Can These Two Restaurants Make Meatloaf That’s Better than Homemade?
Like most middle-class baby boomers, I grew up on meatloaf. I’ve continued to devour it regularly, have never gotten tired of it. Now, my meatloaf ardor comes with a couple of conditions: (1) Meatloaf is always better when made at home. (2) Meatloaf is always better with gravy, not a sauce, a glaze, a demi, or what have you. I’m breaking with those two maxims this week: (1) Eating meatloaf in restaurants, (2) neither of which serves the dish with gravy, per their menus. I’ve chosen two markedly different establishments to square off: Glory Days Grill is a sports bar with eight Tampa Bay area locations; Birch & Vine is a fine-dining restaurant on the bottom floor of a boutique hotel on upscale Beach Drive in St. Pete. Basic vs. fancy. Moderately priced vs. pricey. Let’s hope these contrasts make for a good battle. GLORY DAYS GRILL Even though Glory Days is just five miles north of my home in St. Pete, I’ve never been. And that’s partly because I assumed it was named after a 1984 hit by Bruce Springsteen. Unlike nearly all of my baby-boomer brethren, I’ve never heeded The Boss’s call — and “Glory Days” is probably his song that irritates me most. After entering the restaurant on Monday at 6:30, I was pleased to not confront any iconography or tribute or (especially) aural evidence of the tune. So, a good start. Bonnie and I sat in a cushy booth. A few feet away, at a table near the bar, two senior gents played chess (see above photo) — a Rockwellian image that I found utterly charming, and made the large space feel damn near homey. Glory Days was a lot nicer than we expected. Even though the walls were coated in big-screen TVs with vivid color, the place somehow maintained a certain intimacy. Our server acted like she was glad to be there. I ordered Mr. Richard’s Meatloaf ($15), with mashed potatoes and baked beans (The only green side dish was steamed broccoli. Nah.) Appearance While I knew not to expect a pool of luscious brown gravy, this meatloaf entree looked pretty naked. A thin glaze of Glory Days Grilling Sauce™ — trademarked, so it must be special — covered the meat. So thin that I asked my server for some extra. I also didn’t expect grill marks on the two slabs of loaf, but that didn’t prejudice me one way or the other. Texture and Taste Made with ground beef and pork, this meatloaf was a little too firm for my liking. It had a chewy crust — I knife-cut a few bites — and vaguely smokey flavor that I attributed to grilling. In all, this meatloaf was pretty tasty, and I appreciated the crunchy bits of green pepper and onion. I was not, however, a fan of the Glory Days Grilling Sauce™. It was BBQ-esque and too sweet. The basic mashed potatoes worked well with the loaf. But after a while they became a little bland, as you’d expect, so — in lieu of gravy — I asked the server for some butter. She gladly obliged and brought it out quickly. The potatoes had remained just warm enough for some agreeable yellow meltage. Kudos to the baked beans. Their not-so-secret ingredient: bacon. I’m off bacon these days but was okay with a one-night cheat. BIRCH & VINE On Wednesday at 6 p.m., with a light drizzle coming down, there was no parking to be found on Beach Drive. The valet line was backed up, so we opted for a nearby garage and grabbed our umbrellas. We arrived at Birch & Vine nicely dry. The tables on the covered patio were full, but the main dining room indoors had seating aplenty. The host showed us to one of those arc-shaped booths that hold six, allowing me and Bonnie to sit next to each other. Cozy. My Meatloaf ($28) came with buttermilk mashed potatoes, wild mushrooms and asparagus, and a “Bacon-Fig Demi” sauce. We ordered a cup of cheddar broccoli soup ($7) and I got a 3 Daughters Beach Blonde Ale ($7) — from the tap, thank you. As per usual with fine-dining restaurants, the dish was elegantly arrayed on a bigger-than-necessary plate. Still, all the accoutrements couldn’t overcome the dark, drab appearance of two loaf pucks. On a hopeful note, the brown sauce looked suspiciously like gravy. Texture and Taste I had to use some force to fork-cut a bite of the meatloaf. Made with ribeye and pork, it was coarsely textured and took some extra effort to chew. Bonnie and I examined the loaf closely and could detect no other ingredients — not breading, not peppers, not onions. We agreed that, as far as we could determine, this meatloaf was essentially two well-done burgers, without any of the juiciness. So — not meatloaf at all, as least as we know it. The sauce really helped. Know why? It was pretty much like gravy — albeit sweeter and richer. As for as the rest, the potato was pureed and there was too little of it. I’m not a mushroom eater, although I took a couple of bites, which reminded me that I’m still not a mushroom eater. The asparagus was too chewy. Kudos to the flavorful soup, which Bonnie and I scooped up in about five minutes. So Could Either One of These Restaurants Make Meatloaf That’s Better Than Homemade? A resounding no. And nowhere near as good as. But I’ll pick a winner anyway: Glory Days. Pairing Glory Days’ loaf with Birch & Vine’s gravy-like sauce would’ve made for a solid combo. Postscript: After we finished our meal at Birch & Vine, the server asked what we thought. That opened the door for our critique about how the meatloaf failed — or better yet, how it was not really meatloaf, at least by commonly held standards. The front-of-house manager, Michael, joined the good-natured discussion, all of it couched in constructive criticism. (Our suspicion
Beyond Impossible: Two Restaurants, Two Types of Meatless Burgers
A few years ago, when two plant-based meat products with lofty names hit the market, promising to taste more like actual meat, Bonnie bought some and cooked up burgers at home. I don’t recall whether she got Beyond or Impossible Burger, but I do recall it did not go well. We haven’t tried that again. Still, I’ve remained curious about faux burgers, and have long wanted to try restaurant versions — if for no other reason to see if I can find one that tastes like actual meat. I found two burger restaurants that offer plant-based alternatives, with a bonus: Burger Monger — with three Bay area locations — uses Impossible Burger; Engine No. 9 in St. Pete’s Edge District goes Beyond. So we get a double comparison: restaurants and products. Before we begin, Impossible and Beyond burgers contain very different ingredients — and a lot of them — but I won’t delve into that here. BURGER MONGER When we arrived at 7 p.m. on Monday, this fast-casual restaurant on 4th Street was doing a solid business. The counter service was a little slow, but that wasn’t the fault of the server as much as the fact that she needed help. I ordered my Impossible Burger ($10.99) with grilled onions, tomato and pickles. I also got a single order of Fries ($3.99) and a Chocolate Fudge (hand-spun) Milkshake ($5.49). The server assured me that it was a basic chocolate shake, which is what I wanted. We sat at a two-top and waited for our orders to come out — which they did in two white paper bags. I liked the relaxed ambience of this place. The sizzle from the open kitchen was the only music. Appearance It wasn’t packaged to impress, but the plant-based meat on the bun looked the part of a regular burger. The milkshake came as vanilla with a chocolate swirl, which is precisely what I didn’t want but resulted from an apparent miscommunication. The counter person said she’d take it back and have it mixed into a basic chocolate shake. The ketchup dispenser was empty and there were no packets around. Neither were there any salt or pepper packets. We had to wait for the server to bring them to our table. Texture and Taste I was giving Burger Monger mixed reviews up to this point. And then I took a bite of the Impossible Burger. Guess what? Tasted like meat. For real. While the patty didn’t have the pink center that I’ve seen in some faux-burger photos, it did possess the pebbly texture of cooked ground beef. It even boasted a char — one that I could taste. I offered Bonnie a bite and she agreed with my take. I took a bite of her Steakhouse Monger and actually preferred my meatless version. I ate the entirety of my Impossible Burger with frequent nods of approval and a few mmmmm‘s. The fries — skinny, moist, hot — were terrific. The shake. Ehhhh. Take a look at the photo at right and decide if that’s a chocolate shake or not. While the silky liquid flowed easily through the straw, the chocolate flavor was rather faint (whereas I like it potent). Plus, there was way too much whipped cream, which further muted the chocolate. But I really shouldn’t be haranguing about a substandard milkshake when this Impossible Burger was a revelation. Making faux meat taste like a real burger is … possible. ENGINE NO. 9 At 6:30 p.m. on Wednesday, our party of five had a brief wait at the bar of this St. Pete mainstay, after which we were seated in the far back corner of the full dining room. The place was dark and warmer than I would’ve liked — a bit stuffy — but the din was minimal. We had to turn our voices up, but only a little. At Engine No. 9, you can sub in Beyond Burger for any their signature offerings. Or build your own, which I did — one patty (instead of the standard two), grilled onions, tomato and pickle. I chose fries as my side for a total of $11.95. I also got a Red Ale ($7) from Leaven Brewing out of Riverview. Appearance Engine No. 9 served its faux-burger meal like any respectable full-service casual restaurant should — on a plate. The fries stood upright in a chrome container. A pile of grilled onions looked fetching, but obscured the burger beneath. Texture and Taste While this faux burger tasted beef-ish, it ultimately gave itself away as a meat substitute. It had a hint of unwanted flavor that I’ll call chemical-ish. The patty’s texture was legit, and there were even areas of pink, although, importantly, this burger lacked an exterior char. The real disappointment was the bun. Perfectly round and tall, it was like something AI would create if you plugged in “hamburger bun.” The bread was overly fluffy and flat-flavored. I checked with my dining companions, all of whom had gotten beef burgers, and they agreed that the bun was ho-hum. The fries — crispy on the outside and seasoned — were not the type I prefer, but all in all they were fine. Shout out to the Leaven Red. The draft was hearty but not overbearing. And the Winner of the Beyond Impossible Two-Restaurant Challenge Is … I’m pleased to announce that it’s possible for me to pick a clear-cut winner. Burger Monger (Impossible Burger). A few final thoughts: While I may have been impressed by the beefy flavor of The Impossible Burger at Monger, I’m still not ready to have it replace the real stuff. And I suspect that’d be the case with most other omnivores. (It’s expensive, I’m told.) I looked up health comparisons between faux burgers and beef burgers, and I concluded that faux burgers don’t provide clear-cut benefits. (They’re highly processed.) Here’s an informative article laying out the pros and cons of each. I checked with a few of my vegan friends,
Ranking Girl Scout Cookies—Great Cause, But Are They Any Good?
I’m apparently part of a small minority of Americans who’ve never been gaga over Girl Scout Cookies. Bonnie informed me that some decades ago she’d been the “cookie mom” for my daughter’s Girl Scout troop and would store stacks of boxes in the house. I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t remember that. I guess I never raided the stash. Then it occurred to me: I’ve tried Girl Scout Cookies and didn’t much like them. I know Thin Mints, and maybe one having to do with Samoa (Samosas?). So I’m essentially a blank slate when it comes to Girl Scout Cookies, and that makes me uniquely qualified to evaluate them in the year 2024. We’re in the thick of Girl Scout cookie season, which runs between January and April. My colleagues procured five types (of 12 available) for me. I tasted them in one sitting at the FFF Lab™. My accompanying beverage was 2% milk. The boxes cost $6 per pack and were sold by Cora and Emma of Troops 61127 and 61106. Before we begin, a disclaimer: I fully support the sale, distribution and consumption of Girl Scout Cookies. For this exercise, I’m assessing and ranking them strictly on flavor and quality. LEMON-UPS The cutest of them all — sunny discs etched with inspirational sayings. They were crispy-crumbly. The lemon flavor could’ve been more potent. TAGALONGS A smooth, milk-chocolate exterior gave way to a bit of peanut butter filling surrounded by crackly cookie. The stubby little things blended their flavors together pretty well. They’d be better with a dark chocolate covering. TREFOILS These are the kind of dainty morsels you should have at afternoon tea and eat with your pinkie out. They started to crumble at my touch. A basic shortbread cookie that didn’t make much of a flavor impression — but maybe that’s the point. SAMOAS I remember these! The coconut, the dark chocolate swirls, caramel that politely takes a backseat. Moist and chewy, relative to the other ones I tried here, with a flavor that bordered on complex. These Samoas seemed smaller than I remember. Two bites max, unless you’re a nibbler. THIN MINTS It’s not overstating it to call these cookies iconic. The minty aroma hit my nose as soon as I opened the package. Fortunately, the peppermint flavor was not overbearing and worked well with dark chocolate shell. They weren’t as thin as I remembered. Okay, time to rank: 1 — Samoas 2 — Thin Mints 3 — Lemon-ups 4 — Tagalongs 5 — Trefoils My unscientific conclusion is that most people don’t buy Girl Scout Cookies for the flavor or quality. Any grocery store aisle, let alone bakery, offers cookies that are better and cost less. People buy them to help out the kids. And, man, does it work. The organization says that, during the season, Girl Scouts sell enough boxes to bring in $800 million. If astute readers noticed that I tasted five types of Girl Scout Cookies but the lead photo shows only four boxes, that is because our esteemed publisher, Mr. Thomas L. duPont, could not resist opening the Lemon-Ups and thus ruin the package.
Which Restaurant Slings the Best Singapore Noodles?
Like most of you, I’ve had countless types of noodles — from lasagna to bean thread — doused in sauces ranging from marinara to Thai peanut. Until recently, though, I’d never knowingly had Singapore noodles (or Singapore Mei Fun). The name sounds tantalizing. It’s time. Singapore noodles didn’t originate in Singapore, a small country at the southern tip of Malaysia that consists of 63 islands. Most sources agree that the stir-fry dish was probably created in Hong Kong. The best explanation I could find was that, after WWII, Cantonese chefs were eager to use the curry powder introduced via British colonies, and named it Singapore noodles as a nod to the cosmopolitan nature of both city-states. There’s no absolute recipe, but the basics include rice vermicelli, curry powder, vegetables, and a protein — usually prawns, pork or chicken. I found two Asian restaurants with Singapore noodles on the menu: The Glass Noodle and Hawkers: Asian Street Food, which are six blocks apart on Central Avenue in St. Pete. THE GLASS NOODLE Both garage-style doors were open when our dining quartet arrived at 7 p.m. on a Wednesday. It was our first visit. The brightly lit interior had several big-screen TVs showing nature scenes, a design choice that I found a bit odd. We settled into a small four-top. The Glass Noodle, which opened in January of ’23, takes a decidedly pan-Asian tack, with noodle soups and dishes, rice dishes, and appetizers. The noodle entrees emanate from eight Asian countries, including Laos and Cambodia. All well and good, but I was on a mission for Singapore Noodles ($17.95, with chicken). We added an order of Crispy Veggie Spring Rolls ($5.95), and I got a can of 3 Daughters Beach Blonde Ale ($5). (They didn’t have it on draft, sigh.) This dish looked attractive enough, although the noodles were larger and flatter than prescribed. The pieces of chicken were big — and bigger is not always better. Texture and Taste The menu said this dish included Indian curry powder, but the chef must’ve been feeling stingy that night because I couldn’t detect much spice at all, much less Indian curry. The chunks of chicken breast were dry(ish) and burdened by a thick grain that made for chewy bites. Kind of like Asian “mall chicken.” I left a considerable pile on the plate. The noodles were fine, although I would’ve much preferred them skinnier. The sauce, more like a glaze, did not much of an impression. In all, this helping of Singapore noodles didn’t take me anywhere. HAWKERS On Wednesday just after 3 p.m, it was 70 degrees under azure skies — the kind of weather that makes traffic brutal this time of year, although we did find a parking spot less than a block away. We chose a table in the covered patio. A potpourri of “classic” pop hits spilled out of the speakers. When “Danger Zone” came on, my first instinct was to run down Central holding my ears. I didn’t. The restaurant has a vast pan-Asian menu consisting of mostly small plates. Along with Singapore Mei Fun ($14), I ordered Spring Rolls ($5) and a ginger ale, which turned out to be the Fever Tree brand ($4). And no trip to Hawkers would be complete without a round of Roti Canai (Malaysian-style, $9). Appearance This looked like the Singapore noodles I expected. Thin rice noodles — unsauced — were flecked with curry dust, with pieces of chicken (not big), veggies and scrambled egg mixed in. The plate was small, but the portion was not. Texture and Taste I’m so accustomed to eating Asian dishes coated in sauce that this dry noodle dish was a welcome change of pace. The noodles stole the show — as it should be, don’t you think? They were stir-fried to a slight chewiness, and the yellow Malaysian curry gave them a bold flavor, without a spicy kick. The crunchy bits, especially the red pepper, added delight to the bites, and the egg was just present enough. The chicken was moist and tender but basically flavor neutral. A few words about the Roti Canai: Do yourself a flavor and get some of this. I have — many times. The flat-bread roti had a pastry-like quality — flaky, with a slight crispiness on the outside, moist on the inside. Tearing off chunks and dipping them is part of the fun. And then the payoff: The curry sauce — a brown nectar, heaven-sent — is what takes this bread dish from really good to truly memorable. I never forget to get it. And the Restaurant That Slings the Best Singapore Noodles Is … I think I’ve pretty much given it away. Hawkers. Its version struck me as authentic, but regardless, it was delicious. I’m definitely going back for more. My sense is that Singapore noodles have a fairly liberal set of parameters, but The Glass Noodle version fell well outside of them. I’m no expert, but they didn’t strike me as Singapore noodles at all.
Four Bakeries Compete In a Chocolate Chip Cookie Clash
Is there such thing as a bad chocolate chip cookie? Not in my experience, at least thus far. And on the flip side, what’s the difference between a merely good one and a really good one? We’re about to find out. Rather than doing a one-on-one Food Fight this week, I opted to feature three local bakeries and a grocery chain. I’ll pick a winner and rank the rest. I rounded up the cookies and toted them back to the FFF Lab™, piled them on a plate and started sampling. Tough duty, I know. I took bites in a random sequence, circled back and took more bites. My accompanying beverage was 2% milk. BAKE ‘N BABES This small kiosk in the Armature Works food court in Tampa offers a limited menu of sweets, and proudly touts its Salted Chocolate Chip Cookie ($4). The big round beast came in a cute pink bag with the brand logo. Intrigued by how thick the cookie was, I broke out the FFF Tape Measure™. Three-quarters of an inch. I brushed off the salt on top. No need for that. Once I bit past the outer crust, I found the innards too dense. It took work to chew and swallow — a cookie version of eating taffy. Overall, the salt was too present, even without the granules on top. THE BREAD ARTISANS BAKERY This strip-mall small shop in St. Pete is a secret that’s beyond well kept. I drive by it all the time, and had not seen nor heard of the place. To make matters worse, the top of the storefront is off-white, no signage, and has been that way for quite some time, according to the counter man. Inside, the place was barren — a bakery counter and a couple of tables. Still, Bread Artisans has been open seven years. Perhaps I’d stumbled on a hidden gem. Uh, no. These were the smallest and least expensive ($1.50) of the cookie contestants. I bought a couple. I can best describe the flavor as: strange. Plus they were dry, even sandy, and left a vaguely unpleasant aftertaste. Too few chips, too. Perhaps Bread Artisans should stick to bread. There were a few loaves in the case, and they looked pretty good. So, yes, there is such thing as a bad chocolate chip cookie. FRESH MARKET The woman at the bakery counter told me that Fresh Market bakes its cookies in-store, although the dough is made elsewhere. The Giant Chocolate Chunk ($2.50) was true to its name. I’ll describe this one as solid — slightly on the dry side, but not crispy. The flavor was fine but didn’t wow me. Plus, it was a bit too heavy on the chips. Still and all, I’d certainly eat one again. CASSIS This restaurant/bakery in downtown St. Pete was my last stop, so I bought two ($2.25 each). Back at the Lab, I broke out the FFF Tape Measure™. Five eighths of an inch thick. This cookie was darker than the rest. Hmm, I mused: What could this portend? I took a bite. Moist, chewy — but not overly — with sublime chocolate chunks in just the right measure. Now, here was a cookie that wowed me. I finished one, then chomped into the other. I’d concluded my testing and was well full, but continued to munch and chase with milk. I finally managed to stop myself, saving a few bites for later. And the Winner of the Four Bakeries Cookie Clash Is … Need I even write it? Cassis. Here’s how the others ranked: 2. Fresh Market 3. Bake ‘N Babes 4. The Bread Artisans Bakery
Four Food Trucks Fight It Out
By and large, I have no truck with food trucks. The reasons are many, but I’ll cite two: The food is not often very good and is very often over-priced. (Shouldn’t meals handed through a window be less expensive than similar meals served in a restaurant?) Let me stress that this has been my personal experience, of which I’ve had very little. Nonetheless, my colleagues at Registry Tampa Bay lobbied me enough that I wondered if I’d lapsed into myopia. Was I missing out? I could find no reliable clearing house of information for the local food-truck scene, but with the help of my colleagues I managed to piece together a couple of St. Pete destinations, where I sampled the fare of four trucks. This won’t be the usual one-on-one, apples-to-apples Food Fight. Rather, I’ll describe the experiences overall and at the end pick my favorite among the four. ST. PETE SOCIAL FOOD TRUCK LOT Tucked between automotive shops on 49th Street North at 46th Avenue, the cramped space included two food trucks and a mobile tattoo parlor. I was the only one there at 6 p.m. on a Thursday, dinner hour. I wasn’t enamored of the scene — and didn’t need a tattoo — so I decided to pick between barbecue and Puerto Rican. I chose the latter: Ruta 116. Energetic Latin music emanated from that trailer, competing with the languid country music at the barbecue truck. Mixed with traffic noise, it made for sonic mashup that I could’ve done without. Ruta 116 The proprietor looked surprised to see a customer. He essentially ordered for me. (I don’t think he had the stuff on hand to make everything on the menu.) I got deep-fried pork chunks, mamposteao (a mix of yellow rice, red beans and bits of ham) and corn fritters ($15.99) and brought the box back to the FFF Lab™. The pork chunks were very deeply deep-fried, so much so that their texture approached that of jerky. I appreciated their flavor, but my jaws got too much of a workout. The fritters, rather bland, came in little tubes. The best thing in the box was the mamposteao, all the ingredients melding beautifully. Pickled onions added some zing, but the portion was skimpy. 3 DAUGHTERS FOOD TRUCK RALLY If three trucks constitutes a rally, well, alrighty then. We arrived at the popular microbrewery complex in the Warehouse Arts District last Friday at dusk. A decent-sized crowd had gathered in a small midway. Among them were a lot of young people, including quite a few dads holding babies. A heartening sight. I grabbed a couple of 16-ounce cups of 3 Daughters Beach Blonde Ale ($13.08 total). My favorite local beer, it’s better on draft than in the can. Bonnie and I shared a table with another couple, who just happened to be seniors. First, we hit: Johnny Nevada’s Tamales Rather than tamales, we opted for soft tacos ($24.13 with tax). Of the three on order, the proprietor steered us toward one in particular. “You could get one of each, but you’ll wish you’d gotten short rib on all three,” he said emphatically. I didn’t bring up how that would be impossible to know, but instead said, “Sold.” Double-ply flour tortillas encased a generous portion of the reddish brown meat. It tasted as advertised — richly seasoned, splendidly tender. The beef could’ve used some more company, though. The chopped onions and cilantro on top proved too meager, and after a while I was eating just shredded beef and tortilla. I’d happily have another trio of these tacos — and try the others, as well. If they cost less. Cipolla Rossa Wood-Fired Pizza I didn’t bring along my FFF™ Tape Measure, but this Margherita pie ($15) looked to be a 14-incher. It came on a checkered paper atop a Styrofoam plate. The pizza met wood-fired criteria; chewy crust, charred on the edges; basil leaves; well-melded cheese and red sauce, which tilted toward sweet. As I took my bites, I mused, “I’d rather be eating this in a pizza restaurant than on a picnic table.” That is some seriously flawed thinking, I know, but of the four meals I had, this one seemed the least food-truck-ish. Maybe it was the lack of a pizza box. Go Stuff Urself (GSU) The most colorful truck on the lot (pictured at top) — and the busiest — offered stuffed burgers. Now there, my friends, is an idea. I ordered the Franco Avocado ($14.90) — Black Angus beef gorged with fresh avocado, bacon, red onion, melted cheese blend, tomato and lettuce served on a Brioche bun grilled with garlic butter and topped with cheddar cheese. Phew. I regretted not bringing along my FFF™ Defibrillator. The GSU burger came neatly halved in a simple cardboard container. I took a hefty bite. How to describe it? Let me apply an adjective I’m generally loath to use: Awesome! The beef was succulent and lovingly grilled. The myriad ingredients blended into a decadent whole that made me forget about calorie counts and cholesterol. I expected an unholy mess when I ordered, but this awesome burger held together and was easy to eat. I was well full from consuming tacos and pizza but kept chomping away like a dead-eyed shark, finishing my half and then the rest of Bonnie’s. I was going to announce my favorite dish among the four food truck offerings … But I just did.
Tampa vs. St. Pete in a Battle of Big Ol’ Burritos
I don’t recall ever having a bad burrito — and I’ve eaten plenty. What’s not to like about a dinner-plate-sized tortilla piled high with rice, beans, meat, veggies and other goodies, then wrapped tightly into a flavor bomb? I suppose a restaurant could mess one up, but I’m not anticipating that in this week’s episode. If anything, I’m curious to see if two restaurants can make notably different versions. Our contestants are: Casita Taqueria on 4th Street in St. Pete and Muchachas at Armature Works in Tampa. CASITA TAQUERIA It was hovering around 50 degrees when we pulled up around 7 p.m. Saturday. Bonnie and I were bundled up in lined jackets for our 20-foot walk from car to door. Casita Taqueria’s interior was crowded, but we managed to score a two-top next to a wall. The vintage American blues pouring from the sound system at a moderate volume seemed incongruous, but I had no complaints. We ordered at the counter. The base burrito is $7.99, and you can select from 11 meats and veggies with different prices. We chose Barbacoa (+$1.99) and Pescado (cod, +$2.99). We added a bag of corn tortilla chips ($2) and a small container of salsa ($1). I got a Negro Modelo bottle ($3.75). The meal cost $23.96, not counting the beer. Appearance The chips came in a brown paper bag, which flashed me back to my days of toting lunch to school — although my usual two PB&Js and sleeve of Chips Ahoy back then did not produce the grease stains that dotted this one. A counter person brought the burritos to our table, which is far more polite than hollering out a name or number. The burritos came wrapped in aluminum foil on a plain metal tray. We opened them and cut ’em in half with a plastic knife. These fatties looked mighty enticing. Texture and Taste Bonnie and I took one half of each. The two burritos made a good pair. The Barbacoa — braised, shredded beef — had a potent, sweetish tang and a touch of spicy heat that stood out but did not overpower. The meat was supremely tender, not the least bit ropy like some shredded beef can be. The cod was mildly blackened, and could have been more so. Both of the proteins danced well with the rice and black beans, making for a balanced flavor. I should’ve asked for sour cream because the thin layer of crema left me wanting. Both burritos came with chips, so we could’ve done without our extra bag, which we left half full. My compliments to the salsa — mild, finely textured and refreshing. MUCHACHAS It was mid-afternoon Tuesday, the first T-shirt weather in what seemed like several weeks. We paid $10 to park. Wait what?! Our reaction fell somewhere between surprise and shock, with a side helping of indignance. Look, Armature Works — a converted street car barn dating back to 1910 — is a nice amenity for Tampa, but the place is essentially a glorified food court with a river view. Ponying up a ten spot to park for 90 minutes was … Too. Damn. Much. Okay, rant over. Muchachas’ counter people were friendly and eager to help. I ordered a Birria Beef — the closest they had to barbacoa — and Bonnie got Chicken (they had no fish), both $16, with a $3 up-charge for the queso we added to the chicken. Then we walked down the small Subway-style line and picked out all manner of extras — starting with and rice and beans and moving on to plenty of other goodies that I won’t list here. A woman had to put a lot of elbow grease toward rolling all that stuff into burritos. I also got a Mexican Coke ($4). Appearance These burritos showed up much the same way as at Casita Taqueria, and we prepped by cutting them in half. They looked a tad bigger and plumper. We sat at a picnic table outside. After a while, the sun shone through and warmed my back. What a strange feeling. Texture and Taste The beef was tender, although the seasoning didn’t come through. I appreciated the grilled peppers and onions, plus chopped raw onions — which added crunch — and, especially, the roasted corn. Can’t go wrong with corn. The chicken got lost amid the serving-line add-ons, although on their own the small cubes were moist and nicely seasoned. Bonnie appreciated the finely shredded cotija cheese and the queso. Both burritos had red beans, rather than black. And the Winner of the Tampa vs. St. Pete Big Ol’ Burrito Battle Is … Casita Taqueria. A close call. The character of the beef and fish at Casita ultimately won out. And I preferred the black beans to the red. We liked the build-your-own concept at Muchachas — although we probably overdid it. As far as atmosphere, you be the judge: a cramped two-top on a chilly night or a picnic table under partly sunny skies, 70 degrees and breezy. A note on value: The Muchachas meal cost $11 more and did not include chips and salsa.
Grappling Greek Platters (Gyro+Souvlaki)
Gyro is a meat you don’t want to know too much about. It’s damn tasty, and I dig having it two, maybe three, times a year. Other than that, let the meat have its mystery. As many gyro sandwiches and platters as I’ve had, I can’t recall one distinguishing itself, which is another way of saying it all tends to taste the same regardless of the restaurant that serves it. I’ll pay closer attention this week. Because this is Food Fight’s initial foray into Greek cuisine, I thought it prudent to include chicken souvlaki and dolmades (stuffed grape leaves). Our two contestants are: Neptune Grill in Gulfport and Athenian Garden on 4th Street in St. Pete. Ας το κάνουμε. (Let’s do this.) NEPTUNE GRILL A cold front was moving in and the wind blew off the bay as we walked down Shore Boulevard to the restaurant. Neptune Grill looked kind of charming from the outside, but the interior was a plain large space, overly lit, with basic wooden tables and booths and some Greek imagery on the walls. It was 6:30 on Tuesday and business was slow. Our table of four had plenty of elbow room. Contemporary pop and rock played from a tinny sound system, but at a low volume that didn’t impede conversation. Bonnie and I ordered the Gyro Platter ($22.99) which included a Greek salad and fries (which we subbed for potato salad), and added a single skewer of Chicken Souvlaki ($6.99). Dolmades ($11.99) was our starter. I got a Mythos beer ($6), a Greek brand. Appearance A nicely put-together platter. The strips of gyro meat looked like … strips of gyro meat. The chicken skewer seemed a bit meager. The potato salad came separately, in a small bowl. A mini-brick of feta cheese looked imposing — but I knew I could shove it onto Bonnie’s plate. The Dolmades luxuriated in a pool of avgolemono (egg and lemon) sauce. Texture and Taste My biggest complaint with gyro meat is when it’s over-grilled. This was not. It’d been several months since I’d had any and, man, was it tasty. My biggest complaint with chicken souvlaki is when its chalky. This was not. It was moist, if not quite juicy, pleasantly spiced, and free of the sinewy texture that can plague grilled chicken. The bird lost some of its luster as it cooled. I should’ve hit it first, not let it sit. The salad was solid, with a dressing that was fine but could’ve used some more tang. And it would’ve been better off on its own plate. The dolmades were different than the ones I’ve had previously. The grape leaves were more rugged, in a good way. I had to cut them with a knife. The sauce was impressive, silky and not overly tart. There was a substantial pool of it that cried out for more dolmades. Our foursome had one each. I wanted to say, “Hey, the columnist only gets one?” But I didn’t. ATHENIAN GARDEN I’ve been inside this Athenian Garden many times, mostly for takeout, so know the interior well. It’s smaller and more colorful than Neptune Grill, and definitely homier. There was a decided nip in the air, when my friend David met me at 6:45 on Wednesday. We sat at a four-top in the middle of the dining room. Greek music played at a low volume, so was just mildly annoying. I ordered the Combo Platter ($25.95) with gyro and chicken souvlaki, Dolmades ($14.95) and a Greek beer called Fix ($5.75). I knew there would be plenty of food to split with David. Appearance Athenian Garden’s platter comes with a bed of yellow rice, topped grilled onions and peppers. It includes a small Greek salad, which was not all that small. Our server brought it after the Dolmades appetizer, which included some salad. (It’s not often you get salad before the salad course.) Texture and Taste Whereas Neptune Grill served its gyro in hearty slices, Athenian Garden’s were like ribbons — thinner and more grilled, with an outer char in places. Two hefty slabs of breast-meat chicken were chalky and tough, rendering them all but inedible. I took a few bites for due diligence sake. The rice — flavorful, with large kernels — was a propitious match for the meats. Likewise, the peppers and onions added welcome dimensions of taste and texture. The salad came with a scoop of potato salad in the middle, a local custom that I’ve always appreciated. The Greek dressing had just the right level of bite, and the feta was crumbled, allowing me to add bits of it on the fork. The grape leaves in the Dolmades were tender enough to fork cut. The sauce was smooth but ultimately anodyne. And the Winner of the Grappling Greek Platters Is … Neptune Grill. A complicated call. Neptune scored better in the key categories — gyro, chicken, and, marginally, the dolmades. However, Athenian Garden’s inclusion of rice, peppers and onions made for far better accompaniments than the bowl of potato salad at Neptune. Plus AG’s salad was superior, and there was way more of it. Oh, and I slightly preferred the Fix beer to the Mythos. Then there was also the matter of sheer volume, especially as pertains to meal-splitters. Athenian Garden’s platter and app (total cost: $40.90) were plenty enough for two adult-male homo sapiens, whereas after Bonnie and I finished our Neptune Grill meal ($41.97), I could’ve eaten more. The St. Pete restaurant served more of everything than the one in Gulfport — including, unfortunately, chicken.
Fire the Ovens! War of the Wood-Fired Pizzas
My favorite pizza is and always will be New York-style, but over the years I’ve come to like other types, with the notable exception of Detroit-style, which emphasizes the pie in pizza pie — by which I mean thick — and is most often served in rectangular pieces. Along the way, I’ve come to appreciate pizza baked in a wood-fired oven. As it happens, I found two restaurants that use that cooking method a few doors down from each other on the north side of Central Avenue in St. Petersburg’s Edge District. Bavaro’s Pizza Napoletana and Pastaria proudly serves authentic Neapolitan pizza, while the Pizza Box makes no such claim, but says on its website, “we cook with oak and smoke with cherry wood.” Same kind of oven, two different concepts. BAVARO’S It was a dark and stormy afternoon — that turned into a barely raining night. We arrived at Bavaro’s on Tuesday at 6:30, with the allegedly perilous storm system behind us. Despite the weather, the place was moderately busy, but — unlike a lot of the converted industrial spaces in downtown St. Pete — it was not oppressively loud. In the back corner, a young man hustled pizzas in and out of the oven. I could see the flames within. To go with my 12-inch Margherita ($16), I ordered the Italian Chopped Salad ($16) and a ginger ale ($3.50) with not too much ice, because I like to actually taste my soft drinks in restaurants. Appearance The soda had an elegantly arranged double layer of cubes. I wondered if our server, and effervescent woman whose name I didn’t get, had placed them in the glass by kid-gloved hand. The salad was essentially an Italian Cobb, with rows of meats, cheeses and veggies over romaine lettuce. Solid, nothing fancy. Likewise, the Margherita had the requisite earthy look, with the crust burnt in places and hefty dollops of mozzarella cheese blotting the pooled red sauce. Texture and Taste Like other Neapolitan pies I’ve had, this one was very crust-forward, more so than I prefer. I most enjoyed the first bites of each slice — the sweet, velvety tomato sauce mingling with the cheese and thin crust that was chewy, not crispy. The basil leaves added the occasional hint of sharpness, a welcome flavor dimension. On minor complaint: The pizza could’ve been hotter. I ate a few bites of the bread-only crust from each slice, but soon moved on to the next. Everyone else in our party ate every last scrap of their pizza, while my plate contained a pile of end crusts. The salad was solid, like it looked. The salami, strong and appropriately chewy, made the biggest taste imprint. The chicken, while gently seasoned, was chalky. My compliments to the house Italian dressing, which accented but did not overpower the (mostly) good stuff beneath it. PIZZA BOX Within 30 seconds I knew we were in for a vastly different experience than the one we had at Bavaro’s. The oven sat just inside the door, to the left of the long narrow space. The fire emitted a homey smell that I soon found out came from burning cherry wood. The owners — Adam and Kelley, a couple — introduced themselves shortly after we entered. On Thursday at 4:30, and we were the only sit-down customers. I ambled over to the oven, where Adam explained some of the finer points, then grabbed a thermometer and thrust it into the oven, close to the fire. It read 706 degrees. Kelly took our order and chatted with us. “We’re the ultimate mom ‘n’ pop,” she said with a cheery smile. Pizza Box had a bohemian, family vibe. We felt right at home. We ordered a Large Margherita (14-inch, $21) and a Large Seasonal Salad ($14), and I got a can of Dr. Brown’s Root Beer ($2.50). I would be remiss if I failed to mention that Pizza Box was playing the weirdest music I ever recall hearing in a restaurant. Kelly showed me her phone — it was a psychedelic rock playlist on Spotify. I dug it, man. Appearance An extremely no-frills presentation. Paper plates, plastic utensils and cups. Because our table was small, Kelly placed the pizza tin on an empty sauce can. The salad was covered with “crushed crouton dust,” which I’d not seen before. The pizza had a less voluminous crust than the Neapolitan pie at Bavaro’s, and it lacked the pronounced mozzarella rounds. There were way more basil leaves, too. The pizza’s crust was about as thin as a saltine, and while it had a hint of crispiness, it was not crunchy. That’s a good thing, because pizza crust should not eat like a cracker. The blend of house-made tomato sauce, bolder than the competition’s, and mozzarella was well-congealed and sat firmly on the crust. Nothing slid onto the plate. The slices were some of the thinnest I’ve ever had. The end crusts were airy and easy to chew, but I still left a pile of discards on my plate — which, by the way, was surprisingly free of grease spots. Although I admired the salad’s creativity, especially the blend of greens (including kale) and generous portion of red onions, the house-made Caesar dressing was too heavy with anchovy for my liking. I couldn’t get past the saltiness. And the Winner of the War of the Wood-Fired Pizzas Places (On the Same Block) Is … Pizza Box. This is actually a split decision of sorts. The pizzas, while considerably different, were a very close call, with the edge going to Pizza Box. Bavaro’s easily took salad honors. I really liked the atmosphere in both places, but Pizza Box’s blend of quirkiness, conviviality and its DIY air won me over. Ultimately the War of the Wood-Fired Pizzas set tradition against creativity. Both succeeded. I happened to prefer the artisan approach of Pizza Box. But I would gladly return to each of these places — and probably will. Just not
Tampa Bay vs. Athens GA: A Huevos Rancheros Taste-Off
Let’s head south of the border, metaphorically speaking, and check out a dish that originated in rural Mexico as a meal for ranchers and farmers after working through the wee hours of the morning. Y’know, brunch without the mimosas. Huevos rancheros, “rancher’s eggs” in English, date way back to the 16th Century. Along with the chicken embryos — fried, with runny yolk — the basic version includes beans and salsa over a lightly fried corn tortilla. Many current iterations add home-fried potatoes and, as is the case when dishes become widespread and urbanized, restaurants have brought in an array of other ingredients. Welcome to another FFF edition of Tampa Bay vs. The World. Our contestants are Cantaritos Cafe in Athens, Georgia and Grand Hacienda, which has five Bay area locations. We chose the one on 4th Street in St. Pete. Before we begin, a “my bad.” I reflexively ordered my eggs over easy when I should’ve gone with sunny side up. Damn near every online picture of huevos rancheros shows those yellow orbs, and they make for a much nicer photo. Oh, well. CANTARITOS CAFE Cantaritos Cafe was one of two restaurants I found in Athens that serves huevos rancheros. This place was closer, so off we went, arriving at 11 a.m. on a sunny, 50-degree day. Cantaritos, “Little Songs” in English, sits in a shopping center that doesn’t appear to get much traffic. The restaurant’s exterior said hole-in-wall, but inside was a long, narrow space with two dining rooms and a bar. Unfortunately, ours was the only occupied table. We were barely situated when the server brought over three small bowls of vegetable-noodle soup, gratis. My 3-year-old granddaughter dug the stuff. So did Bonnie and I. I ordered Huevos Rancheros ($9.25) and a coffee ($3.49). The food came out quickly. Appearance The meal wasn’t pretty — sunny-side eggs would’ve helped — but it looked hardy. Rugged, even. The eggs covered up the the other stuff, stuff I had high hopes for. Texture and Taste These huevos rancheros definitely required a knife and fork. The two tortillas on the bottom were the size of English muffins and about half as thick. It took quite a bit of sawing to free up pieces. They were chewy but ultimately not too tough. Beneath the appropriately soft eggs were refried black beans, which bestowed a more earthen flavor than the standard red beans. Mix in cubed potatoes, queso fresco and salsa, both house-made, with yolk oozing throughout, and it added up to a robust late breakfast. With no mimosas. GRAND HACIENDA We arrived at the St. Pete location just before 1 p.m. on Wednesday, the sun peeking through a sheet of clouds. It was a shade too brisk for us to eat outdoors, so we sat in a big, cozy booth next to a tall window that looked out onto 4th Street. No traffic noise. Grand Hacienda’s interior was elaborate — an array of “stars” hanging from the ceiling pushed things a bit too far — but not overly festooned with Mexican paraphernalia. About half the seats were filled, but the place was quiet, and Bonnie and I were able to converse easily, even though separated by a wide table made of glossy wood. I order my Huevos Rancheros ($12.95) and a cup of coffee ($3.99). Appearance This meal looked markedly different than the one in Athens. A drizzle of sour cream covered what could’ve been, say, an enchilada. The potatoes sat separately. A scoop of guacamole appeared out of place. Hmm. “Dónde están los huevos,” I mused. Where are the eggs? Texture and Taste “There are eggs, right there,” Bonnie said, pointing. “I see it. Do you see it? They exist.” This was about halfway through the meal, and she was kidding, but only partly. I had previously detected some egg, although it was well hidden beneath layers of sour cream, queso crumbles, refried beans and salsa. There was a yolk sighting here and there. The eggs didn’t make much of a flavor impression, though. In fact, very little of the ingredients did on their own, but instead ran together and formed a kind of moosh that was too soupy, and ultimately bland. As were the potatoes. The thin tortilla was a non-factor. And the Winner of the St. Pete-vs.-AthensGA Huevos Rancheros Rumble Is … Cantaritos Cafe. The decision was not a close one. .
The Best Stuff I Ate (at Restaurants) In 2023
Fifty-two weeks, probably a couple hundred dishes, and it feels like I still haven’t scratched the surface. But it’s time for a look back. Here’s a dozen meals that stood out in 2023. Make that a baker’s dozen. I’ll begin with the basics, then transition into some specific highlights. Best Overall Meal Bayshore Mediterranean Grill This no-frills Turkish restaurant in Tampa’s Ballast Point neighborhood issued a three-course gem that was as colorful as it was delicious. We began with a big, round loaf of lavash bread, which came puffed up, then deflated in front of us. We had a few preliminary nibbles, then when our appetizer came we tore off chunks and dipped them into the sumptuous quartet of spreads. Of the 30 kebabs on order, we went basic with Chicken Shish Kebab: 10 seasoned pieces (unskewered) that worked best when combined with their partners on the plate: white rice, bulgur, red cabbage, and salad. Some dill pickles left over from the appetizer added extra zing. Best Appetizer Prosciutto Melone at The Brother Trattoria Hefty pieces of prosciutto wrapped around thick slices of perfectly ripe cantelope shared a plate with a bulb of burrata cheese. And a balsamic reduction for good measure. A cornucopia of texture and taste — creamy, crunchy, salty, sweet, tangy. Bites worthy of the gods. Best Entree Fresh Catch: Yellowedge Grouper at Middle Grounds Grill This day-boat grouper, expertly blackened, was moist and meaty, with more flavor than most white fish I’ve had. Accompanied by garlic mashed potatoes and beautifully cooked green beans, it was a masterful meal. The portion size was perfect. I didn’t go wanting, but there was nothing to take home. Best Dessert Cannoli at Sorrento Sweets The small desserteria in downtown St. Pete specializes in Italian treats. The two cannoli carried a stronger-than-usual ricotta flavor, mixing tart with sweet. The crust was crispier than I’m accustomed to but didn’t crackle and fall apart. Best Breakfast Eggs Benedict at The Frog Pond I’m more of an omelet man, but this meeting of downy poached eggs with runny yoke, smokey(ish) Canadian bacon and lemon-tinged Hollandaise sauce on an English muffin was outstanding. Best Lunch A Couple Slices of Joey Brooklyn’s Pizza I grew up an hour outside Manhattan, so consider myself something of a New York pizza-eating expert. And Joey Brooklyn’s, a hole-in-the-wall on the northern side of the Jannus Landing block in downtown St. Pete, scored big on all counts: thin, foldable, appropriately greasy, with the cheese and red sauce expertly melded. And my two slices came out hot-hot. Best Cuban Meal That Was Actually Two Meals Cuban Roast Pork with Black Beans and Yellow Rice at Pipo’s This enormous helping, which all but spilled over the plate, cost just $6.95. What?! But that wasn’t the half of it. Pipo’s makes the best version of this Cuban staple that I’ve ever tasted: citrusy pork, but not overbearing; flavorful beans over equally flavorful yellow rice. Only the most robust eaters could knock this dish out in one sitting. Make sure and box up the remainder for another helping at home. Best Shellfish Dish for a Guy Who’s Not Inclined Toward Shellfish Lobster Rolls at West Street Cafe, Bar Harbor, Maine and Mason’s Famous Lobster Rolls, St. Pete A long-time lobster abstainer, I had my first ever rolls this year. I was a bit trepidatious, but ended up really liking them. As promised, both of these places served the best parts of the lobster — free of all that cracking, pulling and prying — stuffed into a bun. West Street Cafe in Maine got the nod in that week’s column, but I was surprised how well Mason’s Famous stacked up. Best Wings for a Guy Who’s Not Inclined Toward Wings Tiki Docks, St. Pete location These plump jumbos, sublimely juicy and slathered in Hawaiian BBQ sauce, had a distinctive char and just-off-the-grill flavor that restaurants rarely achieve. Best Mediterranean Vegetarian Falafel at Mio’s Grill & Cafe While a darker brown than most falafels I’ve eaten, the smallish nuggets at Mio’s had vibrant green innards with a mild flavor that let the taste of the chickpeas shine through. And they didn’t crumble. Best So-Very-French Dish Coq au Vin, The Left Bank Bistro Not by accident did I eat this dish on July 14, Bastille Day. Artfully presented with a bone sticking upward, this coq au vin offered a lovely combination of flavors — fall-off-the-bone chicken on a bed of fingerling potatoes lying in a pool of rich brown sauce. Magnifique. Best Healthy Snack That Eats Like a Meal Avocado Toast at Flatbread & Butter and Karma Eatery I had this vegan staple at two boho-leaning places just north of downtown St. Pete. Their versions were so different that I had to include both. Karma’s was more basic — the bright green spread flecked with seasoning. FB&B’s avocado was decorated with pickled onions, heirloom tomatoes and an array of seeds. Both were terrific. I had an egg with each, thus ruining my short-lived vegan cred. Best Fancy Cocktail in a Fancy Bar The Manhattan at CW’s Gin Joint My Manhattan project, a brief diversion from Bud Light, turned out delightful. With friends Sandy and Brendan, we entered this dark cocktail emporium in downtown Tampa at 5 p.m. with the aid of a doorman. The knowledgeable bartender instructed us on the finer points of the classic cocktail as he concocted a louche brown nectar that was only slightly sweet, with an appealing bite that never crossed over into harsh. I can’t recall a better happy hour. Bonus Category: Best Art on a Bun Ford’s Garage The picture says it all. Here’s to a happy and healthy, peaceful and productive, etc. etc., 2024.
Country vs. City: A Pot Roast Rumble
I remember during my 20s being snowed in while visiting the parents of my pal Teddy in Shelby, N.C. We ran sled races down their steep, icy street. We drank moonshine. I heard Southern accents like I’d never before. And then Beatrice — pronounced Be-AT-triss, I’ll never forget it — served up her signature pot roast. Heaven. Indescribably, unforgettably, delicious. I’ve loved pot roast ever since, and while Beatrice’s will always reign supreme, I have long wanted to feature the dish in FFF. Problem was, it’s not easy to find in local restaurants. Then came my breakthrough. While preparing for a magazine feature on Solomon’s Castle, a quirky roadside attraction southeast of Tampa Bay in Hardee County, I discovered that the equally quirky restaurant on the grounds, quirkily named The Boat in the Moat, has pot roast on the menu. Halfway there. After some online research, and more than a few dead ends, I found that Dead Bob’s in St. Pete serves it. THE BOAT IN THE MOAT The Boat in the Moat was built by the late artist Howard Solomon as part of his wildly eclectic attraction, which is less than 90 minutes from both downtown St. Pete and downtown Tampa and is definitely worth a visit. The craft sits in a shallow, motionless creek. It’s not going anywhere. Inside it’s floor-to-ceiling wood, decorated in a hodgepodge style, with nautical knick-knacks, round stained-glass windows, mismatched chairs, et al. The restaurant features a large, open-air courtyard, but we ate inside to get the full effect — plus it was a blustery Thursday afternoon. I ordered my Pot Roast ($15.95) with mashed potatoes (what else?) and spinach casserole (as recommended). Appearance Pretty on a bright-blue plate. The kitchen had even dug a crater in the potatoes for the gravy to pool. It’s the same technique my Mom used. Had I known the meal came with a dinner roll, I would’ve declined it. Texture and Taste Home cookin’. The thick slices of beef, appropriately grainy, were tender and moist when mixed with the gravy. Some of the borders were a bit overdone and chewy, but in my experience that’s no sin when it comes to pot roast. The potatoes were silky with nary a lump, and the gravy was rich and beefy, if a little thinner than I prefer. The spinach casserole was terrific — decadently cheesy, but easy to fork-cut and eat. Much to its overall credit, the dish was not too salty, and I actually sprinkled some on from a shaker. DEAD BOB’S I’ve never quite understood the popularity of this place, which sits in a dilapidated strip mall near the junction of Central and Pasadena avenues. It must be the cheap drinks and food. Or that it stays open ’til 3 a.m. every day of the week. Maybe the irreverence of the name has something to do with it (the owner named it after a friend, who died). Or because Dead Bob’s is nearly always busy, which it was on Tuesday at 6:30 when we managed to find a cramped table for nine. Before I continue, I’d be remiss if I didn’t share with you (at right) the sign on both of the restroom doors. Make of it what you will. I ordered a Pot Roast Dinner ($11.24) andd a steady stream of Bud Light bottles ($3.25 each; Dead Bob’s does not serve drafts). We decided to forgo an appetizer. Appearance The room was dark, but I could make out a brawny portion of beef covered in brown gravy, with gravy-covered mashed potatoes and a mound of broccoli that looked to have tumbled from a frozen bag. Texture and Taste As my Ohio-bred Dad used to say: pretty durned good. The star of the production was the pot roast itself — fork-cut tender, succulent, not a dry bite in the entire portion. The hearty beef stood on its own, with or without the gravy, which didn’t make much of an impression. The mash potatoes were too dense for my liking, but held up their end. The broccoli was just as it looked — limp, short on flavor. I ate only a few bites. Besides, I’m a firm believer that peas are the only vegetable that should accompany mashed potatoes (although spinach casserole is a fair substitute). And the Winner of the Country vs. City Pot Roast Rumble Is … The Boat in the Moat. Permit me a caveat: If my decision was based solely on the pot roast, Dead Bob’s would’ve won. But when considering the meals as a whole — the gravy, the potatoes, the spinach casserole vs. the broccoli, the atmosphere, the blue plate — it was the landlocked nautical restaurant that provided the better experience.