Sundae Best: Two Shops That Make Their Own Small-Batch Ice Cream
Hot, isn’t it? A smooth, sweet — and cold — ice cream sundae might offer a respite from the summer scorch, especially since it’s advisable to eat an ice cream sundae indoors, because outdoors in the heat will quickly turn it into soup. I’d like to say that I planned this FFF to recognize National Ice Cream Day, which is (appropriately) Sunday, but that would be an untruth. I didn’t know NICD existed until Wednesday, a day after I sundae’d with my first contestant. But hey, I gladly accept the serendipity. So — Happy National Ice Cream Day everybody! My primary criterion in choosing competitors was that they make their ice cream in house and in small batches. It wasn’t easy to find two that also serve sundaes. They are: Small Batch Creamery on 4th Street in St. Pete and Let it Be Ice Cream in Gulfport. SMALL BATCH CREAMERY We entered SBC’s brightly lit interior at 9 p.m., a half-hour before closing. The AC was cranked a little past comfortable, but I didn’t complain. The young and enthusiastic counter guy guided us through the the process of building a sundae that met our every desire. For our two-scoop Hot Fudge Sundae ($8.50), we decided to use vanilla as a control flavor, and then throw caution to the wind on the other. Counter guy suggested Butter Cookie Crunch, with bits of Biscoff cookies, and gave us a scoop. Yum. Bonnie and I nodded in unison. We also chose to have the ice cream placed in a waffle-cone shell, which I had a hunch was SBC’s secret weapon. We added medium portions of chocolate and caramel sauce (the latter at Bonnie’s insistence), whipped cream, a few peanuts and a dash of sprinkles for color. Appearance A handsome dessert, although it didn’t look like the typical hot fudge sundae with chocolate sauce slathered on top. This one had it near the bottom, basically hidden from view. The waffle-cone shell made me smile — and grab my spoon. After taking several photos, I could detect no meltage. We forgot that it was chilly in the place. Texture and Taste Everything clicked. Both flavors of ice cream were velvety and just the right level of sweet. And the sublime Butter Cookie Crunch did not get lost amid the other ingredients. The nuts added crunch and the sprinkles stayed out of the way after their photo op. The fudge sauces, covered by ice cream, were not hot, and had in fact congealed. But that’s a microscopic complaint. As predicted, the waffle cone — also made in-house — took this sundae to the next level. It melded perfectly with the other ingredients and added some chewiness that you otherwise would not get. LET IT BE ICE CREAM Let me first me say that any anything that references a Beatles song earns bonus points from me. Let it Be Ice Cream, located on the southern end of Gulfport’s quaint main drag, Beach Boulevard, does its level best to evoke a 1950s-era ice cream parlor, with a pink-and-white awning and an old-timey logo on the window; then, inside, a checkerboard floor and chrome-topped tables. Don’t expect Richie Cunningham to come boppin’ in, but ownership has managed a fair approximation. At 4:45 on Thursday, we found a parking spot nearby — which is nigh impossible at night. For our Hot Fudge Sundae ($7.95), we used vanilla as the control flavor and for the wildcard settled on salted caramel — because what Bonnie wants, Bonnie gets, at least as pertains to ice cream sundaes. We added nuts, light sprinkles, whipped cream and gave the go-ahead on a cherry. Appearance Another handsome sundae, highlighted by a big dollop of whipped cream squiggled with fudge sauce. The cherry on top was dark. It all rested in a conventional cardboard container. Texture and Taste It was immediately apparent that the house-made ice cream was of superior quality, with a density and smoothness that was spot-on. The caramel ice cream had a potency that provided welcome flavor contrast. Like the competition’s, this fudge was cooled by its juxtaposition to the cold stuff. The nuts added some crunch and additonal saltiness. The sprinkles made themselves scarce. I enjoyed some final scoops of rich chocolate sauce that I found lingering on the bottom. And the Winner of the Ice Cream Sundae Showdown Is … Small Batch Creamery. This was a very close call. Each ice cream parlor combined cold treats that were far superior to mass-market product. But the decision came down to the waffle-cone housing of SBC’s sundae. It added a dimension that I’d not experienced before. For those of you who read this by Sunday, head on out and get you a sundae — or, hell, have one no matter what. Go as a couple and do the two-spoon thing. It’ll bring a bit of the kid out in you. And you can’t go wrong with either of these shops.
Boho vs. Highbrow: A Breakfast Sandwich Skirmish
Breakfast sandwiches have never been part of my repertoire, and when I do get one — usually at an aiport or a chain store — I’m generally in a hurry, so don’t taste it. It’s time I did. My hunch is that eating a couple at indie restaurants that focus on breakfast will open up some new vistas vis-à-vis breakfast sandwiches (vs. lunch sandwiches, which are very much in my reportoire). Our two contestants are: Bandit Coffee Co. in St. Pete’s Grand Central District, and Cafe Clementine inside the Museum of Fine Arts downtown. BANDIT COFFEE CO. At 10:30 a.m. on Wednesday, the line waiting for counter service reached the door. Four front-of-house dudes in their 20s/early 30s hustled things along, so the wait wasn’t too bad. Nearly all of the indoor seating was taken. I’m impressed with Bandit’s clean exterior design. Inside, it’s industrial sleek, with unadorned white walls, communal tables and huge windows that make up nearly all of the street-facing wall. The sidewalk is outfitted with wooden benches under umbrellas and a big tree that adds more shade. Even so, on this toasty morning the astute move was to eat under air. Bonnie and I were the only baby boomers in the place. I did see a guy who who looked around 50, but he was wearing a silly porkpie hat as he furiously typed on his laptop. This was young, hip St. Pete — tattoo sleeves, mustaches without beards, baggy jeans, raggedy T-shirts. There were also a couple of young families, and some moms in gym-wear. The space was boomy, which made people talk louder, which made the space boomier. And yet it didn’t muffle the Ethiopian jazz playing over the sound system. Very hip. I ordered bacon, scrambled eggs and cheese on a brioche bun ($10) and a drip coffee ($3). Appearance It took longer than than I expected for my meal to be delivered, but it looked attractive in a brown paper wrapper, thick-slice bacon peeking out, yellow American cheese wilting downward. Texture and Taste The sandwich was a handful, so I cut it in half. Not a good idea. I had unloosed a multi-napkin meal, although I didn’t have to go to the knife and fork. The bun, house made, had a spot-on ratio of fluffy to dense. I like my scrambled eggs soft, but these were close to runny, and therefore the chief culprit of messiness. The eggs blended nicely with the cheese, though. I generally prefer thick-cut bacon to skinny, crackly slices, but the version here was intensely salty — as this kind of bacon is wont to be. In a few of my bites, the saltiness, the smokiness, the bacon-ness, overpowered everything else. CAFE CLEMENTINE From a boho enclave to a bastion of high culture in the space of two days. Our two breakfast-sandwich competitors could’ve hardly been more different. On Thursday at noon, with a light rain falling outside, the lobby of the Museum of Fine Arts, St. Petersburg was thinly populated. With 30-foot ceilings, the space is echoey, but the small group of patrons were using their museum voices. Instead of hipsters discussing the latest craft-beer release, there was a quartet of clean-shaven elderly men talking baseball. Cafe Clementine looks like an upscale concession stand, and does the cooking behind a barrier on the opposite side of lobby. I ordered the Egg & Cheese Sammy with bacon ($16). One strike against Clementine, because it makes me slightly ill when a sandwich gets called a “sammy.” Appearance Far different from Bandit’s. Considerably smaller. And tidy. At a quick glance it could’ve been taken for an Egg McMuffin. Texture and Taste This breakfast sandwich not only looked neater, it ate neater. No need to cut it in half. And definitely a one-napkin affair. The eggs, fluffy and shaped into a disc, played well with the cheese. At first I thought the bacon might be skinny and crumbly, but it turned out to have an agreeable chewiness, and pleasing levels of smoke and salt. The house-made English muffin was exemplary. I finished quickly and was still hungry, so Bonnie and I split a Cinnamon Cardamom Roll ($7). It was decadent, messy, and required a knife and fork. And the Winner of the Breakfast Sandwich Skirmish Is … Bandit Coffee Co. This decision comes with some caveats. I actually preferred Cafe Clementine’s sandwich somewhat more, and it would’ve won — had there been two of them. Sixteen bucks for a flavor-balanced breakfast snack compared to $10 for a messy, at times unwieldy, two-hander that didn’t quite mesh its flavors? I’ll go with the latter. Plus, I’m a cat who considers himself Boomer hip, and I really dug the vibe at Bandit. It was not my usual scene. And, finally, another tilting point: Egg & Cheese Sammy. Ugh. A final note: I think I’ll stick to lunch sandwiches. ____________________ Bandit Coffee Co. — 2662 Central Ave., St. Petersburg Cafe Clementine — 255 Beach Dr. NE, St. Petersburg, (727) 896-2667
That’s So Cheesy: The Curious Case of Cacio e Pepe
We were visiting my daughter in Atlanta last month, chopping up ideas for future Friday Food Fights, when she said, “You should do cacio e pepe.” I gave her a quizzical look. Maybe I’d not been perusing menus closely enough, or maybe I’d just been out to lunch, but I’d never heard of cacio e pepe. Some of you might not have either. Here’s the short-and-simple: Cacio e pepe is an Italian pasta dish made with (usually) spaghetti, olive oil, black pepper and Pecorino Romano cheese. There are variations, of course. Sure enough, I found the dish on a few online menus. I chose two Italian restaurants: Jay Luigi, on 4th Street in St. Pete, and Matteo Trattoria & Pizzeria in the city’s Grand Central district. JAY LUIGI 6 p.m. Tuesday, predictably toasty. The would-be storm clouds over Jay Luigi turned out to be a tease. All the tables in the small dining room were occupied. Bonnie and I tried the outdoor patio, but it was too hot. We considered takeout. Then a booth opened up. The other three in our party, including a 3-year-old, joined us and crowded in. Jay Luigi is a fast-casual place where you order at the counter and pay, and then servers bring the meal to the table. I ordered Cacio e Pepe ($15) and a bottle of Yuengling ($5.50) in a chilled glass. Peyton, who I assumed was the manager, was very attentive — to us and everyone else. If I owned a restaurant — which I never have and never will — I would be thrilled to have him on my staff. This cat cared. Appearance Cacio e Pepe is not a dish you order for the color. Photos I looked at showed more black pepper than this version, although flecks were visible here. And most versions don’t have a pile of finely shaved cheese on top, but it did add a smidgen of flair to this one. Texture and Taste I’ve never had good spaghetti-twirling skills, which is partly the reason why I prefer other pastas. This plate of cacio e pepe made for some hard twirling. Jay Luigi’s recipe included a modest portion of panko crumbs, which had a thickening effect. The dish was not quite gummy, but it certainly wasn’t moist. Jay Luigi uses Grana Padano cheese, which I assume is an upgrade from Romano. It was smooth, but didn’t make a strong flavor impression. The shaved stuff on top melted into globs. The black pepper added a modicum of spicy heat. About two-thirds of the way through, I ditched the twirls and went to the fork chop. MATTEO TRATTORIA & PIZZERIA Our same quintet of diners showed up here at 5:45 on Wednesday. With the sun in full bore, eating outside was an absolute no go. The interior is tastefully appointed, not fussy. Only a few tables were occupied, along with some bar patrons. The contemporary dance music coming from the sound system was a shade too loud. Our server, a young woman, was aloof and appeared allergic to smiling. I ordered my Cacio e Pepe ($21) with a Peroni draft ($7). Appearance Not terribly appetizing. Whereas the Jay Luigi version looked dry, this one looked soupy. The flecks a black pepper were more obvious. Texture and Taste Matteo uses house-made tonnarelli pasta, which is thicker than spaghetti, although I couldn’t tell the difference — mostly because the cacio de roma cheese sauce was so dominant. There was more more black pepper in this dish than in Jay Luigi’s, but I couldn’t detect any of the spicy heat I’d hoped for. Matteo’s cacio e pepe made for easier twirling, and the first few bites were fine. But as I continued to twirl and bite, the dish became heavy. Then heavier. It was simply too rich for my liking. I tapped out about halfway through, and didn’t ask for a go box. And the Winner of the Curious Case of Cacio e Pepe Is … Jay Luigi. But the decision is mostly by default, because I didn’t find much to like about either. As a cacio e pepe rookie, my guess is that there are good versions to be had in local restaurants, but I’m not going to seek them out. Cacio e pepe just isn’t in my culinary wheelhouse. I did find it interesting, however, that the two versions I put into the ring for FFF were so vastly different in texture, if not flavor.
A Grouper Sandwich Skirmish, Blackened Edition
When I arrived in Florida in my early 20s, it didn’t take long to hear about the wonders of a grouper sandwich. I was not a seafood-eater, having grown up in the Northeast with mostly fish sticks and horrible cod from frozen packages. I was intrigued about this grouper sandwich, but skeptical. If was, after all, fish. As it turned out, eating fish of the fresh variety was something of a revelation. As in, yummy. It did not make me an avid consumer of sea fare, but over the decades I’ve certainly had my share of grouper stuffed into buns with lettuce, onion and tomato and tartar sauce and fries on the side. Most restaurant versions offer the fish fried or blackened. I chose the latter for this week’s episode. Our combatants are Fresco’s Waterfront Bistro, located at the entrance of the St. Pete Pier, and Hookin’ Ain’t Easy on 22nd Avenue South in St. Pete. FRESCO’S WATERFRONT GRILL Cloud cover blocked out the sun on Sunday at 6:30, and although it was humid, we chose to sit at a four-top on the patio. The indoor dining room was dark and nearly empty. A stiff breeze tempered the heat, but I soon realized it was a fan set on high. Hey, whatever works. I ordered the Grouper Sandwich with fries ($30) and a ginger ale ($3). Bonnie got the Yellowfin salad ($26). I try not to factor price into this column, but this was the most expensive grouper sandwich I’d ever seen. What would the server have to bring to the table to make a grouper sandwich worth thirty bucks? Appearance All good, just like a grouper sandwich is supposed to look. A thicker filet than most. At its price point, though, I expected a bit more fish to be hanging out of the bun, or maybe even a double stack. Texture and Taste This was a perfectly fine grouper sandwich. It did not make me sit back in my chair and admire its transcendence, but the fish was tender and moist, expertly cooked. The bun was nondescript, but thankfully not overly thick and doughy. I would’ve liked a bit more blackened seasoning to provide some zing. The tomato slices were pulpy and devoid of flavor. The tartar sauce — a bit thinner than most, and more subtle — was a bonus. As grouper sandwiches are wont to do, this one fell apart as I crossed the halfway point. I reverted to the fork. The fries, lightly dusted with blackened seasoning, were a cut above most. I ate the entire meal, save for a few crispy fry husks. HOOKIN’ AIN’T EASY I chose this playfully ramshackle complex with the ridiculous name mostly because of its rave reviews online — hoozahs for its Old-Florida authenticity, for its uber-fresh seafood. At 5:30 Wednesday (the place closed at 7), I recognized Hookin’ Ain’t Easy’s dilapidated charm, but it was hard to fully appreciate with sun out in full and temps in the 90s. The outdoor complex has a tiki bar on one side and a food truck on the other, with a long swath of sand in between. The bar area was loud, so our party of four commandeered an umbrella-covered picnic table. A staffer turned on an industrial fan, which blew right on us and mitigated the summer heat, but only a little. I ordered the Grouper Sandwich ($23.99, pretty pricey, too) with fries. Kudos to HAE for having Three Daughters Beach Blonde Ale on tap ($6). I had two pints. Appearance Everything looked ship-shape. This fish appeared more heavily seasoned than its competitor, and I was hoping for a bit of spicy bite. Texture and Taste First (bite) impression: The blackened seasoning was more potent than the Fresco’s version, and had a more interesting flavor, but it didn’t give off much heat. The fish was a shade drier than the opposition, but the tomato and onion were superior. Although this might seem trivial, the tartar sauce here was thicker and tasted more processed. It mattered. The fries — hand-cut, the menu said — were barely warm, limp and a tad greasy, but they were pretty good all the same. I did leave quite a few on the plate. And the Winner of the Grouper Sandwich Skirmish, Blackened Edition Is … Fresco’s. Not by much. This was a very close contest. Both grouper sandwiches proved worthy entries into the pantheon of Tampa Bay’s signature dish. I do wonder, though: if I’d had my HAE meal on a 70-degree day in March, would my decision have been different? I take a restaurant’s atmosphere into account when writing these FFFs — but should that include the weather? Just askin’.
Three Frozen Pizzas Get Doctored Up and Duel It Out
This edition marks a couple of firsts: • It’s the first FFF that involves some measure of home cooking. As a result, the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™ has been rechristened the FFF Lab + Photo Studio + Kitchen™. • Even better, this is the first Food Fight that involves a blind taste test. Fun! We grabbed three brands of frozen pizza and doctored them up with ingredients I like. Many thanks to wife Bonnie for handling the logistics and the cooking. We got recommendations from friends and colleagues, and did some online research to find three worthy contestants. They are: Amy’s Cheese Pizza; Trader Joe’s Organic 3 Cheese Pizza; Newman’s Own Four Cheese Pizza. You see a trend here? Frozen pizzas trying to out-cheese each other. (Coming Soon! Cartone’s 23-Cheese Pizza!) How ’bout the sauce, man? The toppings, also courtesy of Bonnie are: chicken sausage, white onions, green pepper, plus basil and oregano from her grow boxes. I’ll rank the pizzas at the end. PIZZA # 1 It was kind of messy on top. A good sign. I rarely eat frozen pizza, straight or doctored, so I don’t have much info to work with, but this pie looked alluring. Somewhat. It was small, though. I appreciated the red sauce oozing from under the cheese. First things first: the crust. It was a good medium thickness, although it had none of the give-way of my beloved New York pizza. I had to essentially tear off bites with my teeth. The cheese was smooth and, thankfully, not slathered on to excess. The sauce didn’t give off much flavor. There was more of it near the end crust, but by that time it had congealed. I’m the guy who leaves his pizza rinds on the plate — and gets ribbed for it. I certainly saw no reason to veer from that policy in this instance. PIZZA #2 A thin ridge around the rim whispered, “I came out of a box.” It was thinner, and whiter — and bigger in circumference — than its predecessor. And it looked less appetizing. The crust had a cracker-like texture that I’m not a fan of, but, all told, it wasn’t half-bad. The cheese was more plentiful and more prominent than Pizza #1, but however many cheeses were on there didn’t make much of an impression. The red sauce was almost nonexistent. The pizza had a vague cardboard taste — not that I eat a lot of cardboard, but you get the idea. All of this had the effect of shining a light on the toppings, which were top-notch. PIZZA #3 Because we have a conventional home oven, Bonnie had to bake this one after the first two. A couple of charred spots gave it a wood-fired look. The outer crust was noticeably wide. (More to discard.) Pizza #3’s crust was the driest of the three, and really took some teeth-tearing to pry bites loose. I wondered if I was actually eating the cardboard box instead of the crust. The cheese was creamier than its counterparts, but, again, lacking character. I was also glad to taste some sauce — sauce that had a little bite. This pizza had a subtly artificial flavor throughout, but it wasn’t pronounced enough to matter much. At this point, I was used to it. In fairness, Pizza #3 may have been a bit overcooked. To the Reveal! … Here are the rankings: Winner: Pizza #1 — Amy’s Cheese Pizza ($9.49) Runner -Up: Pizza #3 — Trader Joe’s Organic 3 Cheese Pizza ($4.99) Third Place (Or, if you prefer, Last): Newman’s Own Four Cheese Pizza ($8.79)* Far and away the best parts of these pizzas were the add-ons — which makes sense, right? Real food. When it comes to our pizza routine, Bonnie and I are old-school: Order by phone and pick it up — at select restaurants. We don’t do delivery. We don’t do frozen, and this exercise cemented that stance. And a note to you lovers of pizza-crust end pieces — y’know, the ones who give me a hard time for leaving them on the plate because they’re a waste of stomach space: These from-the-box pies would really test you. You’d have to be awfully hungry, or an absolutist, to eat this stuff down to the end. * The Newman’s Own box did say “Thin & Crispy Crust,” which would account for its thin and crispy texture … but not the cardboard taste. A final note: I guess I’m a pizza elitist — or, if you, prefer, snob.
Tampa Bay vs. Atlanta in a Branzino Battle
The first time I ate branzino, the first time I heard of it, was in the mid-2010s in a nice seafood restaurant. It was about that time that I’d resolved to eat more fish, and the whole Mediterranean sea bass — filleted at the table — was so remarkably good that it strengthened my resolve. In the intervening years, I’ve eaten branzino infrequently — it’s on the pricey side — but I’ll never forget that maiden voyage. So let’s revisit the fish for Friday Food Fight. In another edition of Tampa Bay vs. The World, our two contestants are: Forza Storico, an Italian restaurant in the West Midtown part of Atlanta, and Allelo on Beach Drive in St. Pete. Forza Storico Forza Storico (“historical force” via online translator) is located in what appears to be a converted industrial space not unlike Tampa’s Armature Works — except without the huge lawn and the riverfront. On this mild Friday night at 7:30, the courtyard seating was full, so our party of four was led indoors to a bar area with a view of train tracks and a steel bridge. A guy who turned out to be the bar manager greeted us as soon as we were seated, and poured some generous wine tastings. But after that the half-dozen bar servers bustled by us without so much as a glance for about 15 minutes. I got annoyed, pounced out of my seat, intercepted the manager, and conveyed my displeasure. After that, our service improved. I ordered the Branzino ($31), which, the server said, came without the head. I told him I was okay with it. We passed on starters. I got a bottle of Birra Dolomiti ($8), a light but flavorful pilsner brewed in northern Italy. Appearance The fish looked just fine without the head. It had an attractive char, and was topped with thin shavings of fennel. The mixture of roasted fingerling potatoes and heirloom tomatoes, lightly coated with salsa verde, looked equally appetizing. Texture and Taste The branzino’s consistency fell somewhere between flaky and oily, which suited me, and was a notch or two more potently flavored than other white fishes I’ve had, which also suited me. The black (but not blackened) skin added moments of agreeable chewiness. The flavorless fennel added crunch, but it basically got in the way. The potatoes were nicely cooked, as were the tomatoes, which provided small flavor explosions in my mouth. Both were punched up by the tangy salsa. This side dish proved an ideal match for the fish. The portion size was spot-on. I ate the entire entree and left Forza Storica pleasantly sated. ALLELO At 6:30 Monday, it was a little too toasty for al fresco dining, so we opted for a hightop near the front window in the bar area. Allelo’s space combines two former companion restaurants: Annata and Alto Mare. The interior has been classily revamped, with arched openings between the bar section and restaurant seating. Business was brisk for a Monday, but the place wasn’t loud. Big kudos to our server, Greg, who was highly professional and attentive without hovering. He informed us that the branzino is shipped in from Turkey twice a week. We ordered a Half Branzino ($47) to split. Because it came with quinoa, and I’m not a fan, we added Pesto Linguini ($23). We also opted for “Bread Service” ($9), which is what restaurants who charge for bread call it. Appearance A simple, sophisticated presentation. This branzino did not have a head either, although it did have a tail. I couldn’t help but thinking, “That’s not a lot of fish for forty seven bucks.” The colorful pasta looked enticing. Texture and Taste The branzino was superb. The skin had been lightly salted to give the mild fish some complexity. It was ideally moist. And the portion ate bigger than it looked. I understood the quinoa as accompaniment — it’s crackle provided textural contrast — but it was a tad too salty and I didn’t care for it. Enter the bowl of linguini, a more than capable partner. The pasta was properly al dente and expertly sauced with a pesto that was on the gentle side. Pea pods and small pieces of asparagus provided brightness and crunch. The “bread service” included khobz, a Moroccan white roll, and focaccia, by far the better of the two. The “bread service” came with two infused butters: black garlic and olive oil. They were interesting, but too salty. We finished our meal — save for a few pieces of the “bread service” — and left feeling good about eating Mediterranean. And the Winner of the TB-vs.-ATL Branzino Battle Is … Allelo. The decision boiled down to the St. Pete restaurant serving a superior piece of fish. However, that fish did cost $16 more than Forza Storico’s, and the Atlanta restaurant served a notably superior side dish that was included in the price. But another deciding factor was the far better service at Allelo … Then again, it was a Monday vs. a Friday night. On the other hand, Forza Storico’s waitstaff ignored us to the point of annoyance. What I’m saying is — it was a tough call, given all the variables. In the end, I’m glad I got to dine on branzino twice within the space of four days. (For you extra-curious readers who’ve gotten this far, the restaurant where I had my first branzino was Sea Salt in downtown St. Pete.)
A Showdown Over Short Rib
I didn’t get introduced to short rib until well into adulthood. Once I did, I became an instant fan. My thinking was: Here’s a way to get pot roast in nice restaurants. In the subsequent years, I’ve had short rib that’s been melt-in-my-mouth heavenly. I’ve had short rib that was so dry and stringy that I left most of it on the plate. I didn’t expect the latter from the two upscale (but not quite fine-dining) restaurants I chose for this week’s Friday Food Fight: Renzo’s (the downtown St. Pete location), and Teak on the St. Pete Pier. RENZO’S At 6:30 Monday, shortly after we were seated at a four-top in the restaurant’s dining room, a miracle. Rain. Not hard rain — but watching drops splatter on the sidewalk through the tall windows certainly added to the lovely ambiance. We were the only customers until another party of two came in from their outdoor table to avoid getting rained on. The downtown St. Pete location is the third Renzo’s, which was founded 2009 in Tampa and bills itself as a steakhouse focused on “the art of Argentine grilling.” The dining room is medium-sized and tastefully decorated. Acid jazz played quietly on the sound system. We ordered Braised Short Ribs ($30) and a Palmitos (palm hearts) salad ($12), an Olema Chardonnay ($16) for Bonnie and a ginger ale ($3) for me. Appearance A generous slab of glistening beef, lathered with brown sauce, sat atop a bed of mashed potatoes. I admired the plate, rimmed in shiny brown. Visually, the dish was everything I’d hoped for. Texture and Taste Whatever mild trepidation I had about eating stringy short rib vanished with the first bite. The beef was supremely tender, with a bold flavor and the ideal fat content to provide a melt-in-your-mouth experience. I encountered a few slightly unpleasant fat globules, but that was a small price to pay. The potatoes were more souped than mashed. Remember Cream of Wheat? Like that. Or grits. The entree would’ve been considerably enhanced if the potatoes were firmer. Still, I enjoyed the dish, and Bonnie and I made short work of it. The salad was mostly big leafs of romaine lettuce. “At least we’re getting our greens,” Bonnie murmured. The lightly pickled hearts of palm were the best things in the bowl, but there were too few of them. The house dressing was tart to the extreme, and there was too much of it. Bonnie was impressed with her Olema Chardonnay, and even more so with the generous pour. TEAK On Wednesday at 6, we parked and missed the first Pier tram by seconds, so waited on a bench for 15 minutes to get a ride out to the building on the far end. It was hot, man. We should’ve walked. When we were seated in Teak’s large main dining room a half-hour later, translucent shades had been drawn down to help mitigate the blazing sun in the west. The shades obstructed the view of the downtown skyline (but I took a photo through the glass anyway). Teak was doing a robust business for a Wednesday outside of peak tourism season. Most of the tables were occupied by the time we left just after 7:30. We ordered Beef Short Rib ($34) and a Teak House Salad ($16) to split. I got a 3 Daughters Beach Blonde Ale on draft ($7). Appearance Both the entree and the colorful salad — one of the prettiest I’ve seen in a long time — were ready for their closeups. The sun shone through just so, ideal for snapping pics. Texture and Taste The beef had a striated consistency that I’m familiar with in short rib. It was less fatty than the competition’s, and not as moist. The potatoes were mashed instead of souped, thank you. I appreciated the brown sauce — like an elevated gravy — and the generous amount in the bowl. A subtle bitterness from a stalk of broccoli completed the taste and texture. I’m not usually in favor of fruit in my salads — unless it’s a fruit salad — but Teak’s version really worked. I hadn’t eaten mandarin oranges in a while, and had forgotten how fun they are in the mouth. The sesame pineapple ginger dressing was sweetish and refreshing, ideal for this salad, although I could not definitively taste any of the stated ingredients. No matter — they blended well. The greens provided a touch of earthiness to add complexity. And the Winner of the Short Rib Showdown Is … Teak. I preferred Renzo’s beef, but considering the meal as a whole — especially when factoring in the salad, and the mashed potatoes — Teak takes it. Just to be clear: Bonnie and I very much enjoyed both meals.
Takeout Dinners From Two Major Grocery Chains. Which One’s Tastier?
Whether it’s a meeting that ran late, kids basketball practice or simple apathy, sometimes cooking dinner is just not going to happen. But such kitchen ennui doesn’t have to result in yet another pizza delivery or microwaving frozen meals. Most respectable supermarkets offer a hot-food buffets or deli-style counters where you pick your items, bring them home, heat them as necessary and serve. It’s the latter that I’m delving into this week — a dinner alternative we rarely use, so I’m genuinely curious about the quality of the food. Our contestants are well known: Whole Foods Market and The Fresh Market. Both offer meals that include an entree and two sides. I did a good job of matching the dinners up, if I do say so myself. We picked up the takeout meals late Tuesday afternoon in one run, brought them back to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™, put both pieces of chicken in the oven for 25 minutes at 350, plated the meals and ate them them side by side. We added a piece of carrot cake from each place for dessert. FRESH MARKET For the store’s Bistro Meal ($9.99), we chose the Italian Chicken boneless breast, Bacon Tomato Pasta Salad, and Super Veggie Salad. Appearance, Texture and Taste Those takeout containers split into compartments never do the food justice. And not to get all tree-huggy here, but I briefly imagined the box in a garbage patch the size of Montana out in the ocean somewhere. The food looked way better on a plate. First impression of the chicken: dry. Same for the second and third impressions. And while the breast had a hefty crust, I couldn’t detect much Italian-ness. The bites of bird worked best when paired on the fork with the creamy pasta salad, which was infused with the flavor of bacon and littered with little bits of it. The finely chopped green salad contained kale, corn, yellow raisins and other stuff I couldn’t ID. In all, it had a sweet(ish) flavor that I really took to. WHOLE FOODS For our Chef’s Plate ($12), we selected Chicken Scallopini (boneless breast), Smoked Mozzarella Pasta Salad, and Brussels Sprouts and Kale Slaw. Appearance, Texture and Taste This plate looked similar to that plate — so much so that Bonnie made little signs for each. The bird breast was plumper than the one from Fresh Market, and some actual meat peeked through the coating. My first impression of the chicken: Moist. Make that juicy. The breading was light, expertly seasoned. This was restaurant-level chicken. I’m not sure how Scallopini it was, but Bonnie and I nodded approvingly as we ate it to nothingness. The pasta salad lived up to its name, with the added bonus of a few mozzarella cubes scattered throughout. Pieces of baby spinach provided a contrast to the creamy dressing. Kale and Brussels sprouts are two greens I only eat occasionally and in small portions. That said, the salad, while more bitter than I prefer, worked well with the rest of the meal. Got Room For Dessert? We did — but not until the next evening. The Whole Foods carrot cake ($5.50) was prettier. Cylindrically shaped, it sat on a little gold base and had a frosting carrot on top. It came surrounded by a band of clear plastic, which took some doing to pry off. The Fresh Market version ($5.99) was more robust, bigger, less … impeccable. It had nuts. It had the little orange strips. A no-nonsense slab of carrot cake. Based on appearance, I was biased towards it. And that’s how it played out. Fresh Market’s was coarser and heartier and had bolder flavors of cinnamon and ginger. The Whole Foods carrot cake did not wind up a distant second. It was elegant, but not dainty. Ultimately the frosting, which I found too firm, overshadowed the cake. So Which Was the Tastier Takeout Dinner From Two Major Grocery Chains? Whole Foods. It’s the chicken, stupid! (How’s that for a 32-year-old political reference?) The bird was the lead dog in these meals, and it was no contest. I slightly preferred Fresh Market’s pasta salad (it’s the bacon, stupid!) and its green salad. And its dessert, too — but let’s consider dessert a separate meal. In all, this was a close contest. A split decision. We enjoyed both meals, but it boiled down to a game of chicken.
Hot Diggity! Chili Dogs and Chicago Dogs at Two Budget Restaurants
I rarely eat hot dogs. Do I need to explain why? When I do indulge, the tube steaks are usually pulled off of backyard grill. It’s yet to be determined if I’ll do so this Memorial Day weekend — although probably not, because I’m having four restaurant dogs for Friday Food Fight. I chose two inexpensive, no-frills places in St. Pete that tout their hot-dog game: 4th Street Sandwich Shop in Northeast and V9 Eats on the west side. I ordered a chili dog and a Chicago dog at each joint. 4TH STREET SANDWICH SHOP This place is easy to miss. Located in a small building between 62nd and 70th avenues, the restaurant is set back from the busy thoroughfare. Signage is minimal. A flagpole with no flag juts up next to the building. The vast parking lot, cracked and pitted, was empty on Tuesday, but it was 3:30 in the afternoon, a dead period. Inside, 4StSS is clean and well-lit, with a counter and a half dozen basic tables. A few vintage black-and-white photos — many of them NYC-themed — decorate the walls, as does a Nathan’s banner. The eatery serves Nathan’s skinless all-beef franks. I ordered a 4th Street Chili Dog with raw onions ($5.25) and a Chicago Dog ($5.95) along with a house-made Mango Lemonade ($3.95). As I ate, Chef Gordon Ramsay was cussing out some poor restaurant owners on the TV behind me. Appearance It looked like a respectable tandem of basic dogs, laid out in aluminum foil. The franks themselves were obscured by the chili and toppings. Texture and Taste I sipped the lemonade while waiting for the meal to come out. It was tasty, if a tad too sweet. Chili Dog: The chili was on the soupy side. I took a little scoop and it was not something I’d choose to eat in a bowl. Combined with the frank and bun, though, it was solid. This chili dog could’ve used a bit more raw onion to offer some textural contrast. The bun was puffy and gave way easily to my bites. Chicago Dog: It’s more about the trimmings than the meat itself. A proper one should come on a poppy seed bun and be dressed with yellow mustard, sweet relish, chopped onion, a dill pickle spear, sport peppers and celery salt. 4thStSS scored on everything but the poppy seed bun. I tried a bite with the sport pepper but it put out too much spicy heat, so I removed the rest of them. In all, this Chi Dog delivered a heady blend of sharp flavors, but was a bit too heavy on the celery salt. I finished both hot dogs, then waited for the (gut) bomb to drop. It never did. V9 EATS At 3:30 Thursday, I pulled into the parking lot of V9 Eats, housed in a converted service station on the corner of 9th Avenue and 58th Street North. Upon entering, I asked the young woman at the counter if V9 was some kind of play on V8, as in engine. “Hmm, I don’t know what it means,” she replied. No one else was around to answer my query so I dropped it. I’ll describe V9’s interior as festive industrial — brightly colored tables, chairs and stools really pop, especially on the concrete floor. Fun but not obnoxious. The space is surrounded by garage doors — all closed on this scorcher of a day — that let in plenty of natural light. I ordered a Hot Dog ($4.25) with chili ($1.25) and raw onions, and a Chicago Dog ($7), plus a bottle of Coke ($1.99). Appearance I appreciated the red-and-white checkered paper, which worked well with the restaurant’s decor. Like its competitor, V9 uses Nathan’s hot dogs. The Chicago Dog was a jumbo. Texture and Taste Chili Dog: With the the two restaurants using same brand of hot dog, the chili dog contest would come down to, yes, the chili. V9’s version was sweeter and chunkier, with pinch of spicy heat. The white onions, diced, added crunch. Chicago Dog: The meat was fatter and juicier, with a skin that needed some tearing. The hot dog flavor was clear and present. Toppings included exemplary house-made dill pickles and diced tomatoes. The poppy-seed level was spot on. I didn’t detect much celery salt, which was okay by me. This Chi Dog posed a problem, though. About halfway through, it fell apart, revealing a prominent smear of sweet relish, my least favorite topping. Each bite required me to re-assemble the pieces and quickly plunge them into my mouth. And the Winner of the Chili Dogs and Chicago Dogs Showdown Is … V9 Eats. V9’s offerings had a bit more character and attention to detail. Although I visited both restaurants (by my lonesome) during a mid-afternoon dead period, V9 exuded more energy. I’m pretty sure I’ve met or exceeded my quota of hot dogs for the year. If there is any grilling to be done this Memorial Day weekend, I’m going with burgers.
Cocktail Edition: An Old Fashioned Donnybrook
The Old Fashioned is definitely in fashion. The brown-liquor drink sits atop the list of 10 Most Popular Cocktails at liquor.com, and it ranks high in several other surveys I checked out. During our Old-Fashioned sojourn in downtown St. Pete, we asked a bartender if young people order the drink. “All the time,” replied Amara from behind the bar at The Mandarin Hide on Central Avenue. It’s believed that the Old-Fashioned dates back to the early 1800s as one of the first examples of a cocktail — a simple concoction made with rye or bourbon, sugar, water and bitters. The drink probably got its name in the 1870s. As bartenders were adding embellishments, making cocktails fancier, customers who preferred the basics would order “an old-fashioned whiskey cocktail.” The drink hasn’t changed much over the years, but at some point the use of a sugar cube was replaced by simple syrup. This didn’t sit well with my friend and consultant, David Downing, who joined me on Tuesday night. When we exited the car in front of the Cordova Inn, headed to The Scott bar within, my reading glasses fogged up. A sure sign of summer. Before we begin: To the best of my knowledge, I’d never had an Old Fashioned. THE SCOTT It was approaching dusk as we found a parking spot directly in front the Cordova. There’s something classy about a hotel awning. More should have them. The concrete shell of a major addition to St. Petersburg’s oldest hotel (it opened as The Pier Hotel in 1921) stood next door. The Scott wasn’t what I had envisioned for a hotel lounge. It’s like a cross between a Florida room and the coffee nook at a limited-service hotel — brightly lit, with wooden floors and a small terrazzo-topped bar with six stools. A living room-style sitting area was situated about 20 feet away. It was a Tuesday in May, so no surprise the place was dead. With only two customers besides us, the room was agreeably quiet. Our bartender, Derek, was relaxed (he could afford to be), and chatted amiably with us as he executed the simple steps to make an Old Fashioned ($15). I asked for Bulleit instead of Four Roses bourbon. Derek added a slice of orange peel and a Luxardo maraschino cherry. David adjourned to the porch, and I joined him soon after. Although it was muggy, we were chill, sipping our drinks in wooden rocking chairs. Appearance, Texture and Taste My first Old Fashioned looked elegant in its simple, chunky glass. A single large ice cube prevented the drink from becoming watered down. I occasionally sip bourbon, mostly at home, and I take it straight with one small cube. I appreciate bourbon’s bite. The extra ingredients in the Old Fashioned mitigated that with a sweetness and syrupy quality. My first swallow underwhelmed me, but as I sipped along I enjoyed the cocktail more and more. (Perhaps a slight buzz coming on helped.) I took my time and drank it to the last drop. THE MANDARIN HIDE We walked into the bar’s dark confines at 8:30 to the strains of “Come and Get Your Love,” a lively hit by the one-hit-wonder band Redbone. I’m fond of the tune; problem was, it blasted throughout the room that had just a few people sitting at the bar. David and I had a hard time conversing and I had to lean over the bar to order my drink. After a few more songs, I politely said to Amara that the music was good, but too loud. “Let me turn it down,” she replied. Just like that. Within seconds, David and I resumed an easy back-and-forth. Amara used Larceny bourbon, which is a bit pricier than Bulleit, but I didn’t quiz her on the other ingredients. Appearance, Texture and Taste This Old Fashioned ($15.50) looked similar to the one at the Cordova, although not as handsomely presented. My second Old Fashioned tasted quite similar to the first. It was maybe a bit less syrupy and a tad less sweet. Truth is, I really couldn’t tell the difference. I drank mine to the bottom, and earned a mellow buzz, but not as much of one as I expected. I’ve decided to hand over my judge-and-jury duties to David, a spirits and cocktail aficionado. That’s a first, but there’s nothing in the Friday Food Fight Handbook that prohibits it. The Winner of the Old Fashioned Donnybrook Is … Mandarin Hide. David explained that the second Old Fashioned had a more complex flavor, particularly the bourbon, and used better ingredients. We’ll go with that. In all, I had essentially the same drink in two vastly different environments. I preferred The Scott, but that probably has something to do with seniors and rocking chairs. In all, it was a pleasant evening that ended early. I drank my first, second — and almost certainly my last — Old Fashioned cocktails. Top photo by Mel Downing.
Tampa vs. St. Pete in a Battle Over Korean BBQ
Korean food is having a moment. Like the most popular cultural exports from that Asian country, it has earned the “K” prefix. K-pop. K-cinema. K-food. According to The Food Institute, interest in Korean cuisine spiked nearly 90 percent during 2021. K-food’s moment does not appear to be waning. In a very informal survey of Google maps, I found more than a dozen Korean-specific eateries in the Tampa Bay area. I wouldn’t have guessed that. I recall having a bento box lunch at Sarione in Tampa more than a decade ago, and not caring for it. But as a semi-professional food columnist, it’s imperative that I not let this K-food moment pass me by. Korean BBQ is one of the most high-profile items on the K-food spectrum. And I discovered that a popular way to experience it is cook your own meat on a table-top grill. One visit to the Melting Pot in the early ’90s cured me of cooking my own food in a restaurant. So I found two places that would cook it for me: Dooriban in St. Pete and One Family Korean Restaurant in Tampa. Okay, enough context — 이렇게 해보자 (Let’s do this) DOORIBAN This converted drive-through on 66th Street just north of 54th Avenue had a no-frills, neighborhood vibe at 6:30 on Monday. Several tables were occupied, some with Caucasians, some with Koreans. The latter engaged in loud, lively conversation that I found rather musical, and lent an air if authenticity. A Korean TV show played on a screen over my shoulder. Our server, Torrey — a Caucasian — was upbeat and helpful when we told her that we were K-food rookies. We ordered Beef Bulgogi (BBQ, $22.99) and Vegetable Mandu (deep-fried dumplings, $9.99). Appearance The beef, with some slices of onion and carrot mixed in, came out on a hot plate, steaming. It smelled terrific. Bonnie remarked that the meat looked like the kind they put in Philly cheesesteaks, so I’ll call it shaved. The entree came with five small side bowls: three types of kimchi (cabbage, radish, cucumber), along with thinly sliced potato and fish cake. The eight crescents of Mandu were lined neatly on a white plate, sided by a small bowl of house soy sauce. Texture and Taste I tend to avoid beef at Asian restaurants because in my experience it’s often chewy. But I’m pleased I took the plunge at Dooriban. The meat was tender, lean and succulent, save for a few pieces that required extra jaw work. The barbecue sauce — which was marinated into the beef, not dripping off of it — was sweet and seductive. The first bite made me nod and a smile. I took quite a bit of the dish home because I ill-advisedly plowed through the fried dumplings, an ample portion that was quite filling. They were fine, although the vegetables were soft and mushy and could’ve used some crunch. Of the side dishes, I liked the sharp-flavored cucumber kimchi the best, the soggy(ish) and bitter cabbage the least. The skinny strips of fish cake were surprisingly enjoyable. We left full and happy. ONE FAMILY KOREAN RESTAURANT ” … where you can get awesome bulgogi (thin, marinated slices of beef or pork) and delicious Korean barbecued short ribs …” New York Times (March, 2022). That’s one of the reasons I chose this place as part of my K-food moment. OFKR is situated in a drab gray building in a faceless shopping center set back from Hillsborough Avenue in Town ‘N’ Country. The restaurant’s small, windowless dining room has eight tables and booths — tight but not quite cramped. The vibe was intimate and relaxed. At 7:30 p.m. Wednesday most of the tables were occupied, but the noise kept to an acceptable level. KK was the only server, and she managed to be attentive to everyone while hustling like crazy. We ordered Beef Bulgogi ($24.99) and Fried Dumplings (6 for $7.99). I also got a Korean soft drink ($2.99), pear-peach flavor, which came in a six-ounce can. Appearance At first blush, the beef did not look as appetizing as that of Dooriban. It had an almost grayish hue. The portion, which arrived on a hot plate, was smaller than the competition’s. The Bulgogi came with five small side bowls: cabbage, cucumber and daikon (radish) kimchi, bean sprouts and white radish cut julienne-style. The dumplings looked like dumplings. Texture and Taste The beef, while sweet, was less so than the version at Dooriban. I preferred its dialed-down sweetness, but would’ve have liked a smidge more. The meat was supremely tender and I did not encounter a single chewy piece. Let me acknowledge the white rice, which had the ideal level of stickiness and complemented the beef. The dumplings, filled with ground pork, were tasty, and the shell provided some crispiness. My favorite side bowls were the daikon kimchi and sliced radish, which eat sat in a their own tangy sauce and added lots of playful crunch. Again, I wasn’t fan of the cabbage kimchi. The soft-drink was pear-forward and light on the carbonation, almost like juice. I appreciated it as a change of pace. Bonnie and I finished the entire meal. We left full and happy. And the Winner of the Tampa vs. St. Pete Battle Over Korean BBQ Is … One Family Korean Restaurant. But not by much. I delighted in both meals, and look forward to returning to the restaurants. My K-food moment was a rousing success, and I hope to incorporate the cuisine into my rotation. I look forward to trying more dishes. I just wish one of these restaurants was in easy striking distance for takeout.
Which Vegan Bakery Will Emerge Victorious?
Sometimes FFF special ops get complicated. I didn’t expect it to happen this week. Pairing off two vegan bakeries and then assessing how their desserts fared verses conventional ones seemed a simple enough concept — especially when you consider that I had two ideal contestants in my sights: Halelife Bakery and Valhalla Bakery. But then my tradecraft got a little shabby and I found out late in the game that both brands had undergone shakeups. Halelife had closed its downtown St. Pete and Clearwater bakeries and opened a bakery/bistro on the northern end of 4th Street in St. Pete. Valhalla had also closed its downtown location, and merged with its sister business, Valkyrie Donuts, a few blocks away. Then came the sand in the Vaseline. Gluten — a protein that “helps foods maintain their shape, acting as a glue that holds food together,” according to the simplest online definition I could find. (Glue-ten?) Halelife products are gluten-free. Valhalla’s aren’t. That gives the latter a leg up when comparing it to regular desserts. By the time I found all this out, it was too late in the game to pivot, so we go with what we got. Apparently this is what happens when you send an omnivore to do a vegan’s job. I chose a cookie, a brownie and a cupcake from each shop, then brought them back to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™. My beverage of choice was low-fat milk. HALELIFE BISTRO At 12:30 on Wednesday, our trio — two grandparents and a 3-year-old grandchild — were the only customers. One of us was hell bent on a cupcake, and repeatedly announced it. Located in a shopping center just south of the new 4th Street onramp to 1-275, Halelife Bistro is the newest location of a business started in 2018 by a mother and son, both with celiac disease (a severe gluten intolerance). The other bakeries are in South Tampa and Carrollwood. It’s an attractive space with plenty of natural light, a few community-type tables with stools, and a spacious outdoor courtyard to the left of the entrance (although it’s currently uncovered and unshaded). We were in grab-and-go mode, though, and went straight to the bakery case. There was a lot to choose from: cupcakes, brownies, cookies, donuts and other miscellany, all of them single-serve items (i.e. no cakes or pies). We opted for a box of six ($5.99 each) and earned our half-dozen discount of three bucks. I’ve chosen three from these. Raspberry Cheesecake Cupcake I’m not a cupcake man, but I’ve had enough to know that what I don’t like about them is their airy texture (and that they’re clumsy to eat). That’s why this version — with its density and coarseness — ranks near the top. The icing was typically dainty, and it could’ve used some more raspberry sauce for punch, and I didn’t pick up much cheesecake flavor, but still and all, as cupcakes go — first rate. Chocolate Lava Brownie A brownie — now we’re in my wheelhouse, although I much prefer them unfrosted. I didn’t get any of the luscious gooey-chewy that marks a good conventional brownie. This one was was more like cake, pretty dry cake. When I fork cut, it crumbled (ah, for gluten). The dark chocolate flavor was nice, but the dusting of finely ground chocolate on top added an unwelcome grittiness. Peach Cobbler Thumbprint Cookie I didn’t see any thumbprints, and for that I was grateful. About five inches in diameter, this treat looked more like a pastry than a cookie. I needed a small spatula to free it from the box without it falling apart. The best part was the middle part, the peach cobbler part (which could’ve been more ample), but rest of it was reasonably moist and had a pleasurable level of sweetness. VALHALLA BAKERY Featuring VALKYRIE DOUGHNUTS We arrived at the small storefront on Central Avenue in St. Pete yesterday at 10:30. As you can see by the makeshift sign in the photo, the place is undergoing a rebrand of sorts, with a some waffling between bakery or donut shop or both. But inside the small space was what mattered: a bakery case of considerable size, full up with an attractive array of desserts, some quite elaborate. Our counter guy, Christian, was a 6-foot-6, 300-pound power lifter, but even so, he extracted our choices from the case with light-fingered care. He told us that Valhalla uses gluten, which threw the wrench in my FFF special op, but he was a super nice fellow so I forgave him. Vanilla Guava Rose Cupcake Like the cupcake at Halelife, this dainty treat ($3.75) had a pleasing density, although the icing was a tad too sweet and there was a tad too much of it. Then halfway through — luscious guava jam. It came as a surprise, which made it taste even better. Smores Brownie I had to look twice at the price. The hefty wedge cost just $3.75. I could see a thick vein of chocolate ore running through the middle. This brownie definitely contained glue-ten, because its consistency bordered on that of fudge. The extra chewing was worth it, though, and the chocolate flavor had just the right potency. -Raspberry Almond Frangipane Yolo (Cookie) The name is quite a mouthful, and the cookie itself was more than a few. Valhalla pulled out all the stops for this massive confection ($6): two slabs of almond cookie, with a silky filling in between, topped with almond slivers. Big ups for creativity, but this treat turned out to be too much for me. The filling, especially, was sweeter than I was up for. And the Victorious Vegan Bakery Is … Because the Official Friday Food Fight Handbook™ prohibits ties, I’ve chosen two winners. Vegan Bakery That Uses Gluten Valhalla — Its desserts were mostly indistinguishable from non-vegan ones. Vegan Bakery That Does Not Use Gluten Halelife — It makes tasty stuff that’s ideal for people with celiac disease or