Tampa vs. Seminole: A Lobster Ravioli Rumpus
I’d been lobster-adverse my entire life and then in September — motivated by a trip through New England — I went a little nuts and decided to do a Friday Food Fight featuring lobster rolls. Man, did I love ’em. “Maybe it’s time to rethink this lobster thing,” I mused. That’s why, instead of showcasing meat- and/or cheese-filled ravioli this week, I decided to go a little nuts again and get the lobster version. This gig lets me try new things — but that comes with risk. Will my ardor for lobster rolls transfer to lobster ravioli? Let’s find out. I chose two moderately priced Italian restaurants: Stefano’s Italian Cuisine in the hinterlands of Seminole; and The Brother Trattoria in South Tampa. I’ve not been to either. STEFANO’S ITALIAN CUISINE I thought we’d walked onto a set of Everything Everywhere All At Once. It would take a half a day just to straighten out the picture frames. But my guess is that neo-ramshackle was a conscious design choice, and I have to say it was not without its charms. Stefano’s is in a small strip mall way out west in Seminole. The place has a neighborly mom-and-pop vibe, with friendly, attentive service. We arrived at 6 p.m. and sat at a four-top near the back of the dining room. It was blessedly quiet, and even when the tables started to fill up, the ambient noise wasn’t a bother. We ordered Lobster Ravioli ($26) to split, and selected Eggplant Parmigiana ($14), Bonnie’s choice, as a starter. Our server brought over a small basket of bread at not charge. Appearance There’s only so much you can do with white pasta in a white sauce in a white bowl. A few bits of parsley? Okay. The sauce was thick and glistening, suggesting ample use of butter. I thought, “This stuff is going to be rich.” The Eggplant Parmigiana’s presentation was similarly understated, the red sauce sprinkled with a few bits of parsley. All of the things that seduced me about lobster rolls — tender, succulent chunks of seafood, lightly dressed, encased in a bun — were missing from this lobster ravioli. Because I’m a newbie, I don’t know the protocols for this dish, but would it be out of line to wish for, if not chunks, at least some bits of lobster? The menu says that the raviolis are “stuffed with fresh lobster meat and ricotta.” I don’t doubt that, but the lobster meat had been ground so finely and combined with cheese that the primary effect was a lobster flavor. The lobster cream sauce added more lobster flavor. I found that I preferred the bites that I didn’t bathe in sauce. All told, the dish tasted as rich as it looked. Big ups to the eggplant parmigiana. The light breading provided a sumptuous crunch, which gave way to smooth innards. Sensible squiggles of mozzarella were topped by a delightful red sauce, which was more sweet than acidic. THE BROTHER TRATTORIA We arrived at 5:30 Wednesday under a pink-hued sky hoping that our dinner would come up roses. Open since August, The Brother Trattoria is owned by a married couple, Ashton Sanchez and Chef Joel Sanchez. Both have long histories in the restaurant business. Think of the interior design as rustic modern: whitewashed brick walls contrast with black booths and tables. A pizza station with a bright-red oven oven occupies one corner. I was impressed with the lighting, which set a warm mood without being too dark. A few framed photos decorated the walls, all of them level. The entire staff was amiable and eager to please, as it should be with new eateries. We ordered Ravioli Arogosta ($22), to split, with a starter of Prosciutto Melone ($18) and a Caesar Salad ($11). Our server, Miriam, hustled over a basket of bread with a small bowl of olive tapenade for dipping. Appearance Everything looked terrific. Salad, bread, tapenade, ravioli (with sundried tomatoes adding color, see photo at top) and, especially the appetizer: Healthy pieces of prosciutto encased slices of cantelope, with a bulb of burrata cheese nearby, and a few arugula leaves for more color. Texture and Taste I’ll start with the main attraction: The most noticeable aspect of this lobster ravioli was the presence of shreds and mini-chunks of lobster meat. This made for a complex texture and also provided a more organic flavor, milder than the competition’s. The sauce, while creamy, was not heavy, and I enjoyed soaking my bites with it. The pasta was impeccably al dente. The tomatoes gave the dish a kind of lightness, further mitigating the richness in what is intrinsically a rich dish. I can safely say that the Prosciutto Melone was the single best thing I ate all week. The salty prosciutto danced merrily with the bright sweetness of the melon. Adding in a dollop of burrata and a touch of balsamic reduction made for bites worthy of the gods. The Caesar didn’t try to be anything other than it was, and benefited from the ideal level of dressing (and it wasn’t over-cheesed). The bread was perhaps a little chewier than I prefer, but the tapenade was splendid; flecks of red pepper added a hint of spicy heat. And the Winner of the Lobster Ravioli Ruckus Is … The Brother Trattoria. An easy call. TBT’s lobster ravioli was an elevated version when compared with Stefano’s’ more basic approach. The Tampa restaurant’s dish managed to bring an element of lightness to a heavy dish. While the eggplant parm at Stefano’s was a first-rate appetizer, the ham-wrapped cantelope at TBT was something I’ll remember for a long time. Our dinner at TBT certainly came up roses. Although I only ate one meal there, I recommend you check the place out.
Hanger vs. Skirt — With a Title at Steak
Ah, the best laid plans … This week’s FFF was supposed to pit hanger vs. hanger, but a wrench got thrown into the works. As we put in our order at Wild Child, the server informed us that the hanger steak on the menu had been changed to skirt. This was early Thursday evening, too late in the game to find another place to get a hanger steak. So we’re pivoting to skirt vs. hanger — in this case the Hangar Steak at The Hangar Restaurant & Flight Lounge at Albert Whitted Airport. Our server assured me that its offering was indeed a hanger steak. Got that? Fortunately, the cuts are fairly similar. Both are “flat steaks” from a similar part of the animal. They’re lauded for a potent, beefy flavor, and their pronounced graininess. I don’t often eat steak, and when I do I prefer not knowing what part of the cow it comes from. So much for that. In my perfect world, steak would not come from a cow at all. It would just be … steak. THE HANGAR Tuesday, 4 p.m., a perfect postcard afternoon, so we chose a table on the covered balcony overlooking the runway. I wore a sweater that I really didn’t need. After sitting for about five minutes, I was never so glad to hear the guttural roar of a single-engine airplane. That’s because The Hangar was running a playlist that should’ve been titled “History’s Most Annoying Holiday Hits,” most of which were culled from the middle of last century. The plane engine mercifully drowned the music out, but not for long. I admit to being Grinchy when it comes to Christmas music. Bonnie gave me a wry grin and said, “You’re just a grumpy old man,” to which I replied, “This crap would make me grumpy no matter what age I was.” Okay, rant over. We decided to split our Hangar Steak ($24) and have it cooked medium rare. It came with fries and chimichurri sauce. We added a soup of the day: chicken and vegetable. Appearance A hefty slab of beef sat atop a bed of fries, which was topped by avocado-forward chimichurri. Because I’d been off steak for quite some time, and because I had skipped lunch, I was eager to dig in. Texture and Taste The steak was, as promised, rich and beefy. It was tender in places and chewy in others — but not to the extent that it was a problem. I homed in on the pieces that had the most outer char, which were more cooked and had extra graininess. Bonnie gravitated to the rarer slices in the middle. We made a good steak-eating team, and easily polished it off. The fries were crispier than I prefer, and got cold quickly. The chimichurri was exemplary. I could see julienned radish mixed with the the avocado, but this topping had some type of magic dust that helped it transcend the sum of its parts. The chimichurri made each bite of steak better. I wished there was more of it. The soup, which we got before the main course, was more hearty and flavorful than we expected. All told, we enjoyed a satisfying meal — music notwithstanding. WILD CHILD It had dropped into the mid 60s by 5:30 Thursday, so we opted to eat indoors rather than in the courtyard. A mistake. The smallish dining room wraps around a very busy bar, with the open kitchen adjacent. All the tables were occupied by young folks. Conversation bounced off the walls. Shakes and clangs and the occasional BAM pounced on us from the bar and kitchen. Layer on a hipsterized playlist ranging from ’80s new wave to Ethiopian jazz, and you’ve got the makings for quite a din. A burdensome din. An almost ruinous din. I had to lean over our two-top to have a conversation with Bonnie. Hey, I understand that Wild Child, situated in St. Pete’s Grand Central district, is not my scene. I’d never been there, so had no expectation of quiet dinner for two. But still. Loud, man, one of the loudest restaurants I’ve ever been in. I ordered my skirt (formerly known as hanger) steak ($35) medium, and we added a Tuna Tostada appetizer ($17). Appearance The plate had a lot going on. So did the menu description. Slices of skirt steak atop a white-ish puree, a couple of other glistening sauces, broccoli, potatoes. Texture and Taste Wild Child’s skirt steak was similar to Tuesday’s hanger, but I could detect a subtle difference: The skirt had a milder flavor, and made less of an impression. The meat — somewhat chewy, but not disagreeably so — sat on a helping of parsnip puree, a ubiquitous white concoction that dominated the texture. It had an innocuous taste, and smothered the meat, stunting its flavor. The potato wedges were tasty, as was the big stalk of broccoli While I mostly enjoyed my meal, this steak dish was hampered by over-reach. There was just too much going on. A simpler, more steak-forward presentation would have suited me better. Kudos to the appetizer. The tender tuna chunks were sharpened by lime-pickled onions, and the sweetish sauce included finely ground peanuts. Who Takes the Hanger vs. Skirt Steak Title? The Hangar. Its unfussy presentation accentuated the steak, which had a richer flavor than its competitor’s. Each place’s atmosphere gave me agita for different reasons. But I’d ultimately choose The Hangar’s cheesy Holiday music over the racket at Wild Child. Let me repeat: I’m of an age where clamorous restaurants no longer work for me. The young folk sitting in the dining room seemed fine with it.
A Smoothie Smashdown Between Two Local Chains
With Thanksgiving cleared, I have a short window for healthier eating until the (actual) Christmas season arrives and the gluttony resumes. But that’s not the only reason I chose smoothies as this week’s subject. I have picked up a nasty cold, and I blame my otherwise adorable granddaughter, a (just turned) 3-year-old who attends preschool and is a super-carrier of everything. Someday I’m going to spend extended time with her and not get sick. That’s bound to happen, right? What stings even more is that, apart from the occasional cough, granddaughter was in the pink during the entire time she and her parents stayed with us. Still and all, would I put up with a nasty cold to spend 10 quality days with her? Every. Single. Time. So, smoothies. I’m a veritable rookie. I’ve had a a few homemade ones (made by others), but have no memory of ordering a smoothie from a purveyor of smoothies. That changes this week. Let’s hope they help my health. I’ve chosen two locally based chains with shops near my home in St. Pete, another bonus for a man with a cold. The are: Grain & Berry, with 11 Bay area locations, and SOHO Juice Co., with two — the other in the South Howard section of Tampa (hence the name). I’ve chosen to go on back-to-back days, based on the assumption that to do so has better healing potential than drinking two smoothies in one day. GRAIN & BERRY I needed a sweatshirt when I headed out about 3pm on Tuesday. As one who lives for cold fronts, I should’ve loved it, but not so much with a nasty cold. Grain & Berry, located in a relatively new strip center on 4th Street in St. Pete, has a tidy interior that doesn’t try too hard. It’s most noticeable feature is bananas. Bunches of bunches of bananas at various stages of ripeness decorate the front counter. There’s a smaller rack of bananas on the back wall. These bananas gave the mostly wood-grained room some color, but I wondered about them as an interior design choice. I asked the helpful counter person, Mia, what the store’s most popular smoothie was, and although she couldn’t cite just one, we finally decided on the Magic Dragon ($8.74). My only regret — which didn’t occur to me until later — was that I ordered the one smoothie (of eight on the menu) that did not include banana. Appearance Almost certainly the first fuschia-colored beverage I’ve ever had. I was briefly mesmerized by its brightness. Radioactive, I wondered? The color comes from the Magic Dragon’s primary ingredient, pitaya, or dragon fruit, which is lauded for its health properties. Because the fruit is tart, this smoothie uses peach, pineapple, orange juice, strawberries and almond milk to sweeten it. Texture and Taste The drink had the kind of organic sweetness that convinced me it was fully fruit-based. A hint of graininess furthered my conviction. Some of the dragon fruit’s tartness shone through, which added zip. The drink started out thick, but not so much that it was difficult to suck through a straw. I took my time — drank some of it at G&B, some on the drive home, and finished it at the FFF Lab™, at which time it had incurred considerable meltage. In all, I found the Magic Dragon to be tasty, straightforward and easy to drink. SOHO Juice Co. At 2 p.m. Wednesday it was brisk and sunny, and I was more able to enjoy the weather — mostly because I was feeling somewhat better, which I attribute more to my nasty cold running its course than to the previous day’s smoothie. But I could be wrong. SOHO Juice is located in a small shopping center at the clogged juncture of 4th Street North and 22nd Avenue. The functional space is clearly intended for primarily takeout business, although there are a few basic tables and chairs. I had realized beforehand that matching up smoothies between these two chains would be tricky, so I ultimately decided to go with pitaya as the common ingredient. And that meant the Purple Haze ($9.99). It had a more elaborate set of ingredients than its counterpart, which I won’t list in full but will tell you that it included … banana. Appearance Bright purple, although not as bright as the prior day’s fuschia. And it was probably not the first purple beverage I’ve ever had, although at the moment I can’ t name one. It looked thicker than the Magic Dragon. Texture and Taste This one was foodier. Is that a word? It is now. I detected little bits of food in this smoothie, and could even taste the dates. So it required some mild chewing, whereas the smoothie at G&B did not. These mini-morsels took some getting used to, but about halfway through I began to understand that I was not only drinking a smoothie, I was getting a meal. I checked back on the menu and darned if SOHO doesn’t call them “Meal Replacement Smoothies.” The Purple Haze had no dominant flavor, and was kind of amorphous. The drink had an appropriate level of sweetness, but nothing tart or sour to add zing. Not surprisingly, this smoothie went down more slowly than the competition’s, with little discernible meltage. And the Winner of the Smoothie Showdown Between Two Local Chains Is … Grain & Berry. I hasten to add that, more so than a lot of Food Fights, this one boiled down to a matter of preference, largely because I could not find a viable apples-to-apples comparison. So, because I’m a babe in the smoothie woods, I went with the most basic criterion: Which one did I enjoy more?
Holy Cannoli! Two Bakeries Battle it Out
So you’ve eaten all the pie in the house but your seasonal sugar jones is still in full effect. Withdrawal is setting in and something must be done — fast. Sure, you could get some cake or cookies or cupcakes or cobbler or even more pie or, heck, you could even hunt down that box of chocolate-covered cherries Aunt Shirley sent two Christmases ago. Panicking, you wonder “Did I really throw out that fruitcake?” Stop. Breathe. How ’bout a nice cannoli? It’s the perfect time of year for cannoli because every time of year is perfect for cannoli. And these adorable little tubes pack a big sugar wallop. Cannoli originated in Sicily, of that there is no argument. Most histories trace the treat back to the 10th or 11th century when Arabs ruled the island. One legend maintains that they were invented by a harem as a phallic tribute to their Sultan. But let’s not get too far afield. Our two combatants are: La Segunda Bakery & Cafe on 4th Street in St. Pete and Sorrento Sweets downtown. La Segunda The cafe is an offshoot of the renowned bakery that’s been the go-to for Cuban bread and other goodies in Tampa for more than a hundred years. The St. Pete location opened in the spring of 2022. The smallish space boasts an impressive baked goods case. A cheese Danish the size of a Frisbee caught my eye. But no, I was here for cannoli, which weren’t all that large. At 2 p.m. on Monday, we ordered two cannoli ($3.54 each), which came in a small box, and took our treats to a table in the massive breezeway. No plate, so I made do with a napkin. Appearance A basic cannoli, as I know it, with dark-chocolate chips on each end of the rolled pastry concealing the white filling. Texture and Taste The pastry was more spongey than crusty. It gave way easily to the filling, which was was smooth and creamy, and more sweet than cheesy. The chocolate chips added some welcome crunch and sharp flavor. I’m always surprised at how these little sugar bombs fill you up. I didn’t even take a bite out of the second, in part because we were headed to … Sorrento Sweets It was an easy 10-minute drive to this cozy coffee shop, wedged into a line of businesses in the 600 block of Central Avenue. We lucked into a nearby parking spot. Sorrento’s small sign made the place a little tricky to find. The brand was founded in Port Richey by Salvatore Patuzo, who named the business after his hometown in Italy. The St. Pete location opened in January 2021, joining the flagship and one in Tampa’s Hyde Park Village. In the St. Pete store, a few folks were using the cafe area as a workspace. Christmas decorations were in full effect, but — thankfully — no Holiday music. I’m Grinchy about Holiday music, especially before Thanksgiving. A lone cannoli ($3.98) sat on the top row of the bakery case. The counter person informed me that it was just for exhibition and she could certainly get me two. Appearance A charming presentation. The two cannoli sat on a white plate in colorful wrappers. The swirled filling sprouted proudly from the pastry. I wondered about the smidgen of chocolate sprinkles instead of chips. Texture and Taste The crust was crispier than the competition’s, but not so much that it crackled and fell apart. The filling was clearly the star attraction of this cannoli. It was less sweet than that of La Segunda, and also denser. The stronger ricotta flavor imbued the pastry with a subtle tartness. The chocolate sprinkles were a non-factor. Because of this cannoli’s generous amount of filling — and the fact that I had just eaten one — I struggled to finish it. But spurred by yumminess, I hung in there and succeeded. And the Winner of the Holy Cannoli! Bakery Battle Is … Sorrento Sweets. Although I’m no expert, the evidence points to Sorrento’s being more authentically Sicilian. And I enjoyed the muted sweetness. My wife and son hectored me about pitting what is effectively a Cuban bakery against a more decidedly Italian one. But La Segunda makes cannoli, so fair game. It finishes segunda. They urged me to include Mazzaro’s, and I agreed, but on one condition: if someone picked up a cannoli and brought it back to the FFF Lab™. On Wednesday morning, Bonnie schlepped daughter-in-law and granddaughter to Mazzaro’s to pick up some Thanksgiving stuff. Upon return, they were empty-handed of cannoli. My wife said the lines at the bakery counter were 10 deep.
Tampa vs. St. Pete: An Epic Clash of Cobb Salads (Plus Soup)
Soup and salad, a solid combo. Not quite soup and sandwich, but it’ll do, especially during a wet week. Why, specifically, Cobb salad? I don’t know; it just popped into my head. Plus, I’ve never been entirely sure what constitutes a Cobb salad. So I looked it up. Here are the basics: lettuce, tomato, bacon, hard-boiled egg, and chicken or turkey. After that, restaurants tend to freelance. The dish dates back to the late 1930s at the Brown Derby in Hollywood, and was named after the restaurant’s owner, Robert Howard Cobb. This week’s rain made me think of soup, so I added it to the competition. Our contestants are: Bare Naked Kitchen in South Tampa and Stone Soup Cafe & Pub in St. Pete. BARE NAKED KITCHEN Yes, those really were raindrops on Tuesday afternoon. We needed an umbrella to enter BNK at 3:30. Predictably, business was slow. The fast-casual restaurant — founded by Outback Steakhouse co-founder Bob Basham and high-profile chef Chris Ponte — opened in February 2022 and is located in a stand-alone building on a busy stretch of Henderson Boulevard. We ordered at the counter in the large, well-lit space and sat at a window booth so we could look out on the rain. Bland pop music of the sort you hear in malls pumped through the sound system, but at a merciful volume. The Naked Cobb ($13) was naked of bird meat, so we added herb chicken for $3. We also got bowls of seasonal soup — cauliflower cheddar ($7) — the only one available. Appearance Big kalera lettuce leaves formed a vibrant green shell, which held a fetching melange of Cobb stuff, although the chunks of chicken concerned me. I liked the sight of scallions in the cardboard bowl of creamy soup. Texture and Taste I was right about the chicken. Eaten on its own, it was dry-ish, without much if any herbal flavor. Obligatory protein morsels. Its blandness didn’t matter much when blended with the bacon (not too crispy), pickled onions (not too strong) and other materials. The salad came dressed. I like my Cobb salad — my salads in general — wet, but not soggy. I almost asked for some extra buttermilk herb dressing, but ultimately there was enough on there. Crumbles of gorgonzola cheese added some tang. The grape and heirloom tomatoes were kinda meh. Overall, the ingredients meshed well, with some coming to the aid of others. Near the end, I got innovative — using lettuce leaves to make Cobb wraps. Hey, an extra dose of leafy greens. I dug the soup. The cheddar was medium-sharp, which added some zing, and chunks of cauliflower required chewing. Besides tasting good, it was the ideal thickness. STONE SOUP CAFE & PUB The place has been fixture in the Allendale area of St. Pete since 1992, but somehow I’d never been. It was raining again on Thursday afternoon, and Bonnie had to circle the parking lot a couple times to find a spot. Stone Soup was busy, but there was no wait. Most of the tables were occupied, and the dining room was loud with conversation. A dark-wood bar stood to the right of the entrance, beckoning. But it was 1:30 — too early for me. I made a mental note to come back with some friends and tip a few. Women servers of varying ages bustled about, and they all seemed in a good mood. How to describe our server, Debbie? Perky, but with an edge. “Hope ya hungry, ’cause you’re not gonna leave here hungry,” she said in a New England accent. She was spot on. In all, Stone Soup had an inviting neighborhood feel. I got ranch dressing (on the side) with my Cobb salad ($12.65). Of the four soups on order, I chose Loaded Baked Potato ($6.95), which Debbie steered me toward. Appearance Stone Soup’s Cobb presentation was very traditional, with turkey, egg, bacon, tomato and bleu cheese crumbles assembled in rows, obscuring the lettuce beneath. The salad was enormous. Add in a couple of mini-muffins and it bordered on daunting. The soup looked luscious. Texture and Taste Not paying attention, I took my first bite of the salad and was overwhelmed by the bite of bleu cheese. I don’t dislike bleu cheese, but I’d rather not to be attacked by it. Then my idiot move: I called Debbie over and apologetically informed her that I had ordered ranch, not bleu cheese, dressing. She patiently explained (with a wry grin) that I had just shoveled in a mouthful of bleu cheese crumbles, then brought me a plate so I could scrape some of it off. I had to engage in considerable smooshing to find the salad’s optimal balance of flavor and texture. In all, Stone Soup’s Cobb was a step above one you’d find in a diner. I ate, slowly, for about a half-hour and never came close to seeing the bottom of the bowl. The remainder came home with me, although whether I’ll eat it remains an open question. The soup was terrific, thick and rich but never cloying. I consumed it all, which is one reason I didn’t make much of a dent in my Cobb. And the Winner of the Rainy Afternoons Clash of the Cobb Salads (Plus Soup) Is … Stone Soup Cafe & Pub. The decision comes with a significant caveat: I preferred the Cobb salad at Bare Naked Kitchen. It gets points for creativity, especially those big lettuce leaves, and sensible portion size. Stone Soup, living up to its name, handily won the soup contest. (Can you imagine the embarrassment if they didn’t?) The St. Pete restaurant also took honors for atmosphere. Its homey, friendly vibe — not to mention proximity to home — will bring me back, especially for a few drafts at the bar.
Tampa vs. St. Pete: Fresh Fish Nuggets in Two Open-Air Restaurants
An extended stretch of pleasantly warm days and cool nights called for some open-air dining. Plus I found myself in the mood for fish. It wasn’t hard to find two qualified candidates: Salt Shack on the Bay in Tampa and Trophy Fish in St. Pete. Both restaurants feature dining areas that are covered but not enclosed. Both boast fish from Gulf waters caught that day. It was our first visit to each place. Enough setup. Let’s do this. SALT SHACK ON THE BAY We pulled into the Salt Shack parking lot at 6:30 Tuesday under full darkness. That didn’t last long because the sprawling waterfront complex near the eastern end of the Gandy Bridge is bathed in light. The place is essentially a well-tended, big-ass beach bar. Our party of three sat at a high-top in the main dining area. We couldn’t see the sand, but we had a nice view of the bridge off to the north. A stiff breeze made me glad I brought along a light jacket. I asked our server — an impressive young woman named Ivana — what the restaurant’s capacity is. She came back in minutes with an answer: 546. That’s … a lot. The joint was busy, especially for a Tuesday evening. That could’ve had something to do with the Salt Shack making this year’s New York Times list of America’s 50 best restaurants. I ordered the Fresh Fish Basket (grouper, $20), which came with fries. Out of curiosity, I also ordered a side of Jicama Slaw ($4.99), ’cause I’d never had it. Appearance About what I expected. A fetching huddle of grouper nuggets and fries, with the requisite lemon wedge and container of tartar sauce — in a basket. Texture and Taste Ivana told us that Salt Shack procures its fish fresh everyday from an outfit on Indian Rocks Beach. These nuggets certainly tasted like it. The grouper was superbly moist, not overly flaky, with a mild but substantial flavor. The light breading held together throughout. The tartar sauce was a nice surprise. It transcended the ordinary by including what my tastebuds told me was horseradish, which added punch. The fries, long and medium-thick, were adequate. After the first two or three, they were cold — or should I say room temperature — which was curious because the food came out quickly. The Jicama Slaw combined julienne-cut shafts of the root vegetable with slices of red and green peppers and onions. The dish was remarkable in that it was virtually flavorless. All texture (crunchy), no taste. TROPHY FISH When I first saw this restaurant crop up in St. Pete’s Grand Central District, with it high hedges and understated sign, I figured it for fine seafood dining. Turns out, Trophy Fish is anything but. Behind those hedges lies a ramshackle courtyard with a large, covered bar area and an array of simple tables under umbrellas. Trophy Fish had a come-as-you-are, boho vibe, but without the hipper-than-thou attitude. The staff oozed affability. At 5:30 on Wednesday, it was agreeably warm. No jackets needed. We ordered at a window in a “shack” near the back of the courtyard. An adjacent chalkboard touted “Dayboat Fresh” fish. I ordered the Fresh Catch Nuggets (a combination of grouper and mahi, $16) with Blackened Fries and Pineapple Cabbage Slaw (both $6.50). A friendly woman delivered the food to our table within 10 minutes. Appearance Lying on one of those plastic trays made to look like wood was a hefty helping of fish nuggets with a darker coating than the competition’s. The burly fries were dusted with blackening seasoning. I instantly knew that I’d like the colorful slaw here more than the flavorless slaw at the Salt Shack. Not exactly a bold prediction. Texture and Taste The fish — moist, tender, indisputably fresh — had a denser coating than that of Salt Shack. That meant more crunch to the bite, and also less integration of the breading and the meat. A key benefit of this meal was that the food was hot. Better-let-it-cool-down hot. This was especially advantageous for the fries, which never came near dropping to room temp and thus turning gummy. I appreciated the hint of blackening, which added just a smidge of spicy heat. The slaw had an interesting blend of pineapple sweetness and slight bitterness that appeared to result from the inclusion of kale. I liked it, didn’t love it. And the Winner of the Tampa vs. St. Pete Fresh-Fish Nugget Taste-Off Is … … A very close, split decision. While I preferred Salt Shack’s milder version of fish nuggets, Trophy Fish’s was also really good — and the portion was bigger. Further, the St. Pete spot took the fries prize and easily won the battle the slaws. In terms of atmosphere, Salt Shack had that bracing breeze that allowed me to pretend it was actually fall, and a lovely view of the Gandy Bridge. It also had a kind of eye-popping grandeur. On the other hand, Trophy Fish had a laid-back, no-fuss vibe that made me feel at home. So, enough suspense. The winner, barely, is … Trophy Fish. What ultimately tipped it was how hot Trophy Fish’s food arrived, and how warm it remained.
Doc Ford’s vs. Ford’s Garage: A Sandwich and an App
I tend to equate Doc Ford’s and Ford’s Garage, even though they have vastly different themes. Both are chains founded in southwest Florida, 20 miles from each other: Doc’s in Sanibel in ’03; Garage in Fort Myers in ’12. Both occupy large spaces. Both feature American cuisine, although Doc’s tilts toward fish and Garage tilts toward meat. Both have voluminous menus. Most important, both have reputations for serving good food. But truth be told, it’s the overlapping “Ford’s” that has prompted me to pit them against each other this week. If that concept seems a little thin, well, I can’t disagree — but I’ll do my level best to make it work. With November 3 being National Sandwich Day, the choice of dish was obvious. We selected one that overlaps the two menus: pulled pork. And because a sandwich didn’t seem like quite enough, we found an overlapping appetizer: seared ahi tuna. Let’s get started on this FFF: Doc Ford’s Garage. FORD’S GARAGE Stuffed into a corner building at 2nd Street and 1st Avenue South in downtown St. Pete, Ford’s Garage is huge inside: two massive dining room/bars with a full-bore Americana/automobile theme. It’s the only restaurant brand that has licensing rights to Ford Motor Company’s logos and insignia. And they make the most of it. I was more drawn to the little details — like the silverware being wrapped in a faux mechanic’s rag cinched by a hose clamp, or the gas pump that serves as a handle to the men’s room. All that was moot, though, because at 2:30 Tuesday we chose to sit out on the covered patio next to 2nd Street. The mercury was in the low 80s, but a light breeze made things comfortable. The dull rumble of heavy machinery — the sound of downtown growing inexorably skyward — provided the soundtrack, drowning out tepid rock music on the sound system. We ordered Sesame Crusted Ahi Tuna ($13.99) and the Pulled Pork Sandwich ($14.50) with fries (and the Bourbon BBQ Sauce on the side). Appearance The appetizer came out in about two minutes. My initial reaction was, “Gee, that looks pretty,” and then, “Hmm, that looks pretty small.” As for the sandwich, let’s take a moment to big-up a detail: The Ford’s Garage logo was branded onto the top half of the Brioche bun. I noticed something else: one of the smallest servings of fries that I’ve ever seen accompany a sandwich. Not ideal, because Bonnie and I were splitting our meal. Texture and Taste The menu says “rare” tuna, but it looked raw to me, which was A-okay. It was heavenly tender, and I liked the way the sesame seeds were free to scatter themselves around. The itsy-bitsy servings of Asian slaw and seaweed salad added ephemeral crunch, and the “boom boom” sauce had a nice tang and a bit of spicy heat. (I let the Wasabi and sliced ginger be — too sushi-ish.) All told, though, six diminutive pieces of tuna with micro-fixins amounted to more of a snack than an app. My half of the sandwich immediately fell apart, probably due to Bonnie’s less-than-stellar knife technique. She may have been a little sad to cut through that cool bun-logo. I winced as I watched. The red-hued pulled pork split the difference between shredded and chunked. It was well-smoked but not quite moist enough for my liking. I used up the sauce, rich and sweetish. The coleslaw didn’t make much of an impression, but worked well with the meat. The first few fries were first-rate, aptly salted and peppered, but it didn’t take long to get to the dregs, which were crispy to the core. DOC FORD’S RUM BAR & GRILLE Thursday’s brisk morning had given way to a refreshing 72 and sunny at 1:30. Our group of four sat at a high-rise on the covered patio, overlooking a small marina and Boca Ciega Bay. We were comfy in every imaginable way. Doc Ford’s gets its name from Marion “Doc” Ford, the lead character in 25 Florida-based novels by author Randy Wayne White. The restaurant doesn’t shove the theme down your throat, though — after all, there are no known pictures of Doc. The entry area serves as a gift shop of sorts, with an array of T-shirts and a few shelves of Doc Ford paperbacks. Think of Doc Ford’s as a capacious, elevated beach bar. I ordered the Seared Tuna Appetizer ($14.95) and the Panamaniac’s Pulled Pork sandwich ($12.95). Appearance The tuna app was noticeably bigger than its adversary — three hefty slabs of rare (raw?) tuna lying on a bed of rice noodles and Asian vegetables. The sandwich didn’t have the same pizazz as the one at Ford’s Garage. How could it without a logo branded into the bun? Texture and Taste The tuna app delivered plenty of flavor complexity. Not only was the fish sublimely tender, its companions were exemplary — and substantial. The noodle/veggie mix came bathed in a sweet but not overbearing Thai peanut sauce. Drizzles of wasabi coulis added a deft touch of spicy heat. There was enough of it to share, although I did so stingily. I don’t think the appetizer would’ve quite made a meal, but it was way more than a snack. I carefully cut my sandwich in half, but alas it disassembled. (Bonnie gets a pass.) This shredded pork was fattier and moister than the competition’s, but with less smoke and less flavor overall. It needed the sweet-and-tangy BBQ sauce, which I asked for on the side. The fries were short and chubby, with ample potato flavor. And the Winner of the Doc Ford’s Garage Challenge Is … Doc Ford’s. I’ll call the sandwich plates a draw. Doc Ford’s takes the honors based on its heftier and more creative tuna appetizer. One last bit of evidence to legitimize my pairing these two brands for a Friday Food Fight: The meals were 59 cents different in price.
Meatball Subs: Can a Feisty Local Pizzeria Wallop Wawa?
This week’s edition has a New York-vs.-Philly flavor, with a healthy side of David-and-Goliath. For our meatball sub skirmish, we pit Wawa, which was founded as a dairy in suburban Philadelphia in 1902, against Gianni’s New York Pizza, which should need no explanation, but for good measure, a little background: The St. Pete restaurant is owned and operated by Johnny Colandrea, whose Italian-immigrant father opened his first pizzeria in Brooklyn in the mid-’70s. In this corner: Wawa, aka Goliath, with 1,027 locations in 478 cities in seven states. In the opposite corner: Gianni’s, aka David, one location in St. Pete. Chain vs. local indie. These are fun. GIANNI’S NEW YORK PIZZA Tuesday, 2:30 — we pulled into a parking spot near Gianni’s small storefront in a St. Pete’s Tyrone Gardens shopping center. Kind meh outside, but kinda fun inside. The compact, brightly lit space was adorned with vibrant murals on each side wall depicting Sophia Loren, Madonna, NYC team logos and, most prominent of all: Francis Albert Sinatra. The young front-of-house guy issued us a hearty hello as soon as we entered — not, however, in a New York accent. But hey, whaddya gonna do? We grabbed a spot at one of the simple tables with padded bench seats. Oldies played on the sound system at low volume. I ordered my Meatball Sub ($10.29) from across the dining room while I was shooting photos. The place had an easygoing vibe that I instantly took to. Appearance Our food arrived quickly. The presentation epitomized simplicity, and was very typical of what you’d find in New York pizza joints. My first impression was that the sandwich looked, not exactly small, but less than big. I was okay with that. Texture and Taste Some meatball subs are so huge and stuffed that they can be a messy chore to eat, not to mention risking a gut bomb later. This sub was not that. The roll was expertly toasted, a light crust giving way to the interior fluff. The meatballs were evenly textured — smooth, not coarse — and mildly spiced. The sub had a healthy helping of cheese — mozzarella and pecorino — but, again, in the right measure. The velvety sauce had an exquisite balance of sweetness, spice and acidity. I asked for and was granted a small container of it for dipping. In all, while this sandwich did not make a statement or offer much in the way of surprise, it easily lived up to what we expect from a meatball sub in a pizzeria. Put another way: It delivered. WAWA Wawa #5252 expedited my order of a Toasted Meatball Classic ($7.99) at 1:29:17 Thursday. I understand why the chain employs a touchscreen ordering system, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I tapped my way through so many screens that I was worried about a blister. Apparently Wawa’s touchscreen ordering system doesn’t like me, either, which I’ll explain momentarily. The counter person handed me my sandwich within three minutes. Appearance Not pretty. Not meant to be. Wawa doesn’t have interior seating so we parked ourselves at a round metal table just outside the store window. I can’t imagine eating a meatball hoagie under these conditions in the dead of summer. Contemporary pop music played on tinny speakers too loudly. Texture and Taste First, the part about the ordering system not liking me. I was eating the hoagie and complaining to Bonnie about the cheese. “It tastes like cheese product, like white Cheez Whiz,” I groused. I took another bite or two. “Man, the cheese ruins it,” I groused some more. Flummoxed, I glanced at the photo I took of my touchscreen order, and saw the culprit: SLICED AMERICAN (Cheese). How’d that get in there? A ghost in the machine? User error? We’ll never know, but I guarantee you I would not order a meatball sub with American cheese. I explained the situation to the sandwich manager and she gladly made me another one — with provolone (and some parmesan shake-cheese on top). This sandwich was better. The bread collapsed on the first bite, rendering it a bit gummy, and without much in the way of crust. The meatballs were adequate, if a bit pallid and too salty. The cheese was fine. So was the red sauce, although there wasn’t enough of it. The latter bites boiled down to mostly meatball and bread. I got a 16-oz Blueberry Pomegranate Lemonade ($2.89), which initially had a promising flavor but proved way too sweet. Can a Feisty Local Pizzeria Wallop Wawa #5252 in a Meatball Sub Showdown? Yup. Gianni’s by unanimous decision. Look, Wawa makes a more than edible — you might even say credible — meatball sub (excuse me, hoagie). But its quick-serve concept simply can’t reproduce the TLC I experienced at Gianni’s — in both food and atmosphere. And the ordering snafu at Wawa didn’t help.
A Helluva Contest: Two Different Takes on Deviled Eggs
Lately I’ve come to the realization that I’m just not getting enough deviled eggs. At home they’re reserved for Holiday gatherings — I don’t want to wait that long — and not many restaurant have them. So what the hell — must be time for a deviled egg hunt. I set out to find versions with imagination, and perhaps a bit of daring. There weren’t too many candidates, but I unearthed two restaurants that seemed up to the challenge: Stillwaters Tavern on downtown St. Pete’s toney Beach Drive, and Oaks on 4th, which has brought fine dining to a stretch of 4th Street North known for chains and fast-casual places. Because ordering just deviled eggs seemed kind of puny, we added another appetizer from each contestant. To keep comparisons as close as possible, we chose bread-based offerings. STILLWATERS TAVERN With mid-October cool fronts increasingly rare, it felt good having to zip up my sweater as we walked along Beach Drive toward Stillwaters Tavern at 6:30 Monday. The wind gusted. Three American flags out front flapped and fluttered. Inside the cozy confines of the tastefully appointed restaurant, business was brisk for an off night. All the chairs along the bar were taken, and several tables and booths were occupied. I asked for a window booth and the host obliged. Our nook was big and cushy. The restaurant’s impeccable sound design muted the ambient noise, making for easy conversation. We ordered Deviled Eggs ($9.99) and Warm Pretzels ($11.99), which were accompanied by cheddar fondue flecked with mustard seeds. Appearance A half-dozen of the gems beckoned me from a narrow white plate. Crispy bacon jutted upward from the familiar creamy yellow swirls. Would the slices of jalapeño atop each prove to be a flavor enhancement or distractingly hot? Texture and Taste Bonnie’s not big on deviled eggs, so only ate one? As my dad used to say: “More for the rest of us” — meaning me. The silky texture was reminiscent of pretty much every deviled egg I’ve ever had. A good thing. I took my first bite sans toppings. The yellow stuff was mustard-forward — just this side of too much. The well-done bacon added crackle, and thankfully didn’t dominate. The jalapeños provided crunch but virtually no heat and not much flavor. I polished off my five deviled eggs. As for the pretzels: They were thickly sliced, resembling bread. I appreciated their softness, but needed to dust off some of the salt so they’d go down more smoothly. The cheese sauce was creamy and decadent — until it got too rich. All told, the two apps didn’t pare well. Combined, it was simply too much rich food. But that’s mostly on us. OAKS ON 4TH The owners of Bascom’s Chop House converted the former Quickies BBQ (and before that Luckie B’s) into this fine-dining spot, which opened late last year. The layout is the same as before, and the upgrades to the large space are mostly cosmetic: a beige color scheme, new stuff on the walls, some throw pillows. Our window booth had a white tablecloth, but not all the tables did. The smallish bar was curiously unlighted. At 6:30 Wednesday, the fading sunlight gave the interior a warm glow, but the space grew progressively darker, until it was too dark. The sound system, on medium volume, pumped out Motown hits and lots of James Brown. Now, I love the Godfather of Soul, but “Get on Up,” doesn’t exactly set the mood for an elevated dining experience. We ordered Deviled Eggs ($11) and Spreads & Breads ($12). Appearance As befitting the restaurant’s upscale aims, the presentation was more sophisticated than the competition’s. The deviled eggs (see lead photo at top) came on a round plate, with a bed of arugula, kernels of blistered corn and slices of avocado in the middle. Most readily noticeable was how dainty these eggs were, much smaller than those at Stillwaters. Likewise, the egg-halves were conservatively stuffed. I was confident that yellow goo would not get all over my fingers, and that I wouldn’t need a knife and fork. The enticing bread plate featured triangles of grilled bread and four small bowls of colorful spreads. Texture and Taste The deviled eggs required two bites, maybe three, and the process was as tidy as I anticipated. Their flavor was not as mustard-forward or mayo-heavy as Stillwaters’s. Some had the typical olives on top, others had pickled celery, which added a touch of heat and were my preference. Scooping on some corn kernels provided the taste-bonus counterpart to Stillwaters’ bacon. I finished off my five morsels with ease. The bread — buttered and garlic’d — occasionally crossed the line from chewy to tough, which is all that prevented the plate from being exemplary. The spreads were just that. My fave was the sweetish sun-dried tomato pesto; the olive tapenade provided a tangy contrast. The white-and-creamy whipped truffle burrata was mildly flavored but played taste-enhancer when I paired it with another topping. The Winner of This Helluva Deviled Eggs Contest Is … Oaks on 4th. Some explanation and equivocation is in order. Each of the deviled eggs had its pluses and minuses, and while they were quite different, I can’t declare a clear preference. I much preferred Oaks on 4th’s bread-and-spreads to Stillwaters’ pretzels and cheese dip, especially considering that they were effectively the same price. However, I give an emphatic nod to the atmosphere at Stillwaters. It has its vibe down pat, while Oaks on 4th feels kind of patchwork and, during our visit, did not achieve a fine-dining ambience. So we’ll call this FFF a split decision, a close one. One final thought: I’m good on deviled eggs until at least Thanksgiving.
Pumpkin Spice Latte: Can a Local Upstart Topple Starbucks?
Did you miss it? I sure hope not. On Tuesday, October 10, Starbucks celebrated the 20th birthday of its Pumpkin Spice Latte. The seasonal beverage’s outsized success has forced the entire coffee industry to jump onboard. Pretty much every shop — from the most boho neighborhood joint to, well, Starbucks — offers some version of the pumpkin spice latte, as well as spin-offs. And you’ll be pleased to know that it’s easier than ever to order. Simply say, “PSL.” With PSL turning 20, it was all but mandatory that I feature it in this episode of Friday Food Fight — especially seeing as I’ve never had one. For moral support, trenchant insights and the exchanging of wisecracks, I enlisted the services of close friend and marketing savant, David Downing. We find PSL mania pretty laughable, while at the same time admiring the marketing savvy. We set out on Tuesday morning, amid the last gasp of the first fall cool front. David looked sharp; I looked shabby. First up was Kahwa Coffee, a top local brand, at 2nd Street and 5th Avenue North in St. Pete. We then drove a few blocks south to the Starbucks at 2nd Street and 1st Avenue North. Should we have walked? Absolutely. KAHWA COFFEE As you can see from the above photo, Kahwa is all in. The counter person looked at me expectantly. “PSL,” I said. “Hot or cold?” she asked. “Hot.” I answered. “I was wondering if you’d know what I meant by PSL?” “I’m a barista,” she replied with an invisible shrug. It was just after 10:30, and, to our chagrin, all the outside tables were occupied. We sat at a four-top indoors. Appearance Within a minute or so, my barista handed me a PSL in a cardboard cup. Desiring a more elegant experience on such an august occasion, I asked if I could have it in a china cup. She gladly made me a new one. The foam was etched with the all-too-familiar tree design. Texture and Taste Hoping against hope that I wouldn’t hate it, I took my first sip. The whole-milk crema provided a frothy buffer to the hot liquid beneath. No cool-down time necessary. My wish was that the coffee would taste like pumpkin pie, which I really like. It did not. In fact, I told David, I wasn’t really getting much pumpkin at all. That’s when I remembered: It’s pumpkin spice. The full-bodied coffee drink was a bit too spice-forward. Did I like my first ever PSL? No. Did I hate it? No. I call that a win. STARBUCKS The sidewalks were naked, no tables. I thought it might’ve been a City thing, but a counter person said it was because “someone got hurt.” Also missing: signage pimping PSL. I guess when one of your products is so entrenched in the zeitgeist, you don’t need to promote it from the rooftops. Our smiling barista had a temporary tattoo on her cheek that looked like a heart. She said it was in recognition of PSL’s 20th birthday, and handed me a promo slip with a few cartoony designs on it. I put it in my pocket. “PSL, hot,” I ordered, getting the hang of things. “And can I have it in a china cup?” (That got me 10 cents off of the $5.65 beverage.) We also got an Impossible Sausage Breakfast Sandwich ($5.45) to split. Appearance Not as pretty — no tree design on the crema. Just some flecks of what I presumed to be pumpkin spice. Texture and Taste The coffee beneath the foam was a bit hotter than the competition’s, but it didn’t burn my mouth. The sweetness and spice, a bit more muted, blended together into an earthy, full-bodied beverage. Did I like this PSL? No. Did I hate it? No. Another win. As for our snack, I have limited experience with fake meat, but this fake sausage probably tasted the most legit of any I’ve tried. Pairing it with a layer of egg obviously helped. So Can a Local Upstart Topple Starbucks in a PSL Duel? Nope. Starbucks wins. It makes sense, really. The chain invented the drink, developed it, marketed it, and I assume refined it over the years. It’s in their bailiwick. To make it all official: David gave the W to Starbucks as well. About the tattoo: I don’t have one and have never wanted one. However — I couldn’t pass up the chance to get a temp tat for such a monumental anniversary. Why the neck? Allen Iverson was the first person I ever saw with a neck tattoo, and I was aghast. Now, every other dude has one, so why not me? “Spicey” with a half a heart and coffee cup wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it’s what was handy. One more stop: David suggested that we hit Black Crow Coffee Co. in Old Northeast — in his view, the most hipster coffee shop in town — and see if they would fill an order for PSL or throw us out. Hipster was an understatement. The windows had anti-racist signs. The front door was plastered with far-left stickers and a sign in the middle that said “Peace.” “Can I get a PSL?” I asked the barista. She rolled her eyes, sighed and muttered, “Okay.” I told her I was just kidding, that I wanted to see if Black Crow would make us one or throw us out. She didn’t partake in the frivolity, but drolly replied, “You’ve got to give the people what they want.” I left it at that.
An Epic Showdown Between Two Smashburgers
My first encounter with smashburgers was as a young teen, when I watched and salivated as short-order cooks crushed patties with a spatula, smoke spewing from table-sized griddles. The meat came out thin, with a healthy char on the outside. They weren’t called smashburgers back then. Just hamburgers. All these decades later, the humble hamburger isn’t so humble anymore. In certain circles, it’s been elevated to near haute cuisine. Thick and juicy became the coin of the realm. Then thin was in, and what was once the province of of cheap-o diners became its own category: smashburger. This week, we’ll showcase two locally owned, sit-down restaurants that have smashburgers as part of larger menus. Our contestants are: Sesh in St. Pete; Willa’s in Tampa. SESH When The Melting Pot at 4th Street and 22nd Avenue finally closed in 2020, after 32 years of charging exorbitant prices to let people cook their own food, I just assumed the funky chateau that housed it would be scraped to make room for something new and shiny on prime commercial real estate. Turns out the structure was built in the early ’30s and housed one of St. Petersburg’s myriad roadside attractions. So it stayed up. Shortly after the Melting Pot closure, a sign reading “Sesh” appeared — and was there for a very long time. Finally, in April of this year, the restaurant/brewery opened. The folks behind Mad Beach Craft Brewing Company own it. (By the way, Sesh, is short for “session.”) We arrived at 6:30 on Monday, curious to see what they’d done with the interior. At first, we thought ownership had gone bonkers with Halloween decorations. But as it turns out, that’s the way the large space has been themed — funny-scary, with images from Ghostbusters, Beetlejuice, It and other spooky hallmarks all over the place. Why? Because the building is said to be haunted, and was even the subject of a serious paranormal investigation in 2021. We ain’t afraid no ghosts, so had a seat in a booth in a dining room that was done up in black and white. I ordered the Double Smash with cheddar ($12), which came with fries, plus a wedge salad ($9). Appearance The service was blazingly fast, a little too fast. I asked that we get the wedge as a starter, and it came out before I had two sips of my ginger ale. We were a little more than halfway done with the hefty salad when the burger arrived. Not a big deal, but not ideal either. A steak knife stabbed downward into the smashburger, probably a nod to the restaurant’s “horror” theme. I wasn’t afraid. Texture and Taste The two patties came out medium, cheddar oozing in between, with lettuce, onion and tomato on the bottom. (For the record, I prefer the top.) Bonnie and I sawed the thing in half and killed it. This was a respectable double-stack, but too light on the smash, with only hints of the char that’s so vital to this style of burger-making. The sandwich left a bit of peppery heat in my mouth. Along with the fries — thick-cut, with a hearty potato flavor — Bonnie and I shared a plentiful meal. WILLA’S The owners have transformed a 1920s-era warehouse a few blocks west of University of Tampa into a charming eatery and coffee shop that has served the up-and-coming North Hyde Park neighborhood for two-and-a-half years. The one ivy-colored wall is a beguiling touch. We arrived just after 1 p.m. on Wednesday, full sun radiating off of West Fig Street. Inside, Willa’s was bright and roomy, with concrete floors, white walls and large windows that let in in ample natural light. Basic four-tops and wicker chairs occupy most of the space. Think urban chic without the pretension. I ordered the Smash Cheeseburger (with yellow American) and added an extra patty ($2), for a total of $20. The dish included frites. I chose to have the “comeback sauce” on the side. Appearance A fetching presentation. Fancy lettuce, tomato and onion laid on a a white plate, waiting to be turned over onto the two mondo-patties, which hung well over the sides of an English muffin. The frites looked altogether appetizing. Texture and Taste I opted for the double because it more closely compared to Sesh and because it was only two bucks extra. Bad idea. Too much meat for the muffin. I picked up the thick beast and considered unhinging my jaws, but that was a nonstarter. So I reverted to the face-first plunge. The sandwich started to fall apart. My first two bites made an unholy mess. I was so involved with wiping my hands and mouth with the cloth napkin that I forgot to taste the food. Call it eater error. I came up with a workable solution. Cut the damn thing in half. Once I gained my equilibrium, I thoroughly enjoyed this smashburger, which was well charred but still moist, if not juicy, and packed a lot of flavor. The English muffin never quite held up its end, and I continued to put in a lot of napkin work, but that only tempered my enjoyment a smidge. The frites tasted as good as they looked — thin slivers with a firm outer shell that gave way to soft innards. I tried a bite of burger with the comeback sauce, and was glad I got it on the side. Too tangy for me. And the Winner of the Smashburger Showdown Is … Willa’s. True, it cost 67% more than Sesh’s, but the Tampa restaurant simply had a better handle on the smashburger concept. A final thought on Willa’s: I should’ve had a single.
Two Very-Different Roasted Veggie Wraps Wrassle It Out
After spending seven days on a cruise through the Northeast, eating like the alpha male in a gorilla troop, getting a beer buzz every single night, and never setting foot inside the fitness center, I came back to St. Petersburg and saw it was time for a change. Time to become abstemious — at least for a while, at least for this week. That’s why our Friday Food Fight subject is roasted veggie wraps. I’m feeling healthier just typing that. Weary from international travel — our cruise had a couple of stops in eastern Canada — I chose two restaurants close to home in St. Pete: Mickey’s Cafe & Organics downtown and Love Food Central in the Grand Central District. MICKEY’S CAFE & ORGANICS We arrived around 6 p.m. on Tuesday and were the only customers. If not for the counter inside the door, Mickey’s looked more like a pub than a health-food eatery. Bonnie and I grabbed seats at a four-top near the window that looked out on Central Avenue. A couple of guys were setting up a sound system for trivia night. One of them swooped by on roller skates. Soon enough, low-volume pop music (Katy Perry and such) gave way to a few loud bursts of emo-rock, then Culture Club’s “Karma Chameleon.” A somewhat odd energy — call it comfortably quirky. The goings-on didn’t put a damper on our meal. Our counter guy, Chuck, was affable and eager to please. I ordered a Roasted Veggie Wrap ($11.95) in a spinach tortilla, with a Boylan’s Black Cherry soda ($3.29). Appearance It didn’t exactly say “roasted” to me. The color-wheel of vegetables looked mostly raw, all crammed in there, wrapped real tight. It was certainly a fat hand-held. A “side” of tubular vegetable chips did not look at all appetizing. Texture and Taste I picked it up. Cool to the touch. I took a bite. Cool, with an abundance of crunch. Not what I expected in a roasted veggie wrap. For that, I think warm, soft to the tooth. Setting presumptions aside, the wrap was damn tasty. It hit me with a flavor burst that said healthy, which fit the bill. Still, I was a tad nonplussed about the “roasted” part, so I asked Mickey, the owner, about the recipe. He told me that carrots, zucchini and squash are pre-roasted, lightly, which makes them slightly soft. They’re combined with romaine lettuce, shredded raw carrots and red cabbage, and feta cheese. So he’s kind of splitting the difference between roasted and raw. I found the sandwich a bit too dry. Chuck brought out small containers of Caesar and ranch dressings. The wrap worked best when I dipped each bite into the Caesar. LOVE FOOD CENTRAL The bright green exterior walls and hot-pink picnic tables sent out an upbeat, childlike vibe. At 3 p.m. on hot-and-humid Wednesday, I was all for that. It was more of the same inside. The converted industrial space is tricked out with brightly colored wall paintings. Stars hanging from the ceiling looked straight outa Party City. Although LFC is a strictly vegan restaurant, its ambience leans more toward whimsical than boho. We ordered at the counter. I got the Roasted Veggie Wrap with a side of potato salad ($13) and a house-made lemonade ($5). We sat a four-top and basked in plenty of natural light. Appearance As it turns out, when you’ve seen one roasted veggie wrap you’ve not seen them all. This one was pressed flat and resembled a quesadilla. Arugula peeked out, but not much else was visible. The sandwich was notably smaller than the competition’s, but definitely looked more roasted. The potato salad was enticing, certainly more so than vegetable chips. Texture and Taste Picked it up. Warm. Took a bite. Warm. The crunchiness all but ended at the lavash bread. Inside, the roasted carrots, onions, red bell pepper, zucchini and mushrooms blended to create a composite whole that didn’t emphasize any particular flavor. If anything, the arugula stood out. The pesto added zing, but had a lingering flavor that took some getting used to. The sandwich was tasty but kinda skinny. I polished it off without a pause. While the stuff inside was obviously roasted, was it really a wrap? The large portion of potato salad, made with Vegenaise, was more satisfying than this mayo fiend expected. Finished it, too. And the Winner of the Roasted Veggie Wrap Wrassling Match Is … Mickey’s. A tricky call. The two roasted veggie wraps provided quite a contrast. LFC won on the roasting; Mickey’s took the wrap. I enjoyed both, but found Mickey’s version more substantial, and with a more vivid flavor — once I got used to the idea that it was served cool not warm. All told, I achieved my goal: two healthy meals and no gluttony. A final few words about the Mickey’s version: You know how a lot of wraps leave you with a handful of flatbread because it wasn’t sufficiently stuffed? Not this one. Vegetables were present right to the last bite. This might seem like a small thing, but to me it indicates value.