Takeout Dinners From Two Major Grocery Chains. Which One’s Tastier?
Whether it’s a meeting that ran late, kids basketball practice or simple apathy, sometimes cooking dinner is just not going to happen. But such kitchen ennui doesn’t have to result in yet another pizza delivery or microwaving frozen meals. Most respectable supermarkets offer a hot-food buffets or deli-style counters where you pick your items, bring them home, heat them as necessary and serve. It’s the latter that I’m delving into this week — a dinner alternative we rarely use, so I’m genuinely curious about the quality of the food. Our contestants are well known: Whole Foods Market and The Fresh Market. Both offer meals that include an entree and two sides. I did a good job of matching the dinners up, if I do say so myself. We picked up the takeout meals late Tuesday afternoon in one run, brought them back to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™, put both pieces of chicken in the oven for 25 minutes at 350, plated the meals and ate them them side by side. We added a piece of carrot cake from each place for dessert. FRESH MARKET For the store’s Bistro Meal ($9.99), we chose the Italian Chicken boneless breast, Bacon Tomato Pasta Salad, and Super Veggie Salad. Appearance, Texture and Taste Those takeout containers split into compartments never do the food justice. And not to get all tree-huggy here, but I briefly imagined the box in a garbage patch the size of Montana out in the ocean somewhere. The food looked way better on a plate. First impression of the chicken: dry. Same for the second and third impressions. And while the breast had a hefty crust, I couldn’t detect much Italian-ness. The bites of bird worked best when paired on the fork with the creamy pasta salad, which was infused with the flavor of bacon and littered with little bits of it. The finely chopped green salad contained kale, corn, yellow raisins and other stuff I couldn’t ID. In all, it had a sweet(ish) flavor that I really took to. WHOLE FOODS For our Chef’s Plate ($12), we selected Chicken Scallopini (boneless breast), Smoked Mozzarella Pasta Salad, and Brussels Sprouts and Kale Slaw. Appearance, Texture and Taste This plate looked similar to that plate — so much so that Bonnie made little signs for each. The bird breast was plumper than the one from Fresh Market, and some actual meat peeked through the coating. My first impression of the chicken: Moist. Make that juicy. The breading was light, expertly seasoned. This was restaurant-level chicken. I’m not sure how Scallopini it was, but Bonnie and I nodded approvingly as we ate it to nothingness. The pasta salad lived up to its name, with the added bonus of a few mozzarella cubes scattered throughout. Pieces of baby spinach provided a contrast to the creamy dressing. Kale and Brussels sprouts are two greens I only eat occasionally and in small portions. That said, the salad, while more bitter than I prefer, worked well with the rest of the meal. Got Room For Dessert? We did — but not until the next evening. The Whole Foods carrot cake ($5.50) was prettier. Cylindrically shaped, it sat on a little gold base and had a frosting carrot on top. It came surrounded by a band of clear plastic, which took some doing to pry off. The Fresh Market version ($5.99) was more robust, bigger, less … impeccable. It had nuts. It had the little orange strips. A no-nonsense slab of carrot cake. Based on appearance, I was biased towards it. And that’s how it played out. Fresh Market’s was coarser and heartier and had bolder flavors of cinnamon and ginger. The Whole Foods carrot cake did not wind up a distant second. It was elegant, but not dainty. Ultimately the frosting, which I found too firm, overshadowed the cake. So Which Was the Tastier Takeout Dinner From Two Major Grocery Chains? Whole Foods. It’s the chicken, stupid! (How’s that for a 32-year-old political reference?) The bird was the lead dog in these meals, and it was no contest. I slightly preferred Fresh Market’s pasta salad (it’s the bacon, stupid!) and its green salad. And its dessert, too — but let’s consider dessert a separate meal. In all, this was a close contest. A split decision. We enjoyed both meals, but it boiled down to a game of chicken.
Hot Diggity! Chili Dogs and Chicago Dogs at Two Budget Restaurants
I rarely eat hot dogs. Do I need to explain why? When I do indulge, the tube steaks are usually pulled off of backyard grill. It’s yet to be determined if I’ll do so this Memorial Day weekend — although probably not, because I’m having four restaurant dogs for Friday Food Fight. I chose two inexpensive, no-frills places in St. Pete that tout their hot-dog game: 4th Street Sandwich Shop in Northeast and V9 Eats on the west side. I ordered a chili dog and a Chicago dog at each joint. 4TH STREET SANDWICH SHOP This place is easy to miss. Located in a small building between 62nd and 70th avenues, the restaurant is set back from the busy thoroughfare. Signage is minimal. A flagpole with no flag juts up next to the building. The vast parking lot, cracked and pitted, was empty on Tuesday, but it was 3:30 in the afternoon, a dead period. Inside, 4StSS is clean and well-lit, with a counter and a half dozen basic tables. A few vintage black-and-white photos — many of them NYC-themed — decorate the walls, as does a Nathan’s banner. The eatery serves Nathan’s skinless all-beef franks. I ordered a 4th Street Chili Dog with raw onions ($5.25) and a Chicago Dog ($5.95) along with a house-made Mango Lemonade ($3.95). As I ate, Chef Gordon Ramsay was cussing out some poor restaurant owners on the TV behind me. Appearance It looked like a respectable tandem of basic dogs, laid out in aluminum foil. The franks themselves were obscured by the chili and toppings. Texture and Taste I sipped the lemonade while waiting for the meal to come out. It was tasty, if a tad too sweet. Chili Dog: The chili was on the soupy side. I took a little scoop and it was not something I’d choose to eat in a bowl. Combined with the frank and bun, though, it was solid. This chili dog could’ve used a bit more raw onion to offer some textural contrast. The bun was puffy and gave way easily to my bites. Chicago Dog: It’s more about the trimmings than the meat itself. A proper one should come on a poppy seed bun and be dressed with yellow mustard, sweet relish, chopped onion, a dill pickle spear, sport peppers and celery salt. 4thStSS scored on everything but the poppy seed bun. I tried a bite with the sport pepper but it put out too much spicy heat, so I removed the rest of them. In all, this Chi Dog delivered a heady blend of sharp flavors, but was a bit too heavy on the celery salt. I finished both hot dogs, then waited for the (gut) bomb to drop. It never did. V9 EATS At 3:30 Thursday, I pulled into the parking lot of V9 Eats, housed in a converted service station on the corner of 9th Avenue and 58th Street North. Upon entering, I asked the young woman at the counter if V9 was some kind of play on V8, as in engine. “Hmm, I don’t know what it means,” she replied. No one else was around to answer my query so I dropped it. I’ll describe V9’s interior as festive industrial — brightly colored tables, chairs and stools really pop, especially on the concrete floor. Fun but not obnoxious. The space is surrounded by garage doors — all closed on this scorcher of a day — that let in plenty of natural light. I ordered a Hot Dog ($4.25) with chili ($1.25) and raw onions, and a Chicago Dog ($7), plus a bottle of Coke ($1.99). Appearance I appreciated the red-and-white checkered paper, which worked well with the restaurant’s decor. Like its competitor, V9 uses Nathan’s hot dogs. The Chicago Dog was a jumbo. Texture and Taste Chili Dog: With the the two restaurants using same brand of hot dog, the chili dog contest would come down to, yes, the chili. V9’s version was sweeter and chunkier, with pinch of spicy heat. The white onions, diced, added crunch. Chicago Dog: The meat was fatter and juicier, with a skin that needed some tearing. The hot dog flavor was clear and present. Toppings included exemplary house-made dill pickles and diced tomatoes. The poppy-seed level was spot on. I didn’t detect much celery salt, which was okay by me. This Chi Dog posed a problem, though. About halfway through, it fell apart, revealing a prominent smear of sweet relish, my least favorite topping. Each bite required me to re-assemble the pieces and quickly plunge them into my mouth. And the Winner of the Chili Dogs and Chicago Dogs Showdown Is … V9 Eats. V9’s offerings had a bit more character and attention to detail. Although I visited both restaurants (by my lonesome) during a mid-afternoon dead period, V9 exuded more energy. I’m pretty sure I’ve met or exceeded my quota of hot dogs for the year. If there is any grilling to be done this Memorial Day weekend, I’m going with burgers.
Cocktail Edition: An Old Fashioned Donnybrook
The Old Fashioned is definitely in fashion. The brown-liquor drink sits atop the list of 10 Most Popular Cocktails at liquor.com, and it ranks high in several other surveys I checked out. During our Old-Fashioned sojourn in downtown St. Pete, we asked a bartender if young people order the drink. “All the time,” replied Amara from behind the bar at The Mandarin Hide on Central Avenue. It’s believed that the Old-Fashioned dates back to the early 1800s as one of the first examples of a cocktail — a simple concoction made with rye or bourbon, sugar, water and bitters. The drink probably got its name in the 1870s. As bartenders were adding embellishments, making cocktails fancier, customers who preferred the basics would order “an old-fashioned whiskey cocktail.” The drink hasn’t changed much over the years, but at some point the use of a sugar cube was replaced by simple syrup. This didn’t sit well with my friend and consultant, David Downing, who joined me on Tuesday night. When we exited the car in front of the Cordova Inn, headed to The Scott bar within, my reading glasses fogged up. A sure sign of summer. Before we begin: To the best of my knowledge, I’d never had an Old Fashioned. THE SCOTT It was approaching dusk as we found a parking spot directly in front the Cordova. There’s something classy about a hotel awning. More should have them. The concrete shell of a major addition to St. Petersburg’s oldest hotel (it opened as The Pier Hotel in 1921) stood next door. The Scott wasn’t what I had envisioned for a hotel lounge. It’s like a cross between a Florida room and the coffee nook at a limited-service hotel — brightly lit, with wooden floors and a small terrazzo-topped bar with six stools. A living room-style sitting area was situated about 20 feet away. It was a Tuesday in May, so no surprise the place was dead. With only two customers besides us, the room was agreeably quiet. Our bartender, Derek, was relaxed (he could afford to be), and chatted amiably with us as he executed the simple steps to make an Old Fashioned ($15). I asked for Bulleit instead of Four Roses bourbon. Derek added a slice of orange peel and a Luxardo maraschino cherry. David adjourned to the porch, and I joined him soon after. Although it was muggy, we were chill, sipping our drinks in wooden rocking chairs. Appearance, Texture and Taste My first Old Fashioned looked elegant in its simple, chunky glass. A single large ice cube prevented the drink from becoming watered down. I occasionally sip bourbon, mostly at home, and I take it straight with one small cube. I appreciate bourbon’s bite. The extra ingredients in the Old Fashioned mitigated that with a sweetness and syrupy quality. My first swallow underwhelmed me, but as I sipped along I enjoyed the cocktail more and more. (Perhaps a slight buzz coming on helped.) I took my time and drank it to the last drop. THE MANDARIN HIDE We walked into the bar’s dark confines at 8:30 to the strains of “Come and Get Your Love,” a lively hit by the one-hit-wonder band Redbone. I’m fond of the tune; problem was, it blasted throughout the room that had just a few people sitting at the bar. David and I had a hard time conversing and I had to lean over the bar to order my drink. After a few more songs, I politely said to Amara that the music was good, but too loud. “Let me turn it down,” she replied. Just like that. Within seconds, David and I resumed an easy back-and-forth. Amara used Larceny bourbon, which is a bit pricier than Bulleit, but I didn’t quiz her on the other ingredients. Appearance, Texture and Taste This Old Fashioned ($15.50) looked similar to the one at the Cordova, although not as handsomely presented. My second Old Fashioned tasted quite similar to the first. It was maybe a bit less syrupy and a tad less sweet. Truth is, I really couldn’t tell the difference. I drank mine to the bottom, and earned a mellow buzz, but not as much of one as I expected. I’ve decided to hand over my judge-and-jury duties to David, a spirits and cocktail aficionado. That’s a first, but there’s nothing in the Friday Food Fight Handbook that prohibits it. The Winner of the Old Fashioned Donnybrook Is … Mandarin Hide. David explained that the second Old Fashioned had a more complex flavor, particularly the bourbon, and used better ingredients. We’ll go with that. In all, I had essentially the same drink in two vastly different environments. I preferred The Scott, but that probably has something to do with seniors and rocking chairs. In all, it was a pleasant evening that ended early. I drank my first, second — and almost certainly my last — Old Fashioned cocktails. Top photo by Mel Downing.
Tampa vs. St. Pete in a Battle Over Korean BBQ
Korean food is having a moment. Like the most popular cultural exports from that Asian country, it has earned the “K” prefix. K-pop. K-cinema. K-food. According to The Food Institute, interest in Korean cuisine spiked nearly 90 percent during 2021. K-food’s moment does not appear to be waning. In a very informal survey of Google maps, I found more than a dozen Korean-specific eateries in the Tampa Bay area. I wouldn’t have guessed that. I recall having a bento box lunch at Sarione in Tampa more than a decade ago, and not caring for it. But as a semi-professional food columnist, it’s imperative that I not let this K-food moment pass me by. Korean BBQ is one of the most high-profile items on the K-food spectrum. And I discovered that a popular way to experience it is cook your own meat on a table-top grill. One visit to the Melting Pot in the early ’90s cured me of cooking my own food in a restaurant. So I found two places that would cook it for me: Dooriban in St. Pete and One Family Korean Restaurant in Tampa. Okay, enough context — 이렇게 해보자 (Let’s do this) DOORIBAN This converted drive-through on 66th Street just north of 54th Avenue had a no-frills, neighborhood vibe at 6:30 on Monday. Several tables were occupied, some with Caucasians, some with Koreans. The latter engaged in loud, lively conversation that I found rather musical, and lent an air if authenticity. A Korean TV show played on a screen over my shoulder. Our server, Torrey — a Caucasian — was upbeat and helpful when we told her that we were K-food rookies. We ordered Beef Bulgogi (BBQ, $22.99) and Vegetable Mandu (deep-fried dumplings, $9.99). Appearance The beef, with some slices of onion and carrot mixed in, came out on a hot plate, steaming. It smelled terrific. Bonnie remarked that the meat looked like the kind they put in Philly cheesesteaks, so I’ll call it shaved. The entree came with five small side bowls: three types of kimchi (cabbage, radish, cucumber), along with thinly sliced potato and fish cake. The eight crescents of Mandu were lined neatly on a white plate, sided by a small bowl of house soy sauce. Texture and Taste I tend to avoid beef at Asian restaurants because in my experience it’s often chewy. But I’m pleased I took the plunge at Dooriban. The meat was tender, lean and succulent, save for a few pieces that required extra jaw work. The barbecue sauce — which was marinated into the beef, not dripping off of it — was sweet and seductive. The first bite made me nod and a smile. I took quite a bit of the dish home because I ill-advisedly plowed through the fried dumplings, an ample portion that was quite filling. They were fine, although the vegetables were soft and mushy and could’ve used some crunch. Of the side dishes, I liked the sharp-flavored cucumber kimchi the best, the soggy(ish) and bitter cabbage the least. The skinny strips of fish cake were surprisingly enjoyable. We left full and happy. ONE FAMILY KOREAN RESTAURANT ” … where you can get awesome bulgogi (thin, marinated slices of beef or pork) and delicious Korean barbecued short ribs …” New York Times (March, 2022). That’s one of the reasons I chose this place as part of my K-food moment. OFKR is situated in a drab gray building in a faceless shopping center set back from Hillsborough Avenue in Town ‘N’ Country. The restaurant’s small, windowless dining room has eight tables and booths — tight but not quite cramped. The vibe was intimate and relaxed. At 7:30 p.m. Wednesday most of the tables were occupied, but the noise kept to an acceptable level. KK was the only server, and she managed to be attentive to everyone while hustling like crazy. We ordered Beef Bulgogi ($24.99) and Fried Dumplings (6 for $7.99). I also got a Korean soft drink ($2.99), pear-peach flavor, which came in a six-ounce can. Appearance At first blush, the beef did not look as appetizing as that of Dooriban. It had an almost grayish hue. The portion, which arrived on a hot plate, was smaller than the competition’s. The Bulgogi came with five small side bowls: cabbage, cucumber and daikon (radish) kimchi, bean sprouts and white radish cut julienne-style. The dumplings looked like dumplings. Texture and Taste The beef, while sweet, was less so than the version at Dooriban. I preferred its dialed-down sweetness, but would’ve have liked a smidge more. The meat was supremely tender and I did not encounter a single chewy piece. Let me acknowledge the white rice, which had the ideal level of stickiness and complemented the beef. The dumplings, filled with ground pork, were tasty, and the shell provided some crispiness. My favorite side bowls were the daikon kimchi and sliced radish, which eat sat in a their own tangy sauce and added lots of playful crunch. Again, I wasn’t fan of the cabbage kimchi. The soft-drink was pear-forward and light on the carbonation, almost like juice. I appreciated it as a change of pace. Bonnie and I finished the entire meal. We left full and happy. And the Winner of the Tampa vs. St. Pete Battle Over Korean BBQ Is … One Family Korean Restaurant. But not by much. I delighted in both meals, and look forward to returning to the restaurants. My K-food moment was a rousing success, and I hope to incorporate the cuisine into my rotation. I look forward to trying more dishes. I just wish one of these restaurants was in easy striking distance for takeout.
Which Vegan Bakery Will Emerge Victorious?
Sometimes FFF special ops get complicated. I didn’t expect it to happen this week. Pairing off two vegan bakeries and then assessing how their desserts fared verses conventional ones seemed a simple enough concept — especially when you consider that I had two ideal contestants in my sights: Halelife Bakery and Valhalla Bakery. But then my tradecraft got a little shabby and I found out late in the game that both brands had undergone shakeups. Halelife had closed its downtown St. Pete and Clearwater bakeries and opened a bakery/bistro on the northern end of 4th Street in St. Pete. Valhalla had also closed its downtown location, and merged with its sister business, Valkyrie Donuts, a few blocks away. Then came the sand in the Vaseline. Gluten — a protein that “helps foods maintain their shape, acting as a glue that holds food together,” according to the simplest online definition I could find. (Glue-ten?) Halelife products are gluten-free. Valhalla’s aren’t. That gives the latter a leg up when comparing it to regular desserts. By the time I found all this out, it was too late in the game to pivot, so we go with what we got. Apparently this is what happens when you send an omnivore to do a vegan’s job. I chose a cookie, a brownie and a cupcake from each shop, then brought them back to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™. My beverage of choice was low-fat milk. HALELIFE BISTRO At 12:30 on Wednesday, our trio — two grandparents and a 3-year-old grandchild — were the only customers. One of us was hell bent on a cupcake, and repeatedly announced it. Located in a shopping center just south of the new 4th Street onramp to 1-275, Halelife Bistro is the newest location of a business started in 2018 by a mother and son, both with celiac disease (a severe gluten intolerance). The other bakeries are in South Tampa and Carrollwood. It’s an attractive space with plenty of natural light, a few community-type tables with stools, and a spacious outdoor courtyard to the left of the entrance (although it’s currently uncovered and unshaded). We were in grab-and-go mode, though, and went straight to the bakery case. There was a lot to choose from: cupcakes, brownies, cookies, donuts and other miscellany, all of them single-serve items (i.e. no cakes or pies). We opted for a box of six ($5.99 each) and earned our half-dozen discount of three bucks. I’ve chosen three from these. Raspberry Cheesecake Cupcake I’m not a cupcake man, but I’ve had enough to know that what I don’t like about them is their airy texture (and that they’re clumsy to eat). That’s why this version — with its density and coarseness — ranks near the top. The icing was typically dainty, and it could’ve used some more raspberry sauce for punch, and I didn’t pick up much cheesecake flavor, but still and all, as cupcakes go — first rate. Chocolate Lava Brownie A brownie — now we’re in my wheelhouse, although I much prefer them unfrosted. I didn’t get any of the luscious gooey-chewy that marks a good conventional brownie. This one was was more like cake, pretty dry cake. When I fork cut, it crumbled (ah, for gluten). The dark chocolate flavor was nice, but the dusting of finely ground chocolate on top added an unwelcome grittiness. Peach Cobbler Thumbprint Cookie I didn’t see any thumbprints, and for that I was grateful. About five inches in diameter, this treat looked more like a pastry than a cookie. I needed a small spatula to free it from the box without it falling apart. The best part was the middle part, the peach cobbler part (which could’ve been more ample), but rest of it was reasonably moist and had a pleasurable level of sweetness. VALHALLA BAKERY Featuring VALKYRIE DOUGHNUTS We arrived at the small storefront on Central Avenue in St. Pete yesterday at 10:30. As you can see by the makeshift sign in the photo, the place is undergoing a rebrand of sorts, with a some waffling between bakery or donut shop or both. But inside the small space was what mattered: a bakery case of considerable size, full up with an attractive array of desserts, some quite elaborate. Our counter guy, Christian, was a 6-foot-6, 300-pound power lifter, but even so, he extracted our choices from the case with light-fingered care. He told us that Valhalla uses gluten, which threw the wrench in my FFF special op, but he was a super nice fellow so I forgave him. Vanilla Guava Rose Cupcake Like the cupcake at Halelife, this dainty treat ($3.75) had a pleasing density, although the icing was a tad too sweet and there was a tad too much of it. Then halfway through — luscious guava jam. It came as a surprise, which made it taste even better. Smores Brownie I had to look twice at the price. The hefty wedge cost just $3.75. I could see a thick vein of chocolate ore running through the middle. This brownie definitely contained glue-ten, because its consistency bordered on that of fudge. The extra chewing was worth it, though, and the chocolate flavor had just the right potency. -Raspberry Almond Frangipane Yolo (Cookie) The name is quite a mouthful, and the cookie itself was more than a few. Valhalla pulled out all the stops for this massive confection ($6): two slabs of almond cookie, with a silky filling in between, topped with almond slivers. Big ups for creativity, but this treat turned out to be too much for me. The filling, especially, was sweeter than I was up for. And the Victorious Vegan Bakery Is … Because the Official Friday Food Fight Handbook™ prohibits ties, I’ve chosen two winners. Vegan Bakery That Uses Gluten Valhalla — Its desserts were mostly indistinguishable from non-vegan ones. Vegan Bakery That Does Not Use Gluten Halelife — It makes tasty stuff that’s ideal for people with celiac disease or
Chain vs. Local: Which Makes the Best Western Omelette?
The Western Omelette was invented at Slim’s Egg Emporium & Iron Works in 1911 in Largo, a city on Florida’s western Coast. Wait, what? Check that. I’ve just been told that the Western Omelette was created in the American West, probably by cattle drivers and/or Chinese railroad cooks. Glad we got that straightened out. Western omelettes are also called Denver omelettes — the names are basically interchangeable. But here on Florida’s western coast, at least two restaurants draw a distinction. Along with the ham, onions, peppers and cheese found in the Denver Omelette, Egg Haven Cafe and Metro Diner add an ingredient to make theirs a Western: Mushrooms. (Not a fan, but I’ve come this far.) Metro even covers its with salsa. Huh. Could be a local thing, like putting potato salad in Greek salads. Okay, I’m already too far in the weeds. Let’s get started. METRO DINER We arrived at the Metro Diner on 4th Street in St. Pete — one of two in the Tampa Bay area — at 6 p.m. on Tuesday and sat in a booth with a straight back and hard leather bottom. I’ll ask for a table next time. I rarely eat breakfast for dinner, but scheduling required me to do so. Metro offers breakfast from open to close. Our server, Jessica, had a sunny disposition and was eager to make sure our visit was tasty and pleasant. I ordered the Western Omelet ($11.99) with home fries and an English muffin. I requested the eggs be cooked soft, but not runny. Jessica asked me if I wanted the salsa on top or or on the side. However you usually serve it, I replied. On top, it was. Appearance An altogether appealing presentation. Western omelettes are not part of my regular dining regimen, but even so, I’ve never had one with salsa. I liked the idea — and the look of it. Texture and Taste Although it didn’t take long for our meals to come out, my omelette was weirdly not hot. In fact, it was barely warm. Jessica stopped by and asked, cheerily, “How is everything?” I replied, politely, that my omelette was strangely not hot. She leapt into action and had a hot one in front of me in a few short minutes. The mild salsa really worked, and thankfully did not give the meal a Tex-Mex edge. The eggs were cooked to my liking — I hate when they’re dry(ish). I would’ve preferred the cheese to be more present, and the mushrooms to be less so. The large slices dominated the innards. The home fries were cooked firmly, with no outer shell. Kudos. I could taste real potato. EGG HAVEN CAFE Egg Haven, located on 66th Street in St. Pete, has the look of a ’70s era roadhouse diner. As it turns out, the place has only been open three years. The restaurant is a retrofitted IHop, which helps explain the, um, vintage appearance. The breakfast-centric concept has been successful enough that two more have opened since — in Clearwater and Largo. We arrived on Wednesday at 11:30, well past the time when I eat a big breakfast. We sat at a booth in the no-frills interior, a booth that was marginally more comfortable than the one at Metro Diner. Our server, Leti, had a sunny disposition and was eager to make sure our visit was tasty and pleasant. Together, and on consecutive days, Jessica and Leti shattered the myth of diner waitresses being irascible and disinterested. I ordered the Western Omelet ($13.99) with home fries and an English muffin. Appearance This dish looked disheveled in comparison to the one at Metro, but appetizing all the same. The meat and veggies were visible through the egg, a good sign. I was not, however, encouraged by the crispy-looking shells of the home fries. Texture and Taste The omelette was hot, so we were off to a good start. The cheese was very there, and gooey enough so that at one point Bonnie told me to napkin some off my beard. There were far fewer mushrooms — thank you — and they were chopped into smaller pieces. The ham had a smoky flavor that stood out and the peppers offered some welcome crackle. Overall, there seemed to be more stuff inside this omelette than the competition’s. The home fries had plenty of charred, crunchy pieces, requiring me to pick through and find ones I preferred — and then those were kind of mushy. So Which of These Restaurants Makes the Best Western Omelette? Hmm, this is a tough call. I dug both of my Western omelettes and was pleased to learn that I could enjoy them outside the breakfast time window. Metro had the superior potatoes, and the salsa was a welcome wild card. Egg Haven’s omelette was more substantial with a better combo of flavors. But I left most of the home fries on the plate. Metro’s meal came out lukewarm, although it was only a minor inconvenience. Egg Haven’s came out hot. The service was superlative in both restaurants. Re-checking the scorecards, the split decision goes to … Egg Haven Cafe.* *The Official Friday Food Fight Policy is to not issue ties, but I could have done so this week.
Tampa Bay vs. Charleston in a Tussle Over Fried Green Tomatoes
Well, I’ll be … fried green tomatoes did not originate in the South. So say most food historians, including Charleston-based Robert F. Moss, who wrote in a well-researched column titled “The Fried Green Tomato Swindle,” “By all accounts, they entered the American culinary scene in the Northeast and Midwest, perhaps with a link to Jewish immigrants.” The dish became associated with the South in the wake of movie Fried Green Tomatoes, the 1992 film version of Fannie Flagg’s novel Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, published in ’87 and set in Birmingham, Alabama. Regardless of their beginnings, fried green tomatoes don’t do much for me — because where I grew up in the Northeast, tomatoes were ripe red. And never breaded and fried. In another edition of Tampa Bay vs. The World, I’m featuring FGTs because of a recent trip to Charleston, where the city rewrote its charter to mandate that every restaurant in town have them on the menu. Our contestants are: Noble Crust, one of the few restaurants in Tampa Bay with FGTs on its everyday bill of fare; and 82 Queen, a pillar of “Lowcountry cuisine” in Charleston’s French Quarter since 1982. A mismatch? Let’s see. NOBLE CRUST We arrived at 5:30 on a Thursday and grabbed two seats at the far end of the bar. The St. Pete Noble Crust is nearly always busy, and often generates a serious din. Not so on this visit. We ordered the F.G.B.L.T. ($13), Noble Crust’s spin that includes tabasco honey-glazed pork belly and pimento cheese. I also got a Big Storm Wavemaker beer ($5, happy hour price). Appearance An altogether attractive presentation, although the cubes of pork belly on top showed plenty of fat, causing a tinge of concern. Texture and Taste This version certainly benefited from Noble Crust’s customization, owing mostly to that old adage: Everything is better with bacon. While I would ordinarily be put off by the amount of pure fat in the pork belly, this case was different. The fat melded with the meatier part of the cubes and added a lush savoriness, which was punctuated by the sweetness and gently spicy heat of the glaze. None of this overshadowed the tomatoes, which provided a sharp tang and plenty of crunch, offset by the creaminess of the mildly flavored pimento. All told, a panoply of tastes and textures, complex and well balanced. 82 QUEEN At 7:45 p.m. on a Wednesday, our Lyft driver dropped us off at a black awning with a gold “82” on it, the restaurant’s only sign. My dinner companion, Jim Ripley, has been a friend since elementary school. We walked through an alley with scarred walls into the bar, where I ordered a Muddled Creek ($14), a specialty cocktail built around Knob Creek bourbon. (Jim and I basically split the drink, and both of us found it too heavy.) After about 15 minutes, we were showed to a table on the far wall of the tastefully appointed upstairs dining room. Only a few tables were occupied. The intimate environment suited us. Our server, a young woman named Gabrielle, was delightful. She played along easily with our stupid jokes. I ordered the Fried Green Tomatoes ($16) as a starter before my entree of Crispy Roasted Duck. Appearance This rendition didn’t have the panache of the competition’s. The tomato was sandwiched between a bed of stone-ground grits and a scoop of pimento cheese on top. The tomato-bacon jam sat off to the side. Texture and Taste Way too much pimento. It had a pasty texture that affected the entire dish. The grits were fine, if nondescript. The tomato seemed an afterthought, virtually lost amid the other ingredients. Everything was squished together, giving my forkfuls a monochromatic, mushy character. The jam, more like a sauce, added a welcome sweetness. And the Winner of the Tampa Bay vs. Charleston FGT Tussle Is … Noble Crust. An easy call, but with a couple of caveats: 82 Queen’s version may well have been more true to the tradition of the dish. Noble Crust gained an everything-is-better-with-bacon advantage by including pork belly. An unfair advantage? Perhaps. How would the St. Pete restaurant’s version have fared without the fatty meat? My gut tells me that I still would have preferred it over 82 Queen’s.
Clash of the Calzones
My attitude toward calzones boils down to this: Why eat a pizza that’s been rolled up into a blob? Okay, it’s not that simple. But it’s not that far off. So this week, I endeavored to find out if my simplistic understanding of the calzone is unfair to the centuries-old baked turnover made with pizza dough. Most histories agree that the calzone dates back to the 1700s in Naples, Italy, and was intended as a food to eat on the go. Then I read this: “At this time, calzones were actually formed by simply folding an uncooked pizza in half before baking it.” A-ha! I chose two pizza-centric restaurants as contestants: Slice of the Burg in St. Pete and Buona Ristorante on St. Pete Beach. SLICE OF THE BURG Any restaurant in which an adorable 6-year-old girl initiates a staring contest with me from across the room is okay by me. After a few minutes of meeting Riley’s evil-eye challenge, I feigned defeat, and went over and chatted with her mom. It’s surprise encounters like these that help make restaurant visits memorable. Slice of the Burg is wedged into a line of small eateries and shops in the Gateway Crossings shopping center in far northeast St. Pete. It was clean and well lit at 6:15 last Friday. We ordered at the counter: a Whole Calzone with peppers, onions, tomatoes and Italian sausage for a total of $24.98. I added a can of Modelo ($2.99). We had a seat at a red table. Appearance When the server placed the calzone on the table, our first reaction was, “Whoa!” The thing was enormous. Held at the proper angle, it could’ve blotted out the sun. The beast was cut into four (enormous) pieces. The side of red sauce looked tiny sitting next to it. People from two tables over commented on how gigantuan the calzone was. Texture and Taste Try to refrain from wearing nice clothes when eating SotB’s calzone. It was greasy. But to the restaurant’s credit, it had a roll of paper towels within reach. You must like cheese. A no-holds-barred quantity of mozzarella and fluffy ricotta were blended together, befitting this mondo-turnover. The vegetables were fresh and barely cooked — adding a pleasurably crisp contrast — and the sausage was tasty but not spicy. Importantly, the add-ons were spread throughout, so I didn’t run into large chunks of just cheese and pizza dough. The sauce was pleasingly on the sweet side. Bonnie and I — mostly I — made a considerable dent in this calzone, but still brought a sizable chunk home. And somehow I left the restaurant without a single grease stain on my T-shirt. BUONA RISTORANTE At 6 p.m. on Monday, the weather was gorgeous, so we chose a table outside in a patio area in front of the place. Buona is located about a mile north of the Don Cesar in a Dolphin Village shopping center. At intervals, we heard a man singing at a distance — solo, with great gusto, but badly. I couldn’t identify the type of music other than … strange. This intrusive soundtrack was annoying, but I can’t blame the restaurant, although I would have preferred a staring contest with an adorable 6-year-old. Bonnie and I ordered a calzone with the same extras as SotB for a total of $20.36, but we had to add $1.25 for a side of red sauce. Appearance This one was more attractive than SotB’s, but we’re grading on a curve because, let’s face it, calzones are intrinsically ugly. Buona’s version looked more rustic, more … Italian. It was also considerably smaller, which was not necessarily a bad thing. Texture and Taste I started with an end piece — easier to hold — and found mostly cheese and crust, which was not terribly satisfying. So I cut off a chunk in the middle and ate with a knife and fork. The blend of flavors was gratifying, the veggies nicely crisp, the sausage adding moments of sharpness. The crust had a hint of crackle on the outside. The sauce skewed more acidic than sweet. And the calzone wasn’t greasy. Bonnie and I were able to finish most of it, except for a few cast-off end pieces with thick wads of cheese enveloped by crust. And the Winner of the Clash of the Calzones Is … Slice of the Burg. A close call. I set aside my hours of poring over FFF’s sophisticated matrix of metrics and went with my gut on this one. The calzones had similar flavor profiles. Buona’s was more artisan, while SotB’s could’ve fed a table of four. If there was a single deciding factor, it was that SotB’s calzone had its meat and vegetables spread throughout the inside, leaving virtually nothing to discard. Ultimately, size didn’t matter much, but the whoah! factor at SotB induced a sudden frisson of delight that we’ll remember. And then there was the X factor: precocious Riley trying to stare me down.
Doh! Two Indie Donut Shops Duke It Out
As sweets go — and I love my sweets — donuts are way down on the list. They’re one of the few sugary things that I will actually walk by. I can’t remember the last time I went on a donut run. Which is not to say that I dislike them. They are, after all, sweet! A donut FFF proved to be trickier than I anticipated. Comparing one or even two donuts per shop seemed kind of skimpy. And, other than the basic types, it can be difficult to match them up. So here’s how we’ll do it: I chose four each from Fray’s Donut House and St. Pete Bagel Co., and paired them up as well as I could. (Before some of you start squawking about it not being a fair fight, SPBC has a good rep for donuts and an extensive selection.) I picked the donuts up in the noon hour on Tuesday, within about five minutes of each other, and brought them back to the FFF Lab & Photo Studio™ . I’ll give a short description of each donut, and at the end pick a winner between the two competitors. Then I’ll choose the winning shop. And, finally, I’ll crown the donut that I liked best overall. FRAY’S DONUT HOUSE At 12:30 p.m., I stopped at the flagship store on 16th Street North in St. Pete — which opened in 1993 — and ordered through the takeout window because the dining room was closed. Basic Cake Donut (no photo necessary) I figured I’d start out with a baseline between the two combatants — the boring, beige, round donut with a hole in the middle. This one was indeed boring, hardly sweet at all (Bonnie reminded me that they aren’t supposed to be). But it was pretty moist and had an agreeably cakey texture. Cream-Filled With Chocolate Frosting Too light on the cream. But when I arrived at it, after a couple of big bites, the filling was lush and pudding-esque. The donut body had the right flakey-vs.-cakey ratio. The chocolate topping didn’t make much of an impression, but then, in my donut experience, it rarely does. Chocolate-on-Chocolate While it didn’t taste as chocolaty as it looked, this one had an earthy flavor that downplayed the sweetness — in a good way. Big Brown Lumpy Thing I dug this apple-and-cinnamon beast. The crunchy exterior gave way to soft innards. A light glaze on top added some extra sweetness. The Big Brown Lumpy Thing has a donut name, I’m sure, but I’m sticking with what I have decided to call it. ST. PETE BAGEL CO. Fifteen minutes before close, SPBC, on 4th Street, had a decent selection of donuts remaining. While Fray’s put mine in a plain white bag, this store packaged them in a plain white box, closed it and taped it shut. Basic Cake Donut (no photo necessary) Boring, as expected. An appropriate lack of sweetness. Somewhat on the dry side. It had just a hint of spice — a spice that I couldn’t identify but could have done without. Cream-Filled with Chocolate Frosting While I give kudos to the white squiggle on top, this one was filled with whipped cream, uber-sweet whipped cream. That’s a non-starter. Pudding-esque is always better. Chocolate Glaze (vs. Chocolate-on-Chocolate at Fray’s) A gratifying blend of flavors. The glaze provided a pop of sweetness and some contrast to the chocolate base. Apple-Cinnamon Fritter (vs. the Big Brown Lumpy Thing at Fray’s) At least I think it’s called a fritter. The apple and cinnamon were well balanced, and I detected little bits of fruit. Could’ve been a bit more moist. Now to the Judging … Basic, Boring Cake Donut — Fray’s Cream-Filled With Chocolate Frosting — Fray’s Chocolate-on-Chocolate vs. Chocolate Glaze — SPBC Big Brown Lumpy Thing vs. Apple-Cinnamon Fritter — Fray’s (a close call; I liked both) Overall Winner — Fray’s My Overall Favorite Big Brown Lumpy Thing at Fray’s — Ain’t pretty, but sure is tasty.
A Game of Chicken—and Waffles: Dinner vs. Breakfast
Chicken and waffles, that unlikely collision of breakfast and dinner foods, never made sense to me — until I discovered how and where it was popularized. Starting in the late 1930s, Wells Supper Club in Harlem became a hot spot for wee-hours jazz jam sessions. The musicians arrived too late for dinner and too early for breakfast, so the restaurant devised a hybrid dish that recognized both meals. This origin story hits directly in my sweet spot. I’ve never ordered chicken and waffles. A bite or two taken off of other people’s plates didn’t wow me enough to get it for myself. That changes this week. I chose one dinner version — at Social Roost in downtown St. Pete — and one breakfast version: at Maple Street Biscuit Co., a breakfast/lunch chain founded in Jacksonville in 2012, with more than 60 locations, four of them in the Tampa Bay area. Unfortunately, neither place holds jazz jams at 3 a.m. But we forge on. SOCIAL ROOST A light rain made umbrellas optional as we crossed First Avenue North toward the restaurant on Wednesday at 6. The dining room, with the bar to the left, was sunk below the entrance — a cool touch. I’d describe Social Roost as a mid-upscale place. No white tablecloths, but the patio-style chairs were cloaked in green padding, making them uber-comfy. Most entrees are in the $20-$30 range. We sat at a four-top in the center of the dining room. Despite doing fairly robust business, Social Roost was not boomy in the least, allowing us comfortable conversation. We ordered Chicken & Waffles ($25) and a Baby Kale Caesar salad ($17) to split, and asked that the salad come out first. That didn’t happen. The entree arrived about a minute after the salad. Our attentive server, Cole, took the main plate to the kitchen and put it under heat. The chicken and waffles weren’t back there but five minutes because we inhaled the salad. Appearance We immediately understood why these Chicken & Waffles cost 25 bucks. The two boneless fried chicken breasts were enormous. They sat on a couple of prodigiously sized waffles, flanked by containers of maple syrup and bacon butter. Reflexively, I looked for a side of potatoes or rice or veggies, but quickly realized that the waffles were the side (or the bottom, as it were). Texture and Taste Sometimes mega-sized chicken breasts can be flavorless or chalky or both. Not so here. The bird was — to borrow a phrase — like buttah: impeccably tender, with an elegant breading that provided a modicum of crunch. The waffles were, likewise, first-rate — fluffy but not airy, with a hint of chewiness. As a chicken-and-waffles newbie, I developed a system: stack a piece of chicken and piece of waffle on the fork, dip into butter, pour on a dollop of syrup, insert into mouth. I happily kept at that for quite some time. Even so, Bonnie and I took about half a chicken breast home. A few words about the salad: the kale was hearty but not bitter, the dressing and cheese shavings did not overpower, but all told it was a bit on the skimpy side for seventeen smackers. MAPLE STREET BISCUIT CO. Less than 18 hours later, we were back at it. Glimpses of sunshine peeked through a bruised sky as we walked down First Avenue South with a stiff breeze at our backs. This store is located in St. Pete’s 600 block of Central Avenue, a former bohemian enclave with cheap rents that’s now stuffed with eateries. MSBC was bustling at 11:30 a.m. It was opening day for the Tampa Bay Rays, and quite a few folks were sporting team gear. (I didn’t see any Toronto Blue Jays garb, even though the maple leaf is part of the team logo.) We ordered at the counter: Chix & Waffle ($13.25), a Flaky Biscuit ($2.50) for Bonnie, and two self-serve, bottomless coffees ($3.25). We sat at a two-top and waited. And waited — to the point of discomfort (we hadn’t eaten). As the wait time ticked close to the 30-minute mark, I inquired about our order and a kitchen guy said it would be out in five minutes. They at least made good on that. Appearance The ratio of chicken to waffle was heavily skewed to waffle, but at 53% of the price of Social Roost, the value seemed comparable. The plastic container of syrup was precariously tilted, as if to say, “Pour me. Now.” (We’d need another container, which wasn’t easy to obtain.) Texture and Taste The chicken came out hot — a welcome surprise. It was tender and succulent, with a hint of spicy heat. The Asiago-Bacon waffle was a bit lighter and fluffier than the competition’s. I couldn’t detect the flavor notes that the menu touted. This dish called for a different delivery system: Pour syrup onto waffles, cut a piece of waffle, then a piece of chicken, stack on fork and insert into mouth. This worked very well, too. Bonnie had a few bites — she approved — and I finished the meal. And the Winner of Our Game of Chicken—and Waffles: Dinner vs. Breakfast Is … Social Roost. This bout could arguably be called a draw. Both versions punched above their weight. Both offered considerable value. The deciding point was the service. A half-hour-plus wait in a fast-casual restaurant is unacceptable, especially when you’ve been thus far unfed. MSBC had a clever way of delivering their orders. Rather than have a server bring the food out, or holler out a name or number, the counter guy asked customers their favorite vacation destination. The kitchen would call out the destination name, announcing that the order was ready. Rather than being racked by indecision, I quickly chose London. As the minutes wore on and my stomach complained, it felt like I was on a flight to London.
Got a Lotta Empanadas: A Bay Area Chain vs. a Gulfport Stand-Alone
I’ve always thought of empanadas as gut-torpedoes, and therefore avoided them. That bias may be based on eating one and grabbing for the Tums, or eating none and just assuming. I can’t recall. Either way, it’s time to give this staple street food of the Latin diaspora a genuine chance. The simple pastry filled with savory stuff, fried or baked, date backs to the 1500s in the Galicia region of Spain. Our two competitors, appropriately named: Mr. Empanada, with five locations in Tampa and one in St. Pete, is celebrating its 40th anniversary this year. Its opponent, Julio’s Empanadas in Gulfport, is approaching one year in business. MR. EMPANADA With presumably the last cold front of the season moving in on Monday at 5:30, we walked through stiff winds to enter this no-frills place at MLK Street and 4th Avenue South in St. Pete. As we perused the menu board, a man seated at a nearby table asked amiably, “First time here?” “Yessir,” I replied. “The Buffalo Chicken is really good,” he said, and assured me that the flavor was not too strong. “Try the spinach one, too.” After exchanging some pleasantries, he left us with a last bit of advice. “They come out hot. Hot hot.” A fleeting thought crossed my mind: “This must be Mr. Empanada. Wouldn’t it be cool if every location had one?” We ordered three empanadas ($3.49 each): Buffalo Chicken and Bleu Cheese; Spinach, Artichoke and Cheese; and Beef and Cheese. We tacked on a bowl of Spanish Bean Soup ($4.99). Appearance Each empanada came encased in a small paper bag, but we knew not to expect much of a reveal because every empanada ever made is brown and crescent-shaped. The soup came in a styrofoam bowl. Heeding the hot-hot warning, I gingerly cut each empanada in half with a plastic knife. The fillings oozed out, but not so much as to make a mess. Texture and Taste Our man Mr. Empanada’s recommendations were spot-on. The shredded Buffalo chicken was mildly flavored and melded nicely with the bleu cheese. The spinach, artichoke and (mozzarella) cheese made for a sumptuous combo, particularly because the spinach was tender, not stringy. (It burned my mouth, slightly.) The beef and (white American) cheese came in third, by quite a bit. None of the empanadas were spicy, although they weren’t bland. I was concerned that the shell would be crunchy, but it was more the texture of pie crust — a bit crackly on the edges, softer next to the fillings. The soup was legit, with a potent flavor of Spanish ham. We were in and out of Mr. Empanada (the restaurant) in 25 minutes. JULIO’S EMPANADAS We pulled up at Julio’s, a converted gas station at 49th Street and 22nd Avenue South, at 3 p.m. on Tuesday, the air crisp and fresh. The simple interior had a large drink cooler, a few tables and a counter at one end. I was concerned at first because a whole bunch of empanadas were arrayed behind glass in a tiered warmer, suggesting that the server would simply pull one out and hand it over. That’s probably an option for someone on the go, but we chose from the menu and, thankfully, the kitchen made ours to order. The empanadas come Regular or Grande. We ordered three Regulars: Beef ($5.25), Chicken ($5.25) and Roasted Vegetable ($4.95). Appearance I was a tad surprised at how small these empanadas were — about the same size as those at Mr. Empanada, while costing at least 25% more. They looked more delicate, as well. Texture and Taste Who knew empanadas could be so different? Unlike Mr. Empanada’s, the fillings were well-defined, in large part because none of them contained cheese. The tasty ground beef was chunky and mildly spiced. The chicken breast meat was moist and supple, the antithesis of pre-cooked “mall chicken.” The roasted vegetables consisted of large chunks of peppers, onion and zucchini. The individual flavors in each of these empanadas stood out on their own. The crust was splendidly pie-like. All of these elements were amplified by a terrific, house-made dipping sauce — medium hot, with hefty chunks of onion. And the Winner of the Got a Lotta Empanadas Taste-Off Is … Julio’s. I enjoyed both restaurants’ versions, but Julio’s empanadas had a more artisan touch. Bonnie summed up the experience when she mused, “I like empanadas.” So do I.
A Ceviche Skirmish: Tapas Bar vs. Tavern
Ahh, we’re getting’ hoity-toity now. Ceviche, the national dish of Peru — raw seafood “cooked” in citrus juices along with vegetables. I’ve chosen it for Food Fight largely because of a wedding reception we attended on the beach of Grand Cayman last year that served ceviche as an appetizer. I had little experience with the dish, and was so gobsmacked by it that I stole one from another table. Just as I was furtively hunting for another, the rains came. I left that wedding weekend with the resolute understand that, “damn, I like ceviche.” But would I like it back on my home turf? As it happens, ceviche is not that easy to find in local restaurants. One patently obvious choice: Ceviche Tapas Bar & Restaurant on Beach Drive in St. Pete. For contrast, I also selected The Galley, a nautically named tavern a few blocks west that touts an elevated, seafood-centric menu. A fair fight? We’ll see. CEVICHE At 4:30 on Wednesday, we chose to sit on the covered veranda. The mercury was the mid-70s and a light breeze wafted through — so, y’know, perfect. In early 2021, Ceviche moved a few blocks north from its longtime spot on the ground floor of the Ponce de Leon hotel. For what it’s worth, I prefer the current location (which used to be the home of the British pub Moon Under Water). Our server arrived quickly. We ordered Ceviche Casa ($15) and Pan con Tomate ($9), grilled bread with tomato confit. Appearance The Ceviche arrived with in less than five minutes, but there was no sign of the Pan con Tomate. I would have preferred them to be served together, but I didn’t specify. The ceviche came in a small bowl, with plump shrimp sticking up next to slices of dried banana (or plantain), lolling in a pool of citrusy juice. Texture and Taste Ceviche is not cooked, per se. Marinating it in the citrus juice releases its proteins — a process called denaturation — which has a similar effect to cooking. End of lesson. All of the seafood in this ceviche — which included the shrimp, market fish, squid and scallops (albeit small pieces) — was tender, save for the squid, which has a rubbery texture that I’ve never been able to get past. The juice played the starring role — tart but not to the point of puckery, and emboldened by a little something extra that gave it a touch of spicy heat. After a couple forkfuls, I went with the spoon, a savvy move that allowed me to scoop up more juice to join the seafood. The bread dish came out when we were more than halfway done with the ceviche. No matter. There would be no dipping. Let’s just say that the Pan con Tomate was not what we expected. It looked and tasted like a mini-flatbread pizza, a dry one at that. The Galley This place is wedged into a weathered block on 4th Street between Central and 1st Avenue North. The only sign I saw was on the door. The Galley’s web designer has created an online presence that’s far more upscale than the real thing. That’s a slippery slope, though, because it invites disappointment — as was the case with us. We passed on the sidewalk tables — too much 4th Street traffic noise — in favor of a round indoor table with a wooden bench by the window. The hard-cover menus, separate ones for food and drink, had tattered edges. The Ceviche ($15.99) came with tortilla chips, but we added toast points for two bucks because I still hoped to do some dipping. Appearance Served in a martini glass with a lime wedge, the ceviche looked kind of cute. It was readily apparent, however, that the chunky Cuban-bread toast points would not be needed. Texture and Taste The juice had a distinctly orange flavor, which proved detrimental. The menu says lime juice, but that’s not what I tasted. Plus, the juice had no discernible spice. Pooled on the bottom of the glass, the stuff was hard to reach anyway. The bigger — biggest — problem: not enough seafood. The glass lacked a single whole shrimp, and the pieces of grouper were few and far between. This ceviche consisted mostly of tomato, pepper and onion. And the Winner of the Ceviche Skirmish Is … Imagine me on stage at the Oscars opening the envelope for an award that’s a foregone conclusion [say, Oppenheimer]. Ceviche. You can certainly make the argument that this FFF was a blatant mismatch. And I can buy that. Let me add, though, that The Galley’s online menu made the place, and the dish, look like a contender. And … The Galley’s version cost 99 cents more.