Back in my teen years, when I was more apt to have coins than bills in my pocket, I occasionally indulged in the original sliders. We’d pull into a White Castle, get an oil-stained bag of the mini-burgers and scarf them down in seconds. We knew the greasy squares were not good for us — and we … did … not … care.

For the record, it’s widely understood that sliders were born when White Castle opened in 1921 in Wichita, Kansas. The restaurant grilled small burgers on a bed of chopped onions, placed them in square buns, and sold them for a nickel a piece. Folks bought ’em by the sack.

My White Castle days ended sometime in my early 20s, probably after a late-night stop there led to a wretched morning.

Yet sliders have persisted and spread to restaurants of all stripe, and are no longer confined to burgers. This week, we sampled sliders at two restaurants that feature them: Tryst, a “Gastro Lounge” on Beach Drive in St. Pete; and The Kitchen at Mastry’s Brewing Co. on St. Pete Beach.

TRYST

Tryst never made it onto my FFF radar because I assumed it was more of a nightclub. Which it is — after dark.

We arrived at 6 p.m. Tuesday and decided to dine indoors. The sidewalk seating was mostly full with young folks, while inside a few seniors were eating. Bonnie sat on a blue velvet banquette, me on a chair across from her.

The place was cool and dark(ish). Contemporary dance music — but not, thankfully, thumping techno — played loudly, heavy on the bass.

We ordered the Slider Trio ($18) and a Watermelon Burrata Salad ($18).

Appearance

 

Sitting on a wooden tray, the three sliders at first looked a tad meager, but on second thought I admired Tryst not fancying up the platter with useless bibelots that go uneaten. It was like: Want three sliders? Here’s three sliders. Burger, chicken, pulled pork.

The salad consisted of an enticing bulb of burrata cheese dripping with balsamic glaze and four golf ball-sized pieces of watermelon on a bed of greens.

Taste and Texture

Starting with the burger, I wished there were more of it — not because it was puny but because it was so good I pined for a full-sized one.

The beef, perfectly cooked medium-well, boasted a rugged crust and a juicy interior that induced a kind of flavor nostalgia in me that’s hard to explain.

The pulled pork slider included nothing but the shredded meat soaked in sweet barbecue sauce. Terrific.

The fried chicken slider was the most adventurous. A maple Buffalo sauce mixed sweetness and tang, and lent a scintilla of spicy heat. The fried bird, with a healthy crust, sat on coleslaw — an apropos accompaniment — rendering it the messiest of the three. A house-made dill pickle chip showed up about halfway through. A welcome surprise.

The salad was a charming starter. The creamy saltiness of the cheese blend nicely with the refreshing crunch of the melon.

THE KITCHEN AT MASTRY’S BREWING CO.

We arrived at 7 p.m. Wednesday as musicians were setting up for open mic night. Even though Mastry’s Brewing sits on busy Blind Pass Road and has no water views, it maintains a decidedly laid-back, beachy vibe. Nearly all of the seating is outdoors under sails and umbrellas. The Kitchen is a food truck that blocks the dining/drinking area from the street.

We ordered at the counter with a helpful server named Bari, who set us up with a sampler ($15) — one each of the three sliders. (Note: samplers are not available on the menu). I’d never had a Mastry’s beer, so ordered a Breezy Blonde ale ($7). The sliders came with fries so we skipped the salad. We sat at a basic four-top away from the stage.

Appearance

Not as elegantly presented as Tryst, but I had no expectation that it would be. I was hungry, and these sliders and fries certainly looked inviting.

Taste and Texture

The Smash Burger Slider was, true to its name, thinner and crispier than the competition’s. Smoked gouda cheese and a tomato added some flavor complexity.

The Mahi-Mahi Slider melded the fish — which appeared to be lightly blackened — with veggies and smoked aoli.

The most ambitous of the three was the BLAT! Slider, which included thick, crispy pieces of bacon, beer-battered tomatoes, vegetables and a “touch of fig glaze” (which I found undetectable). The ingredients mushed together for a flavor unto itself.

The fries were thin and crispy, but lost their luster as they cooled, which didn’t take long.

The Breezy Blonde was eminently drinkable — smooth, with just enough bite.

And the Winner of the Electric Sliders Contest Is …

Tryst.

The downtown restaurant clearly went above and beyond to develop and deliver excellent, next-level sliders.

About the name “sliders”: White Castle didn’t originally coin their nickel burgers as such, but they somehow earned the nickname. The restaurant ultimately copyrighted the name “Slyders.”

One origin theory: In White Castle’s early days, the employees were clad in pristine white aprons and paper caps, and put on something of a show. The servers would slide the mini-burgers down the counter toward customers.

Another origin theory: During WWII, U.S. Sailors ate mini-burgers that were greasy enough to slide down their throats. How that connected to White Castle is anyone’s guess.

And a couple of final notes: Tampa Bay does not have a White Castle — never has, as near as I can determine. But it does have White Castle’s cousin, Krystal, with a location in Tampa on Hillsborough Avenue.

I was pleased to discover that the White Castle I mentioned at the top of this column — in Nanuet, N.Y. — is still open. I don’t plan to dine there, or at Krystal, for that matter.

If you’ve read this far, I thank you.