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 …
The Best Stuff I Ate (at Restaurants) in 2024
It’s not too late, is it? Due mostly to a hectic Holiday and post-Holiday season, including a couple of road trips, I pushed back my year in review. Actually, truth is, I forgot about it until this week. So yes, this column is a little tardy, but how could I deprive my readers the highlights of my gastronomical adventures from 2024? BEST OVERALL MEAL Cinellos Tacqueria I was leaning toward a fancy, white-tablecloth dinner for this most prestigious of categories but my sense memory kept coming back to the tacos at this little place in Kenneth City. Victor, the owner, is proudly Mexican, and insists on serving tacos autenticos, right down to offering only soft corn tortillas, made in-house. My 3 Taco Platter had carnitas, pollo asada and chicken tinga, each of them full-flavored, at turns crispy, chewy and moist in all the right places. And the green tomatillo sauce straight-up rocked. BEST SPLURGE MEAL Branzino at Allelo My favorite fish elegantly and deliciously prepared. The Half Branzino ($47) ate bigger than it looked. The skin was lightly salted and the flesh inside was heavenly. Our side dish of pesto linguini, with pea pods and small pieces of asparagus, provided an ideal accompaniment. BEST VEGGIE MEAL Kadai Paneer at Cafe Masala The paneer — a soft cheese cubed like tofu, but with a firmer texture — is made in-house. The seraphic blend of spices seduced ours nose as well as our tastebuds. The sauce had a hint of heat. Onion and tomato completed the dish, which I poured over a generous portion of basmati rice. For my money, Indian cuisine has the best plant-based dishes. BEST HOUSE SALAD Teak I find most house salads to be routine, uninspired. Not this one. Greens, strawberries and croutons blended for a complexity of flavor and texture. Little slices of mandarin orange provided explosions of sweetness in my mouth, and a refreshing sesame pineapple ginger dressing topped it off. We ate this perfect summer salad on June 7, which, despite what the calendar says, is very much summer in Tampa Bay. BEST BREAKFAST AT DINNERTIME Chicken and Waffles at Social Roost I always thought chicken and waffles was an odd combination so was never motivated to try it — until I did. And I dug it. Two enormous boneless fried chicken breasts — impeccably tender, lightly breaded — sat atop thick, earthy waffles. I didn’t expect the maple syrup to work well with the bird, but I was wrong there, too. Bacon butter added to the delightful decadence. BEST BIG BOWL OF SOUP Special Phở This bowl of Phở looked big enough to bathe a baby in. As meat choices, I got the sliced filet mignon, beef brisket and meatballs (and could’ve done without the latter). I chose the wider house noodles over standard vermicelli and was glad I did. They made the meal more substantive. The broth was stellar. BEST HAPPY HOUR APPETIZER Bruschetta at Taverna Costale We ordered the Seasonal Bruschetta off the Happy Hour menu. The ingredients were fresh and full of energy: creamy ricotta, roasted red peppers (instead of tomatoes) on toasted sourdough with greens sprinkled around. But it was the thin slices of prosciutto that put this app over the top. BEST BBQ One Family Korean Restaurant No ribs, coleslaw or collard greens with this barbecue dinner. Instead, we had Beef Bulgogi, a staple of Korean barbecue. Marinated slices of tender meat commingled with onions and a sweet(ish) sauce. The Bulgogi came with a menagerie of small side bowls, including cabbage, cucumber, and daikon (radish) kimchi, bean sprouts, and white radish cut julienne-style. It all added up to delcious K-Food. BEST ADD-ON THAT MADE US GO ‘WOW’ Steak Flatbread at Bacchus Wine Bistro Our FFF mission was French onion soup, but it was this remarkable flatbread that prompted Bonnie to say, “It’s been a while since we ate something that made us go ‘wow.’” Cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, arugula and a house-made chimichuri were slathered atop bread that was firm, not crusty. But it was the perfectly cooked, medium-rare pieces of filet that took this delectable rectangle to unexpected heights. BEST SWEET TREAT Ice Cream Sundae at Small Batch Creamery For our Hot Fudge Sundae, we chose two (house-made) ice cream flavors: first vanilla; and then, feeling frisky, Butter Cookie Crunch (with bits of Biscoff cookies). Everything clicked — ice cream, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, a sprinkle of sprinkles — but it was the waffle-cone shell that made this sweet treat the crème de la crème. That’s 10. Why not 10 more? Charred Brussels at District South — Adding small slices of chorizo raised this appetizer to higher heights. Steak Frites at Cassis — A carnivore’s dream, with splendid French fries. Cuban Sandwich at The Floridian — Probably not one of the “Finest Cuban Sandwiches on the Planet,” like the restaurant’s sign says, but first-rate all the same. Chocolate Milkshake at Zeko’s Mediterranean Grill — An American classic at an ethnic eatery. Who knew? A most memorable shake. Mango Lassi at India’s Grill — A sweet and lovely yogurt-based “shake.” Chicken Shawarama at Petra Restaurant — That’s a wrap! Impossible Burger at Burger Monger — Tasted like beef, for real. Philly Cheesesteak at Colonial Corner Hoagie Shop — The place has been open almost 48 years, and for good reason. Franco Avocado Burger at Go Stuff Urself — The food truck’s creation was indescribably delicious. Singapore Noodles at Hawkers — One of the pan-Asian restaurant’s 2,314 menu items that you don’t want to miss.
A Titanic Taco Tussle (Soft Shell Edition)
As a white suburbanite who came of age in the 1960s, I only ate hard shell tacos. Seasoned ground beef, grated cheddar from a bag, tomato and lettuce stuffed into a crunchy Old El Paso casing and topped with sour cream. We were glad that was part of Mom’s culinary repertoire. After arriving in Florida in my 20s, at some point I came upon the soft shell taco. First wheat, then corn. Imagine my good fortune. Then — what? You can put stuff other than ground beef inside? I’ve been a soft-shell man ever since. I still have the occasional crackly version, but overall I don’t miss shards of deep-fried tortilla and taco innards crumbling in my hands. This week’s taco competition — soft tortilla division — features Chinelos Tacqueria in Kenneth City and Guac ‘n’ Cheese, the downtown St. Pete location. CHINELOS TACQUERIA This small restaurant in a strip center at the junction of 54th Avenue and 62nd Street North has been open about three years. At 6:30 Tuesday, the parking lot was empty but there were a few customers inside. They all spoke Spanish. How’s that not a good sign? Victor, the owner, is a gregarious man, a proud Mexican with an accent to match. He took orders at the counter and hollered them to his kitchen staff in the back. His food, he proclaimed — loudly — is authentic Mexican. Therefore he uses only soft corn tortillas made in-house. Every ingredient is fresh, he stressed, nothing frozen, nothing from a bag. I ordered the 3 Taco Combo ($13.95): carnitas (pork), pollo asado (grilled chicken) and tinga (shredded chicken), with beans and rice, plus a Sidral Mundel Apple Soda ($2.99), a Mexican brand. Bonnie and I did not go splitsies. She got her own 2 Taco combo. Appearance I’ve never been to Mexico, but I was definitely buying that this was an authentic Mexican meal. Texture and Taste All of the tacos were splendid. Here’s how I rank them, although they’re not separated by much. The carnitas managed to be moist and have some crispy bits mixed in. The pork was lean and just the right level of chewy. Similarly, the pollo asada had small chunks of chicken that were grilled a light brown on the outside but stayed moist and succulent within. No complaints about the tinga. I simply liked it slightly less than the other two. (If I’m nitpicking, the shredded chicken may have been a tad chewier than I prefer.) The tortillas had a subtle corn taste that blended well with the other ingredients. They were thin and did tend to fall apart, though. But — I … did … not … care. Chinelos eschewed the shmear of sour cream you get in most Mexican restaurants. The green tomatillo sauce was divine, providing a tinge of spicy heat for some bonus zip. It this stuff were available in bottles, I’m in for a case. GUAC N’ CHEESE MEXICAN GRILL As we approached at 6 p.m. Wednesday, our jackets zipped and me sporting a fedora, the place’s exterior looked invitingly festive. Guac n’ Cheese, which opened in late October, is tucked into a coworking space on 8th Street between Central and 1st Avenue North. The flagship restaurant opened in South Tampa in 2019. Two guys leaned over the long bar that occupied the left side of the narrow(ish) space. Guac’s ambience is considerably more refined than Chinelos’s Business was slow and the space was quiet. Four of us sat at a table next to the front window. Our server was efficient and unintrusive, almost stealthy. Instead of hollering to the kitchen, he punched our orders into a tablet. No splitsies tonight, either. I got the Tacos ($14.99), a platter of three in the same combination as that of Chinelos, with beans and rice, and a Negro Model draft ($7). (The eatery also offered soft wheat tortillas and hard shells.) Appearance As expected, Guac’s pesentation was more polished than the one at Chinelos, with each taco nestled in its own slot and sprinkled with shredded cheese. There was sour cream on the plate, but, at my request, our server also brought me tiny containers of red and green sauce. Texture and Taste By any measure, this was a first-rate plate of tacos — without the rustic authenticity of the competition’s, but tasty through and through. I won’t rank them — I’ve kept you long enough — although I slightly favored the pollo asada. I knifed on some sour cream, then caught myself and remembered the sauces. They were first-rate, the green nosing out the red. The white corn tortillas, with an understated flavor, were firmer than those at Chinelos, making the tacos more tidy to eat. The viscous refried beans poured luxuriantly over the yellow rice, making for a sultry blend. It was an ample meal, but I easily cleaned the plate. And the Winner of the Titanic Taco Tussle (Soft Shell Edition) Is … Chinelos Tacqueria. As the talking heads on sports debate shows like to say, no disrespect to Guac n’ Cheese but Chinelos’s tacos were that good. They rank with the best I’ve ever had. And the place’s ramshackle energy made for a fun, quirky experience. But Guac n’ Cheese was no distant second. It’s close to home and I’ll gladly go back. And if you’re doing a first-time dinner with a couple, and the spouses have never met, and you want a comfortable place that allows for lively conversation, Guac is probably the better bet. One caveat: I can’t say what the place is like when it’s busy. Bonus bit: The reason I grew up on hard shell tacos is because they’re an American invention. The cripsy, U-shaped casings were developed by Mexican-American restaurateurs in the 1940s. They became the standard throughout most of America with the spread of Taco Bell, which was founded in California in 1962.
Holy Schnitzel! St. Pete vs. Clearwater
We got hit with the coldest temperatures in a couple years for most of the week. I loved it. Got me thinking of German food. And that led me to schnitzel. For the uninitiated, schnitzel is an escalope, a piece of meat that’s pounded thin, breaded and fried. It can be served as is, or with a variety of sauces. I chose to feature one contestant that’s a purely German restaurant — German Knodle in downtown St. Pete — and another one that’s not: Clear Sky on Cleveland, which calls itself a Global Bistro. Why? Because I rarely get to Clearwater for FFF, because the contrast seemed interesting. And because I can. GERMAN KNODLE At 6:30 on Tuesday, it hovered around 50 degrees when we lucked into a parking spot directly in front of this small eatery a half block north of MLK Street on Central Avenue. I didn’t even need to wear my beloved Scottish-bought newsboy cap, but I did anyway. German Knodle’s brightly lit interior reminded me of a creatively designed kindergarten classroom — with bottles of wine in the cubbies. I asked our server how to pronounce “knodle.” She said, in a German accent, “c’noodle.” Later, when I ran “knodle” through a German-to-English translator, it came up … “knodle.” (Okay, then.) I ordered Porkloin Jeger (with mushroom sauce) Schnitzel ($18), with fries instead of potato salad. Bonnie added plate Spätzle ($12.99), egg noodles with cheese and the same mushroom sauce. We each got a pint of Kulmbacher Pilsner draft. Appearance Man, it was a lot of mushrooms for someone who’s not wild about mushrooms. I expected someting more gravy-like with ‘shroom bits. But that’s on me. The two huge cutlets were a lovely golden brown. The fries, which I’ve had before on their own, looked fetching as ever. Texture and Taste The knife cut easily — but not too easily — through the cutlet. The breading was at once crisp and tender, and blended well with the meat inside. I ate slowly, slicing small-ish pieces, occasionally dipping them in the cheesy sauce in the spätzle bowl. I tried a few forkfuls with mushrooms, but didn’t have much use for them. Had I a do-over, I would’ve gotten the schnitzel Vienna-style — plain, with a slice of lemon on the side. The fries were as splendid as I remembered. In a 2022 Food Fight, I wrote, “the rugged outer shell [gave way to] sumptuously moist potato.” I’m sticking with that. The spätzle was like an elevated, zestier mac-and-cheese; the pasta, about double the thickness of spaghetti, was more al dente, the cheese sauce less creamy. I pushed the mushrooms aside. Bonnie liberated some pieces of schnitzel from my plate, but even then we left half a cutlet remaining. I’d say that, in all, this was a German-sized meal. CLEAR SKY ON CLEVELAND Wednesday night’s temps passed for bitter cold in Florida. I loved it. We entered Clear Sky just before 7 and the place was full. My hunch was that quite a few of the patrons were headed to the Los Lobos concert at the Capitol Theater, which is right across the street. We were. A Lightning game showed on several big-screen TVs. The conversational volume was turned up high, but well short of 11. Our foursome sat at a table along a wall, the wives on the banquette, the husbands in chairs. Bonnie and I decided to split the Pork Tenderloin Schnitzel ($19), with a lemon butter sauce, sided by mashed potatoes, vegetables, and a charred lemon. Appearance A handsome dish. The cutlets were smaller than the competition’s, but I saw that as a good thing. The charred lemon added an artful touch. This schnitzel ate easily. Scrumptiously, too. The breading was firm, the meat sublimely tender. The slightly tart sauce added a welcome dimension, making it unncessary to squeeze the lemon on top. That would’ve been overkill and, besides, why disturb such a pretty piece of citrus. The mashed potatoes were the way I like ’em — with skin interspersed, finding the middle ground between smooth and rugged. The vegetable medley was exemplary, with thin-sliced squash, onions and other healthy materials adding an element of crunch to the meal. And the Winner of the Holy Schnitzel! St. Pete vs. Clearwater Clash Is … Clear Sky on Cleveland. The schnitzels themselves were comparable, but what enabled Clear Sky to forge ahead was the sauce and the sides. Clear Sky’s menu is legitimately global — other items include Pork Belly Ramen, African Curry and Cajun Pasta, not to mention flatbreads, steaks, fish, burgers, tacos, sandwiches, even sushi and oysters, raw or chargrilled. With such a vast menu and wide range of cuisines, it’s impressive that Clear Sky nailed its lone German entry.
Tampa Bay vs. Athens, GA: A Charcuterie vs. Antipasti Altercation
Prior to this week, my experience with charcuterie and antipasti had largely been relegated to people’s homes. I’d never ordered a board of assorted meats, cheeses and acoutrements at a restaurant, although I must’ve poached a morsel or two from platters at the table. The difference between charcuterie and antipasti? Not much. Charcuterie is French, antipasti Italian. Both rely heavily on cured meats. My online research showed that charcuterie focuses more on the meats, while antipasti tends to have more variety, with equal emphasis on meat and cheese, plus olives, pickled vegetables and other savory items. Purists, feel free to nitpick away. Near as I can tell, however, charcuterie and antipasti are pretty much interchangeable in American restaurants. It’s up to the chefs what they include. Due to Holiday travel, I decided on another edition of Tampa Bay vs. The World: The Left Bank Bistro is a French restaurant in St. Pete; The Expat, located in Athens, Ga., is a bistro with an Italian focus. THE LEFT BANK BISTRO Established in 2019, The Left Bank is situated in a converted old house on MLK Street a mile north of downtown. On a Saturday in mid-December at 6:30, our party of five was seated at table in the corner with banquettes. A cozy spot. On the other side of a wall, our friend David Downing performed with his jazz(ish) trio. We could hear the group play Holiday songs, but the music didn’t impede our lively conversation. I ordered the Fromage & Charcuterie Block ($38) for the table. We each got our own entrees. Appearance Truthfully, I was a little underwhelmed. Where was the board, for starters? Instead, the meats, cheeses, bread and grapes came arrayed on a plate that I found rather small. A mini-bowl of honey sat nearby. I’m not much interested in honey. Too sticky. Being a charcuterie novice, I asked our server to name each item. He gladly obliged, while I scribbled notes in the dimness. Texture and Taste The charcuterie plate provided a solid starter for a group of five. We ate and discussed the merits of each offering, but I didn’t take notes so don’t remember which ones got the best grades. Besides, mine is the only opinion that counts. Of the meats, the sopresetta and chorizo were appropriately bold-flavored and chewy. But the most inventive pieces on the plate — house-made duck prosciutto — were too fatty for my liking. Of the cheeses, the brie was a standout, and the dill havarti and semi-soft truffle cheese weren’t far behind. The buttermilk bleu proved too sharp. Of the breads, the toast points were extra-crunchy, and the thin, crackly pieces of lavash weren’t terribly spreadable. THE EXPAT The Expat is a hot ticket in Athens, especially during the Holidays, so I made a reservation several days in advance for 5 p.m. on the Saturday before Christmas. Bonnie and I showed up right on time. The restaurant occupies a converted house in the hip Five Points section of town, less than a mile from the University of Georgia campus. The placed was festooned, inside and out, with Christmas decorations — so much that interior had a muted red glow. The cheerful staff showed us to a two-top in a dining room outfitted with a lavish Christmas tree, stockings and assorted lights. One wall appeared to be covered in red-and-white wrapping paper. We ordered the Antipasti Board ($35) to start, and Tagliatelle ($25) to split. I got a locally brewed Classic City Lager ($6). Appearance Ah, there’s my board — made of wood. My eyes were drawn to the queue of goodies running diagonally down the middle — assorted olives, pickles, pickled okrah, skinless almonds and a helping of whole-grain mustard. In all, a fetching presentation with a festive air. Texture and Taste This antipasti board had some delicious stuff on it. We enjoyed mixing and matching items to place on the slices of crispy ciabatta. The presentation included small jars of honey and strawberry jam, the latter being a real enhancer. My combo of pimento cheese and Calabrese salami topped with jam was terrific. Bonnie’s blend of Drunken Goat cheese, prosciutto and honey was another winner. And on it went. In between creations, I nibbled on the nuts, pickles and olives. Bonnie, not so much. This antipasti mixed splendid flavors with the kind of fun you hope to get from a dish like this. Knowing that we had an entree coming, we left some to take home to family. And the Winner of the Tampa Bay vs. Athens, GA Charcuterie vs. Antipasti Altercation Is … The Expat. Its version was more substantial, with more choices, more stuff that wasn’t meat or cheese, more spreads. And more wood. In other matters: A belated Happy New Year to all! And for all of you embarking on dry January, I wish you the best of luck. May you make it to the end.
Gotta Lotta Latkes (Hanukkah Edition)
The first night of Hanukkah fell on Christmas this year, but the sacred Jewish holiday has six more days left, so what better opportunity to feature its most recognized traditional food than this week’s FFF? Latke, pronounced “lot-key,” is a potato pancake fried in oil and seasoned with salt, and maybe some pepper and a bit of garlic. Sometimes onion joins the potato. Think of latke as the anti-fruitcake. This simple dish symbolizes the miracle of Hannukah, where a small amount of oil lasted for eight days in the Temple. Why potatoes? They were cheap and readily available in Eastern Europe, where the Ashkenazi Jewish custom of eating latkes during Hanukkah originated. Not many places serve latkes, but I managed to find two in St. Pete: Jo-El’s Kosher Deli and The Nosh Pit, which bills itself as a “Jew-ish” deli. JO-EL’S KOSHER DELI Located a block north of 22nd Avenue, Jo-El’s has a warehouse-like exterior that belies the wonders within. I haven’t had this much fun in a deli in, oh … ever. The place pulsed with joie de vivre. We weren’t in line 30 seconds when a woman approached us and handed me and Bonnie small plastic containers of beef and mushroom soup, which was scrumptious. “What’s your name?” I asked. “Lana Turner,” she replied with a playful smirk. We had just met Chef Lana. That encounter set the tone for the rest of our visit, a veritable funhouse of witty repartee, singing, clapping, lessons in kosher from Sharon, and a steady stream of samples. We ordered two latkes ($2 each) — one with onions, one without — with applesauce, a standard side item, and a bowl of that soup ($6), plus a pound of remarkable potato salad ($7.99) to go. Appearance A more basic presentation I cannot recall. Two latkes — well-browned, roughly shaped — on a paper plate with a plastic fork, a small container of applesauce on the side. Texture and Taste These latkes tasted like … potato pancakes — not that I have much experience with them. They had a hefty crust that took some work to chew through. It gave way to shredded potato that was agreeably firm. These latkes were flavorful in an inherently plain way. I slightly preferred the one made with onion, although the onion flavor was subtle. The applesauce provided a desirable sweetness. The most popular condiment for latkes is sour cream, but Jo-El’s didn’t serve it to us for reasons having to do with keeping kosher. THE NOSH PIT The Nosh Pit was doing a brisk business when we showed up at 2 p.m. last Thursday. While the deli didn’t burst with mirth like Jo-El’s, the counter people were cheery and welcoming. We felt the buoyant mood as soon as we entered. The compact space has a service island in the middle, and seating on either side. We placed an order of three Latkes ($7.50) and added a sandwich — roast beef on rye ($10, with a side of potato salad) — and a soup ($4.50). We sat at a simple four-top. Because The Nosh Pit is Jew-ish — and therefore not strictly kosher — we got sour cream with our latkes. Appearance These were bigger, thicker and more uniformly round than those at Jo-El’s. Flecks of salt decorated the latkes and the plate. A piece of lettuce added a touch of color. Texture and Taste The crust had a modicum of crunch, making it easy to access the shredded potato within. Combined with a mixture of applesauce and sour cream, each bite had a hearty and hefty presence. The portion was big enough that I could have made this a latke lunch, but I was hankering for that roast beef on rye and New York-style potato salad. The sandwich was terrific, and the sweetish potato salad reminded me of my youth in suburban New York. And the Winner of the Gotta Lotta Latkes (Hanukkah Edition) Is … A Split Decision — The Nosh Pit gets the nod for the latkes, due mostly to their plumpness and easy eatability. Jo-El’s Kosher Deli takes prize for atmosphere. I can’t imagine a better mood-elevating experience in a deli/market. I’ll be back — with some of my goy friends. And I’m not waiting for Hanukkah season, either.