Delicious History

Just thought I’d share a piece i wrote about the nice food available every Sunday at the Tampa/Riverview Thai Buddhist Temple. There some nice photos as well. While the quality of the food varies, for the prices (and the cause), the Thai Temple is a sweet spot.

check out the article here.

my faves include the glazed sweet potato, banana, and taro deep fried and served in paper bags. if you can find them, the shrimp fritters, for lack of a better description, are awesome: small whole shrimp (heads, shells and all) clumped in batter and fried till crispy with a nice sauce studded with fresh cucumber. don’t forget the little coconut/green onion cakes/custards. The papaya salad is nice and hot, and in general i like to explore the offerings.

Delicious history will be back better than ever soon enough.  I’ve been asked to blog for Creative Loafing about food and history.  I will share more details when arrangements have been made.

I’ve been writing some reviews for Metro Mix Tampa Bay, a massive and ambitious web magazine that is part of a national web presence.   The first two assignments were lots of fun.  In the first, I featured five of the best cocktails I could find in Tampa.  Read it here. I also wrote a feature on Ybor City’s ten best Rum drinks, which you can find here. Both were lots of fun to research, but they were not my ideas, hard as that might be to believe.  I have been getting help from a special photographer who will remain nameless for now.

So while delicious history has languished under renovation, I have not been completely idle.  More soon.

A restaurant review without photographs is like mediocre, overpriced Italian food.

I had a meal at Gio’s Italian Grille and was rather disappointed in the food for the price.  I their defense, my companion and I ordered a few things that are easy to bungle.

The fried calamari was innocent enough, with a pleasantly simple tomato sauce that seemed to be made from actual fresh tomatoes rather than some canned specimen.  The salt and sugar content were well below the norm, and in this case, it worked well.

The Caesar Salad was a disappointment, especially for $7.  The dressing was like an overly rich paste with no hint of anchovy or real flavor beyond the creaminess.  The croutons were crumbly, and the salad was a great big blah, with the only other ingredient being iceberg lettuce— water suspended in a leaf.  Glad we split it, as i didn’t eat much.

The eggplant parmasean was eq2ually disappointing: a stack of naked eggplant smothered in a heap of tomato sauce, mozzarella, and ricotta cheeses.  No pasta.  No vegetable.  And the thing cost $18.  What a joke.

The only highlight of the meal was the filet with black peppercorns and brandy sauce with a hint of cream.  The flavor of the steak and pepper pleasantly punched through the smooth, simple sauce.  The accompanying vegetables were fresh and cooked perfectly.   This was a treat, and the only decent thing we ate that night.

The bill for this muddle: $64 before the tip.  My only consolation was that we had arrived with a coupon that hacked $25 off the price, but $50 after tip, it still felt like a waste of money.

In these troubled economic times, restaurateurs need to level with us.  We catch on fast, and we won’t come back.

I should have taken the coupon as a warning sign.

I like to use pictures for this blog, but the luxurious, uncompressed photos were too much of a good thing.  So I will henceforth be using Flickr to host my image content.  I will go live with the Flickr account in the coming week or two.  It will make lavish visuals much easier to manage.

Ah, computers.  Having trouble importing media.  I hope to have the problem resolved by the end of the week.  Not sure if the problem is WordPress or what.  I may be making a big change.

I wrote this article in 2005 and ended up publishing a radically different version instead. The later version appeared in a 2006 issue of Forum magazine, published by the Florida Humanities Council. I originally wrote the piece that appears below, which chronicles the troubled final years of the Seabreeze restaurant and the hard work of Robert and Helen Richards, the last owners.

Forum wanted a nostalgic piece about the old idyllic days at the Seabreeze, and I obliged. But this piece is the one that actually supplies new information. The great old memories of the place are already featured nicely in the Seabreeze by the Bay Cookbook, which i co-wrote with Helen. She and Robert are wonderful once in a lifetime people to meet, and I treasure them as friends.

This piece attempts to conjure the feelings of loss: for the community, for Florida fishermen, for places like the Seabreeze. (rant deleted)

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The salt water of Tampa Bay laps gently against a seawall at Palmetto Beach. A rusty hulk rises from the water some thirty feet into the air. Below, a vacant building stands by the shore, with little evidence that a cultural and culinary landmark once thrived here.

Eighty years ago, Victor Licata opened the Seabreeze Restaurant on the site, blending his beloved Italian cooking with Cuban and Cracker influences. The Seabreeze culled a blue collar clientele from the workers of nearby industrial facilities. The Licata family arguably invented the deviled crab, a spicy croquette of crab and tomato sauce. Today, his restaurant is defunct, and a fishing family lost its livelihood. The price of doing business in Florida has climbed too high for most fishermen.

Robert Richards and Helen Chattin grew up in Palmetto on the outskirts of Tampa. They went out crabbing one night as a first date. Helen shone the light and held the tub for their catch. During the 1950s and 60s, young folks ate, drank, and fell in love in the Seabreeze’s crushed shell parking lot. A temple of American drive in culture, the restaurant’s good times and savory aromas drifted over the waters of the bay. If the Licatas didn’t mind offering illegal liquor, Bolita tickets, and friendly women with their food, Robert never paid much attention. “That was their business,” he said.

Robert and Helen married in 1954. He worked as a roofer and boilermaker, but saltwater flowed in his veins, and he longed to spend his working years on Tampa Bay. One day when Robert admired a tub full of live shrimp and learned they were caught in the bay, inspiration struck. “I got the bug then,” he said of his desire to become a commercial fisherman.

After a few part-time shrimping seasons, Tony and George Licata—Victor’s sons—told Robert that they needed soft shell crabs for their Seabreeze Restaurant. The men had been friends for many years, so Robert agreed to help and built a seafood market beside the restaurant. By 1970, Robert went deep into debt to build a fleet of shrimp trawlers, and the fresh seafood attracted crowds of customers.

Only a family passionate about fishing could persist in such a career. For many years, Robert and Helen adhered to the same exhausting routine. Robert shrimped all night, Helen woke before dawn to make him breakfast and take the kids to school before putting in a day at the market. When she returned home with the kids, Robert woke, ate supper and returned to the shrimp fleet. While he set out for the night, Helen put the kids to bed and rested while she could. By 1980, the couple built a strong business and brought more family into the operation.

Today, such a business is nearly impossible to start on the coast of Florida. Historically, the state’s business and political leaders valued profits over sustainability, and people like the Richards paid the price. Tampa’s sewage, dumped into the bay after being treated with a cocktail of bacteria-killing chemicals, disrupted sea life (Rich in bacteria, untreated or partially treated sewage produced bumper crops of shrimp). Planes dusted the bay with deadly poison meant to exterminate nearby red ants. A regular series of chemical spills from phosphate plants and incinerators took a deadly toll on the bay’s ecology, bleaching sea grass and seafood alike. Just last year, a phosphate company’s gypsum stack collapsed into the bay, perpetuating one of Tampa’s less savory traditions. Robert estimates the late 1980s as being a low point for the health of Tampa Bay.

The Richards maintain that overfishing was never a problem. Net bans missed the real problem entirely. Pollution rendered many fish infertile. Legislation favored tourist sports fishermen over commercial fishing. Of politicians and their new laws, Robert said, “They abolished the commercial fishing industry.” Sporting anglers blamed their lack of catch on the fishing industry, “even though the shrimp boats were not catching any of the fish that they caught,” Helen said.

New pressure came from inland. Industrial farm-raised seafood, treated with preservatives and plumping agents, filled the seafood cases of supermarkets, bypassing local fishermen and markets alike.  In 1990, a new crisis struck. George Licata announced he would sell the Seabreeze, and the Richards would lose their base of operations. The Richards feverishly searched for a new home for their fleet and market. “We looked everywhere,” Robert said, among “the dwindling space that’s available on the gulf coast.” Waterfront development occupied all the land. The remaining spaces commanded too high a price for consideration.

Once again, the Richards risked all for their chosen profession and bought the Seabreeze. They passed the market and fleet to their eldest son Jimmy. This preserved their beloved fishing business, but also made them restaurateurs, which they knew little about. George Licata promised to teach them the ropes of the Seabreeze after a vacation. He died of cancer soon after. Upon taking over the Seabreeze, the couple endured “much worse of a grind,” according to Helen. When asked if they considered selling out, Robert laughed and said, “As soon as we bought it!”

It soon became apparent that neither the restaurant nor the market could prosper on their own. At the market, young Jimmy Richards struggled, “as hard as he tried he couldn’t make a go of it,” Robert said, “even though we had five boats then.” Many prospective customers preferred the convenience of supermarket seafood, however expensive or lacking in quality. “As production declined in the seafood industry,” Robert explained, “instead of selling a lot of the products wholesale, our son would bring it to the restaurant, process it there and sell it at a profit.”

Robert and Helen welcomed the reliably fresh seafood. New laws prohibited them from buying product from fishermen without expensive permits. The Richards became wary of unscrupulous wholesalers who marketed questionable product at premium prices. “Robert had to watch it all the time,” Helen said of their wholesale purchases. Jimmy’s fresh seafood allowed the Seabreeze to maintain quality without raising prices.

The Richards family squeaked by despite mounting pressure. Helen remembered, “We had a tiger by the tail, you couldn’t turn it loose.” A legal battle over property with the Tampa Port Authority—still in litigation today—exacerbated the problems. Robert suffered a serious heart attack.

By 2002, Robert and Helen reached the end of their rope. They “couldn’t stand it another day. We weren’t staying afloat anymore.” They sold the property to International Ship Repair, searched Florida’s gulf coast for new property, but found nothing suitable. The fishing industry is so weak that they cannot find buyers for their trawlers.

Robert showed understandable frustration when he recalled that commercial fishermen could not catch mullet under a foot long. “Now that the fishing industry’s all but gone, sports fishermen are allowed to catch those little finger mullet to use for bait. You can throw a bait net and catch two or three hundred sometimes. But we weren’t allowed to catch them and sell them for food.”

Despite those hardships in the past, the Richards enjoy their lives in retirement. They might even be able to forget the disappearance of their livelihood if they could find buyers for their remaining fleet. Selling three shrimp trawlers to Florida’s vanishing fishermen is no easy task.

Like so many culinary greats, the Key Lime Pie has been cheapened, mass produced, and complicated.  Even when on sale, bad pies are just not worth the money or calories.  My mother recently told me of a recipe handed to her from a colleague: One 14-oz can of sweetened condensed milk and one cup of fresh Key Lime juice.  That’s it.  Blend thoroughly.  Have a beer, wine, or cocktail if possible.  It is only right to celebrate the small triumphs.  Pour over a pie crust (I like graham cracker) and put in freezer until it sets, about 3 hours.  Eat whenever and wherever you can.

You may find this version much more sour than your are accustomed to, especially if you can use real Key Limes, which are small and quite tart.  Use whipped cream to balance the dessert.  Here, I used fresh pineapple, cinnamon, and a little whipped cream.

This experiment was too good to end, so the Janer, the sister I never had, tried an orange and chocolate fudge pie.  Instead of artfully decorating her noble Florida orange pie, she smothered it with The Fudge Madness.  She mixed condensed milk with melted dark chocolate.

It began innocently enough…  Then it was find of fun…  Then it got out of hand and Jane was completely out of control, with an insane gleam in her eye.  Chocolate is truly the devil’s food.

Although the fudge tasted good, it was far too thick and chewy, and overwhelmed the orange flavor.  I made a pie a couple weeks later with half oranges and half tangerines and poured the filling over an oreo crust.  Bingo— it was perfect.  No Fudge Madness required.

I also experimented with a “Mojito pie”: using key limes and adding fresh mint and a shot of rum before blending.  It turned out great, and the rum doid not prevent the pie from setting.  I’m tempted to try two shots next time…  but then I may succumb to the Rum Madness….  Pray for me, baby.

Choosing a place to eat Chinese food in Tampa just got a little more difficult.  The public is about equally divided on the superiority of China Yuan or Yummy House, and the befuddled critics haven’t even tried to choose a favorite.  You all know I don’t shrug off tough decisions, but it would be expensive ande time consuming to sample enough of all three menus to make a definitive judgment. If I could secure corporate sponsorship, it would be within reach.  Probably an anti-cholesterol drug.

I think this calls for a group evaluation.  But this will be no simple clash between two Chinese dragons, but three!  (Insert exaggerated anime gasp here!)

The new Chinese dragon is Chopstix, which i stumbled across quite by accident.  I was attending a show at the Brass Mug on Fletcher Avenue.  My neighbor invited me to see his friend’s metal band play.  I arrived hungry and a little tipsy.  I walked past a storefront where a lousy Chinese fast food place had resided.  I discovered a new restaurant had opened in its place, and although it was late (11 at night), the sight of their empty restaurant made me want to like the place.  They invited me to sit down and sample the food.  Soon, various small dishes of food graced the table: steamed chive dumplings, a seafood and tofu hot pot, shrimp— like from the tank— with garlic sauce, and crispy milk balls— a milk custard battered and fried.  All washed down with jasmine tea.  (Sometimes I order oolong just because i like to say it.)  I was in heaven that night.  After the great food, the concert and flying headbanger hair rather bored me.

Brand new upstart Chopstix has some fire to breathe of its own in the upcoming tournament of Chinese dragons.  Opened in September by three siblings: Michelle, Eva and chef Stan Du.  For a man of just 28, his skills are impressive indeed and boasts of training in China as a young man and honing his restaurant kitchen skills in places such as T.C. Choy’s, a Hyde Park Chinese/Pan-Asian “Bistro” with prices higher than the quality of its food.  Down there, you’re paying for waterfalls, slick decor, and the “bistro” monikker.

After my first night of bliss, I returned a couple weeks later with some friends to sample the menu further.

The watercress soup was delightfully subtle, with sliced pork, soft tofu, and the namesake vegetable, which was cooked just right, not boiled to death.  The honey and black pepper short ribs arrived sizzling and steaming.  They did not disappoint.  The sauce was slightly sweet, and the white mushrooms were lovely in the dish.

The seafood and tofu hot pot was excellent, with shrimp, scallops, fish, squid, and a more firm tofu.  It also arrived steaming in a pan, with some folded Chinese newspapers to protect the plate underneath from the intense heat.  This was not a  giant pot of gravy, but all of the ingredients cooked immediately in the pan with a slightly spicy sauce.  So simple and so good.  This could be the best tofu I’ve yet tried.  Someone on Chowhound mentioned that tofu is normally like eating water, and I must concur.  The heat and sauce of hot pot at Chopstix improve it.

The beef with ginger and scallion stand up well to China Yuan’s, but lacks the large pieces of ginger that I love so much.  Then again, I like the ginger to burn my mouth a bit, and I imagine most people aren’t this fond of it.

Bok choy flowers out from a shitake mushroom to the right of the vegetable pan fried noodles.  The noodles varied between crispy and softened with the subtle sauce.  The baby bok choy with mushrooms were beautiful and glossy.  I loved the meaty texture of the mushrooms and the bok choy was perfectly cooked.

I returned again for a weekday lunch, and was disappointed to find only a menu of typical lunch specials.  I later discovered that I should have been given a regular menu as well.  The food was still good, but the lunch special menu was too limited.  If you have company, skip the cheap lunch specials and pay a couple extra dollars for the family style portions off of the real menu, which is quite extensive.

Call it what you will, a clash of the three Chinese dragons, or a menage a Chinese, but I look forward to comparing Chopstix, China Yuan, and Yummy House side by side.  It will probably feel a little promiscuous, but sometimes that’s okay in service of a good cause.

Without a doubt, picadillo is one of my favorite Cuban dishes.  It is easy to make, packs a lot of flavor, and is ideal for parties in a number of ways: it is relatively cheap, can be served as an entree over rice, in a sandwich on Cuban bread, in empanadas, and so on.

Like so much great food, picadillo is a simple dish with unclear origins.  One of the first times it was served was to the new emperor of Mexico in 1821, a fruity version with spicy pork served with walnut sauce inside a poblano pepper.  I’m not sure which detail was more surprising: that the dish was made with pork and walnuts or that the leader of Mexico ever held the lofty title of emperor.

Versions of the dish spread around Latin America.  It is especially popular in Mexico, Puerto Rico, and Cuba.  Today, we’re dealing with the Cuban version, which is replete with the tangy flavors of olives, capers, white vinegar, red wine, and capers.  I used the Columbia Restaurant’s recipe long before I became involved in documenting the restaurant’s history.  I tweak it to maximize my favorite flavors (the Columbia’s recipe does not call for capers) and cut down the fat content.

Once again, I bypassed the robbery taking place at a supermarket near you— Publix is a flagrant offender, regularly charging $3.99 a pound for red/yellow/orange bell peppers.  This dish requires a good deal of peppers, especially when you triple or quadruple the recipe as I usually do.

I went to the Sanwa market on Hillsborough Avenue, where prices are as low as three red peppers for one dollar.  Take that, Publix!

Start by cooking 2 pounds of ground beef until just done.  Drain pan of all but 1-2 tablespoons of grease and juices (add vegetable oil if necessary) and cook 1 cup diced onions and 2 bell peppers.  When they are soft but not brown, add 2 cups canned whole tomatoes, drained and chopped (or 6 medium fresh ones), and 2 tbl minced garlic.  I just added those ingredients in the photo above.  Stir and cook until most liquid in the pan has evaporated, about 5-10 minutes.

Now the beef comes back into play, seasoned with 6 bay leaves, 1 tbl dried oregano, 1 tsp cumin, 1 tsp black pepper, and 1 tsp red pepper flakes.  Throw all into the pot with the vegetables.  Stir and cook for about 3 minutes, long enough for the spices to wake up.

Next, we really start layering in the flavors.  Add 1/2 cup of pimiento-stuffed olives, 1 tbl white vinegar, 1/4 cup raisins, 1 small jar of capers, and 1/4 cup burgundy wine, cooking over low heat for about 15 minutes.

I usually add very little salt, as the olives and capers bring plenty of brine with them.  In fact, if i want to add salt, I just drizzle some of the olive brine in.

Simple and rustic, but full of balanced and sophisticated flavors, picadillo is a great reminder that most good food percolates from the bottom up.  This is not the stuff of fancy bistros, but is a respectable dish for company.  For a hearty variation, add some additional liquid, like tomatoes, beef broth, and wine, and simmer the picadillo with cubes yucca, potato, or mix in a little sweet potato.  If you want to go over the top, fry the potatoes.

I once ate a sandwich in Key West, in which picadillo had been encased in a large hollowed-out bun, sealed shut and dipped in egg batter, and deep fried.  I had to at least try the thing, but i didn’t expect it to be awesome.  It wasn’t.  Lame picadillo, and the deep frying  may have been novel, but it added nothing to the sandwich but a bunch of grease.  I probably had two or three bites, and ate a real dinner instead.

I’ve been putting the finishing touches on my book, The Columbia Restaurant: a Century of History, Culture and Cuisine.   I’ve been kept plenty busy with home projects as well, but it will soon pass.  The other night, I felt jolly and grilled some fine NY strip steaks with a teriyaki pan sauce with onions and mushrooms; I sauteed some green beans with garlic and sesame oil, and served brown rice on the side.  Sadly, I didn’t have a camera around.

That night’s food is not a good example of what I’ve been eating lately.  I’ve been driven by expediency, such as my concoction of frozen pierogies (potato and onion) topped with sauteed onions, Granny Smith apple, and ham.  With a little whisky thrown in with some melted butter, those toppings take on a nice flavor.  It may not be much to look at, but it works as a decent meal in under ten minutes.