Feudin’ Flatbreads
Yeast. That’s the fundamental difference between pizza and flatbread. Pizza has it, flatbread doesn’t. Further, pizza is generally round. Flatbread comes in an array of forms — oval, rectangular, misshapen. This week we focus on pizza’s unleavened cousin. I selected two places in St. Pete a half-mile apart: The Tap Room at the Hollander Hotel, just north of downtown, and The Lure, on the 600 block of Central Avenue. I chose a tomato-y one as a baseline, and then picked an enticing specialty flatbread from each. THE TAP ROOM AT THE HOLLANDER HOTEL The temps had crept into the 90s on Monday, but at 7 p.m. it had dropped into the high 70s, so we sat out on the porch overlooking 4th Avenue North. With ceiling fans gently swirling the air, we were perfectly comfortable at a round two-top. The vibe was rather Hemingway-esque. Along with the Margherita Flatbread ($13), we ordered the Boursin Spinach Flatbread ($14). Our attentive server, Alexander, suggested we add blackened chicken ($6). We bit. Appearance I’d call these two flatbreads torpedo-shaped. Importantly, the crust did not look crackery; it had some bulk. The Boursin Spinach, in particular, was loaded with inviting stuff. Texture and Taste The crust was not doughy, but neither was it crispy. It wasn’t too thick, wasn’t too thin. In other words — just right. The specialty flatbread stood out. The savory Boursin, which is a French brand of soft cheese, blanketed the generous chunks of chicken and the spinach, the latter playing a bit role. The blackening could’ve used a touch of spicy heat, but that’s a niggling point. The red sauce on the Margherita had an agreeable sweetness. This flatbread could’ve used more mozzarella, but overall it lived up to expectations. THE LURE As we approached The Lure at 2 p.m. Thursday, a young couple was having a tender moment out front. I didn’t realize I’d photographed them until I looked at the pic later. They definitely add to the tableau. It was around 90 degrees, so a little too warm for outdoor dining. The Lure was big and fairly dark inside. The space is fun — a U-shaped bar on the far end, a couple of large fish murals painted on the brick walls, original art (presumably by locals) hanging. We sat at the booth closest to the window looking out on Central Avenue. We ordered the Wake Up Maggie (an apparent homage to Rod Stewart, $16), which paralleled the Margherita at The Tap Room. For our specialty, we chose The Fig and the Pig ($16.50). Appearance If you used your imagination, and squinted, you could see these flatbreads as fish-shaped. They were slightly smaller than those at The Tap Room, but not by much. Texture and Taste The crust was thinner than the competition’s, but it was not overly crispy — and that’s good, because too-crispy is a deal-breaker for me. The Fig and the Pig had an interesting confluence of flavors: sweetness from the figs (the best part), sharpness (a tad too much) from the “truffle four cheese blend,” and a touch of saltiness from the prosciutto (of which there was not enough). The Wake Up Maggie was more cheese-forward than the Margherita down the street, and it was topped with diced tomatoes, which added brightness to the bites. And the Winner of the Feudin’ Flatbreads Is … The Tap Room at the Hollander. A tough call. I preferred The Lure’s Maggie over The Tap Room’s Margherita, but the latter’s Boursin Spinach with blackened chicken won the week. All told, I liked ’em all. I would gladly sit down to any of these flatbreads again.
Tampa vs. St. Pete in a Lunch-Time Sushi Skirmish
A few years ago, an old college friend of mine was in town and had time for lunch. “How ’bout sushi?” I asked. “Nah,” Alvo grumbled in his Long Island accent. “Undercooked.” I’ve never forgotten that slyly hilarious quip. I, too, was like Alvo, avoiding sushi places and their undercooked fish until well into adulthood. I have long since come around but can’t say that I’m anything close to a sushionado. Nevertheless, sushi certainly deserves representation in Friday Food Fight. I chose a lunch special at Soho Sushi in Tampa, and came close to matching it up with a combo meal at Umami Endless Sushi & Bar in St. Pete. This spared me from having to use a stubby pencil to fill in X’s on a la carte menus. SOHO SUSHI Tuesday, 1 p.m., 80 degrees, pillowy clouds decorated the azure sky — ideal for an al fresco lunch. Alas, no outdoor seating. (That’s not a complaint.) Soho Sushi has a tastefully appointed interior, a cut well above your everyday sushi bar. We sat at a two-top near the back of the dining room. Our server, Sam, was pleasantly patient while two seniors peppered her with questions about the different types of sushi, then adjourned to our menus, then came up with more questions, then back to our menus, then finally ordered. Here is it is, verbatim: Combination Lunch ($19.99) — 1 pc each of salmon, crab, steamed shrimp + tuna nigiri, 2 slices tuna, salmon and escolar sashimi, with your choice of sushi roll (tuna/cucumber/avocado), plus your choice of miso soup or ginger salad. (The restaurant served me both.) Appearance Most sushi spreads are beautiful — so many shapes and colors — and this one was no exception. Also: it looked like a lot of food. I was glad Bonnie was there to help out. Texture and Taste Everything was terrific. Issuing an item-by-item appraisal would be drudgery to write, and probably more so to read. So I’ll go with highlights, starting with a big one: I have a strong aversion to salmon, so it was with trepidation that, in the name of professional responsibility, I decided to give this raw version a try. Wait, whaaat?! It was mild-tasting, odor-free and had just enough of oiliness to give it some heft. A revelation. I even liked the salmon better than the ruby-red tuna, which is is my go-to sashimi. Perhaps my palate is not fine-tuned enough, but I find raw sushi short on flavor. It’s a texture over taste thing. And that’s why the garnish is important. Ginger slices are a tad too strong for me, although I did try a few during my lunch. I used my soy sauce/wasabi mix, too, but my favorite accoutrement was mildly pickled cucumbers, sliced paper-thin, adding crunch and a touch of sweetness. My chopsticks skills have atrophied, and I struggled with some of the more slippery pieces. (Hey, that’s what the off hand is for.) Bonnie and I laid waste to her roll and my combo, as well as our salads and soups. We left Soho Sushi full, but not stuffed. UMAMI ENDLESS SUSHI & BAR Thursday, 2 p.m., 80 degrees and cloudless — but, again, no al fresco lunch, and that’s not a complaint. Umami, located in the Tyrone area of St. Pete, occupies a large space. The interior is mostly brown — booths, tables, chairs — with little natural light (although it wasn’t dark). We sat in a booth, but before we could order, an atrocity occurred that nearly caused me beat a hasty retreat. “Sweet Caroline” — arguably the song I hate more than any other — was playing on the sound system. I’m the worst kind of music snob, so you can see how hearing this was beyond the pale. Nevertheless, I gutted it out. Our server, Xin Rong, helped match us up with the spread in Tampa — the Sushi & Sashimi Combo ($25.95), chef’s choice of 5 pieces of nigiri, 10 pieces of sashimi and a spicy tuna roll, plus miso soup and ginger salad. Appearance Fancy. I’ll go so far as to say fancy schmancy. The nigiri and roll sat on a curved blanket of bamboo sticks, the sashimi in a bowl on a bed of ice. Embedded there was a tiny blinking light. I paused and looked both ways before starting to eat. Texture and Taste The chef chose tuna, white tuna, salmon, tilapia and yellowtail — so somewhat different than what we had at Soho Sushi. Like two days prior, I appreciated the salmon, although it had just a tinge of “salmony” aftertaste. I didn’t recall ever having raw tilapia, and was pleasantly surprised by it. The white tuna was the only piece that was chewy enough that I didn’t take a second bite. The tuna roll had a pinch of spicy heat that added some welcome bite. In all, it was an enjoyable lunch that we didn’t quite finish. And the Winner of the Tampa vs. St. Pete Lunch-Time Sushi Skirmish Is … Soho Sushi. The raw fish seemed fresher at the Tampa restaurant, plus I preferred the overall vibe there, especially the music — modern dance-pop. But what really made the difference were those little slivers of pickled cucumber. Umami didn’t have any garnish save for ginger. Perhaps that would be fine for a sushi enthusiast, but for me, the cucumber added a tinge of flavor and crunch that enhanced my appreciation of the, um, undercooked fish. Finally: In fairness, I may have fallen prey to raw-fish-overload bias. When we visited the Tampa spot on Tuesday, I hadn’t eaten sushi in a couple of years. Forty-nine hours later, I was at it again. Not to say that it was a chore, just that the novelty wasn’t there at Umami.
Two Restaurants Beef Over Egg Rolls American-Style
Egg rolls have come a long way, haven’t they? For decades, they were something thrown in the takeout bag along with the Moo Goo Gai Pan. Then at some point, someone realized they could put just about anything inside wheat-flour dough and deep-fry it, and it just might taste good. So we get Buffalo chicken egg rolls, Reuben egg rolls, chicken parm egg rolls, banana pudding egg rolls. I’ve always found the little tubes a decent enough addition to Chinese takeout, but never paid much attention to them. Lately, I’ve become curious about these new, presumably American-born, iterations. I knew that a new restaurant near my home in St. Pete, Sunshine City Tavern, has Smoked Brisket Egg Rolls. After poking around online, I discovered that The Joint in the Tyrone area has Philly Egg Rolls. A contest was hatched. And because it’s customary to pair American egg rolls with a salad (I made that up), we ordered one at each place. SUNSHINE CITY TAVERN We’d driven by the restaurant’s “Opening Soon” sign countless times, and because chef/partner Ted Dorsey conceived it as a neighborhood hang, we were amped to try the place out. In addition, the location — on 4th Street and 44th Avenue North, had churned through a number of concepts over the years — most recently The Oaks, which didn’t last long. It’d be nice to see something endure. We arrived at 5:30 Tuesday amid a strong wind and a slight nip in the air. Sunshine City’s interior memorializes St. Pete history, including posterized photos of vintage pics on the wall and plastic placemats with old postcards and maps. We sat at a booth looking out on 4th Street. Its table of distressed wood was a cool touch. The place was doing a robust business. We ordered the Smoked Brisket Egg Rolls ($14) and the Belle Salad ($15). Appearance Perhaps … underwhelmed is the right way to put it. They were the size of Asian egg rolls. Two of them were cut diagonally and placed on a dinner plate. The insides of shredded beef and cheese did look tantalizing. The salad burst with color, courtesy of red peppadews, yellow apricots, green romaine and other tempting stuff. Three ample pieces of fried chicken added heft. Texture and Taste The egg rolls’ smoke quotient in the brisket and cheddar cheese was spot-on. The casing had expert levels of crispy and doughy. The flavors and textures melded for consistent deliciosity. We gobbled them up quickly. A little too quickly, if you get my gist. The salad was terrific. A cornucopia of flavors — sweetness from apricots and candied pecans, the subtle bitterness of red onions, a hint of sharpness from smoked gouda. The chicken chewed easily, with a delectable crust. The salad was perfectly dressed with a Honeycomb Vinaigrette. A subtle horseradish flavor added an interesting twist. THE JOINT The Joint is set back off of Tyrone Boulevard near the junction at 38th Avenue. True to its name, it’s a no-frills place, the kind of bar/restaurant that softball teams go for post-game pitchers and cheap but credible eats. At 1 p.m. Wednesday it was dark and bustling inside The Joint. Out on the patio it was 75 degrees and sunny. We grabbed a shaded table under an umbrella. The barstools were too low for the table — a booster seat would’ve helped, especially for Bonnie — but we quickly adjusted. A breeze shook the bamboo branches next to us, drowning out the traffic noise on Tyrone Boulevard. We ordered the Philly Egg Rolls ($9.77), plus a House Salad ($6.97) with fried chicken ($6). Appearance The three egg rolls sat on a small plate and were crowded by a styrofoam bowl of queso sauce. The salad looked basic. We got ranch dressing for me, bleu cheese for Bonnie. The portion of chicken was just this side of enormous — five robust tenders. Texture and Taste These egg rolls qualified as par-for-the-course bar food — which is fine, because that’s what The Joint does. They were slightly larger than the competiton’s — and there were three of them — but the salty/juicy quality of a good cheesesteak didn’t quite come through. The thick queso masked their flavor. I took a couple dips and left it alone. Kudos to the fried chicken — tender, juicy, and enough so that we took a couple of pieces home. The salad was also par for the course: greens, julienned cheddar and tomatoes. And the Winner of the Beef Over Egg Rolls American-Style Is … Sunshine City Tavern. The was my first foray into nouveau egg rolls, so I appreciated the creativity, and the smoke, that went into Sunshine City’s version. Still, for $14, maybe put a third one on the plate. The Sunshine City salad was this week’s shining star. Note: You may have wondered, as I have, why the name “egg roll?” Doesn’t make much sense, right? Here’s what I found: A recipe in The Chinese Cook Book, published in the U.S. in 1917, featured “dan gun” (“egg roll” in Chinese), which had meat and vegetables rolled inside a layer of fried egg rather than the wheat-flour wrap we’ve come to know. Apparently, they forgot to change the name. And “wheat flour roll” doesn’t have the same pop. And, finally, nostalgia anyone? A photo of a Sunshine City placemat:
Friday Booze Fight: 4 Beachy Cocktails on Rooftop Bars
With summer-type heat descending on us this week — way too soon, I may add — it got me thinking that I should head beachward before it becomes climatically untenable. I’m not much for lounging on the sand, but I could warm to the idea of lounging on a rooftop bar. Unfortunately, a couple of the beach places with rooftop bars remain closed due to hurricane damage. The Berkeley Beach Club — where I’ve been plenty of times — and Level 11 at the Bellwether Beach Hotel come to mind. Here’s wishing you godspeed in your efforts to reopen. We chose Azura Rooftop at Hotel Zamora on St. Pete Beach and Vista at the Top at The Residence Inn Tierra Verde. The latter is not on the beach, but it’s close — and it has water views. We put together a party of four — locals having fun doing touristy things. Bonnie and I chose two drinks from the cocktail list at each place, and got a little something to eat as well. I’ll rank the drinks at the end of the column. AZURA ROOFTOP Our plan was to catch the sunset at this place, which is on the east side of Gulf Boulevard and offers your classic 360-degree views of St. Pete Beach. We arrived at 7 p.m. amid perfect weather — not too hot, with a mild breeze. The Azura Rooftop is vast. Remove the tables and chairs and you could play a game of 5-a-side soccer on the expanse of artificial turf, although there might be a slight problem with stray balls landing on the parking lots below. We decided to grab seats at the small(ish) covered bar. The glare coming from the sun made it temporarily hard to enjoy the view, but we knew that would abate. We ordered a whiskey-based Summer of ’75 and a vodka-based Blueberry Buck (both $17), and an order of fries ($12). The drinks came in standard plastic bar cups and were laden with ice. Both drinks were refreshing and beachy but could’ve done with a few less cubes. The fries arrived on a plain white plate with a small bowl of ketchup — nothin’ special — but they were chunky and tender and tasty, and disappeared quickly. VISTA AT THE TOP We arrived at 8:20, and although it was a half-hour past the official sunset time, I was treated to a last vestige of color in the sky. Also a lovely water view — of a pool. The Vista, a much smaller space than at the Hotel Zamora, has a nicely tiled surface, with stylish wood-topped tables and some couches. We sat at a four-top in the far corner by the railing. I was perfectly comfortable in my Coltrane T-shirt, no jacket required. Our server, Austin, was attentive and efficient. Bonnie and I ordered a vodka-based Rhythm & Views ($16) and a Blood Orange Smoked Margarita ($13) plus Island Pork Sliders ($15). The drinks were beautifully presented (see picture at top, courtesy of ace phone photographer David Downing) in different-shaped glasses. The tall-and-skinny Rhythm & Views was ruby red, courtesy of strawberry puree. The margarita came in a cocktail glass that was liberally rimmed with a colorful spice mixture. The pulled pork in the sliders was moderately sauced, unlike heavier barbecue. I put the accompanying slaw and pickle inside the bun and indulged in a tasty snack. On to Ranking the Beachy Cocktails on Rooftop Bars … 1 — Rhythm & Views (Grey Goose Strawberry, Cava Brut, fresh-squeezed lemon juice, simple syrup, strawberry puree). It had just the right blend of sweetness, tang and alcohol punch. My only complaint is that it disappeared too quickly. 2 — Summer of ’75 (Crown Royal, cantaloupe, Prosecco, lemon) In my, um, advancing years, I’ve become more disposed to brown than clear liquor, so this one had an advantage. It’s not easy to make whiskey drinks light and refreshing, but this one did a solid job of it. The whiskey flavor came through amid the cantaloupe and Prosecco, neither of which made much of an impression. The drink could be improved by using less ice. And a glass. I get that it’s a rooftop bar on the beach, but still — a $17 cocktail should be in a glass. 3 — Blood Orange Smoked Margarita (Sombra Mezcal, Cointreau, simple syrup, agave, blood orange) I’m not much for tequila/mezcal, and therefore margaritas, but I liked this one. It was the most creative drink of the group. The tajin spice (a spicy Mexican mix of lime, chili pepper and salt) was a little strong for my liking, but it had far more character than salt. I read that Sombra Mezcal has a “slightly smoky vibe,” but other than that I have no idea how the drink is “smoked.” I did, however, detect some smokey flavor. So there ya go. The blood orange had the effect of muting the mezcal, which made the drink all the more enjoyable. For the record: Bonnie, who chose this margarita, was impressed with it. 4 — Blueberry Buck (Tito’s Vodka, lime, ginger beer, blueberries, basil) It tasted strongly of basil, with the blueberry all but undetectable. It’s called Blueberry Buck. And finally — sunsets are hard to shoot with a phone camera. You look out at a lovely tableau with that orange-y orb; you snap a pic, and the resulting image makes the sun look like the head of a pin that’s been held over a cigarette lighter. Here’s the best I could do: Hotel Zamora, Azura Rooftop, St. Pete Beach, 7:48 p.m.
Special Edition: The Writer vs. Tofu
Have you ever heard anyone exclaim, “I love this tofu!”? Not me. I’ve had tofu quite a few times over the years — mostly out of curiosity — and have generally disliked it. The tabula rasa of foodstuffs, it’s flavorless, requiring spices, sauces, or surrounding ingredients to make it matter. For me, the bigger culprit is its squishy texture. What is tofu, even? Glad you asked. According to Wikipedia, tofu “is prepared by coagulating soy milk and then pressing the resulting curds into solid white blocks of varying softness.” Yum. And yet tofu has stood the test of time. It was first recorded during the Han Dynasty in China about 2,000 years ago. For this week’s column, I’d hoped to find two restaurants that serve tofu that stands on its own accord, not just as protein amid a stew or a soup or a stir-fry. I failed on that count. But I did find one such establishment. So I’m diverting from FFF’s standard format to see if one restaurant — Good Intentions, a vegan place in St. Pete’s Grand Central District — can win this writer over by serving some tasty tofu, in and of itself. As a bonus, I’ll choose a winner between two dishes at Good Intentions: Tofu Satay ($16) and Tofu Fries ($14). Without further ado, I give you … GOOD INTENTIONS Located on the southern fringe of the Grand Central District on First Avenue South, Good Intentions’ exterior gives it immediate boho cred. Behind the brick facade is a fully arched metal building, clearly a former industrial space. We arrived at 6:45 Tuesday, another typical late afternoon in spring — which is to say, nice. The restaurant’s large interior space is filled with modest tables and chairs, not unlike a cafeteria. There’s a bar on the far end. The curved ceiling generated considerable echo, but Bonnie and I could converse easily. Our effervescent server Lisa — a veritable fount of tofu info — assured us that between the satay and the fries we’d get two different takes on tofu. Appearance There’s really no way to pretty up coagulated soy bean curd, especially when served on its own — although these pieces were nicely browned. Some chopped scallions atop the satay provided a smidge of color, as did carrot and celery sticks with the wings — sorry, fries. Texture and Taste We started with the satay, which was grilled. The crispy brown crust combined with the, um, softer innards to make for enjoyable bites (surprisingly so), especially when dipped in the creamy cashew sauce, subtly flavored so it didn’t upstage the headliner. Whether by design or happy accident, the mild sauce allowed the tofu to come through. The fries (deep-fried) were chewier — in a good way — and, um, meatier in texture. A Thai chili sauce drizzled on top added zing and a measure of spicy heat. We got a side of ranch dressing (heavy on the dill). I dipped a few times, but preferred the fries without it. Bonnie and I — mostly I — finished off both dishes and left the restaurant sated. And the Winner of the Special Edition: Writer vs. Tofu Is … Tofu. And Good Intentions. And the Winner of the Tofu Satay vs. the Tofu Fries Is … Tofu Fries. Not by much. I liked both, but the fries’ heftier composition won out. And being deep-fried certainly helped. In all, these dishes did not make me a tofu convert. And without the delicious sauces, I’m not sure how satisfying they would’ve been. But I admired how Good Intentions took a bland protein of questionable texture and created two offerings that made this hater nod an go, “Mmmm, pretty good.”
Tearing Into Tiramisu: A Chain vs. a Local
Looking for an aphrodisiac that doubles as a delicious dessert? Consider tiramisu. While some histories trace this seductively decadent Italian treat to as recently as the late 1960s, the Accademia del Tiramisu dates it back to the early 1800s, where it was invented by an enterprising maitresse at a “house of pleasure” in Treviso. The “Siora” who ran the premises developed it “to offer to customers at the end of the evening in order to reinvigorate them and solve the problems they may have had with their conjugal duties on their return to their wives,” the Accademia’s website states. Disclaimer: Friday Food Fight neither endorses nor denies the aphrodisiac efficacy of tiramisu. But we can state unequivocally that it’s damn scrumptious. For the uninitiated, tiramisu (“pick me up” in Italian) is a layered confection that includes ladyfinger pastries dipped in coffee and/or liqueur, with mascarpone and other yummy stuff. Our two contestants are: Carrabba’s Italian Grille, with nine locations in the Tampa Bay area, and Bonu’ Taverna Italiana, with one location in downtown St. Pete. CARRABBA’S ITALIAN GRILLE We arrived at the Carrabba’s on 4th Street in St. Pete, adjacent to Sunken Gardens, just before 7 on Tuesday. As soon as we walked through the door, the host, Daijane, greeted us warmly, and earned bonus points by making a fuss over Bonnie’s sweater. We sat at a large, cozy booth in the main dining room. Most of the tables were occupied, but the ambient noise was minimal. The expertly calibrated lighting gave the space a warm glow. After splitting an entree of Mezzaluna ($21.29), we ordered our Tiramisu ($10.99). Appearance Beautiful. A rectangular version with layers showing. This tiramisu was sprinkled with dark chocolate shavings, a straw made of dark chocolate perched on top, and squiggles of dark chocolate decorated on the plate. I really like dark chocolate. Texture and Taste The squishy middle layer of lady finger had just the right balance of subtle alcohol (courtesy of liqueur and rum) and espresso flavors. The Mascarpone — an Italian cream cheese — was heavenly, with a pudding-like consistency that I really took to. The bites blended together into silky pleasures — sweet but not cloying, and lighter than expected. The chocolate shavings added welcome moments of delicate crunch. The tiramisu didn’t last long. “I like this,” I said, to which Bonnie replied, “What’s not to like?” BONU’ TAVERNA ITALIANA Bonu’ was banging on Thursday at 6:30. The dining room was maxed and the sidewalk tables were starting to fill up. We scored a high-top across from the bar, right by the door. It was our first visit to this highly regarded restaurant on Central Avenue that’s been open nearly three years. With its white walls and large windows, Bonu’ lets in plenty of natural light. We immediately dug the energy. As a preamble to Dolce Tiramisu ($9), we ordered a Vegano Pinsa ($20), a type of pizza (more on this later). When Colby — our impeccable server — asked if we wanted to add cheese (mozzarella, $4), I couldn’t suppress a chuckle. He smiled. And waited. “Sure,” I said, with a grin. “Put some cheese on the pizza.” Appearance This version came in a round cup, with the layers only slightly visible. A mint leaf sat handsomely atop a dusting of chocolate. The tiramisu’s appearance my have been a slight letdown after the pinsa’s color burst. Texture and Taste This tirmasu was less sweet than the competition’s, which provided an agreeable contrast. It was also less formed into layers, and spooning it out of the cup didn’t provide much contrast in flavor or texture. I could detect a hint of coffee, but no liqueur. The chocolate flavor was minimal. This desert went fast. Every now and then, we’ll come across a supporting act that upstages the headliner. That was certainly the case with Bonu’. This pinsa delivered the “wow.” I usually maintain that pizza crust is a waste of stomach space, but not here. The bread was the main attraction, even though the melange of vegetable toppings (and yes, the mozzarella) was terrific. The rustic crust was chewy but not crispy, thick(ish) but not doughy, and had a flavor unto itself. We ate all of the pinsa save for one small end piece, which went home with us. It was that good. And the Winner of the Local vs. a Chain Tiramisu Tilt Is … Carrabba’s. This decision comes with some caveats. First, we greatly enjoyed both versions of the tiramisu. My gut tells me that the Bonu’ version probably tasted more authentically Italian, but my American palette prefered Carrabba’s’ more cake-like, more succinctly layered, slightly sweeter take. And then there was all that dark chocolate. Second, the pinsa opening act stole both shows. One of the owners, Antonio, stopped by our table. We asked him about the crust. He launched into an entertaining soliloquy, marked by his Italian accent, extolling the virtues of the flour. Bonu’ imports the DiMarco brand from Italy at more than twice the cost of conventional pizza flour. It’s a mixture of whole wheat, soy and rice flour, which not only enhances the flavor but is easier on the tummy. Antonio said its safe to eat for people with gluten intolerance. Let me close by strongly recommending that you stop by Bonu’ and try a pinsa. The restaurant offers 13 different types, with creative assemblages of toppings. As for tiramisu’s aphrodisiac qualities — Friday Food Fight has no comment.
Happy St. Paddy’s Day: Two Irish Eateries Squabble Over Corned Beef and Cabbage
Unless you’ve been clubbed by a shillelagh and rendered comatose, you’re no doubt aware that St. Patrick’s Day is Monday. So to recognize the holiday, Friday Food Fight is featuring corned beef and cabbage. But that’s only because we’re in America. You’ll rarely find corned beef and cabbage on the Emerald Isle. The dish originated in the U.S. in the late 19th Century as Irish immigrants substituted corned beef for their traditional meat of choice, bacon, which was more expensive. So it is with respect and affection to the Irish-Irish that we showcase two Irish-American restaurants in a clash over a definitively American dish. Corned beef and cabbage seems to be a love-it-or-leave-it meal. I’ve always loved it, and I keep it so by only eating it once a year. Will I enjoy it twice in one week? Our contestants are: Mary Margaret’s Olde Irish Tavern in St. Pete and Finley’s Irish Pub & Eatery in Largo. MARY MARGARET’S OLDE IRISH PUB Just before 7 on Monday, we battled gale-force winds to make our way to this small pub that’s located catty corner to Williams Park in downtown St. Pete. The narrow space was dark. The handful of barstools were mostly occupied. Women’s cricket played on one TV, women’s padel tennis on the other. Rock music, some of it Irish (think The Pogues), played medium-loud. We sat at the wall opposite the bar, me on a frayed leather banquette, split in spots to reveal the padding, Bonnie on a barstool, with a two-top between us. One of the bartenders, a congenial fellow with an American accent, came over to take our order: Corned Beef & Cabbage ($18.95) — which was on the Specials menu for March — and an ale. A ginger ale ($2.95). Appearance The meal was well organized on the plate. Curiously, the generous cabbage wedge looked like it had char marks. Baby carrots sat next to potatoes that resembled home fries. The corned beef was shredded. When I’ve had corned beef and cabbage in the past, the meat came in chunks or slices. Texture and Taste As anticipated, the corned beef, while flavorful, had a stringy texture that made it drier than I prefer. I dipped a few pieces in a horseradish sauce — not bad, but not my sauce of choice. The cabbage added a little moisture, as did the carrots. The potatoes were more mushy than firm, which I appreciated. I did some fork work to build bites with all ingredients represented. All told, I enjoyed my meal, but this plate of corned beef and cabbage could’ve used some wetness. FINLEY’S IRISH PUB & EATERY FFF’s maiden sojourn to Largo. Finley’s is located in a shopping center on Belcher Road a couple miles west of U.S. 19. We arrived just before 7 on Wednesday under a brilliant azure sky. It was Trivia Night. And with the pub’s large interior packed to the gills with contestants, it was apparent that Trivia Night is a major deal at Finley’s. But we came to eat, so chose to sit on the covered patio. Bonnie and I occupied a round, wrought-iron table with pool-style chairs, which meant we got to sit next to each other, which was nice. Our server was hustling. We never got acquainted. I ordered the Corned Beef & Cabbage ($15.25) and got an ale, a ginger ale ($2.50). Appearance An attractive presentation, borderline eye-popping. Several thick slices of corned beef were flanked by two boiled potatoes, a massive wedge of cabbage and some plump slices of carrot. Texture and Taste Let’s begin with the headliner. The corned beef was too veined with fat, giving it a rubbery texture that neutered its flavor. I found a few tasty bites, and pushed the rest to the side. The cabbage was too crisp for my liking. I prefer it to be on the cusp of limp, so I can easily fork-cut it and mix it with the other components. I buttered up the potatoes, added some salt and ate them with the carrots. That combination made a meal in and of itself. And the Winner of the Corned Beef and Cabbage Squabble Is … Mary Margaret’s Olde Irish Pub. My primary takeaway from our corned beef and cabbage endeavor is that the meal is probably best prepared and eaten at home. This is where I introduce Dominic, my long-time friend, former neighbor and masterful home chef. For many St. Patrick Days, Bonnie and I joined Dominic and Susan at their home for a corned beef and cabbage feast. Dominic laid out a hearty stew where all the ingredients melded together to provide one sublime bite after another. His corned beef comes in chunks and falls apart easily. The meal is juicy and messy and tender. I eat it past the point of being full, and go to stuffed. So to sum up: When it comes to corned beef and cabbage, I’m completely spoiled by home-cookin’. I can’t imagine how a restaurant could compete. Happy St. Paddy’s Day — whether you have corned beef and cabbage or not.
Savannah v. Tampa Bay in a Showdown Over She-Crab Soup
Heard of she-crab soup? I hadn’t. With a short trip to Savannah planned, I looked around online for regional specialties that I could pair with a restaurant down here. There were a few examples, but because it was in the 40s and low 50s in Savannah late last week, soup made sense. She-crab soup is a bisque. You might be wondering: why “she?” Because the stuff is traditionally made with female, roe-carrying, crabs. I had neither the time, nor the tools, nor the inclination to check the gender of the crab in the soups I ate, so I took the menus’ word about their she-ness. Our two contestants are Vic’s on the River in Savannah and Rick’s Reef on St. Pete Beach. VIC’S ON THE RIVER Like the city itself, Vic’s exudes a stately, Southern charm — with chandeliers to back it up. Large windows let in plenty of natural light. It’s a large space, with considerable room between tables. We arrived at 1:30 last Friday, and with the lunch rush abating our foursome scored a four-top near a window overlooking the Savannah River. A nice set-up. A few tables of soignée seniors — locals, almost certainly — made us look shabby. Along with my She-Crab Soup ($13), I ordered a Cheerwine Short Rib Sandwich ($15). We got Fried Green Tomatoes ($11) for the table. Appearance A big bowl-a-soup, lush and lovely. Cream-colored, which made sense, with flecks of chive in the middle. My favorite part of the presentation was the cute little doily underneath the bowl. It made me wanna remark, “Whell — I do decla-ahh.” Texture and Taste The liquid was rich and velvety — but not too thick, which can make eating creamy soups like this a slog. The crab flavor came through, but this helping could’ve used more of the tender crustacean meat. I appreciated the sparkly crunches from the chives. I’ve no complaints about the helping size. In fact, even with Bonnie taking a few scoops, I didn’t quite finish the bowl. That’s partly because I was saving room for the sandwich. When our server put it in front of me, I did a double-take. This was a sandwich of Flinstonian proportions, the slab of brown meat a good three inches thick. The brioche bun was barely visible. Eating it sandwich-style was out of the question, so I took a bite with my fork. Unfortunately, the short rib was dry and stringy. I hailed the server and (politely) told her I wouldn’t be able eat it. She apologized profusely, and removed it from my tab. My only regret is that I forgot to snap a pic. I would’ve loved for you folks to see this beast. RICK’S REEF Our settings for she-crab soup could hardly have been more different. This beach shack has been home to a number of brands over the decades — Rick’s Reef opened in 2012. The place sits on Gulf Boulevard just east of Upham Park. At 6:30 on Tuesday, we snagged the last space in the small parking lot as the sun set behind the restaurant. We opted to sit inside, and I still needed the cardigan I wore over a T-shirt. Rick’s Reef was hummin’ for a Tuesday night, all but packed. We ordered a bowl of She-Crab Soup ($9) and a Rick’s Big Dipper ($16), shaved ribeye with onions, green peppers, and melted provolone on a sub roll. Sounded like a cheesesteak to me, but then I saw it included a bowl of au jus. Okay, then. We got tater tots as our side. Appearance Shucks, no doily. In its place was a paper napkin. A couple packs of saltines sat beside the bowl, which was notably smaller than the competition’s. The chives were scattered haphazardly. Texture and Taste I won’t bury the lead. This she-crab soup was blessed with a whole lotta tender crab — every bite a bounty. The seafood didn’t overpower the bisque, though, which had just a hint of tang. We ate it greedily — or I did. A few scoops in, Bonnie got the hint and backed off. The sandwich was exemplary. The meat tasted more steak-like than most cheesesteaks. It worked better sans au jus, which tilted the bites toward too salty. Bonnie ate a quarter and I demolished the rest. And the Winner of the Savannah vs. Tampa Bay She-Crab Soup Showdown Is … Rick’s Reef. Something of a surprise. She-Crab soup is concomitant to the South Carolina low country, which borders Savannah. But Rick’s soup was clearly superior. The deciding factor was simple: it was filled with crab. Vic’s, not so much. As far as the sandwiches, well, there was literally no contest. In all, a resounding hometown W! Winner Winner, She-Crab Dinner!
Dog Run: Which Specialty Weiner Will Roast the Other?
Mustard, onions, sauerkraut, cheese, chili — all stuff that livens up hot dogs. In the interest of inclusivity, I’ll add sweet relish and ketchup, both of which I consider borderline criminal. Some restaurants, however, go beyond the basics and get creative with how they dress their dogs. I went looking for specialty weiners online, and found a few. Two stood out: Alesia, a French-Vietnamese restaurant that has exactly one hot dog on its menu; and Pacific Counter, which is known for its healthy bowls and bubble teas, but somehow offers four custom tubesteaks. We set out on Tuesday, bent on hitting both on an stunningly beautiful afternoon — 70-or-so degrees, sunny, blue skies painted with pillowy clouds. ALESIA Located on the far western end of Central Avenue in St. Pete, Alesia has a lovely courtyard, which, on this lovely day, was nearly full at 1:45. The inside dining room was empty. We bantered with our server, Taylor, who I appreciated ’cause she could take a joke. We ordered the Parisian Hot Dog with a side of House-Made Potato Crisps ($18.50) to split, and a seasonal Green Citrus Ice Tea ($3.50). Appearance The Parisian Hot Dog made its not-so-secret weapon evident at first sight: The sausage nessled in a French baguette. Furthermore, it was slathered with melted cheese. The potato crisps looked like basic potato chips minus the salt. Texture and Taste The hot dog — standard size, boiled — played a supporting role. As expected, the bread took the sandwich to the next level. In all, it was a messy two-hander. I didn’t mind. The weiner was dressed haute couture: gruyère cheese, carmelized onions and mornay sauce, one of the five foundational French sauces, made with flour, milk, eggs and butter (I looked it up). The onion provided a sweetness, the blend of cheese and sauce was uber-savory, and the meat served up that familiar flavor. The chips were fine. They had a hint of salt, but needed several vigorous sprinkings from the shaker. PACIFIC COUNTER “Aloha,” the young woman greeted us as we walked through the door at 3:15. I issued a hearty “Aloha,” in return. The restaurant occupies a pink sliver of storefront in the 600 block of downtown St. Pete. The long, narrow space is well-lit with white walls and a counter on the left side. We had already targeted the Banh Mi Dog, but — having exchanged “Alohas” — we added a Hawaiian Dog to our order, figuring we’d focus on which one we liked the best. Both cost $5.99. Appearance The Banh Mi Dog (photo at top) was the prettiest of the specialty weiners we tried, with jalapeno and cucumber peaking out, and something that looked like coleslaw, all topped with leafy cilantro. The Hawaiian Dog wasn’t exactly ugly, but … hey, it’s in the eye of the beholder. Texture and Taste After alternating bites, it became clear that we prefered the Banh Mi Dog. The Hawaiian Dog, while tasty and somewhat spicy-hot, was a tad too pineapple-forward. Both were encased in buns that felt as if they’d just been pulled from the fridge. The bread definitely could’ve used some warming up. Like Alesia, the hot dog itself was basic/boiled. The Banh Mi toppings provided a refreshing burst of complementary flavors, headlined by the Daikon salad (which we mistook for coleslaw) — wet and tangy and crunchy. A subtle Avocado Lime Sauce added further punch. This was a worthy specialty weiner, but it could’ve used more of the sweetness that adds to the charm of a traditional Banh Mi sandwich. And the Winner of the Specialty Weiner Roast Is … Alesia. A close decision. In fact, I vascillated between the two while tallying up the scorecards. Utlimately the bread was the difference-maker.
Friday Food Fight Goes to Tampa Bay Food Fight
No one-on-one competition this week. In fact, no competition at all, to speak of. The Friday Food Fight team attended that other food fight on Wednesday night. Tampa Bay Food Fight was held on the floor of Amalie Arena, and featured small servings of a vast array of dishes from 40 restaurants, as well as craft cocktails, beer, wine, et al, plus cooking competitions, celebrity chefs, auctions and other festivities. About a thousand people milled around Amalie Arena, grabbing whatever small plates caught their fancy, scarfing them down, hunting for more. The Tampa Bay Food Fight is an annual fundraiser for Metro Ministries, a Tampa-based nonprofit that provides services for the homeless and those at risk of becoming homeless. I can’t tell you precisely how many things I tried, but suffice to say it was a multitudinous. Here’s a rundown of my favorites, in the order I ate them. Caution: Objects in photos may appear larger than they are. BARE NAKED KITCHEN This healthy mini-bowl included ahi tuna, edamame, cucumber, citrus fruit, ginger and more, providing an uber-fresh flavor burst. A terrific way to get started. BEACON The rooftop lounge/restaurant at the JW Marriott Water Street in Tampa produced a delightful salad, with assorted greens, cranberries, grapefruit, a slice of prosciutto, a small bulb of Burrata cheese and more, glazed with a sweet(ish) dressing. Sunshine in a paper bowl. JUNO & THE PEACOCK Raw tuna, shredded carrot, a passion fruit boba and other filigree rested in a sleek clear-plastic spoon. The chef behind the table told us to just open up and gulp. We did as instructed — and were glad of it. CRU CELLARS A simple tenderloin carpaccio spiked with a strip of pickled onion, served Bruschetta-style atop an elegant piece of bread. FORBICI MODERN ITALIAN This eatery in Hyde Park placed its yummy Bolognese atop a round piece of polenta. MISE EN PLACE The venerable French restaurant went with soup: Roasted Cauliflower Sunchoke Cipollini Onion Bisque. Lush and scrumptious, but not overly rich. Tiny bits of bacon were a bonus, because everything is better with bacon. As I was ambling down the aisle, Mis en Place owner Maryann Ferenc buttonholed me and said I needed to try her soup. Thanks for that, Maryann. OCEAN PRIME My foraging did not find much in the way of deserts, but I’m pleased that I came across this carrot cake. It was near the end of the event, and I’d been more than well fed. So credit goes to this confection for keeping my tastebuds piqued. The cake sat in a citrusy sauce, which took it to the next level. ____________ Tampa Bay Food Fight featured a Chef Team Battle pitting St. Pete against Tampa. St. Pete won. Confetti blasted over the VIP area. As a longtime resident of St. Pete, I’ll resist the opportunity to talk trash. But I will say that I’m proud for my city. Congratulations to both teams. And congrats to all the organizers and sponsors, and especially to Metro Ministries. A special thanks for Creative Loafing for helping out.
Chain vs. Local: A Skillet Skirmish
My memories of breakfast as an adolescent are shoveling in two bowls of Cocoa Krispies then blasting out the door to make the bus. The All-American ideal of the nuclear family sitting around a table, eating bacon and eggs, chatting — not at our house. That could be why I’ve never been much of a breakfast guy. Coffee and a banana or a piece of toast usually suffices — with the exception of Sundays, when Bonnie is gracious enough to make a late-morning, eggs-potatoes-etcetera meal. That said, I recognize the need to feature breakfast in FFF from time to time. So, skillets. Now and then I like to pit a chain vs. a local brand. This week’s contestants are Village Inn and Buttermilk Eatery, with locations in St. Pete and Pinellas Park. VILLAGE INN If I’m not much for breakfast at breakfast time, I’m definitely not much for breakfast at 7:30 p.m. But that’s how the schedule fell on Monday, so I was game. And I was hungry. Perhaps it’s the cynic in me, but I’m surprised when the service crew at a budget chain restaurant is cheery and eager to please. The front-of-house folks at the Village Inn on 4th Street in St. Pete truly impressed me. The host radiated sunshine, so nice she must’ve been new; our waiter, Kevin, was a fun dude. I ordered the Ultimate Skillet ($14.99), which comes with a triple-stack of pancakes. According to the menu, the meal clocks in in at 1,490 calories. Kevin convinced me to get blueberries (99 cents) in the pancackes, so I’m pretty sure I broke the 1,500 barrier. I usually like my eggs over easy but ordered them sunny side up because I figured it would make for a prettier picture. Two yellow orbs stared right at me, inviting me to pounce. The side of pancakes loomed. I’m not a calorie counter, but this meal was imposing. But also inviting. Texture and Taste This breakfast-at-dinnertime was fine by me. The single piece of bacon and two sausages links were basic. The concoction below — chunks of potato, diced ham, green peppers and onion — melded together for a tasty indulgence. The egg yoke seeped through it all, making a glorious muddle. Another plus: this skillet was only moderately cheesy. I plowed through the entire thing. I have a complicated relationship with pancakes. I slather them in maple syrup, and the first few bites give me a high. But if I don’t pay attention and go too far, I can end up with the collywobbles. I played it right this time, and put down my fork about halfway through. BUTTERMILK EATERY If I’m not much for breakfast at breakfast time, and I’m definitely not much for breakfast at 7:30 p.m., then I’m definitely certainly not much for breakfast at 2 p.m. But that’s how the schedule fell on Wednesday. I made sure I had my coffee-and-banana breakfast and no lunch. So I was game. And hungry. Buttermilk Eatery, which opened its St. Pete flagship two years ago, occupies a large corner space in a shopping center in the far northeast part of town. The interior was filled with natural light, the booths and tables spaced well apart. In all, a comfortably modern setting. The restaurant was scheduled to close in a half-hour. One other couple was dining. We could’ve ordered on a screen at our booth but chose to go old-school with a physical menu and a server. I had the option of toast or pancakes with my Teddy Boy Skillet ($14). I went with the latter to match up with Village Inn, even though I wasn’t too enthusastic about it. I go for pancakes about twice a year, not twice in a week. I got my eggs sunny side up. Appearance The yokes, resting languidly on top, stole the limelight. They were not joined by sausage links or bacon strips. The potatoes underneath were shredded hash browns, covered in grated cheese. I didn’t think to ask for blueberries in the pancakes. They came dusted in powdered sugar with a dollop of butter in the middle. Here was proof that all breakfast skillets are not alike. Texture and Taste Some folks like the crunchy exterior of hash browns. I’m not one of them. I prefer cubed or sliced taters. Plus, these hash browns were more brown than I prefer — and more chewy, especially when combined with half-melted cheddar. The sausage, cut into small slices, joined hard little nuggets of bacon and tiny cubes of ham that had spent too much time on the grill. This skillet didn’t have any veggies, and I missed the bright punch of peppers and onions. The egg yoke oozed into the mix, adding gooey moisture. The pancakes came up short on the fluffiness scale. But Bonnie liked them a lot, and set aside her salad for a 2 p.m. carbo load. And the Winner of the Chain vs. Local Skillet Skirmish Is … Village Inn. We expected a solid meal, an old-reliable experience, and got consideably more. The skillet was prepared and served with care. Was it a matter of the restaurant clearing a low bar in our minds? I don’t think so. This Village Inn just gets it. Buttermilk probably had an off day, or maybe ordering breakfast in mid-afternoon is not a good idea — for me, at least — especially 30 minutes before close. That said, Buttermilk’s Teddy Boy skillet could use some vegetables. One last bit of advice for the fellas: If you have chin hair, avoid ordering eggs sunny side up. A Final Note: Thanks to my good friend and former hoops partner Buck Lynge for suggesting skillets.
Dueling Dumplings in the Year of the Snake
How’s your Year of the Snake going so far? That might be hard to say, considering it only kicked off a couple days ago. All the same, mine has started out pretty well because I got to go out and eat dumplings and Asian noodle dishes. Backtracking a bit, January 29 was the Lunar New Year — aka the Chinese New Year — which marks the beginning of the Year of the Snake. If you’re taking the name as an ominous sign, don’t. The Year of the Snake is considered a time of passion, energy and transformation, although that’s a drastic oversimplification. (However, if you want to make other, more Western, inferences vis-à-vis the Year of the Snake, by all means do.) Okay, back to food. We opted for dumplings because recipes filled up Bonnie’s inbox in recognition of the Year of the Snake. We added noodle dishes at each place. Our two pan-Asian contestants are: Mangosteen, with locations in downtown St. Pete and North Tampa, and Hawkers in St. Pete. MANGOSTEEN Monday evening couldn’t have started better. At 6:30, we pulled into a parking spot directly in front of Mangosteen, which is located amid a strip of indie businesses on the busy 600 block of Central Avenue. It was 60-degree sweater weather. The storefront lights glowed in the twilight. Mangosteen is big and beautiful inside, lit in a royal-blue hue. We sat at a two-top in a row of tables along a wall-length banquette. Our server, Mira, a petite Filipina, couldn’t have been more delightful. She was bubbly and funny and so eager to serve that when she bowed slightly it didn’t seem practiced. We ordered Pork Dumplings, steamed ($6.95); Duck Dumplings, pan-seared ($8.95); and (in keeping with the New Year theme) Drunken Noodle ($16.95). Appearance Dumplings that weren’t deep-fried and dry-looking. What a concept! I had chopsticks at the ready. The ample chunks of chicken breast in the Drunken Noodle made me take pause. Would they be chalky and flavorless? Shouldn’t the pieces be smaller? Texture and Taste I started with the steamed pork dumpling. The thin pasta casing made way for luscious pork filling. I didn’t recall if I’d ever had pan-seared dumplings but figured I would prefer them over deep-fried. Um, yeah. The duck dumplings were larger than the pork versions, and more substantial. The casing was firmer, but not tough. The shredded duck within — mixed with minced veggies — was tender and savory. I needn’t have worried about the chicken in the Drunken Noodle. It was juicy and so supple I was able to easily fork-cut it into more bite-sized pieces. The onions and peppers — both green and red — popped with crunch, providing a a counterpoint to the viscous noodles. The dish was done up in an agreeably mild coconut milk curry. We settled up, said goodbye to Mira and walked the 20 feet to our car. Monday evening couldn’t have ended any better. HAWKERS As we drove due west on Central Avenue, with the sun falling between the buildings, we were treated to a miniature pink sunset out off Treasure Island. Two tall palm trees on either side of street completed the tableau. At 6:30 Wednesday, the restaurant had a 10-minute wait for an inside table. Good for you, Hawkers. It was a few degrees too nippy to sit outside, so we passed the time with a drink at the bar. Good on you, Hawkers, for having 3 Daughters Beach Blonde Ale ($8) on tap. Right at 10 minutes, the host texted me the table was ready. We ordered Soup Dumplings ($13), steamed; Yi-Yi’s Chicken Dumplings ($10), wok-seared; and Curry Duck Noodles ($16); plus Roti Canai ($9), mandatory when we eat at Hawkers. Appearance Hawkers impresses me with how it presents its small plates — simple with subtle accents. The soup dumplings came in the customary bamboo bowl; the wok-seared chicken dumplings sat on a plain red plate, the noodles lay in a well-used aluminum bowl. The beer arrived in a plain pint glass with no too much head, as in filled to the top. Texture and Taste The soup dumplings werent’s all that soupy, at least not compared to the ones I’ve had in New York’s Chinatown. I made the mistake of popping a whole one into my mouth and got singed. That’s on me. I should know better. The velvety pasta gave way to a pork meatball — tender, if a bit nondescript. The chicken dumplings had a visible sear on one side, which added some pleasant chewiness. Inside was a chicken meatball, also tender and a bit nondescript. The oiliness of the duck permeated the noodle dish, so I set aside the chopsticks and went with the fork. The dish’s ample pieces of bird were delish, and the curry was understated. The spaghetti-shaped noodles made twirling a preferrable option. Between Bonnie and I, we ate it all. No go-box necessary. Yay. And the Winner of the Dueling Dumplings in the Year of the Snake Is … Mangosteen. Both restaurants served more than worthy dumplings and noodle dishes. But the innards of Mangosteen’s dumplings — especially the duck — edged out Hawkers’s meatball approach. Hawkers gets the (slight) nod in the noodle competition. In case you’re wondering, Mangosteen is named after a fruit that’s native to Southeast Asia. Mangosteen does not serve mangosteen. Side Note: This week marks the third year I’ve helmed Friday Food Fight. I started out subbing for the column’s founder, David Warner, with shepherd’s pie on January 21, 2022, then took it over full time. I’m grateful to the Registry Tampa Bay team for letting me run with this thing. It’s been a fun and delicious time. Have a terrific Year of the Snake! May there be a multitude of sunsets like this …