A Battle Over BBQ Chicken: Which Local Eatery Will Smoke the Competition?
I embarked on my barbecue chicken field research with one inviolable criteria: to eat chicken in actual pieces — not chopped or shredded. We found it at Treehouse BBQ in northeast St. Pete and BJ’s Alabama BBQ in South Tampa. Let’s ‘cue it up! TREEHOUSE BBQ It’s difficult to say how many restaurants have occupied this small space on 62nd Avenue North just east of 4th Street. Suffice to say: plenty. The most recent one was called Pasghetti, which I’m pretty sure never got past the hanging-vinyl-sign stage. So it’s nice to see something that looks as if it’s going to stick. Owned and run by Mike Leander and Tina Vierus, a married couple, Treehouse is their first brick-and-mortar place after food-truckin’ it for a while. Treehouse is only open Thursday through Sunday, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., or whenever the food runs out. We’d heard stories about lines, so showed up at 11:08 on a Thursday. The line wasn’t too bad. When we made it to the counter, a friendly woman took our order. A couple of bearded guys in ballcaps prepared the meals behind her, in plain sight. We ordered the Half-Chicken Plate ($18), which came with one side (mac-and-cheese), and I tacked on coleslaw and baked beans ($3.50 each). We decided to eat-in and found a small table by the window. It only took a few minutes for our beeper to go off. Appearance A big tray of food for 11:30 in the morning. But I was game. With Bonnie not partaking, I knew from first glance I would have plenty of leftovers for later. That was okay by me. Taste and Texture In my experience, a “half chicken” can be kind of skimpy, leaving me to ask, “Where was the thigh? Was that the thigh?” Treehouse’s was a more than substantial bird, with an even crust and lovely char that amplified the smokiness from the first bites. And importantly, that smokey flavor infiltrated the chicken past the skin. The breast meat was moist, not chalky in the least. The dark meat more than held up its end of the bargain. I even ate the tiny chicken wing down to the bone — just to indulge in some highly concentrated smokiness. The sides were all up to standard, if not terribly memorable. They certainly made good company for the chicken. Kudos to the cornbread, which was moist and sweet. All told, this was an examplar of a small-batch barbecue chicken meal. BJ’S ALABAMA BBQ We arrived at 3:30 Tuesday under pillowy clouds. The parking lot smelled like it had been recently asphalted, but that was quickly covered by the perfume of barbecue smoke. BJ’s keeps its smoker out front of the restaurant, a sidewalk and a curb away from Dale Mabry Highway. The restaurant is open Tuesday thriough Saturday from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., with no mention of shutting down when the food runs out. The black of exterior continued inside, and was accented by some brown and red. It seemed clear that BJ’s is more about the food than the ambience. A woman took our order at the counter. I got the Half-Chicken Combo ($16.14) with mac-and-cheese and barbecue beans, plus a (house-made )lemonade ($4.15). We sat at a two-top by a window, and the food arrived in just a few minutes. Let me compliment the lemonade, which came out first. It had an impeccable balance — not too tart, not too sweet, not to potent or mild. Sublimely drinkable. Appearance The styrofoam plate was crowded with grub. The chicken came slathered in the house barbecue sauce. I clumsily cut a few bites of chicken with a plastic knife, a tool that wasn’t up to the task. After a short while, I abandoned all table manners and went with my hands. The sauce made for a messy endeavor. I quickly used up a couple of napkins, then returned to the counter, where a roll of paper towels stood, beckoning. I peeled off about two feet. Delivering the chicken to my mouth might have been more of a hassle if the eating wasn’t so good. Once I gave in to my sticky fingers, I was able to focus on the beautifully smoke bird, and languidly at the thigh down to the bone. The sauce was luscious — thick, with a spot-on measure of of tang and sweetness. The only downside was that the sauce’s dominance prevented me from tasting much if any crust. The mac-and-cheese was gooey and mild (and still warm). I detected considerable maple flavor in the beans, which was new to me. I ate heartily and still took about half the meal home. And the Winner of the Battle Over BBQ Chicken Is … BJ’s, no Treehouse … no — BJ’s. As you can see, it was a difficult decision. The chicken was effectively a tie. Treehouse earned points by leaving it naked, but the BJ’s barbecue sauce was so good I didn’t really care if I was unable to inspect for char. BJ’s won the sides battle. I preferred Treehouse’s square of cornbread to the muffin at BJ’s, which was a bit dry. But I was mightily impressed with the BJ’s’ lemonade, the best I’ve had in a very long time. I took a styrofoam cup of it home, and rationed it out over a couple of meals.
Spotlight: Kickin’ it at The Winfield, Sampling Fancy Cocktails
A dark, subterranean cocktail lounge that seats 22 — in downtown St. Pete? A city where basements are as rare as snow leopards? Facts. The Winfield, which opened in early July, is an intimate enclave downstairs from the expansive Central Park food hall. I had to see it. My first call was to David Downing, an occasional companion on FFF fieldwork, especially when cocktails are the focus. We made a reservation for three for last Thursday at 7:15. At the last minute, I invited Sydney Gault, sales & marketing director at Registry Tampa Bay. She’s in her 20s, but has a talent for hanging with humans of a more seasoned vintage. So — Baby Boomers, Gen X and Gen Z. A good mix. At 7:14, Bonnie and I walked down two flights of stairs, through a sliding wood door, and were greeted by a hostess. We told her about adding a fourth to our party. Luckily one more bar seat was open. VIBE The Winfield was as advertised. The small space had a speakeasy feel, with Latin music playing just loudly enough. David was already seated at the bar, perusing the menu. We quickly got down to the business of selecting two cocktails, which I intended as competition with another lounge, yet to be decided. It was a plan that didn’t pan out. Choosing wasn’t easy. The recipes are extravagant. Our bartender, Erin, eager to help, described the mix of ingredients and flavor profiles. My only criteria was one drink with brown liquor, another with clear. We settled on a Queen’s Cobbler (rye whiskey, manzanilla sherry, raspberry, sarti rosa, lemon, $17) and a Snapple Cap (tequilla, green apple, snap pea, CO₂, $18). I originally resisted the latter because I have a dent in my head courtesy of pounding too many tequila shots at a party in my late teens. We told Erin that we were on a cocktail safari and asked if she might pour portions into smaller glasses. The beverage director, Sylvia, joined Erin and together they split our libations into four cute little glasses (with garnish). DRINK About this time Sydney arrived — she had a prior engagement — and we commenced to sipping and discussing. Before I begin describing, my usual disclaimer: I’m a Bud Light drinker and rarely consume fancy cocktails. Okay: Queens Cobbler (shown in the photo above) — A well-executed balance of sweet and tart. Easy to drink. The abundance of ice and the process of splitting the drinks into four servings caused some dilution. I detected hardly any alcohol flavor. Snapple Cap — More tart than sweet. The alcohol flavor was faint, calming my tequilaphobia. The little blast of fizz added pep, and the “peas” turned out to be boba, which provided extra pops of delight. BUT WAIT — THERE’S MORE We realized that two cocktails split among four sippers was not nearly enough. So, back to the menu … We landed on the Tomato, Tomatoe (vodka, heirloom tomatoes, strawberry, balsamic, pistachio oil, $17), which Erin described as akin to a caprese salad. Her description was apt. Think of it as an anti-Bloody Mary — light, refreshing, salad-esque. The drink came with a little squirt bottle of pistachio oil, which I applied but didn’t really taste. I beat everyone to the chunk of mozzarella on a toothpick. In keeping with Friday Booze Fight tradition, I’ll rank the drinks … 1 — Snapple Cap (for being refreshing, and easing my terror of tequila, if for only one night). 2 — Tomato Tomatoe (for not being like a Bloody Mary). 3 — Queens Cobbler (nice, but would’ve liked to taste more booze). We had a lively, lovely time, and the amiable bartenders contributed to it. “The service in these hip new bars can be precious — but the vibe here is unfussy and comfortable,” David said in a text statement some days later. “And they definitely know their cocktails.” That night, I decided to make The Winfield a Spotlight feature. We left, each of us with a mild buzz. Tell me, do these people look inebriated? Our foursome adjourned to Bangkok Thai next door for dinner, where I drank one Tsingtao.
An Altercation Over Avocado Toast
When I was a kid, we had … toast — with butter, maybe jam. And it was good, or at least helped fill our tummies. Very occasionally, we got toast that was French. But there was no brioche toast, no tartine, no croque (monsieur or madame), no toast points. And no avocado toast. That came much later, and I’m happy it did. It’s healthy. It has a lot of flavors and textures. It eats like a meal. As combatants, I chose two places in St. Pete — Pineapple Espresso and The Library — which proved to be significantly different in both food and vibe. PINEAPPLE ESPRESSO At 8:30 Tuesday morning, I opened the garage door and walked headlong into a blast furnace. The low morning sun beamed straight into my eyes. I wanted to cower and retreat inside — like a vampire. In late summer around here, I become a Great Indoorsman. I forged on to Pineapple Espresso, a cute little (mostly) breakfast spot on MLK that does mostly drive-thru business and has no indoor seating. I plopped down on a stool at the bar under a covered patio, ready to eat my avocado toast sans AC. I chatted with Carmen, who was about to matriculate at USF Tampa, while she stirred a big pot of “birthday cake” syrup* for the coffee. I ordered The Everything toast ($13) and a cup of drip coffee (12-oz, hot, $3.25), no syrup. Appearance About what you’d expect from an inexpensive takeout place. I liked the look of the boiled “6 Minute Egg.” And they certainly didn’t skimp on the house-made Everything Spice. Taste and Texture This basic avocado toast was well-balanced all around, with a hefty mashed-avocado base and an agreeable salt quotient. The egg had a soft but not runny yolk; the spice, while liberally applied, did not overpower. I got creamy and crunchy, with a nicely blended panoply of flavors. And the “sunshine sourdough” bread was expertly toasted. With a light breeze blowing through the open-air dining space, I did not suffer that much from the heat (although a ceiling fan would’ve been a plus). My ears did suffer a bit from the yacht-rock soundtrack (“Summer Breeze”) wafting out of the speakers. I’m not much of a morning eater, so I brought half of the avocado toast home. I ate it the next day for a mid-afternoon snack. It held up. THE LIBRARY It was cloudy, with rain in the offing, when we pulled into The Library’s last customer parking spot just before 11 on Thursday. If you’ve not been, The Library, located in the Johns Hopkins All Childrens Hospital complex, is quite the classy place. Its high ceilings and walls lined with books make you want to talk in whispers, maybe pull a copy of Kafka’s The Hunger Artist to whet your appetite. The host showed us to a two-top at a banquette. Our server, Ryan, wore a white shirt, tie and a vest, albeit with jeans on the bottom. We ordered Avocado Toast ($16) with an over medium egg ($3), a coffee ($3) for me and a Cappucino ($4) for Bonnie. Appearance I figured my description of the interior could use some visual backup. The photo of the dish is at top. This presentation befitted the restaurant’s elevated ambience. The avocado was sliced, not mashed. I was pleased to see pepitas, which are shell-less pumpkin seeds. Taste and Texture This creative take included whipped feta and herb olive oil, giving it a lunch as well as breakfast character. The egg was more over easy than over medium, which was fine, because I’m a fan of runny egg yolk (try an over-easy egg on a burger). I am not a fan of feta, so was glad for its muted flavor. The sliced avocado gave this version some extra texture. The pepitas added pops of delight. The bread, a locally sourced wheat, had just the right heft. I wasn’t as sure about the herb olive oil, although after a few bites it blended in pleasantly. And overall the dish was just a shade too salty for my liking. I’m not a coffeeophile, and rarely mention the brew in these columns, but this cup was exemplary. And the Winner of the Altercation Over Avocado Toast Is … The Library. My decision comes with a caveat. These restaurants serve considerably different purposes. If you’re interested in a quick bite or grab-and-go at a good price, Pineapple Espresso’s avocado toast is more than worthy. The Library’s sit-down-and-linger environment calls for a version that transcends the basic — and this one did. * Re: the “birthday cake” syrup at Pineapple Espresso — Carmen told me that an online influencer had mentioned it in a post and the restaurant couldn’t make enough ot if. Hence, her stirring a vat at the bar.
The Clash of the Korean Fried Chicken Sandwiches
“How about Korean fried chicken?” asked my partner, accountant, driver, research assistant and lawfully wedded wife, from the kitchen table. “Sure, I’ll add it to the FFF master list,” I replied, wondering how Bonnie was tuned into a dish I’d barely heard of. (The audacity.) As it happened, her interest was piqued when she saw the Korean Fried Chicken Sandwich on the menu at Wild Child. Due to a series of unfortunate events involving veggie burgers, we had to move Korean fried chicken to the top of the list this week. Neither of us had ever eaten it. We found a competitor for Wild Child in bb.q Chicken in Pinellas Park. The brand first debuted in South Korea in 1995, and now has more than 250 locations in the U.S., three in Tampa Bay. Odd that I’d never heard of it. BB.Q CHICKEN Due to the unfortunate events, we’d endured two aborted restaurant sits on Monday, so didn’t arrive until just before 8. We pulled up to a new-looking building on U.S. 19 and 78th Avenue N. Inside, the restaurant exuded a fun, fast-casual vibe., even though the dining room was nearly empty. K-Pop girl-group videos played on the TVs and over the sound system, but the volume was reasonable. Our server, a polite and attentive young Asian fellow (I didn’t get his name), informed us that all of the fried chicken was cooked to order, so our Golden Original Sandwich ($9.95), which was actually three sliders, would take about 20 minutes. We added a Bulgogi Rice Bowl (which included chicken, $12.95) and an order of Fried Dumplings ($6.95). Appearance One look and I figured I was in for some serious crunch. Spicy Korean mayo was drizzled over the chunks of chicken. The rice bowl arrived first, and looked delectable. It was 8:05. I was hungry. Taste and Texture The bulgogi rice was delish, with tender chicken morsels and rice the right level of sticky. Peppers and scallions added some crackle. The sweet, decadent bulgogi sauce had a hint of tang. I asked for, and was granted, a small bowl of it so I could pour on some more. Onward to the sliders. Thick crusts always make me worry that the bird beneath will be dry. Such was not the case here. The combination of white-meat chicken and hefty crust made for some chewy bites — chewy in a good way. I hardly noticed the buns. The mayo provided some middling spice-heat, and I was glad I didn’t order the chicken spicy. WILD CHILD I made a reservation on Wednesday morning for that evening at 6:30, and it was good that I did. We drove around St. Pete’s Grand Central District hunting a parking spot, and finally scored one when another car pulled out onto Central Avenue. Wild Child’s large outdoor patio was full, so we sat in the small(ish) dining room, which was also packed. Our two-top was within arm’s length of other patrons. As per our custom, Bonnie sat on the banquette. The room’s boomy acoustics amplified the spirited chatter. Our table was long, so we had to lean in to talk. The host, Cassandra, was a delightful ball of energy in her Hello Kitty T-shirt. We ordered the Korean Fried Chicken Sandwich ($19), a Summer Cobb Gem Lettuce salad ($15), plus a Pinot Noir for Bonnie and a Negra Especial for me. Appearance From the thickness of the sandwich and its orange-ish sauce, I figured that a messy meal was in my future. The salad was colorful and alluring. The bacon chunks called to me. Taste and Texture I removed the fancy toothpick from the sandwich, carefully cut it in two, picked up half, opened wide — very wide — and took a bite. Mmmm. The chicken breast was thick and juicy. I didn’t detect a whole lot of crust, certainly when compared to that of bb.q. The sauce oozed liberally onto my hands. My best guess is that, per the menu, the sauce in question was kimchi mayo — but it wasn’t like any mayo I’d ever had. The sandwich also included some nice extras in shredded cabbage and house dill pickles, adding complexity to the flavor. The beast was tasty enough that I finished it. Right afterward, I hustled to the restroom to rinse off my fingers, and the rest of my hands — and parts of my wrists — all the while wondering, “How do people eat a sandwich this messy and only dab their fingers with a napkin?” The salad was a far neater eat, with hefty pieces of lettuce, charred corn, a generous helping of avocado, and other goodies, with the smokey bacon adding an excellent dimension. And the Winner of The Clash of the Korean Fried Chicken Sandwiches Is … Difficult to say. I’ve vacillated several times. Because we were forced to improvise this week’s matchup on the fly, we ended up at vastly different restaurants with vastly different takes on the sandwich. I enjoyed both. Not for nothin’, Wild Child’s came within 90 cents of costing twice as much as bb.q’s. We also really liked both of our considerably different secondary dishes. But enough waffling. The winner is … Wild Child … … for creativity. It maybe goes the other way if I was paying instead of Registry Tampa Bay. By the way: bb.q stands for “best of the best quality.”
Gotta Lotta Piccata (Chicken Edition)
In my nearly five years writing this column, I’ve steadily worked my way through the expansive array of Italian dishes — most of them coated in red sauce. In the interest of diversification, I’m turning to the lemon-butter sauce of piccata. It’s not my go-to, but this Northern Italian dish’s time has arrived. Our two contestants are: CD Roma Restaurant in St. Pete and La Dolce Vita Trattoria on St. Pete Beach. CD ROMA RESTAURANT I was passingly surprised that I’d never eaten at this family-owned institution, which has been around since 1988. That’s probably because I’m east side and CD Roma is west side, just a few blocks south of Tyrone Square Mall. The eatery was doing brisk business when we arrived at 6:30 Tuesday. The mid-sized dining room features muted colors, mostly different shades of brown, tables and booths, and has an open kitchen. Big screen TVs showed sports programming on mute. The music played so softly I couldn’t tell whether it was Dua Lipa or Tuvan throat singing — and I was okay with that. Bonnie and I chatted easily. We ordered Chicken Piccata ($21) and a Pear-a-Dice Salad (as in “paradise” not “pair of dice,” $14). We chose Vegetable Minestrone soup to go with the entree. Appearance I was pleased to see angel hair squiggling out from under the chicken breast. It had been quite some time since I had the skinny spaghetti. Taste and Texture The chicken checked all the boxes: lightly breaded, thin but not too thin, tender and moist. The sauce was lemon-forward but not overbearingly so, probably because its subtle butyraceous quality muted the tart citrus. The pasta could’ve been a bit more al dente, but it rolled nicely onto the fork and joined the chicken for many a satisfying bite. I dug the capers, though more for texture. The hefty salad contained a lot of good stuff — crisp pear slices, soft avocado, candied walnuts, little clumps of goat cheese — and it was coated in a punchy citrus vinaigrette. But the spring mix consisted of greens that were large, leafy and stalky. It was hard to assemble a bite that was small enough to comfortably insert into my mouth. I was concerned about getting poked in the eye with a stalk. LA DOLCE VITA TRATTORIA The restaurant occupies a low-slung, let’s call it modest, building on the east side of Gulf Boulevard. The red velvet ropes out front have faded to a blend of white and pink. At 6:30 Wednesday, we walked through an enclosed, empty patio, then into a space with two small(ish) dining rooms. White tablecloths matched the walls. A neon sign bathed the front room in a blue hue. We sat at four-top flanked by a banquette. Our Italian server, Nico — a tall, handsome lad — waited on us with a kind of subdued flourish, in keeping with the restaurant’s fine-dining vibe. We ordered Chicken Scallopine ($27.90) — after assurances that it’s the same as piccata — with penne pasta. We added a Caprese salad ($17.90) to start. I asked Nico for a ginger ale. He replied, politely, that he didn’t know what ginger ale is, and that the restaurant did not have it. Appearance The room’s relative dimness and blue cast made cell-phone photography difficult. I noticed that the chicken in this piccata/scallopine was not coated. Taste and Texture In my experience, all caprese salads are essentially the same — most of them are good, occasionally one is great. It all comes down to the tomato. This version was solid, with tomatoes more crispy than juicy. That’s to be expected, though, seeing as it’s virtually impossible to find a good tomato in Florida. I found the entree’s lemon-butter sauce to be more potent than that of CD Roma. I added sprinkles of parmesan cheese to tame some of the tartness. The chicken breast was thinner than the competition’s, and the lack of coating made its flavor (combined with the sauce) more bold and immediate. The penne had the al dente down pat. And the Winner of the Gotta Lotta Piccata, Chicken Edition Is … CD Roma. I (slightly) preferred CD Roma’s more comfort-food take than La Dolce Vita’s bolder version. And CD Roma’s meal proved an exceptional value.
Spotlight on Middle Grounds Grill: Fish v. Pork
News of a slow summer for restaurants apparently didn’t reach the beach. Middle Grounds Grill, a large establishment on Treasure Island, was packed last Saturday night. Once home to the popular Robbie’s Pancake House, Middle Grounds opened in 2007 and has maintained a strong reputation. This week’s edition is another in a series of Spotlight features, where we visit one restaurant, clock the vibe, eat a couple of entrees, and I pick a “winner” between the two. We arrived precisely at our 6:45 reservation time and joined our dinner companion, Bobby Dillon, who was parked at the bar. We were immediately seated at a four-top in a back dining room, where the conversation volume was lower and provided for easy three-way yapping. During a restroom trip, I spotted an abundance of large parties, suggesting that summer tourism season is faring well. Our server, Michele, was pleasant, unobtrusive and efficient. We ordered from the specials menu: Fresh Catch: Gulf Grouper, blackened ($50) and a Bone-in Pork Chop ($38). Each came with sides. I got a 3 Daughters Beach Blonde Ale ($8), which came in a 16-ounce can. (I told Michele that I would handle the pouring myself.) Appearance Both dishes were served and presented with utmost professionalism. Everything looked enticing. The generous portion of new potatoes that accompanied the pork chop called to me. Michele put the fish in front of Bonnie and the pork in front of me. Gender profiling? Nah. I kid. Taste and Texture Grouper Entree: This filet stood out for being more meaty than flaky — it didn’t easily fall apart into smaller pieces. I preferred it to the airier grouper filets that I generally have, which tend to be less flavorful. The blackening was relatively mild, and I would’ve preferred it to be zippier. The rice pilaf beneath the fish was solid, although I only managed to procure a few bites. I had a piece of broccoli — not my fave — and it was … broccoli. Pork Chop Entree: This was a big ol’ hunk of pork, cooked perfectly medium, tender and juicy with a nice sear. Big enough that we couldn’t quite finish it. I was prescient about the potatoes. These orbs were next-level, with just the right firmness and a light outer crisp. I ate them all. The asparagus stalks more than made the grade. We were enticed to split a Blueberry Cobbler ($5) with vanilla ice cream ($2.50), and were glad we did. I sneakily made sure mine was the last spoon standing. I am, after all, the (ahem) arbiter. And the Winner of the Pork Chop vs. Grouper Fresh Catch at Middle Grounds Grill Is … A tie. The updated FFF bylaws say that ties are permitted in Spotlight editions. It was encouraging to see an upscale restaurant on the beach so busy in mid-summer. And Middle Grounds is on the east side of Gulf Boulevard, so no Gulf view. Of course, I can’t say if other beach establishments were similarly busy on Saturday, but here’s a possible indicator: Bobby Dillon — who used to live here but now resides in California — walked St. Pete Beach that afternoon and said he’d never seen it so crowded.
Two Mid-Priced Steakhouses Square Off
I blinked and steaks cost 60, 70, 80 bucks and more at fine-dining restaurants. Not that I frequent such places, but I do check a lot of menus for my FFF research. I took note: We’d been priced out. Not long ago, I was riding shotgun south on 4th Street in St. Pete and spotted an Outback Steakhouse we’d driven by so many times it had become invisible. I wondered: What do steaks cost there? Are they any good? Finding a competitor was easy. LongHorn Steakhouse’s prices are all but identical to Outback’s. I opted for ribeye because Bonnie serves filet mignon on the rare occasion she cooks steak at home. OUTBACK STEAKHOUSE As we took the short drive to Outback on Monday at 6:30, Bonnie and I tried to remember the last time we’d eaten at the chain, which was founded in Tampa in 1988. We couldn’t recall, but figured it was probably during our son’s brief busboy tenure there. A long time ago. The restaurant’s vast interior had a drop ceiling and was decorated in various gradients of dark brown. But as a testament to Outback’s longevity, the place was doing solid business for a Monday. We sat at a comfortable booth next to a window. The menu includes three ribeyes, and after a brief discussion with our server, Ernest, I chose the 20-ounce Bone-In Ribeye (cooked medium), mercifully priced at $36.49. Unlike the a la carte sides at premium steakhouses, this meal included two. I chose a loaded baked potato (sans cheese) and broccoli. Bonnie got the Coconut Shrimp ($15.29). Appearance It checked all the boxes for a hearty steak dinner. I appreciated the steak(ish)-shaped cast-iron plate. Taste and Texture For starters, the cut was cooked perfectly, and that’s worth noting at a mid-priced steakhouse. It had a peppery sear that accented but didn’t overwhelm the robust flavor of meat, which was chewy in places but not tough. The outer parts were more marbled and thus more tender. The potato and vegetables were solid accompaniments, although I should have asked for extra sour cream. Bonnie poked in for a few bites of the steak, and we were left with a chunk that was too big to throw out. (I ate it pre-workout the next day.) LONGHORN STEAKHOUSE My dining partner David and I were met with a 10-minute wait at 7:15 on Wednesday at the Tyrone location. Who knew? I’d never been to a LongHorn Steakhouse. The large dining room was packed and hummin’. We sat at a large booth. Our young server, Seth, had that earnest, eager-to-please demeanor and crisp efficiency that you hope for in a waiter in a busy restaurant. I ordered the 20-ounce Outlaw Ribeye (bone-in) with a loaded baked potato (sans cheese, extra sour cream) and a house salad with ranch dressing ($35.79). David got the 7 Pepper Sirloin Salad ($19.49). Twelve-ounce Bud Light drafts were $3.49 a pop. Whut?! (I had three.) Appearance I didn’t bring along my Official FFF Tape Measure™, but this ribeye appeared a little larger and thinner than its Outback’s. And the bone was less prominent. Texture and Taste Like its counterpart’s, this ribeye was expertly cooked, with a shade more pink. I sliced off a piece from the outermost edge, and found the beef sublimely tender, with ideal marbling. As I worked my way toward the middle, the beef grew denser but maintained its tenderness. The sear was not peppery, but its salt level enhanced the potent beef flavor. The baked potato was as advertised, and the salad — a basic lettuce mix with diced tomatoes and cucumbers, slathered with ranch — did the job as a starter. And the Winner of the Mid-Priced Steakhouse Square-Off Is … LongHorn Steakhouse. A close decision. The side dishes evened out, and both places served lovely loaves of bread to kick off the dinners. Longhorn’s steak was consistently more tender throughout, and that’s what tipped the scales in its favor (although I give the nod to Outback’s peppery sear.) Just FYI: I checked the menu at Ruth’s Chris Steak House for a price comp: 16-ounce (boneless) Ribeye, $74; baked potato, $12; steak house salad, $14. That comes to a tidy $100 — and that’s without drinks. I’ll go out on a limb and wager that you can’t get a Bud Light draft for $3.49.
St. Pete vs. Tampa in an Ice Cream Scoop-Off
Sunday is National Ice Cream Day, and while I’m loathe to become tethered to National [Insert Name of Food] Days, I’ll make an exception here. Have you walked along a parking lot at 2:30 lately? Consider a scoop (or two) of the frozen concoction as a respite from the outdoor steam bath. Our two contestants are Bright Ice Scoop Shop (St. Pete) and Chill Bros. (Tampa). Both locally owned brands opened their first stores in 2019, and have grow to five locations. Each makes small-batch ice cream in its home city. So, a good matchup. I used a chocolate ice cream as my baseline, and then added another wildcard flavor at each place. I’ll rank them at the end. BRIGHT ICE We arrived at the flagship store on 5th Avenue North on Tuesday around 8, under a crepuscular sky. I ordered Deepest Darkest Chocolate Secret as Baseline #1. Blueberries With Cinnamon captured my fancy for Wildcard #1. The counter kid said he’d been told it tasted like blueberry pie. I asked him if he’d tried it. He said no. “You don’t sample your own ice cream?” I chided. A bit nonplussed, he replied, “I’ve never had blueberry pie.” I chose to have both scoops in a waffle bowl ($8.25 total). The mounds were huge. We ate inside, which is the only reasonable thing to do when it’s hovering around 90 outdoors. Appearance You saw the lead photo at top. Here’s closer look. Taste and Texture Baseline #1 was lusciously creamy, with the ideal level of dark-chocolate intensity. I stayed there for a few spoonfuls, but Wildcard #1 beckoned. The blueberry and cinnamon flavors were exquisitely balanced, each complementing the other. And then: actual blueberries — frozen, so they delivered a pop of fruitiness. I judiciously incorporated pieces of waffle cone. I had intended to eat my share of the double-scoop, bring it home in an air-conditioned vehicle and rush it to the freezer for later. Ah, the best laid plans … My share turned out to be all of it. CHILL BROS. It was 4:15 on Wednesday when we pulled up to the South Tampa store under full sun. I would’ve dashed inside but for the picture-taking. The white-walled interior was bright and airy with a fun, multi-colored swirl on the ceiling. Chill Bros. does not have standard chocolate on its menu, so I ordered Belgian Brownie as Baseline #2. I puzzled over Wildcard #2, tried a few mini-spoonfuls and finally decided on Guava Pastelito (named after a Cuban pastry). I got them in separate bowls ($6.85 each). We sat indoors next to the window. Appearance What good would words do? Taste and Texture Baseline #1 had an intrinsic advantage over the competition because it included brownies — some bits and a few chewy chunks. Delightful, as was the ice cream itself. Wildcard #2 had a complex flavor that I struggled to get my tastebuds around. I liked it, but thought it just a tad too sweet. The guava flavor was potent, and I encountered one bite that included an actual piece of the fruit. The flavor grew on me over time. Bonnie loved it, so between the two of us we polished off both ample scoops. To the Rankings! … 1 — Blueberries with Cinnamon, Wildcard #1, Bright Ice (a veritable revelation). 2 — Belgian Brownie, Baseline #2, Chill Bros. (benefited from the chunky X factor). 3 — Deepest Darkest Chocolate Secret, Baseline #3, Bright Ice (but for the brownie). 4 — Guava Pastelito, Wildcard #2, Chill Bros. (would’ve been Bonnie’s No. 1, but she does not vote). Enjoy National Ice Cream Day. And now that England and France are out of the World Cup — go Argentina!
A Set-To Over Super-Food Protein Shakes
I chose protein shakes for this week’s edition because I recently returned from a lengthy trip where I ate restaurant food for nearly every dinner, never passed up a sweet morning noon or night, drank my share of beers, got next-to-no exercise and have the extra poundage to prove it. A desideratum has arisen. Time to consume healthy stuff — hence, protein shakes aka smoothies aka superfood drinks. I chose two chains that are making inroads into Tampa Bay: Pure Green, with locations in Tampa and St. Pete; and Raining Berries, with two locations in Pinellas and four in Hillsborough. Late Thursday morning, after calling ahead to order at each place (I matched the shakes as best I could) we lit out for downtown St. Pete to pick them up quick-like, shoot pics and drink. The plan worked. PURE GREEN—11:32 A.M. The narrow, brightly lit space, with little more than a counter, has a grab-and-go vibe. My Purple Haze Superfood Smoothie (blueberries, strawberries, banana, spirulina, plant-based protein, coconut water, $10.25) was waiting for me in a fridge near the door. I paid, grabbed and went. RAINING BERRIES—11:43 A.M. We drove a half-mile west to this cafe. As soon as I walked in, the young woman at the counter handed me my Blueberry Fields shake (blueberries, strawberries, banana, almond butter, chocolate protein, oat milk, $12.29). I availed myself of the boho/comfy lounge area to shoot photos. TASTING AT HOME—12:18 While the drinks had a relatively similar color and overlapped some ingredients, they tasted quite different and had contrasting textures. Pure Green’s Purple Haze was darker and thinner, more tart and fruit-forward, with a medium graininess. It had an agreeable flavor, but was just challenging enough to remind you that you were drinking something healthy. Maybe it was the spirulina (just kidding; I had to look it up). Raining Berries’ Blueberry Fields was thicker, more shake-like and contained itty-bits that offered optional chewing. It was notably sweet — sweeter than any store-bought smoothie I can recall (which is not many). The flavors blended well, with the chocolate standing out slightly, and banana coming in second. And the Winner of the Set-To Over Superfood Protein Shakes Is … … Blueberry Fields By Raining Berries. A close one. The tasting process was more interesting than I anticipated. I alternated sips, and as I went along — slowly — the Blueberry Fields edged close to overly sweet and I began to appreciate the Purple Haze’s tartness more. The bout got closer as it went along, but ultimately the Blueberry Fields’ thicker texture gave it enough points to eke out a close decision. Kudos to both places for naming drinks after two of my beloved rock songs. I’d like to say that after finishing nearly all of two smoothies yesterday afternoon, I got fired up and hurried down to the gym to make good use of my protein blast …
Tampa Bay vs. Atlanta in a Fajitas Flare-Up
In the early 1900s, Mexican cowboys working in southern Texas were partially paid with crappy cuts of beef, including head, entrails (how’s that for an appetizing opener?) and … skirt steak. They marinated the meat, grilled it over an open fire, sliced it against the grain and wrapped it in flour tortillas. Thus the humble beginnings of the modern fajita (“little strip”). The dish found its way into South Texas restaurants in the 1960s and ’70s. It did not take long for fajitas to expand beyond the region because … when they are good, they are so damn good. We’re on a 17-day vacation so I took this opportunity to present another Tampa Bay vs. The World edition. Our contestants are: Casa 28 Mexican Grill in St. Pete and Superica in the ATL. CASA 28 MEXICAN GRILL The restaurant sits in a small strip mall on 28th Street just north of 22nd Avenue. Given the skull imagery on the windows, I feared a Dio de Los Muertos theme. Such was not the case. Instead, the interior is a mish-mash of bright colors (mostly orange and red), Mexican-themed art (Frida Kahlo: mandatory) and weird outliers — my favorite being a wall TV showing The Jetsons cartoons, which was a hoot. We arrived at 7 on a Sunday and sat at a small four-top. A number of families were occupying booths, giving Casa 28 a neighborhood feel. We ordered Mixed Chicken & Steak Fajitas ($19.99). (Free) chips and salsa started us off. Appearance The heaping cast-iron pan of fajitas arrived with a respectable sizzle. A side plate contained the customary yellow rice, refried beans, sour cream, lettuce and pico de gallo. Taste and Texture The main way to screw up fajitas is for the beef to be tough and/or the chicken to be dry. Our meal did not suffer from either, although I couldn’t taste much in the way of marinade. I mixed the chicken and beef, and crammed as much of the extras as the tortillas would hold. I ate three, while occasionally glimpsing at The Jetsons. The beans and rice more than made the grade. The tortillas were pleasantly chewy. My only (minor) complaint is that the sour cream, lettuce and pico de gallo came in small portions. I asked for extra pico and sour cream, which cost $1.50 each. SUPERICA The orange-striped sign sits next to a rusted bridge. The above photo makes Superica look like a crusty outpost. It’s anything but. A short walk from the Atlanta Beltline, the restaurant — the flagship of an 11-store chain in the Southeast — sits amid a busy area full of eateries, bars and shops. Lots of people wore USA Soccer shirts. At 6:30 on a Friday, we were greeted with an hour wait, but quickly scored seats at the bar just inside the door. The main dining room featured a giant screen showing concert videos, so a few Hall & Oates tunes leaked into my ears, which was okay by me. Our bartender was a groovy young dude, knowledgeable about the food and drink. We ordered Parilla Mixta ($35), which included Steak Arrachera and Chicken Tejano. Appearance Superica didn’t bother with the sizzle. The most noticeable aspect of this elevated presentation was the thick cuts of meat, neatly sliced. A roasted poblano pepper lay next to it. Taste and Texture These fajitas were particularly meat-forward. The chicken and especially the beef were next-level quality — full-on tender and juicy. The tortillas, made to order, were warm and hearty. There were plenty of fresh accouterments (including guacamole) to cram into the tortillas. I sliced pieces of pepper to add to the pile, although some grilled onions and peppers would’ve been preferable. I devoured a couple of the messy delights. And the Winner of the Tampa Bay vs. Atlanta Fajitas Flare-Up Is … Casa 28. I wrestled with this decision. Superica’s ingredients were superior, its take more modern, but we paid for it to the tune of thirty-five bucks. Casa 28 took a more traditional approach, and its inclusion of the standard onions and peppers was probably the deciding factor. Casa 28’s homey-yet-funky vibe made me relax, while Superica’s party-style energy got me pumped. At the bar, we got into a conversation with a young couple who lived locally, but had spent a month in St. Petersburg — during the summer. They had nothing but good things to say. All told, we had impressive meals at both places, and different types of fun at each.
A Brawl Over Biscuits and Gravy
When I first arrived in Florida decades ago, I’d never heard of biscuits and gravy. I soon found out it was a Southern thing — and apparently it still is. Just for grins, I checked the menus of several diners in and around my hometown in Rockland County, N.Y., in search of biscuits and gravy … Nope. Nada. Not even biscuits. Which, to my way of thinking, is a good thing. I’ll add here that, although I’ve tasted biscuits and gravy over the years, I’ve never taken to it. It screams cholesterol gut-bomb. So why, you ask, and am I featuring it in Friday Food Fight? Good question. Let’s see. Our two contestants are just a few blocks apart in St. Pete — Central Diner and Dads’ Kitchen. We decided to hit both on the same Tuesday morning. They proved to be a study in contrast. CENTRAL DINER We easily found a nearby parking spot on Central Avenue at 10:45. This heritage restaurant, which dates back nearly 50 years, has retro vibe, right down to a couple of cooks working the griddle just inside the door. The long, narrow space has four-top booths on both sides and a few tables. A pre-teen boy and what must’ve been his grandfather were engaged in an animated conversation — a heartening sight. Whitney Houston’s “How Will I Know” played on the sound system, at medium volume. I ordered Biscuits and Gravy ($11) with two eggs scrambled, and coffee. Appearance The meal came out in four minutes — fast, even by diner standards. I was quickly reminded that biscuits-and-gravy is not a photogenic dish. Pieces of sausage were visible in the beige stuff. Taste and Texture Biscuits fluffy. Gravy appropriately thick, but not overly so, and appropriately salty, but not overly so. I appreciated the sizeable bits of sausage, which added some meaty zip. I forgot to order my scrambled eggs soft, and they came out the opposite of that. I could even see brown marks. My bad. I ate about a third of the portion. I had more biscuits-and-gravy in my immediate future. DAD’S KITCHEN We drove a mile-and-a-half west on Central and lucked into a parking spot near the diner, which has been open since February. People were eating at picnic tables under rainbow umbrellas on the sidewalk. We chose to sit inside, where the walls were covered with clever, black-and-white art. (We touched; it was real.) At 11:30, Dad’s enjoyed a mini-rush. Problem was: only one server — for inside and out, which led to a fairly long wait. I can’t fault Josh, though. He was hustlin’, man, even broke into a trot a few times, all the while maintaining a cheery (and apologetic) manner. Here’s where I pause to mention a moment of serendipity: “How Will I Know” was playing over the system. I like the tune well enough, but twice in an hour? I ordered Biscuits & Gravy ($19.50) with two eggs over easy and bacon (which I asked to be cooked medium), and a coffee. Appearance Similar to that of Central Diner, but with enticing eggs and charred bacon. Taste and Texture The gravy was thicker and a smidge saltier than the competition’s, with similar sausage bits. Biscuits were up to standard. The fried eggs were perfect and played well with the gravy. The bacon was not cooked as I ordered, so I left it alone. And the Winner of the Brawl Over Biscuits and Gravy Is … Central Diner. It’s a challenge rating a dish you’re not favorably disposed toward. This FFF fieldwork did not change my opinion of biscuits and gravy. I don’t hate it, but it’s not something I’d order outside of a professional context — which is to say, probably never again. My guess is that if you’re a B&G fan, both of these versions would be A-OK. After five decades, Central Diner has its service game locked down. It seemed to me that Dad’s, open for four months, is still working out some of the kinks.
Specialty Sandwiches: A Tiff Over Tri-Tip
Tri-tip is trendy. At least in my world. I hadn’t heard of the small, triangle-shaped cut of beef until a March trip to California’s Central Coast, where tri-tip is a mainstay. I ate it in a barbecue place in San Luis Obispo and, candidly, wondered what the fuss was about. Then during my FFF research last week, I randomly encountered two restaurant menus that included a tri-tip sandwich. I was fated to give it another go. Our contestants are: Parkshore Grill in St. Pete and The Brinehouse in Safety Harbor. With tri-tip, I probably should’ve featured three restaurants. But I just didn’t have the time — and I’m not sure there is a third. PARKSHORE GRILL The Shaved Prime Tri-Tip Steak Sandwich ($23) is only served at lunch (’til 6). We made it a late one, arriving at 5:30 on a Thursday. The hostess walked us to the back dining room, and we wrangled a table next to the window. The dining rooms were beginning to fill up, most likely for dinner service. Our server, Trevor, was attentive and efficient, and didn’t betray a hint of disappointment at having a table of two seniors splitting a lunch. Appearance The sandwich was … not exactly small — more like, compact. The parmesan fries sat in a fan of paper inside a silver container. A refined presentation refined, especially for a sandwich. Taste and Texture Tri-tip has been described as a cross between a steak and a roast, and I’d say that’s pretty on the nose. The beef had a robust flavor and, while tender(ish), it required a measure of jaw work. The bread was perfect — a bit of crunch on the outside, soft beneath. Carmelized onions were a welcome addition. The creamy Boursin cheese had melted to the consistency of mayo, which made for a drippy sandwich that required me to make use of the cloth napkin between bites. All told, this tri-trip sandwich was a no-fuss, straight-ahead affair that hit all the right notes. The fries earned good grades for balancing crisp and potato flavor, and keeping the parmesan subtle. Bonnie had a few bites, but otherwise I easily polished off the meal. THE BRINEHOUSE We nearly always do our FFF fieldwork on weekdays, but upcoming travel made Friday the optimal day schedule-wise. The upshot was that it took 20 minutes to find a parking spot in downtown Safety Harbor at 6:15. The Brinehouse has an interesting concept. It has the feel of a barbecue restaurant, but instead of smoking its meats, they’re brined and marinated, then finished off on a wood-burning grill. Our server, Elaine, was a pro. After a brief phatic exchange, we got to the menu, which she knew inside out, as well as the beers and wine. Elaine informed us that the brine includes dried coffee. I ordered The Steak Rustler ($18) — “grilled tri-tip, tobacco onions, poblano peppers, plum tomatoes, pimento cheese spread and smoked paprika aioli on a Brioche bun.” Ambitious. I chose Mama’s Macaroni Salad as a side, and added an extra side of Gorgonzola Mac-n-Cheese ($7.50). For libations, I got a Stiegel Goldbrau Lager draft, Bonnie a Three Thieves Chardonnay (both $7.50). Appearance The hefty meal was served BBQ-style. The sandwich stood out for its thickness. Three slices of crisp dill pickle on the serving tray were an enticing touch. Taste and Texture The sandwich was a messy monster. I asked Elaine for an extra stack of paper napkins. The tri-tip was more thickly cut than that of Parkshore Grill, with straightforward, sapid beef that didn’t announce its brined-ness, although I’m not sure what that would’ve meant. Suffice to say it was damn good meat. A lesser version might’ve gotten lost amid the other ingredients. The poblano peppers were a nice touch, but overall the Steak Rustler would’ve benefited by omitting an ingredient or two. It had a lot going on. I nearly finished the beast, and that was while paying considerable attention to the sides, both of which were top-drawer. And the Winner of the Tri-Tip Tilt Is … Parkshore Grill. I’m split on this decision. I very much liked both sandwiches, but in the end the simplicity of Parkshore Grill’s won out. That said, The Brinehouse outdistanced Parkshore for the sheer volume of quality food it served for a similar price. But in the end this is a competition between tri-tip sandwiches, and thus the St. Pete restaurant edges out a win.