Time for a Chili Taste-Off
Ready for a chili weekend? For starters, temps are expected to drop into the low 40s. And, probably more important, it’s Super Wildcard Weekend! For the handful of you who don’t know what that means, here’s what it means: Six win-or-go-home NFL playoff games, starting at 4:30 p.m. Saturday and ending when the Buccaneers beat the Cowboys on Monday night. For my money, it’s one of the best weekends of the year. Cold weather and football make for a powerful chili convergence. Crockpots will overflow. Stovetops will be stained with red-brown sauce. Stomachs will rumble. And restaurants will serve the ubiquitous soup. Or is it stew? Some experts say chili is its own category, and I tend to agree. I searched online to find two restaurants where chili is not an afterthought — and might even be a specialty. I disqualified places that touted all-beef chili. Chili’s gotta have beans, man. C’mon. Our contestants are: Mixer’s at OKW, formerly Old Key West, situated in the Grand Central section of St. Pete; and Pesky Pelican, a mile south of Tyrone Mall. MIXERS AT OKW This ramshackle, multi-space joint appears to be far more bar than restaurant. We arrived just before 6 on Wednesday, and during our visit customers started to show up for buy-one-get-one drinks. We seated ourselves at a no-frills four-top on a covered patio. The Central Avenue Trolley cruised by. We were unsure whether there was table service, so I popped into the bar area and found the manager/bartender/server, who was quick with a smile. I ordered chili ($7.95), loaded (raw onion, shredded cheese, sour cream, jalapeños on the side, for an extra buck-fifty), with water. Bonnie ordered sweet tea. Ten years ago, our passing up BOGO drinks on a late Wednesday afternoon would’ve been unthinkable, sacrilege even. Times change, huh? My research found that Mixers has won the Grand Central District’s Annual Chili Cook-Off several times. Grand Central is but 15 blocks long and four blocks wide, but — who knows? — the area might runneth over with ace chili chefs and the competition could be fierce. Appearance The tidy bowl of chili was clearly ladled out with care. And including two spoons for sharing was a nice touch for food service in a saloon. The clump of shredded cheese obscured the chili beneath. Texture and Taste Think of it as down-the-middle chili. Mixers’ dish attempted nothing bold, preferring to stay in the comfort-food lane. But it wasn’t bland. It had a hearty flavor, with a smidgen of spicy kick. I like a hint of sweetness in my chili, but detected none. The beef was too finely ground for my taste, and the beans were few and far between (and small). While I wasn’t terribly impressed with the actual soup/stew itself, combining it with the extra ingredients made for pleasing bites. The onions, which lasted until the final spoonful, deserve mention. They were fresh, crunchy and free of bitterness. I’m cautious with jalapeños, but found that breaking them into small bits and scattering them in gave the dish some extra character. I finished the bowl — the portion was just right. And while I found it satisfying, I couldn’t see awarding it any ribbons. PESKY PELICAN One of the delights of this gig is that it forces me to seek out places I wouldn’t ordinarily go — or even hear of. Sometimes it works out, sometimes not. The jury’s out on Pesky Pelican. Situated in a run-down strip mall, this place is all over the place. Owned by a father/daughter team from St. Louis, the eclectic menu touts specialties from that city, especially Provel cheese. But Bonnie’s Prime Rib Philly came on an Amoroso roll, the pride of Philadelphia. And the menu includes everything from Cubans to Nashville hot chicken to smoked fish spread. Nary an inch of the interior walls has been left uncovered. It’s as if the owners accepted every bit of swag from every vendor, then put on blindfolds and threw the stuff against the wall. Wacky, but not without its charm. And there’s no denying Pesky Pelican’s innate friendliness. On Thursday around 3, Bonnie and I and were the only customers seated at a table, along with a couple of men at the bar. We carried on a lively, running conversation with the two female servers on shift. Appearance This bowl of chili ($6.99) came loaded (albeit without sour cream) with no upcharge. The cheese on top was already melted (as opposed to shredded). The red onions were closer to diced than chunky. Texture and Taste It was thicker than Mixers’ — and also pipin’ hot — but very tomato-forward. In all, this chili could have used more chili spice. The beans were more prevalent than the competition’s but — per my preference — still lacking. And the beef was ground a bit too finely. The melted cheese proved to be a problem. It made the top bites gooey, and once the cheese was (quickly) gone, the stew/soup had to stand on its own, which accentuated the tomato-ness. The onions added only a modicum of crunch and little flavor. I cut up some jalapeño and dropped it in, which added a touch of zing. And the Winner of the Chili Taste-Off Is … Mixers at OKW. Despite my good-faith efforts to find some exceptional chili, I came up short. I would not recommend either of these versions. It occurs to me that chili just might be one of those foods that are better made at home — using time-tested recipes (with more beans) that only need to please the folks living there and, occasionally, guests dropping in to watch football. Go Bucs! Mixers at OKW: https://www.facebook.com/MixersatOKW/ Pesky Pelican: https://www.peskypelicanbrewpub.com/
The Currently Trendy Chicago-Style Italian Beef Sandwich
The Chicago Italian beef sandwich is having a moment — outside of the Windy City, that is, where it was “invented” by Italian immigrants in the early 1900s. What’s driving the enthusiasm for this Chi-town staple? The Bear, a 2022 TV show streaming on Hulu about a once promising fine-dining chef who returns to his hometown to run his family’s small sandwich shop in the wake of his brother’s suicide. I recommend it, although do expect a lot of yelling in the tight confines of the kitchen and the frequent use of the word “chef.” The fictional restaurant is called The Original Beef of Chicagoland, and The Bear routinely shows the meat in various states of prep, including the end product. It got me salivating. Gobbling up the first season’s eight episodes in a couple of weeks stirred in me a hankering — to try a hot Chicago beef sandwich and to feature Italian beef (the names are interchangeable) in FFF. I chose two restaurants whose names would seem to lend them some bona fides: Chicago Deli & Coney Dogs and Paul’s Chicago Pizza, less than three miles from each other in far northeastern St. Pete. Just for the record, I’ve never had an Italian beef in Chicago, so will make no judgments about the authenticity of the sandwiches served by our two local contestants. CHICAGO DELI Set in the Bay Tec office center a few blocks off of Roosevelt Boulevard near Carillon, Chicago Deli is about as unassuming as they come, right down to the vinyl sign hanging above the door. A long, narrow, white-walled space, outfitted with modest tables and chairs, led to the counter, where three women were hustling out food for lunch-hour customers. I called ahead to order, picked up the sandwich — with no sides — and took it back to the FFF Lab. APPEARANCE Mighty enticing. As I opened the packaging, a couple of peppers (I ordered them mild) fell onto the silver wrapping. The sub roll, about eight inches long, hid the meat within. TEXTURE AND TASTE When I unsheathed the sandwich ($8.99) from the bag, I could feel a faint moistness, indicating au jus (or gravy, as they call it in Chi-town), one of the key elements of Italian beef. A good start. When I dug in, parts of the bun were soggy with the juice, which made for sensual bites when combined with tender beef and peppers. If anything, the sandwich could’ve used a bit more au jus, but I didn’t think to ask for a container on the side. I would’ve gladly dipped each bite into it. Despite the sandwich’s overall moistness, it never became an unwieldy mess. One napkin, maybe two, did the trick. The beef on its own was a bit under-seasoned, even a little bland, but you don’t eat a Chicago beef sandwich by pulling the meat out. That said, seasoning the beef more liberally would likely have improved the overall eating experience. PAUL’S CHICAGO PIZZA Paul’s, located in a shopping plaza on 4th Street north of Gandy Boulevard, makes much ado about its Chicago cred. According to the website, the restaurant gets its Italian beef shipped in from Chicago. I don’t know that this makes much of a difference, unless the meat comes pre-seasoned. The restaurant also says it builds its sandwiches on Turano bread, a famous Chicago brand that I’d not heard of but clearly conferred authenticity. I ordered the peppers sweet (vs. hot). My expectations were pretty high. APPEARANCE The sandwich ($11.95) came in a typical box, accompanied by a small order of crinkle-cut fries and a container of au jus. The beef did not appear to be soaked in it. The bread:meat/peppers ratio tilted heavily to the roll, which was thick and doughy-looking. I didn’t break out a scale, but it seemed obvious that Paul’s Italian beef had less beef than the opposition’s. TEXTURE AND TASTE As expected, the beef in the sandwich was not wet. I took the first bite without dipping, and found the bun notably dry. To my knowledge, I’ve never tried Turano bread. Suffice to say, I was not impressed. Perhaps freezing and shipping it sapped the roll of its character. The beef on its own was pretty dry, too, and had a kind of papery texture. If it was pre-seasoned in the Windy City, there was no evidence of it. So — on to the dipping. Flecks of seasoning ringed the container and swam in the sauce. Man, this juice was strong. Too strong. Too seasoned. Too salty. It overpowered the bites, and its flavor was — there’s no other way to put it — unpleasant. I don’t recall tasting the peppers, but a some sweetness might’ve have helped. I nibbled a few fries. They were too salty, too. And the Winner of the Currently Trendy Chicago-Style Italian Beef Sandwich Showdown Is … Chicago Deli. All told, I wasn’t particularly impressed by either one of these sandwiches. Unfortunately, I have no current plans to book a trip to Chicago. What I’d really like to do is beam into my TV and have an Italian beef from The Original Beef of Chicagoland. Here are links to websites for the two restaurants: https://chicagodeli.co/ https://paulschicagopizza.com/
Clash of the Lasagnas
I rarely order lasagna in restaurants, because the version my wife makes, and my mother’s before her, are (and were) more to my liking than the ones I’ve had while eating out. Both Bonnie’s and Mom’s are most likely Americanized — with well-organized layers of pasta, meat and cheese, the noodles firm enough for the dish to hold its shape and make for pleasingly balanced bites. Neither has a thick shell of cheese covering it. As such, I don’t claim to be an expert on what constitutes true Italian-style lasagna. I just know what I like. But lasagna is such a ubiquitous dish that it certainly deserves to be on the card for a Friday Food Fight. So let’s do this. Among the multitudes of Italian restaurants in the Bay area, I chose two popular, mid-priced places in Pinellas: Pia’s Trattoria in Gulfport and BellaBrava: New World Trattoria in downtown St. Pete. We ordered caprese salad as starters. PIA’S TRATORIA Situated on Gulfport’s Beach Boulevard, the town’s quaint main drag, Pia’s has established itself as an institution over its 14 years in business. That popularity was on full display when we arrived at 5:30 p.m. on Tuesday, sans reservation, and discovered that all indoor seating had been spoken for. That’s five-thirty. On a Tuesday. The hostess found us a two-top, one of the last remaining on the large covered patio. The remnants of the cold snap were still in effect, so we sat right next to an outdoor heater. APPEARANCE This was one of the more unusual lasagna presentations I’ve seen. Pia’s served it in a cast-iron skillet, half of which consisted of a pile of bolognese sauce. The other half, the lasagna part, was a misshapen hunk covered in cheese that was a tad too charred to be enticing. The dish was topped with a little cluster of arugula. TEXTURE AND TASTE For the first forkful, I dug through the crusty top shell of cheese — it wasn’t easy — and combined it with some pasta and bolognese. Pretty tasty. As the eating ensued, though, I found the pasta a bit scarce and baked to a limp consistency. After awhile, I went pasta-hunting with my fork. There just wasn’t enough of it. The dish lacked the defined layers of noodles/meat/cheese that I’m accustomed to. The meat sauce was over-abundant. If you like your bolognese way more meaty more than saucy, this one’s for you. For me, it quickly became too heavy. In all, this lasagna ($19) held its own in terms of overall flavor, but the meat sauce was so dominant that it rendered the other ingredients all but moot. I’m glad we began with the caprese — four tomato slices on a bed of arugula, topped with thick slabs of mozzarella, and squiggled with a balsamic reduction and olive oil. While the tomatoes were a shade on the mushy side — what tomatoes aren’t around here? — the moz was hearty and the salad blended together nicely. A definite palate-pleaser. BELLABRAVA Late Thursday afternoon was a gorgeous 75 degrees, so downtown St. Pete along Beach Drive and around The Pier was bustling with foot traffic and folks eating al fresco. BellaBrava was doing a brisk business, but thankfully there was no wait for a party of two. (Does two constitute a “party”?) We chose to eat inside the capacious dining room, near a window that looked out onto 2nd Avenue. APPEARANCE Like Mama used to make — and Bonnie too. Or close enough for me to be encouraged. Sitting on a large white plate, the lasagna’s discreet layers were readily visible. (I later counted them: five sheets of pasta, with bolognese and cheese sandwiched in between.) Instead of a pile of meat sauce, this dish luxuriated in a pool of red pomodoro sauce. TEXTURE AND TASTE I fork-cut the first bite and paused to admire the tidy layers of pasta. The taste lived up to the visual. Every mouthful was well balanced, with each flavor and texture present but none of them dominant. The pasta had a lovely consistency — just firm enough — the bolognese was understated, and the cheese on top was more a cozy blanket than a tough shell. The pomodoro added a welcome element of moistness, tang, and just a touch of spicy heat. This plate of lasagna ($18.99) held together throughout, allowing me to enjoy the stacked ingredients in each bite. BellaBrava’s caprese was different from the Pia’s version in just about every way. Rather than slices of mozzarella, it contained a bulb of burrata cheese, which was creamier — and on the bland side. Rather than slices of tomato, it contained a bed of small heirlooms, some which were bitter. The salad could’ve used some more balsamic, but a pieces of focaccia bread were a welcome touch. And the Winner of the Clash of the Lasagnas Is … We have a split decision — of sorts. BellaBrava is the clear winner of the lasagna taste-off. Pia’s Trattoria easily takes the prize for caprese. But because the subject of this Friday Food Fight is lasagna, it’s apparent that the overall winner is BellaBrava. Let me add that I’ve been to Pia’s on numerous occasions — with Bonnie, with family and with large groups of friends — and have enjoyed my meals and overall experience. The restaurant’s lasagna just didn’t work for me. Oh, almost forgot: Happy New Year!
A Beef Over Beef Stew (A Whole Other Kind)
It’s nearly Christmas and there’s some real cold coming our way, so what better time to feature beef stew? Asian-style. Okay, so this French-Vietnamese comfort food won’t make it to many Holiday dinner tables. Consider this column my little gift to you. I absolutely love this stuff and urge you to try it. I came across it at a French-Vietnamese restaurant about 10 years ago and decided to take a flyer. I didn’t know what to expect. Out came a marvel. Unlike the American-style, gravy-based beef stew Mother used to make and serve on a plate with Wonder bread, this version came in a big bowl, with large chunks of beef and carrots and other good stuff, swimming in a brown broth — no potatoes — accompanied by a French baguette. I tasted the broth … it was one of those magical food moments. You’ve been there, right? “Nectar of the gods,” I effused, and handed the spoon to Bonnie. She sipped and agreed. I went on to rave about the dish in between bites. I’ve since discovered that there’s no one recipe for Asian-style beef stew, but two local French Vietnamese places make it in an a roughly similar fashion: La V on Central Avenue in downtown St. Pete; and Alesia, six miles west on the same thoroughfare. LA V We arrived at this downtown mainstay around 6 p.m. on Saturday. Like most of the other storefronts on Central, the space was long and narrow. The place cultivates an inviting urban vibe. La V was about three-quarters full, so we were seated right away. Bonnie ordered her own entree. There would be not splitting this Asian-style beef stew. I was hungry, so as a starter I got a lemongrass beef bánh mì sandwich. I enjoyed it so much that I had to force myself to only eat half. APPEARANCE No need to ask “where’s the beef?” Generous chunks swam in hearty brown broth, along with pieces of carrot equal in size. I gazed admiringly at this familiar concoction. Given the choice of rice or baguette, I chose the latter, and was rewarded with a hefty loaf — although it looked more like a sub roll. TEXTURE AND TASTE The lemongrass-infused broth was mighty tasty — a little sweet, a little salty, a lot savory — but came up a tad short on the nectar-of-the-gods scale. Perhaps that was too much to ask. The beef was melt-in-mouth tender, but the carrots had crossed over into a kind of puree, which inhibited their flavor. The best eating technique was dipping a piece of the fluffy bread into the broth, taking a bite, then chasing it with a spoonful of meat and carrot. (I tried putting some of Bonnie’s rice in the bowl, and it did not work.) I thoroughly enjoyed my Asian-style beef stew at La V. It just didn’t provide one of those — y’know — moments. ALESIA We arrived at 5 p.m. on Tuesday under gray skies, a light rain falling. An ideal beef stew day, Asian or otherwise. Alesia’s blocky brown building sits amid a western stretch of Central populated by shabby strip centers and small office buildings. We were fortunate enough to snag one of the few spots in the tiny parking lot. With its array of wooden tables and chairs, white walls and arched windows, Alesia’s interior conveys a kind of casual elegance. The room was a bit too brightly lit for my taste. And it was too inclement for us to sit out on the covered patio, although a few customers did. No need for appetizers on this culinary excursion. I ordered the Asian-style beef stew, with water. Our server — a charming and attentive young woman named Taylor — nodded approvingly as she wrote down my order. APPEARANCE The stew was topped with raw onions, scallions and other greens. Its was not as beef-forward as La V’s. Mondo chunks of carrot peeked out from the broth. There was no mistaking the small loaf for anything other than a French baguette. Alesia gets its bread from, “an older French man who comes in the mornings,” Taylor said. “He says ‘bonjour.’ He’s so cute.” TEXTURE AND TASTE It started with the broth, a nectar-like blend of flavors that was complex but familiar, at once exciting and soothing. It infused the tender beef, which was not as plentiful as the La V version. The carrots, firmer and more flavorful than their counterpart, were as present as the chunks of meat. Hidden on the bottom of the bowl was a generous helping of Vermicelli noodles, which provided more texture and substance. The raw onions added little crunchy moments. The bread was rustic and chewy rather than fluffy. It stood on its own — not just for dipping. I would’ve liked the loaf to be a bit larger. And the Winner of the Asian-Style Beef Stew Challenge Is … Alesia. However, if you prefer more beef in your Asian beef stew, and a marginally heavier broth, it’s likely you’d prefer the La V’s. All told, this week’s FFF was not so much a competition as a comparison — and an excuse to let all you readers know about the wonders of Asian-style beef stew. Make a point to try it.
Battle of the Bowls
Bowls have a branding problem. It begins and ends with the generic name. Bowls can relate to pottery, strikes and spares, football, weed, haircuts. And food, of course. That’s why we’re here. Sorry to say that I don’t have a solution for the bowl branding dilemma. I tried. Came up with nothing. It wasn’t easy to tweeze out two contestants. So many restaurants of so many types have bowls on the menu — and quite a few specialize in them. After some poking around, I chose two bowl-centric eateries with strong reputations: Pacific Counter, on the drastically revamped 600 block of Central Avenue in St. Pete, and Bolay Kitchen, a mile-and-a-half north on 4th Street. Bolay, a fast-growing chain with 25 locations in Florida, calls its bowls “bols,” which, come to think of it, isn’t a bad rebranding idea. But I doubt it’ll catch on. Rather than stick to FFF’s customary apples-to-apples format, we decided to build our own bowls choosing items that enticed us. PACIFIC COUNTER We arrived just after 5 on Tuesday. The long room with white walls was so brightly lit that it made a high school lunch room look like an after-hours dance club. Better to see what we were ordering, I guess. Hip Afro-pop played over the sound system at a comfortable volume. Nice. Bonnie and I split a Large bowl ($14.99). Ordering involved walking along a cafeteria line to select two bases, two proteins, five add-ons and other accoutrements — from more than 50 options. Franki, our uber-helpful counter person, gave us more than a dozen samples on toothpicks and plastic mini-spoons. We chose white sushi rice and clear noodles; spicy tuna and Hawaiian barbecue chicken; edamame, corn, Hawaiian salsa, shredded carrots and jalapeños. Franki sprinkled on a few taste enhancers. We opted for Poke Classic sauce. APPEARANCE About as basic as it gets. The paper bowl was crammed full, the sauce in plastic containers. The eating tools were wood (chopsticks) or plastic (forks). I started with the former and quickly switched to the latter. The presentation conveyed a message: simple, fresh, healthy. TEXTURE AND TASTE There were so many textures and tastes in this bowl that I initially worried they would all combine for a kind of mush. Such was definitely not the case. The tuna — raw cubes, moderately spicy-hot — was the star attraction. The chicken was fine, but the next time I’m doubling up on the tuna. The rest of the cast was exemplary. Each bite offered an adventure. Rice, tuna, edamame, corn — yum. Noodles, chicken, jalapeños — yes. Bold, subtle, savory, sweet, tart, smooth, crunchy and more, with an agreeable after-burn. The combinations were endless, and I found myself putting together strategic bites rather than random scoops. This not only provided a panoply of flavors, but added some fun. I found that the syrupy, tangy sauce muscled out the other flavors, so quickly slid it to the sidelines. The experience was like eating a long series of micro-meals. Bonnie tapped out kind of early, but I kept going and discovered that, yes, this bowl had a bottom. BOLAY KITCHEN At around 2 p.m. on Thursday ahead of a cold front, I arrived — solo, this time — under gray skies. I was the only dine-in customer. Like Pacific Counter, Bolay serves its bols cafeteria style. I ordered a Large ($12.49) and my server, a gracious young woman named Lily, helped me build it. Bolay does not have the same head-spinning number of options as Pacific Counter, so the process moved along more quickly. It became instantly apparent that this bol would be markedly different than the one from a couple of nights earlier. (For starters: no tuna.) Deciding to go all in on contrast, I chose as my bases black rice (yes, it was black) and pesto noodles. Then came Cuban-style mojo pork and lemon chicken, topped with roasted potatoes and Brussels sprouts. Lily sprinkled on some shredded parmesan and a bit of cilantro. For sauces, I went with herb pesto and creamy garlic. APPEARANCE A big plus for Bolay. The attractive concoction came in a sleek porcelain bowl, giving the ingredients a little room to breathe and the presentation a modicum of class. Metal forks were available for those eating in. TEXTURE AND TASTE Pretty much everything in this bol was bigger than the competition’s. I had to fork-cut the potatoes and chicken, roll the noodles spaghetti-style, break off chunks of pork. It made the meal heavier, which is not a complaint. Just another example of two contrasting bowls. The mojo pork was the main attraction here. It rivaled the versions I’ve had in Cuban restaurants — juicy, tender, tangy. The chicken, while not all that lemony, was moist and flavorful. The nicest surprise was the black rice, which had a rustic, nutty flavor and added some rough textural edges. The sauces, especially the creamy garlic, provided a nice complement. It was a lot of food. I assumed this bol had a bottom, but I didn’t come close to reaching it. And the Winner of the Friday Food Fight Bowling Bout Is … Before I announce (please keep your eyes up here), let me say that veering from this column’s apples-to-apples concept makes calling a winner more difficult. I guess I didn’t want to eat a similar bowl twice in three days. If that’s a dereliction of duty, however slight, I’ll own it. I’ll even add an asterisk. Okay, the winner: Pacific Counter* I enjoyed both meals, but found Pacific Counter’s offerings more in line with the healthy-eating concept I expected from my bowling experience. That was due in part to the compone
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Friday Food Fight (Hurricane Edition): Chicken Pot Pie
Comparing the ultimate comfort food at two popular chains as the storm approaches. Neither rain nor heat nor wrath of hurricane stays this scribe from the swift delivery of his Friday Food Fight. Courageous enough, for ya? I write this on Tuesday morning under cloudy skies, nonstop storm news squawking from the TV in the other room. The approach of Hurricane Ian caused an abrupt change of plans for this week’s edition. Because there was doubt about whether restaurants would be open on Tuesday, we ran out late Monday afternoon and picked up chicken pot pies, to go, at two chain restaurants that tout them as specialties, then brought them back to the FFF Lab. Our appointed rounds: Metro Diner on 4th Street in St. Pete, and Cheddar’s Scratch Kitchen in Pinellas Park. Is chicken pot pie good pre-hurricane food? Yes and no. CHEDDAR’S SCRATCH KITCHEN Storm clouds seemed a fitting backdrop for our first stop. A long and wide-ranging summer storm would kick in soon enough. Appearance When I removed the aluminum dish from the bag and opened it, the pot pie ($11.49) was pretty disheveled. Part of the insides — chicken, peas, carrots, gravy — were visible. That made it somehow more appetizing, and comforting. Texture and Taste My first bite was dominated by a large chunk of chicken, which took considerable chewing and even a chaser of Virgil’s root beer to wash it down. Not an auspicious start. But the eating quickly evened out, as that familiar and velvety combination of ingredients joined in harmony. The crust gave way easily, and melded with the other stuff. The ratio of gravy to meat and veggies was just right. If anything, some of the chicken chunks were a bit dry, but on the whole, Cheddar’s’ pot pie made for an enjoyable meal. The restaurant also added to the order a small Caesar salad and a large, honey-coated crescent dinner role, the latter a nice but ultimately redundant gesture — which is to say, I took only one bite. METRO DINER We drove through a driving rain to stop and pick up our Metro pot pie and then headed the mile or so back to the Lab. Nature was playing a cruel joke: a persistent rainstorm just a few short days before the scheduled arrival of a hurricane. Appearance This one was puzzling. The crust didn’t look like a crust as much as a protective shell. The gravy on the sides appeared congealed. Would a fork suffice, or would I need a chisel? Texture and Taste Unfortunately, this pot pie ($12.49) tasted the way it looked. The top crust — indeed a shell — consisted of about a half-inch of heavy dough that was devoid of flakiness or taste. It took some extra fork work to pry it open. The insides were hardly better. The gravy was thick and gummy, the vegetables minimal (string beans vs. peas, not good), the shell did not blend with the rest. And, yes, there is such a thing as too much chicken in a chicken pot pie. The gravy had an odd tang to it, and there was a vaguely unpleasant aftertaste. I simply did not understand this chicken pot pie, and ate only about a quarter of it for due diligence’s sake. The charitable view is that this particular Metro Diner had a bad night under pre-hurricane conditions. And the Winner of the Chicken Pot Pie (Hurricane Edition) Friday Food Fight is … Does it even need saying? Cheddar’s Scratch Kitchen. Let me add one final caveat: Bonnie Snider, my wife, makes such an exquisite chicken pot pie that both of these restaurants versions were bound to pale in comparison. I hope everyone came out of the hurricane okay. (Friday, Sept. 30) Fill out my online form.