New York vs. Tampa Bay in a Bagel Battle
So you read the headline and you’re thinking: New York vs. Tampa Bay? Squaring off over bagels? That’s not a fair fight. I have similar reservations, but I’m visting friends on Long Island and figured it’s a good opportunity for another edition of Tampa Bay vs. The World. Talk about a contrast in combatants: Bagel Babe Co. is run by Jessie Vallorosi, a woman in her 20s who moved to St. Pete from New Jersey in 2021. Unable to find a good bagel, she set about perfecting her own recipe. Now she sells ’em. Goldberg’s dates back to 1949, and has 14 locations on Long Island, each with separate owners. We went to the one in Patchogue. Our test dishes are: a plain bagel with a cream-cheese schmear, as a baseline; and a bagel sandwich with egg and cheese. BAGEL BABE CO. We left for Bagel Babe on Sunday at 11 a.m. not knowing what to expect. We did, however, expect to see a sign. We did not. After driving around a large lot for a few minutes, we followed a hunch and parked in front of a place called Foodie Labs. Located in the Warehouse Arts District, Foodie Labs is a vendor collective of five “restaurants,” including Bagel Babe, that occupies a long industrial hallway. There are no storefronts. Young people milled around in groups. We looked for a Bagel Babe sign or logo, and never saw one. We ordered on a touchscreen. As prescribed, I got a Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese ($4.75), toasted; and a Sesame Bagel (toasted) with Egg & Cheese ($7.45). Hmm, I wondered, where would our meals come from? I half-expected to be handed a bag by a drone. After about 10 minutes, a guy came out and hollered my wife’s name. The Foodie Labs hallway includes a few sitting stations, but most have low tables unsuited for eating, and nearly all were occupied. We decided to return to the FFF Lab + Photo Studio™ with our bag o’ bagels. Appearance I took the bagel sandwiches out of the bag and freed them from their white wrappers. Nothing stood out, except for how thick the schmear was. Texture and Taste • Bagel with Cream Cheese — The bagel was under-toasted, and chewier than I prefer. Each bite took some hard jaw work. And this sandwich raised some questions: When is a schmear a schmear? When is a schmear a hefty schmear? And when is a schmear a mega-schmear? I submit this bagel as evidence of the latter. I scraped about half of the cream cheese off to the side of the plate. • Sesame Bagel with Egg & Cheese — This bagel was easier to chew than the other, but I occasionally chomped into an unpleasant salt bomb. The flattened scrambled egg was moist enough, but its flavor was elusive. The cheese, pure white, was a conundrum. I thought for a second it was cream cheese, but after closer inspection I decided on white American. Regardless, it had scant flavor. GOLDBERG’S When we arrived at Goldberg’s just before 10 a.m. on Wednesday, it was 65 degrees and sunny, with low humidity. A miracle. I borrowed a jacket from my friend and co-host, Max. Goldberg’s is located on Patchogue’s main drag. Talk about old-school. A man behind a classic deli counter took our order. And get this: He wrote it down on a small pad. I got a $3 cup of coffee to go with my Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese ($4.07) and Sesame Bagel with Egg & Cheese ($5.97), both toasted. Unfortunately, Goldberg’s has no outdoor seating, so our party of three commandeered a small table near the front window. The sound system was putting out a terrific playlist that included everything from early-period Elvis Presley to late-period Johnny Cash, but the music spewed out of a portable JBL speaker (set atop a drink case) that sounded lousy. Appearance I opened up the brown paper bag and white wrappers to reveal some very appealing bagels/sandwiches (photo at top). The debris cluttered the table. We had no plates. We didn’t care. Texture and Taste • Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese — The bagel had plenty of give to the squeeze, almost like letting air out of a bicycle tire without the hiss. The hearty crust gave way to the inner part, which had an airiness that made it collapse easily to the bite. Bagel elegance. The cream cheese was slightly melted due to the warmth of the bread. • Sesame Bagel with Egg & Cheese — The sesame seeds made themselves known without being obnoxious. The egg was fried but not runny. The cheese was subtle. The elements retained their character but blended together beautifully with the bread. In all, this was a delicious, easy-eating breakfast sandwich. And the Winner of the NY vs. TB Bagel Brawl Is … Goldberg’s. Obvious, right? Maybe there is something to the superiority of New York bagels, even ones made outside the confines of the City proper. Maybe it is the water. In this case, I tend to think it was the superiority of Goldberg’s recipe and technique, and a consistency born of experience. I did not care for the impersonality of Bagel Babe’s ordering and delivery protocols. If wanting to see the product on the shelf and place an order with a human makes me old-fashioned or out of touch with the times, I gladly accept. A final note (targeted to Boomers): While I found no indication on the Bagel Babe website that it’s located in Foodie Labs, the location is plainly stated on the brand’s Instagram page. I’ve been told recently that websites are becoming passe, for young brands at least. If you want the real skinny, check their IG.
A Sinful Foray Into Cinnamon Rolls
If it wasn’t potentially fatal, I’d have a cinnamon roll every day and wash it down with a milkshake. Hold up. Let’s change that to four days a week. Wouldn’t want to get tired of them. As it happens, I haven’t eaten a cinnamon roll (or bun, if you like) in a while. So I’m pretty jazzed to indulge. Our contestants are: The Sourdough Co. in St. Pete’s Edge District; and Mama G’s German Bakery & Coffee House in Kenneth City. THE SOURDOUGH CO. The Sourdough Co., which opened last November, is the latest in a series of restaurant concepts to occupy this large space. The one I remember most is Ricky P’s, a solid New Orleans-style eatery that closed in 2017 due to rising rents in the Edge. I haven’t found good jambalaya around here since. But I digress … On Tuesday at 10 a.m., as we walked a half-a-block into the August sun along Central Avenue, I thought I might burst into flames. The Sourdough Co was bright and airy — and comfortably cool. A young woman took our order at the counter. We were on an eat-and-run mission, so ordered just a Cinammon Roll ($6) — warmed up, with vanilla icing instead of cream cheese — and a small coffee ($2.25). We had our pick of tables. Appearance I didn’t specify that we wanted to eat in, so the counter person handed us a paper go-bag with the roll in a plastic container. It looked like a white lump in there, so I asked for a plate and utensils. After I cut it and spread it, the bun was ready for its closeup. Texture and Taste I couldn’t detect sourdough — everything here starts with that — but I didn’t miss it. The bread was fresh and tender, chewy only to the extent that you want in a cinnamon roll. No dry, crusty edges. Problem was, the icing was too dominant; it coated the bun like frosting on a cake. The glutinous white stuff smothered the brown ore beneath. I, for one, prefer a moderate drizzle. This roll worked better after I scraped away some of the icing, and even then I found the cinnamon flavor too faint. MAMA G’s This funky little place on 54th Avenue North just east of 66th Street is part of a family-owned, German-centric chain with four other locations in Sarasota. I did not know that. At 8:45 a.m. Wednesday, I was able to park and slip inside Mama G’s without getting a sunburn. I call that win. The interior was nicely lit and outfitted with round, white four-tops. A short but steady line of folks waited to order at the counter, which was outfitted with a faux-chalkboard menu. I had called ahead, so the staff saved me a Cinnamon Bun ($3.50). I also got a coffee ($2), which I assumed was bottomless because it was self-serve. It took a few minutes for a counter person to bring the warmed-up roll — um, bun — out to my table. Appearance This one was considerably smaller than Sourdough Co.’s roll, and it was lighly lathered with donut glaze. I got a kick out of the Old World design of the plate, and was enamored with the hefty, matte-black coffee cup. Texture and Taste When the first slice of the knife made the glaze start to crackle, I knew we were talkin’ old-school. The bun was coated with just the right amount of icing, which furnished a measure of overt sweetness to complement the bold (less sweet) flavor of the cinnamon. This bun was not as doughy as the competition’s, and it might have been a bit more chewy than desired in certain spots. But it was the ideal size for a decadent, carb-heavy, empty-calories, finish-it-all, guilty pleasure of a breakfast. And the Winner of the Cinnamon Roll (or Bun) Rumble Is … Mama G’s. This was an easy call. Mama G’s doesn’t rank near the top of my cinnamon roll (bun) experiences — the top prize goes to a place in St. Augustine whose name I wish I could recall — but it was first-rate. Mama G’s take is also not authentically German — like a franzbrötchen or schnecken. The place pretty much serves up an American version. And look — Sourdough Co.’s roll had its virtues. But all told — it was kinda vanilla. A fun “fact”: I was curious whether it’s more common to say cinnamon roll or cinnamon bun. (I say roll.) So I looked it up on the Google — which told me: Americans tend to say “roll,” while Canadians say “bun.” Why Canadians? I don’t know. I just did a quick search. And Finally, A Kudo: Congrats to Chef Rob Reinsmith of Wild Child in St. Pete. He appeared on episode of Beat Bobby Flay Thursday. And he beat Bobby Flay — in a battle over Rob’s chosen dish: corn empanadas. To get there, he also won a battle over mahi mahi with another chef. Rob made blackened fish tacos. Corn empanadas are not on the Wild Child menu, but Crispy Fish Tacos are.
Tampa vs. St. Pete: Going Veggie at Two Indian Restaurants
Vegan or vegetarian? I chose the latter because I’m neither. And vegetarian suggests a wider flavor spectrum for an omnivore such as myself. I do, however, admire the plant-based diet and the people who keep it. But I can’t join up, if for no other reason than this weekly gig. An all-veggie Friday Food Fight? Non-starter. It’s my contention that one of the best, if not the best, cuisines for plant-based dishes is Indian. I could be wrong. My two contestants are Cafe Masala in St. Pete and India’s Grill in Tampa. For the featured dish I chose Kadai Paneer, a top-of-menu entree at both places. It includes paneer, an Indian cheese, and vegetables in a sauce. CAFE MASALA Cafe Masala is located in a large shopping center in far northeast St. Pete. It is quite literally a mom-and-pop restaurant. I’ve eaten there a few times and have never seen anyone other than Madu and her husband Ray working there. The Indian couple are quite literally the nicest restaurauters I’ve ever dined with. The small, basic interior has a homey feel. I’ve never seen Cafe Masala crowded. At 7:15 Saturday night, it was just us and another couple. I ordered Kadai Paneer ($18) and a King Fisher beer ($6). To up the ante into vegan, Bonnie got Mixed Vegetable Curry ($17). And to close the plant-centric circle, we chose Vegetable Somosas ($8) as a starter. A robot named Lychee — she introduced herself — brought our meals from the kitchen. Madu served us. It was the first time a robot had delivered my food. Appearance The hum of Lychee’s emergence from the back was accompanied by an aroma — an aroma resulting from a seraphic mixture of spices that thoroughly seduced my olfaction. The bowls were small — Cafe Masala is not big on large portions — with the cubes of cheese prominent. A generous portion of basmati rice made the spread all the more inviting. Texture and Taste Let’s start with the paneer, which Cafe Masala makes in-house. It’s cubed like tofu, but has a firmer feel and no squishy texture. It’s a bland cheese but is pleasingly smooth and and has a hint of sweetness. It was the most dominant part of the dish by far. I would’ve liked a bit more pepper, onion and tomato. The sauce tasted as sublime as it smelled. I had asked Madu to set the spicy-heat gauge between mild and medium but wish I dialed it up to medium. Bonnie’s medium had just right kick. The Somosas reminded me of a empanadas sans the oiliness. The pastry was flaky and the innards consisted of a subtle blend of potatoes and peas. We finished everything Lychee brought out. INDIA’S GRILL This small place is located just east of Dale Mabry, under the shadow of a billboard plastered with the smiling faces of Catania & Catania. The interior was low-lit, with Indian signifiers like a smiling Buddha statue draped in beaded necklaces. The ceiling consisted of bronze-colored, ornately designed squares. Bollywood played on the wall TV. The place could’ve been a broom closet in the Taj Mahal. By 8, India’s Grill was bustling, near full occupancy. Whereas Cafe Masala was a cocoon of calm, India’s Grill was congested and harried. Only one server worked the dining room, but Rupesh, a young Indian fellow with an accent to match, maintained his smile. I ordered my Kadai Paneer ($14.99) medium-spicey, and got a Mango Lassi ($4.99) to drink. Bonnie went with Kadai Chicken ($16.99). As an appetizer, we chose Onion Bhaji ($5.99) and added Garlic Naan ($4.99). Appearance Everything was bigger than at Cafe Masala — the main dish, the squares of paneer and vegetables within the main dish, the bowl of rice. The sauce looked browner and heavier. The hefty plate of Onion Bhaji and large discs of naan — plus two bowls of dipping sauces — made us wonder if we had over-ordered. But it was 8:15, past my dinner time, and I was a hungry fellow. Texture and Taste The paneer, house-made, tasted virtually the same as Cafe Masala’s. The sauce had a gravy-like texture. Medium-spice provided an ideal level of heat that accentuated the flavors. The onions and peppers, drowning in heavy sauce, maintained a modicum of crunch. The Onion Bhaji was a good choice. Its batter, made from chickpeas, did not smother the sweet onion inside. The sauces were interesting. I found the brown tamarind stuff overbearing, too fruity. But the green sauce — a combination of yogurt, cilantro and a hint of mint — delivered a pleasant tang that worked with with both starters. The yogurt-based mango lassi — with a milkshake-ish texture — was sweet and lovely but a bit too rich for the food. I savored it at the end. We brought a meal-sized portion of food home. It made for a good lunch the next day. And the Winner of the Indian Veggie Battle Is … Cafe Masala. Ultimately, I chose the subtle complexity of Cafe Masala’s Kadai Panner over the bigger-and-bolder of India’s Grill. The relaxed atmosphere of the St. Pete spot, and the gentle charisma of the owners, further tilted my decision. The Tampa restaurant won on appetizers. And kudos to the price. Our tab was $51.55, and Bonnie added a ten-buck tip. That’s a lot of grub for the money. A closing note: I didn’t miss the chicken. That’s my default protein in most ethnic restaurants, and I plan on dropping it. I took a bite of Bonnie’s bird at India’s Grill. It was chewy and chalky and all but flavorless. The paneer was far, far better. I’m glad I went veggie. Give it a try.
Tampa vs. St. Pete: A Cuban Sandwich Scuffle
We were driving west on Kennedy Boulevard in Tampa one afternoon last week when something caught my eye. ‘Finest Cuban Sandwiches on the Planet,” the sign said. The boast came courtesy of The Floridian, a strip-mall eatery less than a mile from the I-275 West onramp. ‘Okay, then,” I mused. “We’ll just have to do some field work.” I wanted to make this FFF an across-the-bay showdown, so went searching for places in Pinellas. There were plenty to choose from, but Caribbean Cafe in central St. Pete really touted its Cuban. While stopping short of claiming to be the finest in the world, the menu describes its version as “an explosion of flavors that meld together into a harmonious mouthful that insists on another bite!” Whoa! It’s on! CARIBBEAN CAFE On Tuesday, we made the mistake of hustling out to this place on Central Avenue and 49th Street 15 minutes before 6 p.m. closing. We pulled into an empty parking lot and walked into an empty restaurant with counter service and a functional interior anchored by basic tables with curved benches made of slatted wood. The counter guy seemed surprised — and perhaps not altogether pleased — that we wanted to eat in. I can’t say that I blame him. Caribbean Cafe was out of beans and rice — it’s only side dish — so we made do with a 12-inch Cuban ($10.85), pressed, a small bag of Lays Classic ($1.50) and two fountain sodas at two bucks each. An oldies station played at low volume. Appearance The Flintstones-size sandwich had been cut in half, each side filling up a container covered in brown paper. The meat was stacked thick, really thick. Texture and Taste I’ve had my share of Cubans during the decades I’ve lived in the Tampa Bay area, and the best ones deftly balance the flavors: meats (usually ham, roast pork and salami), half-melted Swiss cheese, mustard and dill pickles — so that they, um, meld together in harmonious mouthfuls. This Cuban sandwich was extremely meat-intensive. It contained several thick slices of deli-style pork that didn’t taste roasted, even more ham, and a couple pieces of salami. The meat was so dominant that I could barely detect the cheese and the pickles. And that’s too bad, because the bread was nice — thin and tender without the explosion of crumbs that some Cuban bread emits. This was the Americanizaton of the Cuban sandwich, meant for hungry guys on lunch who want it big, want it meaty and want it cheap. THE FLORIDIAN As I looked at the Floridian’s sign at 2:30 Thursday, I was nonplussed at how I spotted the narrow strip pronouncing its global preeminence while in a moving car on the opposite side of Kennedy. The restaurant’s interior is about as plain as it comes: beige walls, brown tables and chairs, a counter by the door. “So you make the Best Cuban Sandwiches on the Planet,” I said to Regan, the counter person. “Do you personally vouch for that?” She paused. “Yes,” she said, then started laughing. We ordered the 10-inch Cuban Combo with black beans and rice ($13.99), to split. By rights, we were due one fountain drink, but Regan handed us two styrofoam cups, Appearance Regan had kindly halved our meal onto separate containers. Fred and Barney may have been disappointed in this sandwich’s size, but not I. The meat betwixt the bread was generously portioned but not intimidating. Texture and Taste This was one flavor-balance Cuban, with the ham in the lead, the roast pork a minor player, and the salami and Swiss providing spicy cameos. The bread was thin and easily chewable. It was a bit too mustard-forward, but that’s a small complaint. Major kudos to the black beans and yellow rice. This dish can be bland in the wrong hands, but The Floridian’s was legit, with flavors that melded together into harmonious mouthfuls. It rivaled the versions I’ve had in the cluster of Cuban joints on and around Columbus Drive. And The Winner of the Tampa-vs.-St. Pete Cuban Sandwich Scuffle Is … The Floridian. It hardly needs saying. This was a first-round KO. I’m one of the last guys who’ll complain about too much meat in a sandwich, but Caribbean Cafe managed to get me there. The larger question lingers, though. Does The Floridian serve The Best Cuban Sandwich on the Planet? After much consideration, he’s my answer: How should I know? I’ve only had maybe a couple hundred of them.
Shawarma Showdown
Shawarma. Three syllables, fun to say — but what is it exactly? Until this week, I thought it might be something Indian. I was wrong. It’s something Mediterranean. And to my surprise, I’ve been eating it for decades — in the form of a gyro. I may get pushback from some people who think shawarma and gyro are distinct dishes, but try this definition on. For readers uninterested in categories and semantics, let’s continue. For this episode, I elected to feature dishes specifically called shawarma on the menu. Our contestants are: The St. Pete location of Zeko’s Mediterannean Grill, nestled in the heart of beautiful downtown Lealman (there are also two Zeko’s in Tampa); and Petra Restaurant, near the University of Tampa. ZEKO’S MEDITERRANEAN GRILL On Monday, we drove west on 54th Avenue North under threatening skies, but by the time we reached Zeko’s at 7 p.m., we’d cleared the dark clouds and were able to walk in sans umbrellas. Two affable young people took our orders at the counter. For my Chicken Shawarma ($13.99) I subbed out the fries for rice and roasted vegetables ($2 upcharge). I spotted “Milkshake” on the wall menu and ordered a chocolate one ($5.99) because its all but impossible for me to resist a chocolate shake when the opportunity presents itself. This Zeko’s isn’t much to look at. Its L-shaped dining room has mostly booths that can fit six. Bonnie and I sat at one near the counter. My seat was kind of lumpy. A Top 40 station played on low volume. Appearance The shawarma, half-wrapped in foil for neat eating, was longer than just about any other pita wrap I’ve seen. The portion of jasmine rice bordered on enormity. A heap of roasted red and green peppers, onions and tomatoes occupied the remaining section of the plate. Texture and Taste The shawarma made for a good hand-held — because of the foil, but also because of how well the stuff inside the thin pita was proportioned. The result: minimal leakage. The bread was slightly dryer than I prefer, even tough in places. The pieces of chicken breast within, while nicely seasoned (I tasted cumin), were also dryish. But that was offset by moist peppers and onions and a yummy lemon garlic sauce. The lightly seasoned rice worked well with the roasted vegetables, which had a measure of crispiness that I appreciated. The meal was far too much to eat, but the rice and veggies were good enough to box up and bring home. I don’t think anyone associates milkshakes with Mediterannean food, and I didn’t expect a whole lot. Let me tell ya, this one was terrific. It flowed sublimely through the straw with medium suckage, and had just the right level of chocolate flavor. The shake didn’t fit with the food, really, so I drank it before and after. On the ride home, while I sipped contentendly on the remainder of my milkshake — right down to the vacuum sound at the end — we were treated to the sight of a big, beautiful rainbow. All in all, it was a lovely outing. PETRA RESTAURANT At 1:30 on Wednesday, just walking a couple hundred feet on the sidewalk along Kennedy took something out of me. It was hot as [fill in your own blank]. I was grateful for the cool — and the quiet — of Petra’s intimate dining room. Out back is a covered courtyard with plenty of tables. They were empty. Back inside, our server, a young fellow named Haydar, was low-key and attentive. I ordered a Chicken Shawarama Sandwich ($9) with Basmati Rice ($5.50). Appearance The pita sandwich, smaller than the one at Zeko’s, was sheathed from end to end, first with paper, then aluminum foil. The mound of basmati rice was an enticing yellow. Texture and Taste Getting to the actual sandwich was like unwrapping a stubborn gift box on Christmas morning. A small price to pay, as it turned out. The soft pita gave way easily to my bites. The chicken within — a mix of pieces, not just breast meat — was moist and kissed with a spice that was at once tangy and vaguely sweet. It was joined by an apt measure of onions, peppers and tomatoes, and a bit of garlic lemon sauce. (I obtained a small container for dipping.) The rice, enhanced by a soupçon of turmeric, had genuine character. And there was a lot of it. It was tasty enough to take the remainder home. And the Winner of the Shawarma Showdown Is … Petra. I enjoyed my meals at both places, but Petra had an advantage as a full-service restaurant. I detected better ingredients — especially the chicken — and food more thoughtfully conceived and prepared. I get the sense that Petra’s is not widely known, so I encourage anyone who likes Mediterranean food to make a visit. As for Zeko’s — it did provide a milkshake and a rainbow. Thank you for that. A final thought: As I looked at two takeout containers in the fridge Thursday, I wondered if I’d actually eat the food in them. And then I thought of those two styrofoam containers ending up in a landfill or the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. From now on I’m going to genuinely consider whether I really need to take restaraunt leftovers home. It’s something we should all think about. (As of publication on Friday morning, the remants remained uneaten.)
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.