NYC Trip - Day 2 (Katz's Delicatessen, Brooklyn Food Tour)

As I get older, I've realized that marathon eating weekends like this more frequently wreak havoc on my digestive system, sometimes for days after the fact (it's hard to be cavalier about overconsumption with your posterior almost permanently fixed to a porcelain throne). I've also realized that a little orange pill consisting of acid reducer (ranitidine, 150 mg dose) taken before a meal that I know is going to be especially egregious can be my best friend. I firmly believe it was said pill that allowed me to rise from bed the next morning with little to no ill effects from the previous day's gastro-sins and continue onward with my dining plans. My first destination was Battery Park at the foot of Manhattan for a quick walkthrough of historic Castle Clinton, followed by a pass of the old Fraunces Tavern (used for, among other things, a temporary headquarters for George Washington during the Revolutionary War) a few blocks away, then a hop on the subway back to the Lower East Side for my morning snack (I needed sustenance to help get me to my food tour in Brooklyn at 11 o'clock).

I had missed out on visiting Katz's Delicatessen on all of my previous trips to NYC and I was determined to rectify that oversight this time. Open since 1888 (in more or less the same location at the intersection of Ludlow and Houston Streets), Katz's is known for their legendary pastrami (cured for up to 30 days) and other Jewish delicacies, not to mention an infamous, um, risque scene from the movie "When Harry Met Sally".

Given the number of tourists that pass through its doors, I was pleasantly surprised to find the place mostly empty at 9:45 am, the perfect time apparently to snag that pastrami sandwich. When you enter, a host gives you a paper ticket on which each waitperson records your order as you pass from station to station.

Instead of Yiddish, Spanish now appears to be the language most spoken behind the counter. Regardless of national origin, however, in keeping with that great New York tradition of mediocre customer service, I practically had to do a striptease to draw the attention of a server to take my order, most of whom were engaged in casual conversation and not much else. A bit later on, I gave up in frustration while trying to get a Dr. Brown's Celery Soda since I guess that only the drink station server, who was AWOL, is allowed to take drink orders (not the other 3 guys in white smocks standing around nearby doing nothing).

I tell you all of this to emphasize that it's worth whatever minor hardships you have to endure to get the pastrami (it's absolutely fantastic). Sliced warm in front of my eyes and piled high between slices of rye bread with a slathering of brown mustard, the meat is fatty, peppery, juicy, and messy in all the right ways. I saved a couple of bucks by opting for the half sandwich served with a bowl of matzo ball soup (still, all told it was close to 20 bucks) and also received a complimentary bowl of pickles two ways (both the bright green Jewish sour variety and the vinegar-laden Gentile kind) so I could get some vegetables in my diet.

By the time I was finished, my sandwich had degenerated into its primal components, but I certainly paid no mind. I can't ever recall eating pastrami this good, with the possible exception of Fumare in Chicago (and even that's a distant second). While well worth the stop, I definitely wouldn't want to see what the line was like here at lunchtime.

Feeling all toasty and good on the inside, I made my way over to 215 Smith Street in Brooklyn for the start of my food tour with Joe, a tour guide who moonlights as a writer, actor, and part-time waiter at Barbuto (Chef Jonathan Waxman's flagship restaurant in Manhattan's West Village). The company he works for is called Local Flavors of Brooklyn (or at least that's the name of the specific tour that I was on), which specializes in matching up enthusiastic tourists (in this case, intrepid foodies) with local small businesses (in this case, mom and pop joints pushing artisanal grub in the Carroll Gardens neighborhood of Brooklyn). Our little group of 7 began the proceedings at a small shop selling cheeses, meats, and other gourmet goodies called Stinky Bklyn (no, I have no idea what happened to the rest of the letters).

The kind owner of Stinky Bklyn briefly spoke with us about the history of her business (she and her husband also run a nearby wine store) and passed out small sandwiches of the tasty house pimento cheese spread. The spread reminded me of some of the better versions of pimento cheese I'd sampled in the South, except this one had a solid kick owing to the addition of sriracha, jalapenos, and piquillo peppers to the mix. The bread was also really exceptional and fresh (as it turns out, we'd be visiting the bakery that turned it out very soon).

After a quick stop at a tavern/restaurant that provided beer samples and a couple of paltry snacks (I tried a housemade spicy pickle and decided I'd had enough spice and pickles at that point for the rest of my day), we made our way over to Bien Cuit (120 Smith Street), a modern bakery using old world techniques to turn out amazingly flavorful bread loaves. We were able to sample some of the traditional baguette, as well as the miche, which features blended flours of rye and wheat and a 68-hour fermentation. I think this was about the point I was beginning to regret not bringing an extra suitcase with me to tote some of this great stuff back home.

We had now reached the first dessert break of our tour. The place providing the sweets was One Girl Cookies (68 Dean Street), a shop awash in baby blue and sinful-looking creations. I had an eye on a certain decadent chocolate layer cake displayed under glass, but was perfectly satisfied with 3 cookies - one chocolate and two butter shortbread.

Getting back to bakeries, we proceeded towards the heart of downtown Brooklyn (who knew there was a downtown Brooklyn? I sure didn't...) to a longtime Middle Eastern favorite, Damascus Bakery, open since 1930 and alleged birthplace of the American-style pita bread, which they now churn out in mass quantities at a factory in New Jersey. I really wanted to like this place more than I did - the spinach pie we received for our food sample was mediocre at best and I was a little put off by the layer of dust atop some plastic containers of sweets on the deli counter (apparently, they're not selling too many of these).

Our next destination was a small, hipster-heavy breakfast and lunch diner called Ted & Honey (264 Clinton Street), started by a brother and sister team and located adjacent to leafy Cobble Hill Park. Given the tight confines inside the restaurant, our tour group took our tasty ham and cheese sample sandwiches over to the park to chow down.

Time for Dessert #2. We arrived at another longtime borough stalwart (since 1948), Court Pastry (298 Court Street) to try out a smattering of traditional Italian goodies. I again had higher hopes for this place that remained unfulfilled. The house specialty is the sfogliatella, a shell-shaped pastry filled with ricotta and candied orange peel - it took me 2 tries of flagging down some waitstaff to get one (regular customers clearly receive preferential treatment here) and, in the end, I wasn't particularly impressed with the product. I wonder if both Damascus and Court suffer from a bit of the same affliction; that is, institutional calcification (i.e., we've been here for so long that we don't need to change anything we do, even if it's not entirely working anymore).

After one more side trip for coffee (I politely declined), Joe brought us over to our final taste of the tour, a chocolate egg cream soda at the whimsical and fascinating Brooklyn Farmacy (513 Henry Street). The owners of this place bought the old Longo's Pharmacy (which had occupied the building since the 1920s) with the intention of turning it into a soda fountain and, with a substantial amount of assistance from the Discovery Channel's "Construction Intervention" reality show, managed to restore it to its original glory, tin ceiling and all.

As for the egg cream (I'm pretty sure it was my first), I found it to be a bit like a diet version of a milkshake, with seltzer water taking the place of the ice cream (chocolate syrup and a splash of milk are the other ingredients). Refreshing, for sure, but I usually crave a little more substance (and calories) in my sweet drinks.

By this time, I was happy to drag my stuffed innards back towards the subway and my comfortable hotel room back in Manhattan. I might have had delusions of a snack at the nearby Shake Shack or a wander through the Eataly-like French market in the building across the street from the hotel, but this was not meant to be...

NYC Trip - Day 1 (Minetta Tavern, Morgenstern's, Cosme)

When the missus and I ate our way across New York City last August, I figured that it'd be a while before I returned (trips these days sans children are few and far between, you know). So you can imagine my delight at hearing that Mrs. Hackknife's company had invited spouses to attend an executive thank-you event in the Big Apple at the beginning of June, spurring me to immediately revisit my NYC restaurant cheat sheet to see which gastronomic gems I might be able to experience this time around. The wife would be in meetings for almost two whole days before the event, allowing me to carefully map out solo dining itineraries (with a few cultural stops to give me valuable digestion time) for the daylight hours and then have the evenings available for fancier dinners with a group of whomever wanted to join us.

Before long, the big event had arrived and off we were to the nation's good eats capital. Our hotel (the Conrad) was located on the lower West Side of Manhattan off the beaten path a bit, near the 9/11 Memorial, the Hudson River, and a very large and renowned French food court across the street in the Brookfield Place building called Le District (not that I ever saw the inside of it). The Battery Park City location of Shake Shack also happened to be conveniently attached to the hotel (despite my cravings for a late night concrete, I didn't go in there, either). No, dear readers, I was completely dialed in to my first day's lunch quarry, an infamous burger alleged to be among the USA's best at a Greenwich Village landmark mere blocks from the hotel.

Minetta Tavern (113 Macdougal Street) is a restored relic of a bygone New York era when the Village was still an outpost for bohemians, writers, and bon vivants. Open since 1937, many famous personages (including e.e. Cummings, Ezra Pound, and, of course, Hemingway, who appears to have gotten blotto in every watering hole from Helena to Havana) had tipped back a few cocktails here - in fact, as one enters, the whole room seems to be frozen in time back to the 1940s. I parked my keester at the bar at approximately the same location where heavyweight champion James J. Braddock held court (at least according to an historic framed photo on a nearby wall) and had a nice conversation with the bartender about my lunch options.

One item that's not original is the menu, which currently features an enticing array of what would be described as bistro fare, such as truffled sausages with raw oysters and a terrine of both oxtail and foie gras (oh my). Tempting as it was to deviate from my plans, I was here for one thing only - the house "black label burger", a slab of ground dry-aged prime beef cuts, grilled medium and served with a topping of rich caramelized onions on a crunchy buttered roll. Feeling especially French-y that day, I opted for a tall glass of Kronenbourg beer to wet my whistle.

At $27, this heavenly creation is not for the tight-fisted and, while I wouldn't necessarily state that it warranted the lofty price tag, it was pretty damn good (maybe $20 worth?). Even the pomme frites were quite tasty, and I would have happily scarfed down the whole lot of them had I not had more eating to do.

After a snappy side trip through the multi-leveled Rubin Museum of Asian Art (as much for metabolic activity as personal enlightenment), I headed towards the Lower East Side for my afternoon treat, eventually reaching a scruffier section of the borough (although less scruffy than it used to be before gentrification) to find Morgenstern's Ice Cream at 2 Rivington Street.

Compact and no-nonsense (cash only, for example), Morgenstern's looks like it's been there for a long time, but only popped onto the scene about 5 years ago when pastry chef Nick Morgenstern decided to take his ultra-popular ice cream cart in Brooklyn to the next level. He describes his ice cream as being "texture-driven and small-batch", focused on inventive flavor profiles like salt and pepper pinenut, cardamom lemon jam, and strawberry durian. Sadly, I couldn't try all the creations and expect to remain conscious for dinner, so I settled on the week's highlighted confection "El Quinto Pino", an olive oil ice cream cone dipped in olive oil-infused chocolate and topped with sea salted crunchy bread crumbs, which was equally luscious and vibrant (his technique reportedly uses less butterfat and sugar to enhance the ice cream's target flavors). I left the shop with pangs of regret that I'd soon have to return to the likes of Dairy Queen and frozen yogurt in Florida to satisfy my sweets cravings.

Another cultural stop (this time to the Tenement Museum) gave me a little time to regroup before dinner. I swung back to the hotel, changed clothes, and took a cab up to the Flatiron District to meet Mrs. Hackknife and our good local friends Adam and Ellen for our much-anticipated dinner at Cosme (35 E. 21st Street). After having received international acclaim for his restaurant Puyol in Mexico City (where he seamlessly blends indigenous Mexican cuisines with modernist techniques), Chef Enrique Olvera opened Cosme in October 2014 as his first state-side venture. As is often the case with new high-profile dining in NYC, reservations can be hard to come by; fortunately, a late night I spent waiting for OpenTable to post new tables paid off and here we were, the 4 of us waiting to dig in.

Cosme initially surprised me on a couple of fronts - the place was much swankier, darker, and louder than I had imagined it would be (almost like a fancy lounge that happened to serve outstanding food) and, in place of the indigenous Mexican cuisine I'd read about from Puyol (no ant eggs here, for example) was a "Mexican-inspired" take on local ingredients from the nearby Hudson Valley, perhaps to widen the appeal for less-adventurous American palates.

We began the evening meal with complimentary chips and a pumpkin seed salsa (see above), along with a number of the interesting cocktails on offer (I greatly enjoyed my Paloma, a concoction of Cimarron Reposado Tequila, grapefruit syrup, lime, soda, and grapefruit salt). Our helpful server suggested a few cold plates to start and we attacked in unison (from left to right below) a tostada topped with uni (sea urchin), avocado, cucumber, and bone marrow salsa, raw hamachi (yellowtail) slices cured with fermented serrano peppers, black lime, and fish sauce, and another tostada with arctic char, trout roe, and avocado, all of which made me think that a Mexican sushi bar would be a hit business venture if I had these chefs cooking in the back.

We followed up the initial onslaught with a lighter and brighter dish of scallops aguachile (sort of a quick-prep ceviche) in a broth of fresh wasabi, cucumber, and lime along with poached jicama.

Vegetables are held in high regard at Cosme, evidenced by the unusual preps available in a vegetable-focused section of the menu. We tried a creamy, potato-based tamal with ayocote beans, ricotta, and morita chile salsa (first picture below), then some purple asparagus with green tomato and green almond salsa (second picture below), followed by a mushroom and squash chilpachole (a spicy stew) with hoja santa, a sassafras-like Mexican herb (third picture below shows all 3 dishes). These plates were delicate and delicious, with the exception of the mushroom/squash chilpachole, at least for me (no surprise there).

Slowed, but not yet defeated, our motley crew pressed onward into the meat section of the menu. Our server recommended the house's two most popular meat entrees, a lobster pibil (meaning "cooked underground" in Mayan) served with black bean puree, chorizo, and mache and a whole cast iron pan filled with duck carnitas for the table to share.

Frequent readers of this blog know that I'm an avid fan of duck, but one bite of the carnitas meat garnished with onion/radish, doused with some salsa verde, and planted on a fresh corn tortilla and I was ready to kiss our server on the lips. Lost in flavor country, the 4 of us all agreed that this was in the running for dish of the year, completely reducing a very good piece of lobster to virtual irrelevance in the process. Smoky, unctuous, hearty - my adjectives fail me when trying to describe how spectacular the duck was, easily the best $59 we've spent in a while.

We were dazed when the dessert menu arrived. At first, all hands waved it away until I recalled that no less an authority than Frank Bruni (former New York Times food critic) recently proclaimed on Twitter that Cosme's husk meringue with corn mousse was the Platonic ideal of dessert, so, of course, we had to have it. Looking something like a shattered beehive oozing its contents (see photo above), the meringue/mousse combo tasted like the best rice pudding I'd ever had, with the sweet meringue shards providing a perfect contrast to the creamy and slightly earthy mousse, a right bargain at $12.

To recap - if you ever find yourself in New York City with a spare $71 to spend and a friend or two tagging along, be sure to make your way over to E. 21st Street to get duck and husk meringue. Your heart will be happier (if not healthier) for it. And if small bills are all you can pull out of your pocket, the fancy burger at Minetta Tavern and/or any Morgenstern's Ice Cream flavor will also do nicely...

Haven Wine Bar

Lately, I've had a dearth of material to write about; however, today I sit on the threshold of two out-of-town trips (one to New York City, another to the Bahamas on a Disney cruise) that will provide plenty of foodie fodder, so I thought it best to crank out this posting before my cup runneth over. Last Friday night, the missus and I decided to visit Haven Wine Bar in South Tampa, located at 2208 W. Morrison Avenue across the street from the Tiny Tap. If that description sounds vaguely familiar to you, you'd be right - up until about 9 months ago, the building housed SideBern's (the Laxler Family modern dining sibling to their flagship steakhouse) and Bern's Fine Wines, but has since morphed into a snappy wine and cocktail establishment featuring mostly small plates of gourmet grub (the wine store moved down Howard Avenue into the Epicurian Hotel, while the SideBern's concept was essentially made redundant by the opening of Elevage in that same complex). Our last trip to SideBern's about a year ago wasn't nearly as good as it had been the first time we tried it in November 2012, so it seems the time was right for the family to venture in a slightly different direction, and I can say that we like where Haven is headed so far.

From a decor standpoint, the dining room changed very little - it's still very cavernous and very dark. We were seated in a remote alcove that was even darker, and between my farsightedness and the lack of light, the menu could have been printed in Bulgarian for all I could tell. Luckily, our server was Johnny-on-the-spot with a mini-flashlight so we could make our drink and dining selections. I sipped on a pleasant gin and housemade tonic while perusing the impressive cheese list, 90-odd items long and probably the most extensive in the surrounding area (Mrs. H. had griped about the difficulty of getting a cheese plate at the old restaurant, so apparently they have taken our protests to heart). We opted for a pungent Wabash Cannonball goat cheese from Indiana (gotta support those Hoosiers), a Barbers 1833 Cheddar from Britain, an Italian sheep's milk Pecorino Ginepro, and a Berkshire Blue from Massachusetts, all very tasty and all paired very well with a side of rosemary almonds, apricot chutney, crostini, and a couple of slices of wild boar and cherry country pate (a little pricey, but worth it in the end)

The remainder of the menu is organized into "Snacks & Munchies", "Charcuterie", "Roots & Leaves", "Fins, Scales, & Shells", and "Hooves & Feathers", covering quite a bit of culinary ground and leaving us, frankly, a little dazed. With the help of our server, we managed to narrow down our choices as follows (please excuse the crap photos all around):

Chicken Pastrami with Pretzel Gnudi, Swiss Fondue, and Crispy Chicken Skin

King Crab Dumplings with Scallions, Shimeji Mushrooms, and Smoked Soy Broth

Whole Roasted Cauliflower Head with Shallots, Ginger, Ham, and Goat's Milk Beurre Noisette

As far as Tampa goes, we found these dishes to be among the very best of the local farm-to-table movement, certainly a good sign from the missteps that SideBern's appeared to be experiencing towards the end of its run. The only down note of the meal was dessert - we tried a plate of apple fritters with caramel sauce that was very ordinary (I daresay that Dunkin' Donuts usually has better fried dough). Soggy fritters notwithstanding, we'd be happy to return to Haven soon to try several more of the small plates, charcuterie, and cheeses (I'll be sure to bring my headlamp next time)...

Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish

When Chicago food writer Michael Gebert came to visit the Tampa Bay area earlier this year, he had just a handful of restaurants on his list to visit and ultimately designated only one of them as a "must-stop" destination; that is, Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish, located out on the further reaches of the St. Petersburg peninsula (1350 Pasadena Avenue S. in South Pasadena, which reads a bit like a palindrome). The "famous" moniker in the name is earned, by the way - there aren't a lot of dining establishments in this town that can be considered institutions, but Ted Peters is definitely one of them. Open since 1951 in its current location, its namesake founder capitalized on the postwar wave of prosperity and tourism by offering up a slice of Floridicana to hungry beach visitors in the form of smoked fish, using techniques he'd learned while working at a nearby fish camp in the 30s. The 4th and 5th generation of family members is now running the place and, 60+ years in, their fare is still popular as ever. TPFSF has been near the top of my own to-dine list ever since we moved here, and the perfect opportunity to stop in finally presented itself as we were passing through the area at dinnertime on the way home from a weekend in Ft. Myers Beach.

The Gulf of Mexico isn't far away (maybe a mile?), but you wouldn't be able to tell that from the parcel of property on which TPFSF is perched - it's all pavement and squat buildings on a heavy retail strip of Pasadena Avenue. If waterside dining is what you're after, I'd say check back in about 100 years when sea levels have risen accordingly. Anyway, other than a fresh coat of chocolate brown paint and some new blacktop over the years, the family compound appears to be largely unchanged since its inception. Patrons can eat inside a small dining room (featuring refrigerated air "during the warmer summer months" as they say) or take advantage of the temperate climate and eat outside under canopy (we chose the latter).

As I stated before, smoked fish is the house specialty (in fact, there's not much else on the menu). The placemats helpfully describe the smoking process, which takes place in wooden cabinets housed next door in a smokehouse. Raw fish are butterflied lengthwise and laid flat into the cabinets, where they're cooked for 4 to 6 hours over smoldering red oak coals.

We'd have been remiss if we didn't begin the meal with a hearty helping of the house fish spread and we weren't disappointed. A giant scoop of the spread (think of the meatiest tuna salad you've ever tried and you'll be in the ballpark) was served in a bowl with enough crackers to feed an army. The kids ate the crackers while the adults did their best to polish off the spread (a cold mug of Miller High Life helped to wash it down). When the Smithsonian is ready to open its national food court (hmmm...that's an idea), there should be a Congressional inquiry if the fish spread doesn't come from here.

For entrees, Mrs. Hackknife ordered the mackerel dinner and I tried the mullet (the progeny ordered burgers and hot dogs - I was actually surprised at the number of customers with burgers). What arrived at the table was two massive plates of ruddy fish (bones included, by the way) with healthy-portioned sides of German potato salad, Cole slaw, pickle, tomato slice, and lemon, probably more food than we could eat in two sittings. I enjoyed both of the fishes (Mrs. H let me sample hers), which were surprisingly mild and subtly smoky, if not a little on the dry side (next time, I think I'll go for the fattier salmon). The slightly warm potato salad (family recipe, of course) was terrific and the Cole slaw wasn't bad, either. All told, the grub here isn't exactly the most highfalutin in town, but the combination of retro-ambiance and unique seafood make it a quintessential Florida experience...

Ulele

When you consider Tampa area restaurant dynasties, there really are only two that immediately come to mind: the Laxlers (of Bern's, Elevage, and Haven Wine Bar fame) and the Hernandez/Gonzmarts (of the Columbia Restaurant Group). While the Laxlers have taken steps to surf the foodie wave that's swamped the nation over the past decade (opening both SideBern's and the Epicurian Hotel complex), the Hernandez/Gonzmart crew remained largely stagnant, instead relying on expansion of their historic namesake property (Columbia in Ybor City) to other parts of Florida (for example, the family and I dined at a Columbia in Orlando recently); that is, until last year. As part of Tampa Mayor Bob Buckhorn's initiative to revitalize the riverside neighborhood of Tampa Heights (just north of downtown and I-275), the Columbia folks signed on to transform the historic Water Works Building (built in 1906, but largely derelict since the 1970s) into a modern restaurant. This section of the city had long been ripe for gentrification, some of which had even begun before the economic downturn landed a good chunk of it in insolvency. Now, the restaurant (named Ulele after a 16th-Century Indian princess that allegedly saved the life of a captured Spanish explorer) was to anchor the new development, including a splash park, boat launch, performance stage, extended riverwalk, and natural spring (more on that in a bit). Nearby amenities aside, Ulele (pronounced "you-lay-lee" was hotly anticipated by the local press as a dining destination, featuring a giant wood-fired grill (plopped in the middle of the dining room) for grilling steaks and oysters, an on-site brewery using water from the spring next door, and a menu emphasizing native Floridian cuisine. As of this date, dinner reservations are still difficult to come by (a problem not normally encountered in this town); however, the missus and I were intrigued enough by the buzz to grab a very early supper there one recent Friday night to see if the hype was warranted.

When arriving street-side to 1810 N. Highland Avenue (this is the way you will approach the property unless you're on the riverwalk or in a boat), the view overlooking the restored building and parkland towards the river is nothing less than stunning. Similar comments can be made about the restaurant itself - the Gonzmarts spared no expense during the renovation, utilizing historic brick, wood, and glass (the windows alone allegedly cost a small fortune) to create a legacy for the family's next generation. A quick walk around the exterior leads to the now-revitalized spring, which has enough of its own history to fill a book. Pumping 80,000 gallons of water per day into the Hillsborough River (a mere 50 feet or so away), the water and its attendant wildlife sustained generations of Native Americans and provided pioneer Tampanians with drinking water. Eventually, a recreational pond and (later) industrial concerns entombed the spring (then called Magbee Spring, named after a local circuit court judge from the 1870s who apparently was more famous for his drinking exploits than his accomplishments from the bench), where it remained more or less forgotten until its recent rechristening as "Ulele Spring" to honor its native heritage.

Our reservation was for 4:45pm, and while there were plenty of empty tables at that time of day, there was also a large number of patrons waiting for attention, along with a vague vibe of "we're too cool to seat you right now, so just wait until we're ready" from the primped and aloof hostesses. At around 5, we were finally led upstairs to our table in the mezzanine, the sole patrons up there save for one other party (why the wait then? No idea...). As with most farm-to-table operations these days, cocktails and craft beer (in this case, brewed in the warehouse next door) are a large part of the experience, so I partook in a very refreshing mojito to start, followed by a glass of the house Magbee's Honey Lager (which was just ok). A review of the menu revealed a number of "native-inspired" dishes as they call them here, a less-risky marketing ploy by the Gonzmarts to have a casual tie-in to old Floridian cuisine rather than a more rigid interpretation of Cracker recipes like one might find at Fodder & Shine (after all, there's not much popular demand for hardtack). Right away, the charbroiled oysters (with grated Parmesan/Romano and garlic butter) and the alligator hush puppies (alligator meat, duck bacon, country ham, corn, and jalapeno, served with horseradish aioli and honey datil pepper dipping sauce) jumped out at us - both were rich and delicious.

We were equally pleased with our salad course, a vibrant dish of roasted beet, balsamic-charred red onion, and saffron-poached pear, perched on a riot of color in the form of blackberry honey gastrique, plus watercress, whipped goat cheese, and toasted almonds. This was one of the better salads I'd had in recent memory and the kitchen was kind enough to divide it onto two plates for us. So far, the food was definitely living up to the lofty atmosphere.

Unfortunately, things started going off the rails when the entrees arrived. The brontosaurus-sized pork shank I ordered (1.5 lb of crispy pork roasted on the wood grill and garnished with firecracker apple raisin chutney) certainly drew envious glances from surrounding patrons, but had very little flavor depth (thank goodness for the chutney, I say). Mrs. Hackknife had a similar opinion of her cast iron-seared tuna steak, which sounded great (pumpkin seed crust and ginger soy grapefruit reduction) and tasted just average for the $27 it set us back. I did a casual survey of entrees at other tables and found pretty much the same pattern repeated over and over; that is, large wood-fired protein atop a massive mound of garlic mashed potatoes (while good, I couldn't have eaten all of them in three sittings) or rice and a few token vegetables (like 4 whole asparagus spears).

Dessert was a slight improvement, yet still left us wanting a bit more. Our server had talked up how tremendous the candied duck bacon maple fried ice cream was (you certainly can't beat the description), a concoction of vanilla ice cream coated in cinnamon corn flakes and candied duck bacon, lightly fried, then plopped onto a Knob Creek Bourbon creme anglaise/caramel sauce and served with a sweet potato waffle crisp and a protruding slab of said duck bacon. Looks right, sounds right, tastes, well, not as awesome as all that.

It's a shame that the meal didn't quite live up to the hoopla of its resident history and surroundings. At the end of the day, our first experience at Ulele reminds us of our experiences at their other restaurant, Columbia - there's a terrific backstory and structure, it's a fun place to dine with a large group, your relatives will love the food, but they're not exactly a temple of high gastronomy (even though that appears to be a goal here). I'm aware that the Gonzmarts have sunk a lot of capital into this venture and both the family and the city have a lot riding on its success - given the crowds, I suspect that they'll hit their targets and Tampa Heights as a whole will be buoyed by the rising tide (indeed, the old trolley building/armature works next door is being renovated into something big). I think it's admirable what they've done and the complex is clearly a civic benefit, I just hope that the food can someday inhabit the same strata...

Loli's Mexican Cravings

I have to say that I've been on something of a taco kick lately. It all started a few months ago when we stumbled across Senor Taco in Pinellas Park and indulged in their decadent, Yucatecan-inflected fare, which was soon followed by a visit to Taqueria Acapulco in Tampa, a more authentic experience with actual abuelas behind the counter cranking out tortillas and carne asada. Now comes my latest encounter (courtesy of both my wife and FOB Eric R.) at Loli's Mexican Cravings, a ramshackle diner located on a scruffy stretch of Benjamin Road (8005 Benjamin, to be precise) in a largely undeveloped corner of Tampa's Town & Country neighborhood.

Unless you happened to be seeking Loli's out, you probably wouldn't find it. The restaurant (which appears to have been a house and/or small office at one time before opening in August 2014) shares its property with a granite/marble warehouse and features a Country Inn & Suites, a WaWa convenience mart, and a vacant lot (discarded office furniture provided at no extra charge) as neighbors. When walking over from your impromptu parking spot in said vacant lot (the small vehicle area next to the building is almost always full), you can wave to commercial jet pilots on landing approach to Runway 19R at TPA.

Takeout is primarily the way to go here as indoor seating space is limited (there are maybe 6 tables to accommodate the ample lunch crowd). Although there'll likely be an ordering line out the front door if you arrive between 11:30am and 1:30p, the Loli's crew is pretty efficient - on both of my crowded visits, I waited less than 10 minutes for my food.

Owners Josue and Maria Garcia appear to rely on a strategy of limited size menu that emphasizes technique and ingredient quality (for example, I saw one of the staff hand-making flour tortillas even during lunch rush - no prefab here). Diners can choose from about 10 different fillings (mostly meat and fish) presented in either taco, quesadilla, or sope form. They also offer a few varieties of tamales (Thursday through Saturday only) and tortas - that's about it. For my first order (see above), I opted for a shrimp taco, a chile relleno tamale, and a campechano (mixed grill) taco, plus a medium jamaica (hibiscus) drink to wash everything down. Back in my car, after applying a squeeze of fresh lime juice and a touch of dark chipotle salsa to my quarry, I dug in and was instantly pleased. The house shrimp is marinated, not fried, and served with a handful of shredded cabbage for contrast, while the mixed grill taco included mostly marinated cubed steak with hearty chunks of tomato, avocado, and onion. And, yes, the chile relleno tamale was as tasty as it was unique (I can't recall ever seeing one of these before).

Visit No. 2 was just as successful. This time, I tried a carnitas (shredded pork) sope, featuring an open-faced, thick and crunchy tortilla topped with a healthy-sized mound of refried beans, meat, lettuce, sliced avocado, queso blanco, and sour cream (eaten at home, I might add - no way this was going to be consumed in a vehicle), messy and filling in equal measures, and all for only $3.

Of course, there were also more tacos (plus a horchata), including fish (lightly breaded with cabbage and pico de gallo) and my personal favorite, lengue (beef tongue) with onions and cilantro. While I still have a slight preference for the fish tacos at California Tacos to Go, I had no issues at all with these.

Clearly, Loli's has established its bona fides as a taco force to be reckoned with in the Tampa Bay area, and at only a 15-minute drive from the Canteen, I daresay they have earned their status as my new go-to taco joint whenever the espiritu moves me...