine dining. The ceviche included shrimp and scallops along with corvina whitefish, and was topped by a generous pile of diced tomatoes, peppers and onions. Four pieces of fried plantain sat to the side. If the Huevos Rotos was a “small plate,” I’d like to see an entree. Compared to Pulpo, Bohemios takes a simpler approach to ceviche. Less spicy-hot and citrusy, it made for easy eating. The corvina was cut into small pieces, and the shrimp and scallops were small as well. But it all came together deliciously. The top ingredients, especially the tomato, add a crisp brightness to the dish. The huveos rotos, a Spanish dish, layered potatoes, a fluffy fried egg and ham on top. A pool of velvety sauce on the bottom proved to be the X-factor. Chef/owner Ronaldo (Nicarauguan), who visited our table, calls it a “tomato jalapeno vodka sauce,” and confirmed that it’s his own creation. Congrats, Chef, it’s simple yet refined. The potato chunks had just the right firmness. The thinly sliced ham was a bit chewy for my liking (that could be due to its Spanish-ness). The egg tied it all together. And the Winner of the Ceviche Squabble, Tapas Tussle (after considerable chin-stroking) Is … Pulpo. A tough call, a split decision. Ultimately, Pulpo’s more edgy approach to ceviche won me over, while I highly enjoyed both. As for the overall meals, I call it a tie. In all, this week’s ceviche excursion gifted us two days of exceptional tapas dining. I found it a bit disconcerting that we were the only customers in Bohemios for an hour on Wednesday evening. Often times, an empty restaurant suggests stay away, but that’s certainly not the case here. Give Bohemios a try. You’ll get first-rate food, service and value. A Final Note: I gotta figure out a way to eat more ceviche.
Mardi Gras Mojo! A Gumbo Rumble!
Laissez les bons temps rouler! For those of you who don’t speak French, or don’t care to bother translating on the computer, the popular Madi Gras exclamation means “Let the good times roll!” I’ve never been. My friends and I very much wanted to make a road trip to Mardi Gras in college, but no one had a car that we trusted enough to carry us from upstate New York to the Crescent City and back. Nowadays you couldn’t drag me there with a parade float. But here at FFF, we’ll let the good times roll in our own way — by eating meals a few days ahead of Feb. 17 at two restaurants that specialize in Cajun and Creole cuisine: Cajun Cafe on the Bayou in St. Pete and Happy’s Bayou Bites in Dunedin. For dishes, I went with gumbo, a regional staple, and — on a whim — a specialty sausage. CAJUN CAFE ON THE BAYOU The restaurant opened in 1996 on Cross Bayou, set back from Park Boulevard in Pinellas Park. It moved to a shopping center on 66th Street in 2019. No surprise, the current location can’t approach the original’s rustic charm. When we walked in at 6 p.m. Wednesday, it was clear that the owners were doing their best to give the interior a festive air — and, all in all, they did a pretty good job of it. I didn’t much care. I was there for the food. But it didn’t hurt that honest-to-goodness Cajun music played at low volume on the sound system. Johnny, who was our server, and his wife ran a restaurant in Shreveport, La., then relocated to Indian Rocks Beach and bought Cajun Cafe in December ’24. I had my bowl of Creole Gumbo ($12.50) locked in, and was perusing the sausage offerings, which are flown in from Floyd Poche’s Market in Breaux Bridge, La. Johnny recommended the Chaurice Creole variety. Sold. I ordered one link ($9.50). Appearance The soup looked yum-inducing. The plump, bronzed sausage sat in a small bowl atop of bed of lettuce. Taste and Texture The gumbo’s brown roux had a seductive, earthen quality that produced the anticipated yum. The shredded chicken provided a lovely contrast to the thinly sliced Andouille sausage. A generous portion of plain white rice added substantiality. None of the flavors dominated but rather melded together for a complex yet homey flavor. The pork sausage was gussied up with garlic, peppers and other stuff. Jalapeño gave it a bit of spicy heat. It’s hard to describe Chaurice Creole, other than to say that it had its own subtle flavor profile and didn’t have the gristly mouth feel of some other sausages. Another yum. It ate my entire two-course meal and could’ve stood for more. HAPPY’S BAYOU BITES A light haze infiltrated Happy’s rustic courtyard at 2 p.m. Thursday. A U.S. Foods box truck hummed loudly and relentlessly on Skinner Boulevard not far from where sat at a picnic table, drowning out the blues playing on the box. I can’t fault the open-air restaurant, but the vibe didn’t exactly make me happy. No matter — I was there for the food. We ordered at the counter: a bowl of Gumbo ($10.99), with coleslaw; a Basket of Alligator Sausage ($15.98) with an add-on of Red Beans & Rice ($2.99); and a bottle of Abita Root Beer ($3). Appearance In keeping with food-truck style, the meal came on two plastic trays, the soups in cardboard bowls, accompanied by plastic utensils. It was a lot. I was glad Bonnie was along to help. Taste and Texture I stirred the gumbo in anticipation. (It was a late lunch and I was hungry.) First scoop — ayeee, mouth scald. I salved with root beer, then switched to the sausage, which was scattered on paper in chunks. The gator is mixed with pork, yielding a meaty quality with the slightest hint of gaminess. Good stuff — but I’m an occasional sausage eater, and this was my second round in two days. The red beans & rice, more a soup than my preferred stew, was tasty, but could’ve been spicier. Back to the gumbo. It took quite some time for it to cool down so that I didn’t have to eat with caution. I dug deep to dredge up spoonfuls with shredded chicken. There was a paucity of Andouille sausage — we counted one slice. (I made Bonnie fork it over.) The rice floated in the roux. Kudos to the coleslaw. House-made, Cajun-style, it had a mustard base, with a hint of blackened seasoning, and crispy cabbage. This slaw had an unusual flavor, in a good way. It was more bold and tangy than sweet, and provided a refreshing alternative to the standard fare. Heading home, we drove east on Main Street, and within a mile the sun was shining. And the Winner of the Mardi Gras Mojo Gumbo Rumble Is … Cajun Cafe on the Bayou. True, these are vastly dissimilar eateries, but I did my level best to zero in on on the food, particularly the gumbo. All told, though, I enjoyed both meals. A Final Note: I’ve gone years where Mardi Gras barely registered, so it was fun to have our own little celebration of the holiday in two locally owned, Louisiana-style restaurants.
Spotlight: Crêpe Crazy at Point Chaud
I dig crêpes, although I rarely eat them. We had crêpe machine decades ago, but it ended up at Sal’s Army. You can make them without a machine, but according to Sur la Table, “Crêpes, while delicious, are notoriously hard to make.” Bonnie summed up where she stands thusly, “I’m not gonna do it.” That’s why it’s nice that crêperies like Point Chaud Cafe & Crêpes exist. I decided to shine a Spotlight on the restaurant largely because it’s a new place I think you should know about. Point Chaud was founded two decades ago in the D.C. area and opened its third location, in St. Pete, just last September, then added a spot on St. Pete Beach in January. We tried — no, we ate — three crêpes. Per the Spotlight format, I’ll reveal my favorite at the end. ATMOSPHERE The restaurant sits handsomely on the northeast corner of the Ark Innovation Center on 4th Street South. After getting out of the car at 1:15 Wednesday, we immediately got hit by the skunky odor of weed. In an open parking lot! As we approached the stairway that leads up to Cafe Chaud, we encountered a young guy sitting on the steps huffing a potent-smelling blunt. He slid over a bit so we could get by. Lame. Ultra-lame. Point Chaud’s spankin’-new interior is bathed in natural light, its wicker tables widely spaced. Two women handled the counter — one (Lily, a USF St. Pete student) to take orders and serve, another to make the crêpes. We were the only customers. Old standards (Nat King Cole, Dean Martin) and, of course, Edith Piaf, played at comfortable volume. A plastic menu listed, I’m not kidding, dozens upon dozens of crêpes — savory on one side of the menu, sweet on the other. We ordered: The Brunch Special with ham and Swiss ($12); Sautéed Chicken with cheddar ($13); then after making headway into inhaling those two, we selected our sweet one: dark chocolate, banana and coconut ($11). Brunch For starters, all of Point Chaud’s wraps had the slightly spongy texture that is part of why I dig crêpes. Amid the cheese, ham, avocado, tomato and mushroon, the egg made itself the least known. In fact, I found it barely detectable. I would’ve preferred more egg, less ‘shroom (I forgot to ask them to hold it), but the combo of flavors made for a hearty and satisfying crêpe. Lunch (Sautéed Chicken) Most important, the chicken, a mix of white and dark meat, was excellent — juicy, devoid of the chalkiness that plagues lesser eateries. The combination of lush tomatoes and crunchy green peppers provided a welcome radiance to the overall umami. A small bed of lettuce drizzled with balsamic added further brightness. The cheese played a bit part. Dessert I’m a sucker for dark chocolate, and this crêpe was infused with a high-quality version, lusciously melted. The bananas blended in well, no surprise. Tiny pieces of coconut (almost unrecognizable) were sprinkled on top, like powdered sugar. Lily said there was some inside as well, but I couldn’t tell. A more present coconut, with larger pieces, would’ve benefited this one. But this crêpe had me at dark chocolate. Next time, I’ll pair it with berries (straw, rasp, black, blue). And Now For the Reveal of My Favorite Crêpe at Point Chaud … Sautéed Chicken. But I’d gladly eat each of them again. By the way, in addition to the multitude of crêpes on Point Chaud’s menu, you can build your own. The restaurant also offers quiche, paninis, gelato and a cornucopia of coffees and teas. A Final Thought: It occurred to me after eating at Point Chaud that crêpes are a notably versatile food. They are light, generally speaking. You can order (or make) them uber-healthy or extremely decadent, and pretty much everything in between. And you have to sit down and eat them with a knife and fork, which I dig. I’m making a vow to eat more of crêpe. I already have Bonnie’s birthday present picked out.