4 Pumpkin Desserts—Ranked (Post-Hurricane Edition)
A colleague of mine at Registry Tampa Bay was wondering to a friend if it’s appropriate to publish a Friday Food Fight when there’s so much hurricane hardship going on. That friend replied, “There’s never a bad time to read about food.” So that’s my raison d’être for this week. Restaurants were off the table due to storm prep and evacuation. Seeing as it’s October, which is not only hurricane season but all-things-pumpkin season, we stopped at Trader Joe’s, Fresh Market and Whole Foods early Monday aftternoon to pick up seasonal desserts that feature pumpkin or pumpkin spice. From there we waited in line to pick up sandbags, hustled around to several gas stations to find fuel (we did), packed our stuff, buttoned up the house as best we could (not very) and skedaddled out of town. We brought the desserts to the home of the Connellys, friends who live on the east coast and had invited us to ride out the storm there. That’s where we did our taste-testing, on Tuesday afternoon. My accompanying beverage was whole milk. Because this is not an apples-to-apples — or pumpkin-to-pumpkin — Food Fight, I won’t pick an outright winner. Instead, I’ll rank them in terms of my preference. PUMPKIN SPICE TEA CAKE — FRESH MARKET We didn’t have tea for our Pumpkin Tea Cakes ($6.99 for a package of six). Or at least I didn’t ask if there was any. I stuck with milk. These cute morsels — a product of Wiley Road Foods of Manchester, N.H. — are encased in an orange shell to give a pumpkin-y impression. My host informed me that it’s called fondant. Biting through its waxy texture was pleasurable, although the icing did not taste pumpkin-y. The cake inside, a rich brown color, was hearty and moist, and tasted more of pumpkin than pumpkin spice. A good thing. Summing up: These treats, which didn’t look that tantalizing, were suprisingly good. PUMPKIN WHOOPIE PIES — WHOLE FOODS These dessert sandwiches are products of Massachusetts-based (and women-owned) BisouSweet Confections. That’s appropriate because Massachusetts is one of the five states that claim to be the birthplace of the whoopie pie. But only one, Maine, has named it the official state treat. These Pumpkin Whoopie Pies ($7.99 for four) had a dark brown cake shell that did not say pumpkin. Some of the filling had a vaguely orange hue, which was vaguely unsettling, as if it had been sprayed on. With the first bite, the filling squeezed out from within the cake and onto my hand. Not an auspicious beginning. The cake was dry(ish) and grainy. The filling had an indeterminate flavor that was cloyingly sweet. Summing up: these Whoopie Pies didn’t have much pumpkin character at all. PUMPKIN TART — WHOLE FOODS The store receipt said that this perfectly round confection was 2.2 inches, which I found to be a rather odd feature on a receipt. Nevertheless, it helps here, because you get a sense of the tart’s size. Small. They were arrayed in the dessert case — not on a shelf or table — and were sold one at a time for $2.25. I purchased a single. It murmured, “put on some nice clothes, place a napkin on your lap, consume me with a knife and dessert fork — slowly.” Ahh, such elegance. I did none of the above. The Pumpkin Tart ate as delicately as it looked: soft casing (not an iota of crunch, so I won’t call it a crust); a filling that was like a lighter, airier pumpkin pie; creamy vanilla icing that added another subtle flavor. Summing up: The tart’s components blended to create a velevety profile. Lovely while it lasted, which was not long. PUMPKIN KRINGLE — TRADER JOE’S My sister-in-law, who grew up in Wisconsin, is wild about these kringles, which are made at OH Danish Bakery in Racine. By the way, kringle is the official state pastry of Wisconsin. They’re themed according to season. Hence, pumpkin. (I vaguely recall having kringle before but not this flavor.) The oval-shaped beast ($9.99, one pound eight ounces) came packaged in a white paper bag and you slip it out horizontally. Knife and fork needed — to carve out hefty wedges. The moist (not flaky) pastry gave way to a luscious pumpkin filling, which was thicker than that of pumpkin pie. The icing had a caramel tinge, and chopped walnuts added some welcome crunch. All of the elements meshed beautifully. Summing up: A lovingly made pastry that was impressively large. All four of us had some — but mostly me — and the kringle provided comfort during a few days of hurricane angst. And Now to the Rankings … Pumpkin Kringle (At ten bucks, quite a value. Krissie, I hope you’re not jealous reading this.) Pumpkin Tea Cake (More substantial and tasty than it looks.) Pumpkin Tart (Nice but slight.) Pumpkin Whoopie Pie (No big whoop.) Milton update: Our home in Northeast St. Pete was spared. Just some branches in the yard. I hope you all had a similar result. My sympathies if you incurred substantial damage. Many thanks to the Connellys for putting us up in style.
Stone Crab Redux (And a Call For Help)
In light of the devastation wrought by Hurricane Helene on many of our neighbors — restaurants included — a standard Friday Food Fight didn’t seem appropriate this week. So we’re publishing a rerun — about stone crab. The post first ran in late October 2022 and was guest-authored by Tom duPont, founder and publisher of Registry Tampa Bay, and a stone crab enthusiast. The timing is right, too. Stone Crab season begins on October 15. But there’s a more sobering reason that we chose to run Tom’s two-year-old stone crab FFF. One of the contestants was Frenchy’s. The beloved Frenchy’s family of restaurants probably won’t be serving as much stone crab this year because many of its locations and brands were ravaged by the storm. Eleven locations — all within a mile on Clearwater Beach — “had significant flooding due to storm surge,” says a post on the Frenchy’s Facebook page. They will be closed until further notice. All of the company’s Clear Sky locations, which are not on the beach, remain open, as does Frenchy’s Stone Crab and Seafood Market in Dunedin. Many Frenchy’s employees now “find themselves without home and/or jobs,” the post says. The company has set up a Hurricane Helene Relief program to help them out. It asks for donations of money and many tangible necessities, which will be “organized and distributed directly to our staff who have been affected by Helene.” Click here to donate and to see a list of essentials needed. If you’d like to contribute, please send or drop off money or items to: Frenchy’s/Clear Sky Hurricane Relief, 436 E Shore Dr, Clearwater Beach, Fl 33767. Meanwhile, this rerun’s other contestant, Rumba Island Bar & Grill, escaped any appreciable damage. Both the Clearwater and St. Pete locations are open. Baystar Restaurant Group, which owns Rumba Island Grill, saw its flagship brand, Salt Rock Grill, “suffer little damage,” according to a Sept. 30 Facebook post, which went on to say that “we are currently waiting for power to be restored and cleaning and repairing damage to our on-site fresh seafood facility, Direct Seafoods. Hopefully, we will be up and running very soon.” Yes, that was a long intro, but a necessary one. Now let’s revisit our stone crab Food Fight from ’22. In a break with FFF tradition, we are leaving out the choosing of a winner. It doesn’t seem appropriate. Hopefully, the column will bring to mind happier times and whet your appetite for the upcoming stone crab season. FRENCHY’S SALTWATER CAFE Although best known for its sumptuous grouper sandwich, all six Frenchy’s serve stone crabs — hot or cold; medium, large and jumbo. We chose to eat at Frenchy’s Saltwater Cafe on Clearwater Beach. It’s an open-air, modified fish shack with a jovial environment, happy staff and a wonderful menu. To start the evening, my assistant and I ordered the smoked fish spread. It came beautifully presented with a dozen wrapped packages of Lance’s crackers. (We also got a little cup to hold the discarded wrappers.) An amazing chopped Greek salad followed, topped by Frenchy’s own special dressing. It included beets, olives, onions, lettuce, a few banana peppers, and more. And of course, there was the obligatory scoop of deliciously creamy potato salad and a generous sprinkling of Feta cheese. A fabulous start to our meal. We ordered the Large stone crabs — cold and hot. They were properly pre-cracked, making it easy to extract the meat. Both were delicious and came with the standard mustard sauce or melted butter with lemon. The hot crabs had a bit more flavor. The presentation was elementary, as you’d expect in an outdoor fish shack turned specialty seafood emporium. There was the customary basket for disposing of the shells, a mini-fork, and a set of plastic claw crackers for that final effort to consume every morsel. Two glasses of Chardonnay made the evening most enjoyable. Our server was more than attentive and made sure we had everything we needed from start to finish. RUMBA ISLAND BAR & GRILL Located on corner of Gulf to Bay and Keene in Clearwater, this location is a slice of paradise surrounded by lush tropical landscaping. Authentic Island cuisine dominates the menu. The seafood sanctuary is part of Frank Chivas’s Baystar Restaurant Group (which has 10 concepts, including Salt Rock Grill, Island Way Grill and Marina Cantina). Each of Baystar’s seafood restaurants has its own special aura. All of them have an exceptionally well-trained and friendly staff. And Baystar also has its own fleet of fishing boats (as does Frenchy’s, by the way.) My assistant and I dropped by for lunch. The pleasant outdoor surroundings were wonderful on a sunny weekday. The place was full, a tribute to the restaurant’s quality. We began our meal with the obligatory fish spread, which was quite different from the Frenchy’s version. This one contained small bits of bacon and was paired with saltines. Next up: the main event. We ordered both hot and cold claws, of course. They came with the mustard sauce and melted butter with lemon. And we had a surprise side of delicious corn muffins with a bit of spice. The presentation was very attractive. Both the hot and cold claws were delicious — although the cold ones were very cold, which minimized their taste. We easily and quickly consumed the fish spread, the corn muffins, and both versions of the claws. It all made for a wonderful lunch. When we were done there was nothing but empty shells. If you’ve read this far, we appreciate it. And please consider contributing to the Frenchy’s Relief fund.
Tampa Bay vs. Tennessee: Pulled Pork Platters Battle It Out
I’m pretty much off porcine products, but with a gig like Friday Food Fight, sometimes you have to take one for the team. And this week that means pulled pork, which, I freely admit, is almost always tasty. We decided to opt for platters over sandwiches, which can get annoyingly messy. I’m still on a road trip visiting family; hence. another edition of Tampa Bay vs. The World. In this case, it’s Urban Brew and BBQ in St. Pete’s Edge District vs. The Blue Pig in Cookeville, Tennessee. URBAN BREW AND BBQ At 4 p.m. on a typically toasty Sunday in September, we walked a couple of blocks to Urban Brew and BBQ. We cruised right past the covered patio in front and into the air-conditioned interior. A no-brainer. We ordered at the counter: A Half-Pound Pulled Pork Plate ($19) with a side of coleslaw (an absolute must) and cornbread, plus an extra side of Baked Beans ($5.25) and a fountain root beer ($3.50). We sat at a small booth and the food came out in a few short minutes. Appearance The meal arrvied on an aluminum tray big enough to accommodate the large portions. For a quick-serve barbecue joint, the meal was handsomely laid out. Texture and Taste The pile of pulled pork (alliterate much?) offered an array of morsels, from hefty chunks to chewy burnt ends. The meat had a satisfying level of smokiness. Overall, though, this version was not as juicy as the best I’ve had. Some decades ago, I was introduced to the combo of pulled pork and coleslaw. It stuck and it’s not going away. A lot rests on the quality of the slaw, and UB&BBQ’s earns an A grade — crunchy, a blend of sweet and tangy, not overly mayo’d. The beans were thick and sweet, the way I prefer. The cornbread was moist (not too crumbly) and sweet. To add zest, I dipped bites of pork and slaw into a sweet barbecue sauce that had a hint of spicey heat. The Blue Pig The restaurant is part of a brick building in Cookeville’s (pop: 36,000) quaint downtown. At 6:30 p.m. on a Thursday, business was brisk, perhaps due to the Cookeville High homecoming parade taking place a few blocks away. The Blue Pig is moderately upscale barbecue restaurant. It occupies a fairly large indoor space, plus an outdoor patio. We ordered at a counter just inside the door. The process was clumsy, and out of kilter for an eatery that should offer table service. We ordered the Pulled Pork Plate with BBQ Baked Beans and Broccoli Cole Slaw ($14.75). I got a Bud Light bottle ($3.50) and lamented that the place didn’t offer draft beer. Our foursome sat at a four-top by the front window, and we made room for a fifth when my brother Kurt arrived a few minutes after us. Appearance The pork looked more chunked than pulled. The cole slaw was chopped finely and dressing pooled in the paper container. A dinner roll sat in the middle; I have no use for dinner rolls. Three small slices of pickle seemed random and picayune. While the set-up set off some alarms, I was all in on looks-can-be-deceiving and hopeful that it would be a worthy meal. Texture and Taste The chunkiness of the pork wasn’t a problem, exactly, but it rendered some of the largest pieces rather dry and chewy. So I picked up a knife and fork and did some pulling of my own, whch made for some stringy parts. The meat was a bit under-smoked, but flavorful all the same. Although I prefer crunchier slaw with larger strands of cabbage, The Blue Pig’s minced version did the trick (thankfullly, the broccoli flavor was muted). The beans were less sweet and thick than the competition’s. Being a sweet-and-thick guy, I found them kind of bland. And the Winner of the Pulled Pork Platter Battle Is … Urban Brew and BBQ. This decision boiled down to matters of preference: chunks vs. more finely pulled pork; crunchy vs. chopped slaw; gooey vs. wet beans; cornbread vs. dinner roll (although why anyone’s preference would be a dinner roll is beyond me). In the end, both meals deserved their place in the pantheon of pulled pork platters.
Tampa Bay vs. Atlanta in a Duel Over Eggplant Parmesan
Eggplant paremesan never made sense to me when I could have chicken. (Not veal, though.) But my fairly recent interest in plant-based eating has drawn me to alternatives, so now seems a good time to feature eggplant parm in Friday Food Fight. I’m on a road trip visiting relatives, so this week is another edition of Tampa Bay vs. The World. Our contestants are: No. 246 restaurant in Decatur, a close suburb of Atlanta, and Gusto Italian Restaurant in St. Pete. GUSTO ITALIAN RESTAURANT Gusto (Goo-stow) is located in an atttractive brick building on a nondescript stretch of 16th Street North, so it’s tempting to call it a hidden gem. But it sure didn’t fit that description at 7 p.m. on a recent Friday night. The joint was hummin’, filled up mostly with groups of young, tall people. (Aren’t they supposed to be downtown?) Our server, an affable young man named Roberto, told us that the rush was unexpected, therefore the restaurant was somewhat understaffed. But the vibe was good, even if it the brick interior walls made for a considerable din. We ordered Melanzane Alla Parmigiana ($21.99), plus an appetizer of Polpette (meatballs, $10) and a Small Caesar Salad ($7). I got a Stella Artois to drink ($6). The starters came out fairly quickly, but the entree took close to an hour to arrive. As busy as he was, Roberto stopped by a few times to give up updates. “I think yours is up next,” he’d say. It was a caring gesture, even though he was wrong a couple of times. Appearance You could tell this entree was the product of a hectic kitchen that was focused more on pushing out orders than how attractive they looked. This eggplant parmesan with a side of penne pasta was pretty disheveled. And I didn’t mind a bit. I was just glad it was there in front of me. The two large pieces of eggplant were smothered in mozzarella, and a bulb of ricotta sat in the middle. Plus there were flakes of parmesan strewn about. So no shortage of cheese. The hefty meatballs were virtually floating atop a pool of red sauce, and covered in parmesan. The Caesar lived up to its description: small. Taste and Texture It was worth the wait. The eggplant itself was the ideal thickness — not so thin as to be crispy, not thick enough to be mushy. The discs were delicately battered, giving the exterior a subtle crisp. The sauce was mild and sweet(ish). Slatherings of mozzarella can turn gummy when they cool; this version didn’t. The pasta, aptly al dente, was an able sidekick. All the elements blended together splendidly. The meatballs had an earthy, rustic texture, grainy while remaining moist. I found the Caesar dressing too sharp for my liking so took a bite or two of the salad and left the rest for Bonnie. NO. 246 Located on the quaint main drag of Decatur, the restaurant is named after its original plot of land, which was numbered 246 in the early 1900s. Business was brisk for a Monday at 7:30. The capacious interior was elegantly appointed with a retro feel. It was dark — dark to the point that taking photos required a lighting person, Bonnie, who stood up and pointed her cell phone flashlight downward onto the plates. Our party of seven sat at a long wooden table near the bar. The staff was friendly and helpful. Howell, the bartender, regularly left his post to check on us and offer wine advice. The kitchen was efficient, delivering our meals in a timely and orderly fashion. The Eggplant Parmesan was reasonably priced at $19, but we had to add $7 for pasta. I wanted penne but our server told us that only spaghetti was available. That made no sense, seeing as No. 246 had all manner of pastas on the menu. But I left it alone. We also ordered a Meatball ($9) as an appetizer, and a Caesar Salad ($14). Appearance The entree was tastefully presented, especially when compared to Gusto’s scattershot appearance. It was, however, missing that lovely bulb of ricotta. The meatball came covered in a big basil leaf, which we moved away for its closeup. Texture and Taste It’s never a good sign when you’re eating eggplant parmesan and feel the need to ask for a steak knife (which I didn’t). The problem was the rind, which was tough enough to patch a tire with. Forget cutting it with a fork; even using a butter knife required sawing. This caused a domino effect. The sawing mushed up the innards. The skin made the bites difficult to chew, which made it difficult to appreciate the blend of flavors, which made me frustrated, which made me want to tap out. I took only a few bites. I do recall a dearth of breading. Had I to do it over, I might’ve cut around the rind, or cut the rind away — in the dark. But doesn’t that seem like a lot of work to eat eggplant parmesan? As for the meatball, it had a gentler texture than the competition’s, which was to my liking. The enormous salad spilled over the plate, but I found it under-dressed and rather bland. And The Winner of the TB vs. ATL Eggplant Parmesan Duel Is … Gusto Italian Restaurant. No contest between the two eggplant parmesans. But the wait time at Gusto went beyond what is reasonable. That said, I admired how the restaurant managed to deliver a quality product under pressure. And I appreciated how Roberto was genuinely concerned and tried to keep us updated. As for No. 246, perhaps the kitchen staff pulled out a particuarly ornery piece of eggplant, because it’s hard to fathom that such a tough rind would be part of the recipe. But the Decatur restaurant gets high marks for service and ambience. It also started us out with several baskets of earthy bread and bowls of spicy
Pairing Off Two Panini at Local Sandwich Shops
Try going into your local sandwich shop and ordering a panino. See if you get perplexed looks from the counter person. Strictly speaking, “panini” is plural for panino. So ends this week’s Italian vocabularly lesson. For the remainder of this column, I’ll be using panini as a singular for a hot pressed sandwich on cibatta bread. Our contestants are JJ’s Market & Deli on Gandy Boulevard in St. Pete and Brooklyn South in the Edge District. JJ’s MARKET & DELI During the short ride to JJ’s at 7 p.m. Monday, we discussed whether to bring our panini back to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™. Seconds after entering the place — which is located across Gandy from Derby Lane — we decided to hang out and eat. Don’t be fooled by the generic exterior. Inside, JJ’s is a charmer — a blend of country store and boho cafe. There’s a lot going on: A counter up front with food prepared behind it; wooden shelf after wooden shelf holding an eclectic array of goods; wine racks; a walk-in beer cooler; sofas with throw pillows; picnic tables, and so on. We placed our order with Jill, one of the owners. Business was slow, so we chatted a while. I got the Pesto Panini ($8.99) with chicken ($3.50), a side of potato salad, and a fountain root beer ($2.69). We had a seat at a picnic table and Jill brought our food out to us. Appearance JJ’s roasts it own chickens and shreds it. Kudo for that. I could see strands of poultry peeking out from the lightly toasted cibatta. I’m a snob when it comes to potato salad, but this version looked promising. Bonnie and I split the sandwich, and I scarfed my half down so zestily that I forgot to snap the standard close-up pic. The chicken, moist(ish) and just chewy enough, blended well with the tomato, basil pesto and balsamic glaze. The cibatta was soft throughout, and could’ve been slightly more coarse, especially on the outside. I couldn’t detect much mozzarella, though. It may have oozed into the other ingredients and rendered itself moot. Some big melty bites of mozz would’ve taken the panini to the next level. The potato salad was solid, nicely mayo’d, with a bit of tang. We finished it. BROOKLYN SOUTH At 4:15 on Wednesday, we easily found a parking spot on Central across the street from this small sandwich joint. Women in Snell Isle have shoe closets bigger than Brooklyn South’s dining area. Karen greeted us with a smile and a friendly hello as we walked in. She has owned Brooklyn South with her husband for all of six weeks. For the record, the owners have no Brooklyn roots. They’re from South Jersey. We custom-ordered a sandwich to match the panini at JJ’s: mozzarella, tomato, pesto and (rosemary) chicken on cibatta ($10.99). Brooklyn South didn’t have potato salad so we got a single order of Mac & Cheese ($5.99). I also got an Old Brooklyn root beer ($2.49), which I’d not heard of before. We had a seat at a small two-top and continued our conversation with Karen. Appearance The bread looked more toasted than the competition’s. The chicken was chunked, not shredded, and had a generous amount of dark meat (a good sign). The mac and cheese came in a small takeout container like you see in Chinese restaurants. Texture and Taste The sandwich came out piping hot. We let it cool for a bit. The cibatta was perfectly toasted — a delicate outer crust gave way to the tender dough within. It made for effortless chewing. The chicken tasted strongly of rosemary, which took a couple bites to get used to, but ultimately gave the bird plenty of character. The combination of dark and white chicken was pleasantly moist and tender. The pesto added some extra punch, but the mozzarella — and especially the thin slices of tomato — had scant presence. The mac and cheese, encased in cardboard, was too hot to eat with the sandwich, but when we finally dug in, we appreciated the blend of asiago, provolone and mozzarella that lushly coated the elbow macaroni. As a root beer connoisseur, I had hopes for the Olde Brooklyn. Meh. And the Winner of the Panini Square-Off Is … A razor-thin, split decision. Brooklyn South. On atmosphere, JJ’s won going away, and I prefered the potato salad over mac and cheese as an accompaniment to the panini. Both places get high marks for friendly customer service. It’s always nice to kibbitz with an owner. But the ultimate decider is the panini itself. And while we enjoyed both, Brooklyn South’s gets the edge based on being more full-flavored and its better cibatta. As a side note: People living within convenient distance should check out JJ’s. In it’s unique way, the place is hip.
What the Phở? One Vietnamese Restaurant Will Emerge Victorious
It’s pronounced “fuh,” people, just so you know. Once you break the “foe” habit, phở is fun to say. You’re tempted to add a consonant at the end. Vietnam’s national dish, phở is a soup consisting of broth, rice noodles, herbs and meat, traditionally beef. I’ve had it numerous times, and liked it. For an FFF edition about phở, I wanted to feature specfically Vietnamese restaurants. I found two, aptly named: Special Phở in St. Pete and Phở Quyen in Pinellas Park. SPECIAL PHO Part of a strip center on 34th Street North that includes a vape store, a nail salon and an Amscot, Special Phở has a basic interior with several big-screen TVs as the primary design element. They showed American programming. The servers were all young, full of smiles, and spoke good English. Ours was Bang (an Americanized nickname that I urged him to embrace), who helped us customize our meals. My Beef Phở ($16.45) came with sliced filet mignon, beef brisket and meatballs, and left out a couple of items whose names sounded unappetizing. Bang also suggested adding House Phở Noodles ($1.95), which are wider and more authentically Vietnamese. As a starter, I ordered Vegan Spring Rolls ($5.45). And for some impulsive reason that I cannot explain, I got a Dr Pepper ($2.50). Appearance The bowl was big enough to bath an infant in. A massive portion. The beef looked nicely cooked, with swaths of pink. A side plate contained bean sprouts and basil leaves, which I instantly tossed into the bowl. I was pleased I chose the house noodles over the thin vermicelli. The wide ones added a substantiality of texture and taste. The broth was heavenly. Among the beefs, I preferred the thin-sliced filet, and — had I to do it over — would have gotten only that. The brisket was tender and had an acceptable level of fat. But I was not a fan of the meatballs, which were spongy and tough(ish). I sprinkled in a few drops of chili oil, which added welcome embers of spicy heat, but not fire. Eating phở can be tricky. I combined chopsticks, spoon and slurp technique, which meant my face had to stay close to the bowl. Not great for dinner conversation, but I did come up for air a few times. The spring rolls looked recently hand-made. A thin slice of tofu ran length-wise, a soft counterpoint to the crunch of the vegetables. The wrap was extra-chewy — to good effect. The peanut sauce, flecked with nut crumbles, made for good dipping. The Dr Pepper was awful. What was I thinking? (Hey, food scribe — ever hear of water?) PHO QUYEN Tampa Bay, we have a flooding problem. Or at least northeast St. Pete did late Wednesday afternoon. When our power went out just after 5 p.m., we decided to head to Phở Quyen rather than sitting in darkness and — I dunno — having a conversation? Bad decision. Our labyrinthine trek took us through and around various flooded streets. Arguably, my low-slung sedan could’ve stalled at any time. I feared the worst when it got bumper-deep on 62nd Avenue North and a pickup truck barreled by, sending a wave splashing onto my hood. But the G80 held, and we made it. Amid a light rain, business was understandably slow as we settled into a bright-red booth. A strange mix of modern pop and hardcore rap (one song laced with F-words) played on a lousy sound system (but not too loudly). Like two nights previous, I ordered Phở with sliced beef (not billed as filet), brisket and meatballs, as well as an order Vegetarian Spring Rolls ($4.45) and a Da Chanh lemonade ($3.45). Appearance Another mega-bowl, although prettier than the one at Special Phở. Other than that, the presentation was about the same. In terms of eating ergonomics, the bench was too low and far away from the table, forcing me to sit straight-backed and forward. Good for my overall posture, I guess, but not comfortable. Texture and Taste Phở Quyen did not offer a wide-noode option, and the vermicelli was slippery and elusive, and far less satisifying than Special Phở’s. I ate one meatball and decided that the Asian-style beef orbs are just not for me. These transcended spongy into rubbery. The broth was fine, if on the bland side. The beef was cooked through and nondescript. I really struggled eating this stuff. Furthermore, I ill-advisedly wore white pants (so what if it was after Labor Day), so had to put about a dozen flimsy paper napkins on my lap. They scattered away with the slighest movement, and needed replacing. The restaurant should’ve added a napkin surcharge to our check. I tried several techniques. The soup was too hot for noodle-slurping. Chopsticking them onto a spoon proved futile. After a while, once the phở had cooled, I used the Western style of twirling the noodles onto a fork with one hand, then taking in spoonfuls of broth with the other. It was too much work, people. The whole ordeal was like a one-man slapstick act, right down to napkins stuck to the bottom of my shoes. As far as the spring rolls, they fell apart, forcing me to dip them into a too-thick peanut sauce and quickly shove bites into my mouth. No tofu, either. Oh, and the lemonade was too sweet. The Phở Sure Winner of this FFF Is … Special Phở. A TKO. Everything about Special Phở’s meal proved superior to Phở Quyen’s, but it was the wide noodles that most mattered. By the way, getting home Wednesday night was not as perilous as going out, but it had its harrowing moments. On one stretch of 54th Avenue between MLK and 4th Streets, heading east, I had to drive over the median and reverse course. But we made it. And our power was back on.
Everybody, Duck!
I had virtually no experience with duck until a few years ago when, during a three-day stay in Santa Fe, New Mexico, a persistent waiter coaxed me into ordering the duck confit. A revelation. And yet … I still have very little experience with duck — mostly because you don’t find it on a lot of local menus. And duck is expensive. So what better strategy to try the fowl again than to thrust it into the Friday Food Fight ring — then get a receipt and expense it? I found two worthy restaurants with duck on their regular menus: Alsace French Bistro in Tierra Verde and Mis en Place in Tampa. ALSACE FRENCH BISTRO On a mid-August Friday, we arrived promptly for our 7 p.m. reservation. The restaurant is located at the end of a long, two-story shopping center that could pass for an apartment complex. Its signage is scant. All we could read from the parking lot was “French Restaurant.” Ownership has done their best to give the modest interior a French farmhouse vibe, but saggy fiberglass ceiling tiles sapped some of the ambience. We sat in the narrow back dining room at a two-top with a checkered tablecloth. We ordered Canard a L’Orange (“half a duck, crispy, with an orange mustard glaze, $31) For a side, we got Red Cabbage (cooked in red wine), and added on a side of sauteed potatoes ($6). Our appetizer was Tarte Flambe Original ($13), an “Alsatian favorite.” The restaurant had but two beers available, so I chose a Beck’s ($8). Appearance The entree plate was crowded with alluring stuff. The shredded cabbage nearly filled a sizable bowl. This spread, which did have a farmhous vibe, said, “I hope you’re hungry.” The Tarte Flambe was a round, thin flatbread covered with goodies. Texture and Taste It’s in food-scribe handbook that you must use the world “succulent” when describing duck. Man, this duck was succulent. Juicy and tender. The bird did not taste gamey. The skin, crispy as advertised, added punches of flavor. I dipped the duck into a sweet(ish) sauce that added further zest. I really dug the cabbage, which blended sweet and tart. It was laced with bacon — and as everyone knows: Everything is better with bacon. The potatoes were fine, but didn’t wow me. The Tarte Flambe was cardboard-thin but not crackly. It had a pleasingly smokey flavor, courtesy of bacon that was almost rare but not rubbery. Long strips of cooked onion and cream cheese — that’s what the menu says — rounded out a very intriguing and substantial starter, which we finished. MIS en PLACE Driving across the Howard Frankland Bridge through a vicious thunderstorm in bumper-to-bumper traffic is not the ideal prelude to a high-end duck dinner. It took an hour but we made our 5:45 reservation on Wednesday. Nearing four decades in business, Mis en Place is one of Tampa’s heritage restaurants. The large dining room, imbued with white-tablecoth elegance, has a modern urban feel. The Place’s cuisine is not categorically French, but “French-inspired.” We sat at a four-top near the bar. I tried my level best to tune out the tepid smooth jazz coming from the sound system. Choosing to split our meal, we ordered Duck Breast ($43.37), which had an 18-word description attached that I won’t include here, other than “tamarind date jackfruit gastrique.” We also got the Fried Green Tomato Salad ($18.37, 15 words). We each chose a Three Daughters Beach Blonde Ale ($8.37, 0 words), which unfortunately came from a can, not a tap. “How would you like your duck cooked?” asked our pleasant server, Melissa. Uh-oh. Umm … like duck. We decided on medium. Appearance The kitchen split the entree into two plates before bringing it to the table, so we didn’t get the full effect. But the sighting of pink let me know that this would be a far different duck experience than that of Alsace. Texture and Taste We should have gotten the duck medium-well. Bonnie and I both appreciated the fully cooked parts, which were succulent, but struggled a bit with the rare inner sections. But that’s just us. We were fans of the brown gastrique (sauce), which added a touch of spicey heat. The fingerling potatoes were small and far between. We each got a piece of deep-fried cauliflower that was quite tasty, and also quite small, plus little dollops of stuff that added flavor accents. The salad was terrific. It included crunchy fried green tomatoes, arugula, grape tomatoes and other ingredients. And if you ever get a chance to have a salad dressed with “green chili buttermilk chive vinaigrette,” do it. And the Winner of the Everybody, Duck Dust-Up Is … Alsace French Bistro. This decision was entirely subjective. I simply preferred AFB’s plentiful, peasant-food French meal to the small-portion, French-inspired fare of Mis en Place. Note to Alsace: Please invest in cloth napkins. Paper ones — small, thin ones at that — are no way to cut corners. The stain on my pants probably wouldn’t have occurred with better coverage.
New York vs. Tampa Bay in a Bagel Battle
So you read the headline and you’re thinking: New York vs. Tampa Bay? Squaring off over bagels? That’s not a fair fight. I have similar reservations, but I’m visting friends on Long Island and figured it’s a good opportunity for another edition of Tampa Bay vs. The World. Talk about a contrast in combatants: Bagel Babe Co. is run by Jessie Vallorosi, a woman in her 20s who moved to St. Pete from New Jersey in 2021. Unable to find a good bagel, she set about perfecting her own recipe. Now she sells ’em. Goldberg’s dates back to 1949, and has 14 locations on Long Island, each with separate owners. We went to the one in Patchogue. Our test dishes are: a plain bagel with a cream-cheese schmear, as a baseline; and a bagel sandwich with egg and cheese. BAGEL BABE CO. We left for Bagel Babe on Sunday at 11 a.m. not knowing what to expect. We did, however, expect to see a sign. We did not. After driving around a large lot for a few minutes, we followed a hunch and parked in front of a place called Foodie Labs. Located in the Warehouse Arts District, Foodie Labs is a vendor collective of five “restaurants,” including Bagel Babe, that occupies a long industrial hallway. There are no storefronts. Young people milled around in groups. We looked for a Bagel Babe sign or logo, and never saw one. We ordered on a touchscreen. As prescribed, I got a Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese ($4.75), toasted; and a Sesame Bagel (toasted) with Egg & Cheese ($7.45). Hmm, I wondered, where would our meals come from? I half-expected to be handed a bag by a drone. After about 10 minutes, a guy came out and hollered my wife’s name. The Foodie Labs hallway includes a few sitting stations, but most have low tables unsuited for eating, and nearly all were occupied. We decided to return to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™ with our bag o’ bagels. Appearance I took the bagel sandwiches out of the bag and freed them from their white wrappers. Nothing stood out, except for how thick the schmear was. Texture and Taste • Bagel with Cream Cheese — The bagel was under-toasted, and chewier than I prefer. Each bite took some hard jaw work. And this sandwich raised some questions: When is a schmear a schmear? When is a schmear a hefty schmear? And when is a schmear a mega-schmear? I submit this bagel as evidence of the latter. I scraped about half of the cream cheese off to the side of the plate. • Sesame Bagel with Egg & Cheese — This bagel was easier to chew than the other, but I occasionally chomped into an unpleasant salt bomb. The flattened scrambled egg was moist enough, but its flavor was elusive. The cheese, pure white, was a conundrum. I thought for a second it was cream cheese, but after closer inspection I decided on white American. Regardless, it had scant flavor. GOLDBERG’S When we arrived at Goldberg’s just before 10 a.m. on Wednesday, it was 65 degrees and sunny, with low humidity. A miracle. I borrowed a jacket from my friend and co-host, Max. Goldberg’s is located on Patchogue’s main drag. Talk about old-school. A man behind a classic deli counter took our order. And get this: He wrote it down on a small pad. I got a $3 cup of coffee to go with my Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese ($4.07) and Sesame Bagel with Egg & Cheese ($5.97), both toasted. Unfortunately, Goldberg’s has no outdoor seating, so our party of three commandeered a small table near the front window. The sound system was putting out a terrific playlist that included everything from early-period Elvis Presley to late-period Johnny Cash, but the music spewed out of a portable JBL speaker (set atop a drink case) that sounded lousy. Appearance I opened up the brown paper bag and white wrappers to reveal some very appealing bagels/sandwiches (photo at top). The debris cluttered the table. We had no plates. We didn’t care. Texture and Taste • Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese — The bagel had plenty of give to the squeeze, almost like letting air out of a bicycle tire without the hiss. The hearty crust gave way to the inner part, which had an airiness that made it collapse easily to the bite. Bagel elegance. The cream cheese was slightly melted due to the warmth of the bread. • Sesame Bagel with Egg & Cheese — The sesame seeds made themselves known without being obnoxious. The egg was fried but not runny. The cheese was subtle. The elements retained their character but blended together beautifully with the bread. In all, this was a delicious, easy-eating breakfast sandwich. And the Winner of the NY vs. TB Bagel Brawl Is … Goldberg’s. Obvious, right? Maybe there is something to the superiority of New York bagels, even ones made outside the confines of the City proper. Maybe it is the water. In this case, I tend to think it was the superiority of Goldberg’s recipe and technique, and a consistency born of experience. I did not care for the impersonality of Bagel Babe’s ordering and delivery protocols. If wanting to see the product on the shelf and place an order with a human makes me old-fashioned or out of touch with the times, I gladly accept. A final note (targeted to Boomers): While I found no indication on the Bagel Babe website that it’s located in Foodie Labs, the location is plainly stated on the brand’s Instagram page. I’ve been told recently that websites are becoming passe, for young brands at least. If you want the real skinny, check their IG.
A Sinful Foray Into Cinnamon Rolls
If it wasn’t potentially fatal, I’d have a cinnamon roll every day and wash it down with a milkshake. Hold up. Let’s change that to four days a week. Wouldn’t want to get tired of them. As it happens, I haven’t eaten a cinnamon roll (or bun, if you like) in a while. So I’m pretty jazzed to indulge. Our contestants are: The Sourdough Co. in St. Pete’s Edge District; and Mama G’s German Bakery & Coffee House in Kenneth City. THE SOURDOUGH CO. The Sourdough Co., which opened last November, is the latest in a series of restaurant concepts to occupy this large space. The one I remember most is Ricky P’s, a solid New Orleans-style eatery that closed in 2017 due to rising rents in the Edge. I haven’t found good jambalaya around here since. But I digress … On Tuesday at 10 a.m., as we walked a half-a-block into the August sun along Central Avenue, I thought I might burst into flames. The Sourdough Co was bright and airy — and comfortably cool. A young woman took our order at the counter. We were on an eat-and-run mission, so ordered just a Cinammon Roll ($6) — warmed up, with vanilla icing instead of cream cheese — and a small coffee ($2.25). We had our pick of tables. Appearance I didn’t specify that we wanted to eat in, so the counter person handed us a paper go-bag with the roll in a plastic container. It looked like a white lump in there, so I asked for a plate and utensils. After I cut it and spread it, the bun was ready for its closeup. Texture and Taste I couldn’t detect sourdough — everything here starts with that — but I didn’t miss it. The bread was fresh and tender, chewy only to the extent that you want in a cinnamon roll. No dry, crusty edges. Problem was, the icing was too dominant; it coated the bun like frosting on a cake. The glutinous white stuff smothered the brown ore beneath. I, for one, prefer a moderate drizzle. This roll worked better after I scraped away some of the icing, and even then I found the cinnamon flavor too faint. MAMA G’s This funky little place on 54th Avenue North just east of 66th Street is part of a family-owned, German-centric chain with four other locations in Sarasota. I did not know that. At 8:45 a.m. Wednesday, I was able to park and slip inside Mama G’s without getting a sunburn. I call that win. The interior was nicely lit and outfitted with round, white four-tops. A short but steady line of folks waited to order at the counter, which was outfitted with a faux-chalkboard menu. I had called ahead, so the staff saved me a Cinnamon Bun ($3.50). I also got a coffee ($2), which I assumed was bottomless because it was self-serve. It took a few minutes for a counter person to bring the warmed-up roll — um, bun — out to my table. Appearance This one was considerably smaller than Sourdough Co.’s roll, and it was lighly lathered with donut glaze. I got a kick out of the Old World design of the plate, and was enamored with the hefty, matte-black coffee cup. Texture and Taste When the first slice of the knife made the glaze start to crackle, I knew we were talkin’ old-school. The bun was coated with just the right amount of icing, which furnished a measure of overt sweetness to complement the bold (less sweet) flavor of the cinnamon. This bun was not as doughy as the competition’s, and it might have been a bit more chewy than desired in certain spots. But it was the ideal size for a decadent, carb-heavy, empty-calories, finish-it-all, guilty pleasure of a breakfast. And the Winner of the Cinnamon Roll (or Bun) Rumble Is … Mama G’s. This was an easy call. Mama G’s doesn’t rank near the top of my cinnamon roll (bun) experiences — the top prize goes to a place in St. Augustine whose name I wish I could recall — but it was first-rate. Mama G’s take is also not authentically German — like a franzbrötchen or schnecken. The place pretty much serves up an American version. And look — Sourdough Co.’s roll had its virtues. But all told — it was kinda vanilla. A fun “fact”: I was curious whether it’s more common to say cinnamon roll or cinnamon bun. (I say roll.) So I looked it up on the Google — which told me: Americans tend to say “roll,” while Canadians say “bun.” Why Canadians? I don’t know. I just did a quick search. And Finally, A Kudo: Congrats to Chef Rob Reinsmith of Wild Child in St. Pete. He appeared on episode of Beat Bobby Flay Thursday. And he beat Bobby Flay — in a battle over Rob’s chosen dish: corn empanadas. To get there, he also won a battle over mahi mahi with another chef. Rob made blackened fish tacos. Corn empanadas are not on the Wild Child menu, but Crispy Fish Tacos are.
Tampa vs. St. Pete: Going Veggie at Two Indian Restaurants
Vegan or vegetarian? I chose the latter because I’m neither. And vegetarian suggests a wider flavor spectrum for an omnivore such as myself. I do, however, admire the plant-based diet and the people who keep it. But I can’t join up, if for no other reason than this weekly gig. An all-veggie Friday Food Fight? Non-starter. It’s my contention that one of the best, if not the best, cuisines for plant-based dishes is Indian. I could be wrong. My two contestants are Cafe Masala in St. Pete and India’s Grill in Tampa. For the featured dish I chose Kadai Paneer, a top-of-menu entree at both places. It includes paneer, an Indian cheese, and vegetables in a sauce. CAFE MASALA Cafe Masala is located in a large shopping center in far northeast St. Pete. It is quite literally a mom-and-pop restaurant. I’ve eaten there a few times and have never seen anyone other than Madu and her husband Ray working there. The Indian couple are quite literally the nicest restaurauters I’ve ever dined with. The small, basic interior has a homey feel. I’ve never seen Cafe Masala crowded. At 7:15 Saturday night, it was just us and another couple. I ordered Kadai Paneer ($18) and a King Fisher beer ($6). To up the ante into vegan, Bonnie got Mixed Vegetable Curry ($17). And to close the plant-centric circle, we chose Vegetable Somosas ($8) as a starter. A robot named Lychee — she introduced herself — brought our meals from the kitchen. Madu served us. It was the first time a robot had delivered my food. Appearance The hum of Lychee’s emergence from the back was accompanied by an aroma — an aroma resulting from a seraphic mixture of spices that thoroughly seduced my olfaction. The bowls were small — Cafe Masala is not big on large portions — with the cubes of cheese prominent. A generous portion of basmati rice made the spread all the more inviting. Texture and Taste Let’s start with the paneer, which Cafe Masala makes in-house. It’s cubed like tofu, but has a firmer feel and no squishy texture. It’s a bland cheese but is pleasingly smooth and and has a hint of sweetness. It was the most dominant part of the dish by far. I would’ve liked a bit more pepper, onion and tomato. The sauce tasted as sublime as it smelled. I had asked Madu to set the spicy-heat gauge between mild and medium but wish I dialed it up to medium. Bonnie’s medium had just right kick. The Somosas reminded me of a empanadas sans the oiliness. The pastry was flaky and the innards consisted of a subtle blend of potatoes and peas. We finished everything Lychee brought out. INDIA’S GRILL This small place is located just east of Dale Mabry, under the shadow of a billboard plastered with the smiling faces of Catania & Catania. The interior was low-lit, with Indian signifiers like a smiling Buddha statue draped in beaded necklaces. The ceiling consisted of bronze-colored, ornately designed squares. Bollywood played on the wall TV. The place could’ve been a broom closet in the Taj Mahal. By 8, India’s Grill was bustling, near full occupancy. Whereas Cafe Masala was a cocoon of calm, India’s Grill was congested and harried. Only one server worked the dining room, but Rupesh, a young Indian fellow with an accent to match, maintained his smile. I ordered my Kadai Paneer ($14.99) medium-spicey, and got a Mango Lassi ($4.99) to drink. Bonnie went with Kadai Chicken ($16.99). As an appetizer, we chose Onion Bhaji ($5.99) and added Garlic Naan ($4.99). Appearance Everything was bigger than at Cafe Masala — the main dish, the squares of paneer and vegetables within the main dish, the bowl of rice. The sauce looked browner and heavier. The hefty plate of Onion Bhaji and large discs of naan — plus two bowls of dipping sauces — made us wonder if we had over-ordered. But it was 8:15, past my dinner time, and I was a hungry fellow. Texture and Taste The paneer, house-made, tasted virtually the same as Cafe Masala’s. The sauce had a gravy-like texture. Medium-spice provided an ideal level of heat that accentuated the flavors. The onions and peppers, drowning in heavy sauce, maintained a modicum of crunch. The Onion Bhaji was a good choice. Its batter, made from chickpeas, did not smother the sweet onion inside. The sauces were interesting. I found the brown tamarind stuff overbearing, too fruity. But the green sauce — a combination of yogurt, cilantro and a hint of mint — delivered a pleasant tang that worked with with both starters. The yogurt-based mango lassi — with a milkshake-ish texture — was sweet and lovely but a bit too rich for the food. I savored it at the end. We brought a meal-sized portion of food home. It made for a good lunch the next day. And the Winner of the Indian Veggie Battle Is … Cafe Masala. Ultimately, I chose the subtle complexity of Cafe Masala’s Kadai Panner over the bigger-and-bolder of India’s Grill. The relaxed atmosphere of the St. Pete spot, and the gentle charisma of the owners, further tilted my decision. The Tampa restaurant won on appetizers. And kudos to the price. Our tab was $51.55, and Bonnie added a ten-buck tip. That’s a lot of grub for the money. A closing note: I didn’t miss the chicken. That’s my default protein in most ethnic restaurants, and I plan on dropping it. I took a bite of Bonnie’s bird at India’s Grill. It was chewy and chalky and all but flavorless. The paneer was far, far better. I’m glad I went veggie. Give it a try.
Tampa vs. St. Pete: A Cuban Sandwich Scuffle
We were driving west on Kennedy Boulevard in Tampa one afternoon last week when something caught my eye. ‘Finest Cuban Sandwiches on the Planet,” the sign said. The boast came courtesy of The Floridian, a strip-mall eatery less than a mile from the I-275 West onramp. ‘Okay, then,” I mused. “We’ll just have to do some field work.” I wanted to make this FFF an across-the-bay showdown, so went searching for places in Pinellas. There were plenty to choose from, but Caribbean Cafe in central St. Pete really touted its Cuban. While stopping short of claiming to be the finest in the world, the menu describes its version as “an explosion of flavors that meld together into a harmonious mouthful that insists on another bite!” Whoa! It’s on! CARIBBEAN CAFE On Tuesday, we made the mistake of hustling out to this place on Central Avenue and 49th Street 15 minutes before 6 p.m. closing. We pulled into an empty parking lot and walked into an empty restaurant with counter service and a functional interior anchored by basic tables with curved benches made of slatted wood. The counter guy seemed surprised — and perhaps not altogether pleased — that we wanted to eat in. I can’t say that I blame him. Caribbean Cafe was out of beans and rice — it’s only side dish — so we made do with a 12-inch Cuban ($10.85), pressed, a small bag of Lays Classic ($1.50) and two fountain sodas at two bucks each. An oldies station played at low volume. Appearance The Flintstones-size sandwich had been cut in half, each side filling up a container covered in brown paper. The meat was stacked thick, really thick. Texture and Taste I’ve had my share of Cubans during the decades I’ve lived in the Tampa Bay area, and the best ones deftly balance the flavors: meats (usually ham, roast pork and salami), half-melted Swiss cheese, mustard and dill pickles — so that they, um, meld together in harmonious mouthfuls. This Cuban sandwich was extremely meat-intensive. It contained several thick slices of deli-style pork that didn’t taste roasted, even more ham, and a couple pieces of salami. The meat was so dominant that I could barely detect the cheese and the pickles. And that’s too bad, because the bread was nice — thin and tender without the explosion of crumbs that some Cuban bread emits. This was the Americanizaton of the Cuban sandwich, meant for hungry guys on lunch who want it big, want it meaty and want it cheap. THE FLORIDIAN As I looked at the Floridian’s sign at 2:30 Thursday, I was nonplussed at how I spotted the narrow strip pronouncing its global preeminence while in a moving car on the opposite side of Kennedy. The restaurant’s interior is about as plain as it comes: beige walls, brown tables and chairs, a counter by the door. “So you make the Best Cuban Sandwiches on the Planet,” I said to Regan, the counter person. “Do you personally vouch for that?” She paused. “Yes,” she said, then started laughing. We ordered the 10-inch Cuban Combo with black beans and rice ($13.99), to split. By rights, we were due one fountain drink, but Regan handed us two styrofoam cups, Appearance Regan had kindly halved our meal onto separate containers. Fred and Barney may have been disappointed in this sandwich’s size, but not I. The meat betwixt the bread was generously portioned but not intimidating. Texture and Taste This was one flavor-balance Cuban, with the ham in the lead, the roast pork a minor player, and the salami and Swiss providing spicy cameos. The bread was thin and easily chewable. It was a bit too mustard-forward, but that’s a small complaint. Major kudos to the black beans and yellow rice. This dish can be bland in the wrong hands, but The Floridian’s was legit, with flavors that melded together into harmonious mouthfuls. It rivaled the versions I’ve had in the cluster of Cuban joints on and around Columbus Drive. And The Winner of the Tampa-vs.-St. Pete Cuban Sandwich Scuffle Is … The Floridian. It hardly needs saying. This was a first-round KO. I’m one of the last guys who’ll complain about too much meat in a sandwich, but Caribbean Cafe managed to get me there. The larger question lingers, though. Does The Floridian serve The Best Cuban Sandwich on the Planet? After much consideration, he’s my answer: How should I know? I’ve only had maybe a couple hundred of them.
Shawarma Showdown
Shawarma. Three syllables, fun to say — but what is it exactly? Until this week, I thought it might be something Indian. I was wrong. It’s something Mediterranean. And to my surprise, I’ve been eating it for decades — in the form of a gyro. I may get pushback from some people who think shawarma and gyro are distinct dishes, but try this definition on. For readers uninterested in categories and semantics, let’s continue. For this episode, I elected to feature dishes specifically called shawarma on the menu. Our contestants are: The St. Pete location of Zeko’s Mediterannean Grill, nestled in the heart of beautiful downtown Lealman (there are also two Zeko’s in Tampa); and Petra Restaurant, near the University of Tampa. ZEKO’S MEDITERRANEAN GRILL On Monday, we drove west on 54th Avenue North under threatening skies, but by the time we reached Zeko’s at 7 p.m., we’d cleared the dark clouds and were able to walk in sans umbrellas. Two affable young people took our orders at the counter. For my Chicken Shawarma ($13.99) I subbed out the fries for rice and roasted vegetables ($2 upcharge). I spotted “Milkshake” on the wall menu and ordered a chocolate one ($5.99) because its all but impossible for me to resist a chocolate shake when the opportunity presents itself. This Zeko’s isn’t much to look at. Its L-shaped dining room has mostly booths that can fit six. Bonnie and I sat at one near the counter. My seat was kind of lumpy. A Top 40 station played on low volume. Appearance The shawarma, half-wrapped in foil for neat eating, was longer than just about any other pita wrap I’ve seen. The portion of jasmine rice bordered on enormity. A heap of roasted red and green peppers, onions and tomatoes occupied the remaining section of the plate. Texture and Taste The shawarma made for a good hand-held — because of the foil, but also because of how well the stuff inside the thin pita was proportioned. The result: minimal leakage. The bread was slightly dryer than I prefer, even tough in places. The pieces of chicken breast within, while nicely seasoned (I tasted cumin), were also dryish. But that was offset by moist peppers and onions and a yummy lemon garlic sauce. The lightly seasoned rice worked well with the roasted vegetables, which had a measure of crispiness that I appreciated. The meal was far too much to eat, but the rice and veggies were good enough to box up and bring home. I don’t think anyone associates milkshakes with Mediterannean food, and I didn’t expect a whole lot. Let me tell ya, this one was terrific. It flowed sublimely through the straw with medium suckage, and had just the right level of chocolate flavor. The shake didn’t fit with the food, really, so I drank it before and after. On the ride home, while I sipped contentendly on the remainder of my milkshake — right down to the vacuum sound at the end — we were treated to the sight of a big, beautiful rainbow. All in all, it was a lovely outing. PETRA RESTAURANT At 1:30 on Wednesday, just walking a couple hundred feet on the sidewalk along Kennedy took something out of me. It was hot as [fill in your own blank]. I was grateful for the cool — and the quiet — of Petra’s intimate dining room. Out back is a covered courtyard with plenty of tables. They were empty. Back inside, our server, a young fellow named Haydar, was low-key and attentive. I ordered a Chicken Shawarama Sandwich ($9) with Basmati Rice ($5.50). Appearance The pita sandwich, smaller than the one at Zeko’s, was sheathed from end to end, first with paper, then aluminum foil. The mound of basmati rice was an enticing yellow. Texture and Taste Getting to the actual sandwich was like unwrapping a stubborn gift box on Christmas morning. A small price to pay, as it turned out. The soft pita gave way easily to my bites. The chicken within — a mix of pieces, not just breast meat — was moist and kissed with a spice that was at once tangy and vaguely sweet. It was joined by an apt measure of onions, peppers and tomatoes, and a bit of garlic lemon sauce. (I obtained a small container for dipping.) The rice, enhanced by a soupçon of turmeric, had genuine character. And there was a lot of it. It was tasty enough to take the remainder home. And the Winner of the Shawarma Showdown Is … Petra. I enjoyed my meals at both places, but Petra had an advantage as a full-service restaurant. I detected better ingredients — especially the chicken — and food more thoughtfully conceived and prepared. I get the sense that Petra’s is not widely known, so I encourage anyone who likes Mediterranean food to make a visit. As for Zeko’s — it did provide a milkshake and a rainbow. Thank you for that. A final thought: As I looked at two takeout containers in the fridge Thursday, I wondered if I’d actually eat the food in them. And then I thought of those two styrofoam containers ending up in a landfill or the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. From now on I’m going to genuinely consider whether I really need to take restaraunt leftovers home. It’s something we should all think about. (As of publication on Friday morning, the remants remained uneaten.)