Which Club Sandwich Will Clobber the Other?
While I was kicking around ideas for this week’s edition, it suddenly occurred to me that it had been a while since I added to my collection of fancy toothpicks with colored wraps on one end. And that meant only one thing: club sandwich. It’s an American invention, the club sandwich, dating back to the late 1800s. Conflicting origin stories say that it was developed at the Union Club, a private social club in New York City, or, 180 miles north at the Saratoga Club, a private casino. Fun fact: Most histories say that the club sandwich did not start out as a double-decker with three pieces of bread. That third slice started to show up in published recipes in 1901. The sandwich really caught on during the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, where four vendors served their own version. Over the years, the club sandwich has become an institution, as common on fancy room-service menus as it is in corner diners. The club sandwich poses an eating conundrum. Human mouths don’t open wide enough to take bites in any normal way. I was up for the challenge. Our contestants are Trip’s Diner, with locations in St. Pete and Tampa, and The Burg Bar & Grill in St. Pete’s Grand Central District. TRIP’S DINER I’ve driven by Trip’s in St. Pete — the Tampa location is in Seminole Heights — countless times, but this was my first visit. We walked in at 5:15 Monday, and I instantly dug the vibe. The place didn’t try too hard to be a diner of yore. On the eastern side sat a small lunch counter with stools — a nostalgic touch — but the rest of the seating consisted of walled booths. The woman at the counter greeted us cheerily and said to sit anywhere we liked. We grabbed a corner booth, and I immediately noticed how comfy the benches were. The space became our little eating outpost, cozy and private. As I ordered our Club Sandwich ($10.99) on toasted sourdough with fries as a side, Bonnie piped up, “Eric, they have milkshakes.” She’s well aware of my weaknesses. Our effervescent server, Jenny, chimed in, “I’ll make you one.” Sold. I ordered chocolate. ($4.99) Appearance The meal had all the markings of a classic club sandwich, cut in quarters and tipped sideways showing the layers of meat, cheese and veggies within. The toothpicks for my collection had red flags. Texture and Taste Trip’s uses thick-cut bacon, rendering it the sandwich’s predominant flavor. That’s fine with me because everything tastes better with bacon. The bread, toasted lightly as requested, was coated with basil mayonnaisse. Swiss cheese added a touch of sharpness and red onion provided surprise moments of bitterness. The ham, turkey, romaine lettuce and tomato blended well, making for a sandwich that was at once complex and familiar. The fries had a soft outer shell and were aggressively salted. The chocolate shake was lovely, jazzed up by a dollop of whipped cream drizzled with chocolate syrup. The paper straw was thin, requiring more than ideal suckage. Bonnie suggested I try using two. Whoa! Radical. But it worked. After finishing my meal, I double-barrelled my way to the bottom. THE BURG BAR & GRILL This hole-in-the-wall — and I say that in the most affectionate way — is located just east of the I-275 overpass on Central Avenue. It’s a tiny, no-frills bar with dollar bills plastered on the walls and a reputation for serving good burgers. As we walked across Central at 5:15 on Wednesday, a familiar skunky odor wafted from (I presumed) the balconies at the 1701 Central apartments. Some folks were eating at tables on the sidewalk. Not much was going on inside besides an older fella intently watching ESPN without the sound. That’s because The Burg was playing an excellent mix of oldies (Beatles, Beach Boys, Elton John, etc.) at moderate volume. We sat at a four-top near the door. Carla — she of the radiant smile and trucker’s cap — took our order: Turkey Club ($11.99), plus fries ($2.50). Bonnie got a five-ounce burger ($8.99). Appearance Uh oh. The sandwich was held together by plain wooden skewers instead of fancy toothpicks. And … it was cut into halves instead of quarters. Was there no end to the club-sandwich rule-breaking at The Burg? Elsewhere, there was a whole lot of turkey between these slices of bread. And the fries really spoke to me. Texture and Taste A fistful of sandwich. Whereas the Trip’s version emphasized bacon, this one was turkey forward. In fact, while I am predisposed to thick sandwiches, this one had too much turkey (although it was good quality). For the second half, I removed some of the turkey. That gave this beast a more balanced combo of flavors, which included avocado (more rule-breaking). All the meat, cheese and veggies were set on adroitly mayo’d Texas toast, which added to the overall heft. I plowed through this monster — sloppily. Good thing there was a roll of paper towels on the table. I got schmutz on my mustache and beard, on my nose, even a smudge on my glasses. It all added up to — yum. Big ups to the fries. Sliced in-house, each sliver was its own. Some were long, some were short, some were thin and crispy, some were fat and droopy. All of them were rustic and real. I surprised myself by eating the entire meal, athough Bonnie pilfered some fries. Which Club Sandwich Clobbered the Other? Neither. This was a close call, but I’ll make one: The Burg Bar & Grill. The Trip’s sandwich was more refined and I preferred its bacon-ness. I enjoyed the atmosphere in each place. I hadn’t been to a diner or a hole-in-the-wall in a while. And while I appreciated The Burg’s lawless approach to the club sandwich, I did deduct points for it not having fancy toothpicks. Ultimately, the fries tilted the decision in The Burg’s favor.
A Thai Curry Clash (Panang Edition)
Red, yellow, green, massaman, panang. Any habitual consumer of Thai food knows these to be the types of curries you’ll find on offer in nearly all Thai restaurants in America. I can’t do all five this week so let’s go with panang, the curry that’s most often top-of-menu. Panang, which has about a half-dozen different spellings, is named after Penang, a small island off the coast of Malaysia, which borders Thailand to the south. According to Food & Wine, panang is a variant of red curry, but it is richer and sweeter and therefore considered its own type. The primary ingredient is coconut milk. Makrut lime, indigenous to tropical Southeast Asia, is another, plus lots more that I won’t list here. As contestants, I chose two basic Thai restaurants in St. Pete that have been around a long time: Thai Am Restaurant and Siam Garden Thai. I picked chicken as my protein. As far as spicy heat, I usually go with just a hint, but this time I elected to live dangerously and ordered straight-up “medium.” I hadn’t used the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™ in a while, so got the Thai curries to go. I added fried spring rolls to my orders. SIAM GARDEN THAI The restaurant’s main sign got blown away during the hurricanes. Only “Bring Your Catch. We Will Cook It!” remained, making the place look like a seafood shack. I hadn’t picked up food at Siam Garden in decades, so — due to the lack of signage, and just to make sure — I asked some people in the parking lot who confirmed that this was the place. The storms had also done a number on the patio’s canvas covering, making it droop sadly on the ground. Appearance What can you say about the appearance of Thai curry other than, once you choose your flavor/color, they essentially all look the same? Texture and Taste The burning question was: How would I like my panang curry medium hot? Had I have lived too dangerously? As it turned out, no, although it took some getting use to. This wasn’t the type of spicy heat that creeps up on you. Rather, it hit right away, and then kind of mellowed. Or maybe I just got used to it. I appreciated that the chicken breast was sliced thinly, and in small pieces. The fowl integrated well with the vegetables (mostly onion) and the lush sauce, flecked with red pepper flakes. All told, it was a sweet heat that delivered on the promise of Thai takeout. THAI AM RESTAURANT Although I’m not a regular consumer of Thai takeout, this is my go-to place, essentially for two reasons: proximity (4th Street in St. Pete) and consistency. I walked in the door last Friday at 1:30. My order was ready, the woman at the counter was pleasant, I paid and left. To the best of my memory, Thai Am has never messed up one of my takeout orders. They didn’t this time either. Appearance This version of panang curry looked much the same as Siam Garden’s. No surprise there. The pieces of chicken were larger, as were the vegetables. It was remarkable how similar these restaurants’ versions of medium-spicy were. Is there some sort of finely calibrated heat meter in their kitchens? Thai Am’s bigger and thicker pieces of chicken breast required some more vigorous jaw work, and some fork-cutting. The vegetables retained a lively crunch. In all, a substantial, reliable, meal. Just what I’d come to expect. And the Winner of the Thai Curry Clash (Panang Edition) Is … Siam Garden. A razor thin margin, mosty because Siam Garden’s chicken was cut more thinly, rendering it more tender. Also, Siam Garden’s spring rolls were less chewy, and had a more defined flavor. Overall, though, the meals were strikingly similar. I originally ate them four days apart, which was not ideal in this case. So being a conscientious Food Fight arbiter — and out of medium curiosity — I warmed up small portions of leftovers on Thursday and ate the curries side by side to see if I could better detect a difference. Not much. Any contrast in the spice-heat was undetectable. Siam Garden’s sauce was a shade thicker and sweeter. Bottom line: These curries made for one good lunch, one good dinner, and one good leftover snack.
A Bruschetta Vendetta
Every now and then you just want a light bite — quick and easy, in a quiet dining room or on a patio, during off hours, just the two of you. There are myriad appetizers to choose from in these occasions, but one I’ve come to appreciate is bruschetta. Its combination of (usually) diced tomatoes, an Italian cheese, olive oil and a considerable spectrum of other ingredients piled atop small pieces of toast manages to be at once comforting and zingy. And you can eat it with your hands. Bonnie and I set out on two excursions to have a relaxing light bite of bruschetta — and bruschetta only — in two St. Pete restaurants: Taverna Costale and Beau & Mo’s Italian Steakhouse. TAVERNA COSTALE Tuesday, 3:30 p.m. — The downtown St. Pete restaurant’s elegant dining room was understandably empty. Besides, the bruschetta was on the Happy Hour menu (3-6 p.m.) and only available in the bar area. We could hardly have picked a more beguiling environment. Taverna Costale’s bar is open-air on two sides, one facing Central Avenue. We could’ve sat at a couple of outdoor barstools, but chose a two-top inside, within an arm’s length of the bar. The balmy exterior air took a bit of nip out of the air-conditioned interior. The light was lovely. We ordered Seasonal Bruschetta ($10), and Bonnie got a Sea Sun Chardonnay ($8). I’m programmed not to drink alcohol on Tuesday at 4 p.m. — it might be 5 o’clock somewhere but it’s not 5 o’clock here — so I opted for plain old non-bubbly water. Appearance The restaurant’s seasonal twist on the dish replaces the tomatoes with roasted red peppers. Fluffy ricotta cheese was slathered on the toast. And although the menu didn’t mention it, thin slices of proscuitto draped across the top. Texture and Taste This version lived up to the markings of a first-rate bruschetta. First, all of the ingredients were fresh and energetic. Their contrasts stood out — creamy ricotta, lush roasted red peppers, crunchy arugula, salty and potent prosciutto, hints of tart balsamic glaze. Foremost, the ingredients blended splendidly, complementing each other. For instance, there was just enough prosciutto to add punch without it taking over. The toasted sourdough was on the chewy side. The two-piece portion was small(ish), it being a Happy-Hour deal. Bonnie kindly left me a little of hers. Taverna Costale’s antipasto turned out to be an ideal mid-afternoon snack. We should’ve gotten two. BEAU & MO’S ITALIAN STEAKHOUSE Wednesday, 4:45 p.m. — Bonnie scored a parking spot right in front of this place on 5th Avenue North in Historic Kenwood. We walked from the sunny lot into the dark confines of a Chicago-style hangout circa 1950s, replete with crooners singing old standards on the sound system, the waitstaff clad in all black with ruby-red bowties, and black-and-white photos of starlets from decades past hanging above the booths. We chose to sit at the far side of the small bar. Beau & Mo’s has a Happy Hour menu (from the 4:30 open to 6), but our chosen antipasto wasn’t on it. We ordered the four-piece Bruschetta ($20); Bonnie got a Chardonnay, and I stuck with water. Our bartender Mitch was a hoot, and we had some fun chats with him. The entire staff — which at this time of day probably outnumbered the customers — was accomodating and friendly. Appearance The dish came out within a few minutes. This was more traditional presentation of bruschetta, with diced tomatoes and a drizzle of balsamic. A coating of goat cheese peered out from under the toppings and atop toasted Italian crostinis. Texture and Taste This bruschetta ate tidily, with the toppings held together by olive oil and balsamic glaze. The crostinis were perfect, its outer edges just the right level of crusty. The bread gave way easily to bites, no gnawing necessary. I’m not a fan of goat cheese — I tilt toward milder types (ricotta, hint hint) — but I was fine with it in combination with tomatoes and onions. This bruschetta had stronger flavors all around than the competition’s. Tart, sweet, salty, puckery. We easily polished off our appetizer. Bonnie, who likes goat cheese, ate her full share. Even with the chit-chat, we were in and out of Beau & Mo’s in about a half an hour. Next time we’ll make it more of a Happy Hour. In fact, Mitch told us about the new Happy Hour menu. One of the items is a Wagyu Hot Dog for 12 bucks. The Winner of the Bruschetta Vendetta Is … Taverna Costale. The decision, more or less, boiled down to goat cheese (-) and prosciutto (+). A matter of preference. In two afternoons over three days, we experienced two vastly different versions of bruschetta and two very different vibes. We’ve got to start doing light-bite Happy Hours more often.
Tampa vs. St. Pete in a Steak Frites Scuffle
Things have more or less returned to normal for us, so no Post-Hurricane edition this week. I write those words with all due love and sympathy for those whose normal is a long way off. It’s been a while since this column featured a premium dish. And it’s been a while since I’ve had steak, anywhere. Steak Frites is French for “steak and fries.” I wasn’t sure, so I checked this: “frites” is pronounced “freet,” with no “s” sound. Although the dish includes French fries and its name is in the French language, the country of Belgium claims to be its place of origination. With those details cleared up, let’s continue. We chose a couple of semi-upscale restaurants: Cassis in downtown St. Pete and District South Kitchen & Craft in South Tampa. CASSIS We’ve had a couple of light meals at this popular eatery on Beach Drive in downtown St. Pete, always outdoors on the front patio. This was our first dinner here, so even though the weather was lovely we chose to dine indoors as a change of pace. The interior is spacious and tastefully designed. Most of the customers were eating al fresco on Monday at 6:15, so the hostess put us in the corner of a large leather banquette, providing both me and Bonnie ample couch space. I like eating dinner for two at corner positions rather than across the table. Makes for easier conversation. We opted to split our meal: Bar Steak Frites ($41.90), cooked medium, with a starter of Crispy Brussels Sprouts ($16.50). Appearance A fat chunk of sirloin (that looked like filet mignon) luxuriated in a pool of dark-red wine sauce, with fries stacked in a separate container. A dollop of garlic butter perched atop the meat. Nice touch having the Cassis logo on the plate. Texture and Taste I’m glad we ordered the steak medium. It was perfectly cooked to our liking, the ideal level of pink. I’ve had sirloin that was unpleasantly chewy, even push-it-away tough. This was the polar opposite of that. Clearly a superior cut, the steak was surprisingly tender, but not melt-in-your-mouth tender like a filet. It took an agreeable amount of jaw work. The steak had an earthy flavor that stood on its own. I alternated between taking naked bites and dipping the meat into the rich brown sauce, which had just enough wine flavor. The thin frites had a lightly crispy exterior that gave way to a firm innards that retained their potato taste. And they weren’t greasy in the least. I’m not a big fan of Brussels Sprouts, but these won me over. They came in a big white bowl, dark husks on top, littered with chopped shallots. The orbs were crispy on the outside, but delightfully moist and green on the inside. The bitter(ish) vegetable was punctuated with garlic and dosed with a secret weapon — a chili-infused honey that added a subtle sweetness. In all, the appetizer’s creative blend of complementary flavors rendered it a cut above. DISTRICT SOUTH KITCHEN & CRAFT At 7 p.m. on Wednesday, business at this South Tampa hotspot — the sister concept to District Tavern in the Channel District — was picking up. By 7:30, the place was full, buzzing with energy. District South has patio seating that faces Dale Mabry Highway so we chose to sit at a four-top in the tastefully appointed interior. We only saw one server working the room, and although she was in nonstop motion, she was pleasant and upbeat with us. We ordered Steak Frites ($34), cooked medium, a starter of Charred Brussels ($12), plus Bread & Butter ($7). I got a Tampa Export on draft ($7), which I’d not heard of. I was excited to try a new local lager. It’s a product of Barriehaus Beer Co., based in Ybor City. Appearance The 12-ounce New York strip, a beast, had an inviting char. The fries were piled on the plate with the meat. Containers of ketchup and chimichuri aioli sauce nosed their way on as well, like the last entrants on a subway car. Texture and Taste Two perfectly cooked steaks within three days. This piece tracked a tad more rare than the one at Cassis, and it took some extra knife and jaw work, but I chalked that up to the difference in the cuts. The sirloin had a hearty flavor and was succulently juicy. This slab of beef was big enough that, even though Bonnie and I split the meal, we couldn’t finish it. The fries were bigger and thicker, with a crispier exterior, than those at Cassis. The Brussels sprouts were considerably different as well. Their bitterness was not mitigated by sweetness, but rather made salty by tiny slices of chorizo. Dipping sprouts in the lush aioli sauce added a smoothness that benefited the bold-flavored dish. Kudos to the Tampa Export beer. It was smooth and full-bodied, easily drinkable but with lots of character. I had two. And the Winner of the Steak Frites Scuffle Is … Cassis. Cassis edged out a victory. It was a pleasure having two first-rate splurge-y meals in a week.
Taking Flight With Chicken Wings (Post-Hurricane Edition Vol. 2)
After spending six days away from home, and returning on Sunday to a house that was intact but without power, and being emotionally wrung out, I considered bailing on this week’s Friday Food Fight. But then I thought, “Wait a second. Am I going to let something like the aftermath of a major hurricane deter me from the completion of my appointed rounds?” I quickly came up with an answer: Hell no! Chicken wings came to mind as an expedient food choice. Twenty months ago, I pitted Hooters against Buffalo Wild Wings in a showdown of wing chains. I’ve since wanted to feature a couple of local restaurants. But first I had to find a couple. As I’m sure you know, a lot of places are, or were, closed. After some online research and phone calls and driving around, I landed on The Horse & Jockey in South Pasadena and Whiskey Wings Sports Bar & Grill in St. Pete. It should be interesting to see how a British pub fares against a restaurant with “Wings” in its name. THE HORSE & JOCKEY It didn’t matter that the restaurant had a limited menu on Monday night — we were there for wings and they had ’em. The Horse & Jockey was hummin’ at 7:30. Way busier than usual, I suspect. After a short wait, we were seated in a booth. Tight quarters, but we had no complaints. The place was loud — several groups were cuttin’ loose, post-Milton — but our party of three was able to chat comfortably. The service team was hustling to keep up. I ordered 8 Smoked Wings ($13.50) with garlic seasoning (instead of Buffalo, sweet chili or nuclear), tacked on a side of fries ($4) and got a pint of Harp ($6.75). Appearance Looked like a tasty plate of wings. It was not accompanied by bleu cheese or another dipping sauce. We eventually asked and received bleu cheese dressing. Carrot sticks instead of celery seemed to me to be a step up. Texture and Taste The wings came out hot — hot hot, not spicy hot. I nibbled gingerly to start. The garlic sauce was baked in, so the wings were not dripping, which was a good thing. The char was spot-on, offering a crispy-chewy beginning to each wing. They didn’t have much smokey flavor, but I didn’t mind. The garlic quotient was just right. The wings held together well — and they were not tough or gristly — making for pleasurable bites. I ate four — slowly, savoring them. (I once knew a guy who’d put a wing in his mouth, chomp down and pull out the naked bone. Um, no thanks.) The large bowl of fries were actually “chips,” seeing as this was a British-themed restaurant. They came out hot-hot too, but were ultimately too thick and soft for my liking. I only ate a few. WHISKEY WINGS SPORTS BAR & GRILL Whiskey Wings — on Roosevelt Boulevard just north of Gandy — is five miles from my home and I’d never heard of it until this week. The place has been open five years. Furthermore, there there are four other locations in Pinellas County. That’s what I get for not being a wings (or sports bar) guy, I guess. As we walked from the parking lot on Wednesday at 7, it was wonderfully cool and breezy, a respite of sorts from post-hurricane stress. The restaurant’s outdoor deck was buzzing, with a boisterous crowd at the bar and a guy with a guitar strumming and singing. Preferring quiet, we opted for indoors. Quite a stark contrast. A server whisked by and told us to sit anywhere, so we grabbed a booth. Two others were occupied. A black ceiling and TV-lined walls accented by bright red booths and chairs made for a dispiriting vibe. Our server was covering a lot of real estate, but she was pleasant and efficient. We ordered 10 wings ($17.99), naked, with garlic parmesan sauce, plus a side of curly fries ($4.99). I got a Bud Light draft ($5). Appearance The restaurant fries its wings, so they lacked the inviting char of the ones at Horse & Jockey. As the menu promised, they were a golden color. A container of bleu cheese sauce was on the plate. Texture and Taste The skin had an acceptable level of crispiness, but also some flacid parts that felt a bit too much like … skin. The garlic and parmesan provided an adequate flavor combo. The meat inside was juicy and tender. Like two nights previous, I ate these wings slowly. Bonnie and I split the 10, and brought four home. We discarded the wings on Thursday, and put another unnecessary hinged-foam container into the trash. Kudos to the curly fries. They were long and lightly fried. Not too crispy, and not greasy. We — mostly me — finished the ample portion. And the Winner of the Chicken Wings Battle (Post-Hurricane Edition Vol. 2) Is … Horse & Jockey. A pretty impressive helping of wings for a restaurant more known for fish & chips, bangers & mash and cottage pie. And finally, a reminder: Stone crab season has begun! Lots of local restaurants will be serving them.
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.