A Veggie Burger Brouhaha
It’s not easy to find a veggie burger in a Tampa Bay restaurant. By veggie burger, I mean a burger made with plant-based ingredients, not including fake meats. I was looking for a burger substitute without methylcellulose or potassium lactate or cultured dextrose. Besides, I did a showdown between Impossible and Beyond burgers in March ’24. After some deep-dive research, including actual phone calls, we came up with two: J. Alexander’s in Tampa and Craft Kafe in St. Pete. They presented quite a contrast. J. ALEXANDER’S The restaurant, part of a chain with 42 locations, has been a fixture at Dale Mabry and Cypress since 1997. An apt description of J. Alexander’s is “upscale casual American.” We arrived at 6 on a Monday and were seated in a booth amid a large dining room that was relatively dark thanks to its brown color scheme. The place was doing solid business for a summer Monday. Our server, Jenny, was friendly and efficient. J. Alexander’s emphasizes steaks, so I was interested to see how it would take a patty made from beets, oats, carrots, brown rice and black beans and transform it into a Veggie Burger ($16). I got Chilled Orzo & Wild Rice as a side. In the low light of the restaurant, it looked for all the world like a hamburger platter with a strange side dish. The patty had a legit sear. When I took a bite, it looked medium-rare in the middle. Pretty impressive. The slice of Monterey Jack disqualified it as vegan, which didn’t really matter. Taste and Texture Other than the outer char, this veggie burger did not try to imitate beef-burger flavor, which makes it tricky to describe. I caught a vaguely meaty taste, which was pleasant enough. The burger lacked the pebbly texture of ground beef, which only makes sense. The ingredients integrated well, none of them dominating. Not surprisingly, the burger started to fall apart, which prompted me to go with a fork. The side dish tasted agreeably unusual, with the wild rice’s coarse texture playing well with the smooth orzo. CRAFT KAFE I stopped in at this location at 66th Street and Central Ave. (the other is downtown) at noon on a Saturday after a two-hour pickleball session. I thought I smelled okay. No one wrinkled their nose or moved away. The substantial lunch crowd ranged from the young-and-beautiful to the old-and-infirm. Craft Kafe’s light-and-airy interior factored in touches both rustic and quirky. When I eat lunch alone, it’s nearly always at home, but I was perfectly comfortable here. I ordered (at the counter) Ed’s Vegan Burger ($13) with a side order of fried potatoes ($2.25). Appearance This version could hardly be mistaken for a conventional burger. The large patty bulged out from a tidy whole-wheat bun and was showing cracks even as it reached the table. The potatoes? A hearty plate of old-fashioned home fries. Taste and Texture Ed’s version was made from organic quinoa, a mushroom medley, and a black bean blend. Joining it on the bun were leafy spinach and red onion. Extra points for full-on vegan. This veggie burger made less of an attempt to copy a beef burger than its competitor. And that’s kind of the point, the name “burger” notwithstanding. It effectively had no char. How to describe the flavor? Pretty tasty, with the slighest hint of spicy heat. How to describe the texture? Soft, not quite mushy. It fell apart easily. It could’ve used a bigger bun and more onion. The potatoes were, in a word, terrific. And the Winner of the Veggie Burger Brouhaha Is … Craft Kafe. A tough call. The contestants were so different, from how they approached their veggie burgers to the restaurant ambience. Did I like these veggie burgers? Um … yeah, but I can’t say that I’d order either one again. Ultimately, I preferred Craft Kafe’s straightforward side dish of comfort-food taters and just dug the vibe there a bit more. The counter person at Craft Kafe, Camilla, complimented my Prince T-shirt, which didn’t hurt their case.
How ‘Bout Them Apples?
Here at Friday Food Fight, we often use “apples-to-apples” as a metaphor for finding dishes that match up well. Then it occured to me: We’d never done actual apples. I went to Publix and grabbed every one they had in the produce department, nine in all, with the exception of those marked Organic — in the interest of keeping this an apples-to-apples enterprise. Apples are my everyday go-to fruit, so those of you who want to make informed choices, consider me your apple evangelist. For this exercise, I adjourned to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™, and in one sitting, ate a slice of each (with sips of water in between). I’ll rank the Top 5 in reverse order. But first, here are the ones that didn’t make the cut: Fuji (9); Red Delicious (8); Gala (7); Granny Smith (6) — this one’s just too tart for me, but it earns respect for crispiness and hearty skin. 5 — GOLDEN DELICIOUS I gave up on Golden Delicious decades ago because I hit a bad run of mushy, flavorless ones. But at their best, they were a welcome alternative to the McIntosh Reds we had in our house growing up. I remember tasting hints of pear, and I still did here. This one had a solid crisp quotient, and a chewy skin that blended well with the flesh. ($2.99/lb., the single apple cost $1.85.) 4 — AMBROSIA I’ve had quite a few Ambrosias, although not lately. I appreciated its high level of crisp — a bite gave out an audible crunch. The mild flavor blended medium-sweet with a hint of tart. A solid apple. (2.99/lb., $$2) ENVY Envy used to be my go-to, but I moved on because they’re inconsistent. They might be heavenly for a spell, but then you run into a streak of mushies. Must be a seasonal thing. This one had a mid-level sweetness and a nice crisp, if not quite a crunch. As Envys go, it was good but not fruit-of-the-gods level. ($2.99/lb., $1.41) HONEYCRISP I’ve eaten many of these, and this one was well up to standard, with the boldest flavor of the five. It split the difference between tart and sweet, and delivered excellent crunch. ($3.69/lb., $1.85) 1— COSMIC CRISP I didn’t reveal this earlier, but Cosmic Crisp has been my go-to for at least a year. It grades from an A to A+ to P (for Perfect). The sweetness is potent but not overpowering. This one emitted the familiar audible crunch all the way through each bite. The supple skin added to the flavor and comingled with the flesh. Whether big (like this one), small, or in between, Cosmic Crisps maintain their high standards. The apogee of apples. (I also think this specimen was the prettiest of the nine apples I tasted.) ($2.99/lb., $4.63 for two) So if you’re an apple aficionado and you’ve not tried a Cosmic Crisp, by all means do so. If you’re so-so or indifferent to the fruit, Cosmic Crisp might make you a convert. In the interest of brevity, I kept my blurbs focused on taste-and-texture and a smidge of personal experience. But in the case of the winner, a bit more info: Cosmic Crisp was developed at Washington State University, which began the breeding program in 1997. It’s a cross between Honeycrisp and Enterprise (which makes me want to try the latter). Cosmic Crisp reached stores in December 2019. WSU owns Cosmic Crisp, and its trees are licensed only to Washington growers.
Eating and Drinking at Dunedin’s West End Market
Our visit to The West End Market could hardly have started better. As we bellied up to the bar at this food hall in downtown Dunedin, I noticed a draft handle that said Bud Light, so of course I ordered one. Out came a gorgeous pour of my go-to brew — golden, frothy, with a half-inch head. It went down easy on a warm Tuesday evening in late July. Brett (aka Rainbow), our dining and drinking partner, showed up a few minutes later. The plan was to peruse the menus from the six food vendors that rim the venue’s indoor space (which is open on both ends); order a few dishes; spread them out on a table; dig in. And that, friends, is what we did. Before I get into the food, a few words about the space. It’s nice, dare I say classy — certainly as food halls go. Several giant ceiling fans ran high enough that the breeze would’ve mussed my hair if I had any. We commandeered a table near the end that faces the corner of Broadway and Skinner Boulevard. As opposed to fumbling with a centralized kiosk, we happily ordered directly from friendly counter people (one of whom complimented my hat). Here’s what we got: a Cheesesteak ($14.50) and Cheesesteak Egg Rolls ($11.99) from Spoons; Brisket Barbacoa Tacos ($15.60) from Divinos Tacos; a Margherita Pinsa ($13) from The Hayloft. And another Bud Light. Digging In—And Digging It It took some doing to time up the deliveries from different vendors and array the dishes on a table. The spread wasn’t terribly photogenic, as you can see above. It was a messy business to divvy up portions on small, flimsy paper plates. We had smartly ordered hand-helds. Cheesesteak — The thick slab of meat was thinly sliced, not chopped (⭐️), and not particularly juicy. The sandwich could’ve used larger portions of cheese and onions. I was most impressed with the bread — a simulacrum of the Amoroso rolls on which cheesesteaks in Philly are built. Bonnie had pushed for the Cheesesteak Egg Rolls. I had a couple of bites, and while they were fine, I prefer bread over deep-fried dough. Margherita Pinsa — You can look up the difference between pizza and pinsa on your own. Suffice to say that this pinsa did not do much to distinguish itself from pizza. But the generous helpings of cheese and tomato sauce blended well. And it was a lot of food for 13 bucks. Brisket Baracoa Tacos — Two large hardshell — not crumbly — casings were stuffed with shredded beef, sumptuously marinated. The tacos were topped with crunchy slaw, a nice touch. They held together well, and were thus easy to polish off. Hey, let’s rank ’em. Why not? (1) tacos (1a) cheesesteak sandwich (2) pinsa (3) cheesesteak egg rolls. All told, West End Market was a cool hang with some good eats, and some damn fine Bud Light on draft. Business was modest at 7 p.m. on a Tuesday in July, but I’m told the joint is gaining traction as a social hub. Here’s a look at the interior … Note: Due to a current three-week stay in the Pacific Northwest, we had to bank some columns from earlier field research. This was one of them.
A Face-Off Between 6 Fancy Cinnamon Buns
I’ve got to be careful with cinnamon buns. Let me eat one and I may go on a depraved cinna-binge, fall into a cinna-hole and start haunting airport Cinnabons at closing time. That’s why I generally avoid them. So why, you may ask, have I chosen to feature (and rank) six — 6 — cinnamon buns in one FFF? Good question. Part of it was due to circumstances beyond my control. A cinnamon bun spiral, if you will. Read on and all will be revealed. We lit out on a late Saturday morning and stopped at three places in St. Pete, picked up the goodies, brought them back to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™, and sampled all six in one sitting. As much as I love cinnamon buns, I don’t recommend it. First, a few words about our contestants • Crispy Avenue Caffe, which opened in St. Pete’s Grand Central District in February, is owned and run by a gregarious, 6-foot-6 Serbian named Dragan. He’s the main culprit in this cinnamon bun frenzy. That’s because he makes them fancy-style and he loaded me up with three different versions before I could order. I walked away with a Toasted Pecan Caramel, a Pistachio Dark Chocolate, and a Raspberry Cheesecake ($8 each). • At just before noon on a scorcher of a day, The Sourdough Co. in St. Pete’s Edge District was way busier than seemed possible, with customers — many of them young and beautiful — inside and on the sidewalk. Our counter guy reminded me of a young Crispin Glover, but sane, and nice. I got a basic Cinnamon Roll with cream cheese on top ($6). • Cinnaholic, situated in a shopping center on 4th Street in St. Pete (there’s also one in Tampa), was the most curious one of the three. It serves more than 20 varieties — all of them vegan. However, we could find no evidence of that rather pertinent bit of info inside the store, in the pamphlet, or on the signage outside*. One window actually announced Biscuits & Sausage Gravy and another a Meatloaf Plate. My best guess is that the inscriptions were left over from a previous occupant, and my best suggestion is to scrape them off. We ordered a Strawberries and Cream Roll ($8) and a Cinnamon Toasty Crunch Roll ($7.50) The Buns — aka Rolls We microwaved each for about 20 seconds. I ate them with a knife and fork, and chased them with skim milk. Just so you don’t think I descended into full-tilt cinnamon-bun madness, I took only a couple bites of each … okay, maybe three. Cinnamon Roll with Cream Cheese (The Sourdough Co.) A good way to start — with the basics. The bun had a solid cinna-quotient, excellent frosting (melted). The doughy part could’ve been more moist. (Pictured back row/left in the lead photo.) Raspberry Cheesecake (Crispy Avenue) Sublimely fluffy. The luscious raspberry jam elbowed its way to the front, overshadowing the cinnamon. The cheesecake frosting staked out the middle of the flavor profile. Strawberries and Cream Roll (Cinnaholic) A nicely chewy cake, lovely cream, strawberries ripened just right, with a bonus: the crunch and earthy flavor of walnuts. And in the center, a mother lode of decadent cinnamon. Pistachio Dark Chocolate (Crispy Avenue) Like the raspberry cheesecake, this one featured a seductively soft cake. The dark chocolate (chips and drizzle) overpowered the cinnamon and pistachio (the dusting of which was barely detectable). Cinnamon Toasty Crunch Roll (Cinnaholic) The crumbles on top combined with the veins of cinnamon and the icing to make a cinnamon bun that was straight-up sugarbomb sweet. (Pictured back row/middle in the lead photo.) Toasted Pecan Caramel (Crispy Avenue) By this point I was bun’d out — so not fair to this one. More fluffiness, with potent caramel. (Pictured back row/right in the lead photo.) Now to the rankings … Before I begin: The only bad cinnamon rolls I’ve ever had were ones that’d been left out too long and dried up. None of these were like that. 1 — Strawberries and Cream Roll, Cinnaholic (That’s right, a vegan one. I couldn’t really tell.) 2 — Raspberry Cheesecake, Crispy Avenue (My first-ever fancy cinnamon bun.) 3 — Cinnamon Roll with Cream Cheese, The Sourdough Co. (Simple, well-balance, familiar.) 4 — Pistachio Dark Chocolate, Crispy Avenue (I dig dark chocolate, but too dominant.) 5 — Cinnamon Toast Crunch Roll, Cinnaholic (I dig sweet, but this was overly.) 6 — Toasted Pecan Caramel, Crispy Avenue (I don’t dig caramel; I wouldn’t have ordered it.) * While Cinnaholic’s vegan concept was absent from the store, its website shouts it on the top of the homepage: Indulge Without Compromise! At Cinnaholic, every cinnamon roll is 100% plant-based, scratch-made, and fully customizable. Choose from over 20 premium frostings and toppings … Curious.
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!