Category: Historic

The Taproom at Dubsdread

I moved to Orlando almost 20 years ago, the day after Thanksgiving in 2004, so I feel a bit like a local.  I like to think I know the best places to eat, even though there are always new hotspots and a handful of old classics I have yet to visit.  One of them, one of the oldest and most classic Orlando restaurants of all, is The Taproom at Dubsdread  (https://taproomatdubsdread.com/), the 100-year-old restaurant at Dubsdread Country Club, nestled between Winter Park and downtown Orlando.  I had always heard great things about the food, but I avoided it for the better part of my two decades here, despite loving old, historic restaurants.  In a city that isn’t known for its history, you’d think I would have checked it out long before now, but the whole “country club” thing kept me away.

I fully admit to being a bit of a class warrior, taking pride in my middle class origins and silently (or sometimes not so silently) judging and resenting the wealthy.  Growing up listening to punk and hip hop and watching the Marx Brothers, the Three Stooges, and “slobs versus snobs” comedies like Trading Places, Caddyshack, and Animal House probably had a lot to do with that.  My parents were even more influential on my class consciousness — two career public school teachers who lived simply, refused to spend beyond their means, felt like they had nothing to prove to anyone, and rarely treated themselves to anything.  To me, a restaurant at a country club felt like another world I probably wouldn’t be welcome in (and that my parents would probably disapprove of anyway), so I rejected it before it could possibly reject me.  I spent all my time in Orlando avoiding the beloved landmark Taproom at Dubsdread until a work colleague and friend who I think the world of invited me to lunch there.  I figured this would be my chance to finally check it out and write an unbiased review for my blog.  As the guest of a classy, professional woman, I would be less likely to get into trouble with a snooty maitre d’, a judgmental valet, a surly golfer, or a society matron who resembled Margaret Dumont.

And it was a perfectly nice restaurant, much warmer and more welcoming than I expected.  If anything, it was a lot less pretentious and highbrow than Hillstone or Seasons 52, those upscale chains.  They didn’t even have valet parking, and the hostess and server were really nice.

My colleague ordered the fresh apple and bacon grilled cheese sandwich, which came with Tillamook cheddar, Emmenthaler Swiss, almonds, and fig preserves, plus a side order of fries.  It looked really nice, and it inspired me to invite her to the incredible La Femme Du Fromage later on, since I already knew she liked fancy grilled cheese sandwiches. 

We must have met for lunch on a Wednesday, since that is the day they offer a chilled lobster and shrimp roll sandwich as a lunch special.  I always appreciate a good lobster roll.  I had the best one ever twelve years ago at Neptune Oyster in Boston’s North End neighborhood, and I’ve been chasing that high ever since.  This one didn’t quite reach those euphoric heights, but it was still really nice and refreshing, served on the traditional split-top bun and served with a side of onion rings — the “good kind,” as far as I’m concerned, with their golden beer battered exterior. So RING THE ALARM, constant readers — you can get a side order of really good onion rings at a country club restaurant, and for only $4!  They’re on the menu and everything; I wasn’t like that rube in the commercial who said “Would ya please pass the jelly?”, embarrassing himself at a fancy dinner party, asking Chef for something lowbrow that they normally wouldn’t serve.  Great lunch, great company, great restaurant.  I thought even my in-laws might like it, and they don’t like most places.

I returned to the Taproom at Dubsdread more recently during Magical Dining Month, when many Orlando restaurants offer a reasonably priced prix fixe menu with a few different appetizer, entrée, and dessert choices to mix and match, where a portion of the final bill goes to help local charities.  This time I went for dinner with two very cool friends, a truly glamorous couple who share my love of good food, but we hadn’t had a chance to get together in years.  They were great company, as always, and even challenged me to take better food photos than I usually take.  We’ll see if their coaching and constructive criticism helped here — you tell me, stalwart Saboscrivnerinos!

We started with bread for the table, which I didn’t know about when I met my colleague for lunch, but now I know… and knowing is half the battle.  The bread was like ciabatta, and the butter was whipped for easy spreading, which I always appreciate.  Nobody likes frozen butter that can’t be spread!
Being true foodies, we shared everything throughout this magical meal.

These were buffalo shrimp (not mine), served with some celery sticks.  I forgot if the dip was bleu cheese or ranch, but the shrimp were nice, with a slightly crunchy exterior and that mild acidity you get from buffalo sauce.

These were Italian meatballs (also not mine), but the owner was very generous and willing to share.  I would have been happy to have meatballs like this over a bowl of pasta or in a sub, and I liked that the tomato sauce was chunky and not watery. 

I ordered house-made potato chips topped with crumbled bleu cheese, scallions, and balsamic glaze, a delicious dish that was perfect for sharing.  The chips were crunchy, not limp, overly greasy, or even overly salty.  Of course, balsamic glaze makes everything better, and I’ve really gotten into bleu cheese lately.

For our entrees, someone ordered a bone-in pork chop that looked good:

And two of us, myself included, ordered prime rib.  I like my steaks and prime rib RARE, and I was thrilled that the Taproom at Dubsdread took me seriously.  Too many places blast a beautiful piece of meat far beyond rare because they don’t believe us and think we’ll send it back for being underdone.  Nope, this is how I like it, especially with lots of creamy horseradish sauce for dipping — the more fiery and sinus-clearing, the better. The mashed potatoes scooped beneath were pretty nondescript.  They could have used sour cream and/or cream cheese, bits of the potato skin, onions, or something else to liven them up, but sliding them around in the meat drippings helped resuscitate them a little.

The late, great Russell Jones, aka Big Baby Jesus, aka Dirt McGirt, aka Ol’ Dirty Bastard, famously warbled, “Oh baby, I like it RAAAAAAW!”  Well, this prime rib was rare rather than raw, and oh baby, that’s how I like it.

It was time for dessert!  I did not order this brownie sundae, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream served over a warm brownie, but it looked really good.  How can you go wrong with something like this?

Two of us opted for the key lime pie, which is always one of my favorite desserts, and the Taproom makes an excellent version.  The very smooth, shiny topping was more tart than the rest of the creamy filling below, and I loved it.  I go nuts for citrus desserts that are sweet and creamy but also tart, and too often, bakers are afraid to go tart enough. 

So I would definitely recommend the Taproom at Dubsdread for a nice lunch or dinner, whether you’re some kind of jet-setting big shot with a sweater tied around your neck or an anti-establishment outsider who wants to subvert every dominant paradigm you’ve ever encountered.  I’m glad I finally realized that a country club restaurant could be perfectly pleasant, without running into unpleasant stock characters from old-timey slapstick flicks or ’80s comedies from boomer filmmakers.  And enjoying two meals with friends didn’t make me part of any System, so I still feel like the cool(?), nonconformist iconoclast I will always be.

Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish (St. Petersburg)

Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish (https://tedpetersfish.com/) is a legendary landmark in St. Petersburg, Florida, right off the beach.  It is a perfect example of a classic “Old Florida” seafood restaurant and smokehouse, the kinds of places that barely exist anymore, but those that remain are both time capsules and treasures.  Founded in 1951 and still family-owned and in its original location, Ted Peters conjures up sights, smells, and tastes of a bygone era, but luckily we can still enjoy them today.  In fact, just last month, Southern Living magazine (which features some pretty great food writing) included Ted Peters in its list of Florida’s 17 Most Legendary Restaurants.  (I have been to five of them and reviewed one other on this blog, Bern’s Steak House.)

I first visited Ted Peters with my wife several years ago, long before I started writing as The Saboscrivner in 2018.  But strangely enough, neither of us remembered much about our first visit, aside from that I liked it.  I’ve been wanting to return for years, and on a recent weekend getaway to St. Pete Beach, it was my first stop after checking into our hotel and depositing my wife in our room.  I brought back a takeout feast, knowing the room had a mini-fridge in case we couldn’t finish everything.  But we were both stunned by the portion sizes upon my return — somehow you’d think that would have stuck in my memory when we ate there the first time, but it didn’t.  This recent visit was like getting to experience it all again for the first time.

Just so you know, it doesn’t get much more casual than this place.  There are plenty of tables on a covered patio, and they can pull down outer walls in case it rains, as it did on the sweltering late June afternoon I showed up there.  There is also an enclosed dining room with some rustic decor — wood-paneled walls and stuffed animal heads.  I just poked my head in the room but didn’t linger.  You can order beer (or root beer) in frosty glass mugs, but it’s a family-friendly restaurant in every way, not some kind of dirty dive (although it was featured on Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives show).

This is the menu that hangs above the bar, with accurate prices as of June 30th, 2024:

They offer four kinds of smoked fish, all smoked over red oak wood: salmon, mullet, mahi mahi, and mackerel, but mackerel was out of season.  Both of our orders came in huge white paper boxes, like the kind of boxes a bakery would send you home with a large pie or cake in.  Like I said, we were both stunned back at the hotel when I opened everything up and saw how much fish they give you.

My wife asked for a smoked salmon lunch, which comes with fish, tomato, onion, pickle, and lemon.  It was a huge hunk of salmon, hot-smoked to a golden brown color, compared to the delicate pink nova salmon we know and love from a lifetime of bagel breakfasts, appetizing stores, and delicatessens.  The hot-smoked salmon was drier and flakier than the tender, thin-sliced nova that melts in your mouth, but it was still really good.  You just have to think of it as its own thing — not as salty as nova, but much more oily and “fishy.”  
The entire piece had thin, crispy salmon skin underneath that was easy to separate, even with the flimsy plastic fork and knife they included, but we both love salmon skin, so it was a nice surprise treat.

Because mackerel was out of season, I ordered a mullet dinner for myself, and not just because I had a mullet back in 8th and 9th grade.   This was a nice piece of fish, even longer than the salmon filet, just not as thick because mullet is a smaller fish.  This one reminded me more of the golden smoked whitefish I treat myself to every few years, which I pull apart to make rich, decadent whitefish salad.  Like whitefish, mullet is full of long, thin, plasticky, pin-like bones that you have to carefully remove, as well as one long spine that you can pull out in one piece like a cat in an old-timey cartoon.  As a result, the mullet was harder to eat in a hotel room due to how messy it is, but we brought a lot home, packed tightly in a cooler with ice, and I made it into some smoked mullet salad back in my kitchen.

Unlike the salmon, you can’t eat the scaly skin of the mullet (the entire underside), so I did what I could to peel it all off, along with the tail, fins, and all those bones.  The little sauce containers were a creamy horseradish sauce that had a slight sweetness (not nearly as intensely spicy as the horseradish sauce at Orlando’s beloved Beefy King) and another sauce that was seemingly ranch (that one was for the Swifties), but possibly with some Cajun seasoning added.  I brought those home as well and added them to the flaky, deboned mullet (because the meat is also drier than the smoked whitefish I’m used to).

The difference between the lunch and the dinner is that the dinner comes with cole slaw and potato salad, so of course I had to try those!  The cole slaw was creamy, crunchy, and refreshing, perfect for cutting through the intensely fishy, oily, smoky flavors and textures.

The potato salad is actually German potato salad, so it is tangy and the slightest bit sweet from being made with apple cider vinegar instead of the standard mayonnaise.  It is also rich, smoky, and has a nice blend of soft and crunchy textures from crumbles of bacon.  It was served warm, as German potato salad usually is, and it was terrific.  I’m so glad I sprang for the dinner instead of the lunch.

I couldn’t go to Ted Peters and not try their famous smoked fish spread, which I definitely did not try on my first visit however long ago.   My wife didn’t care for it as much as the salmon and mullet, but surprise surprise, I liked it even more — maybe due to it being less intensely fishy and smoky.  The fish (I’m assuming mullet, but it could be a blend) was mixed into a uniform creamy consistency with mayo and sweet pickle relish, adding some sweetness, coolness, and crunch.  It reminded me of a really terrific tuna salad with that smoky flavor shining through but not overpowering.   
At the restaurant, you can order smoked fish spread with Saltine crackers, but for takeout orders, you just order it by the half-pint, pint, or quart.  I got a half-pint, and it didn’t come with crackers, so I had to run by Publix to buy some Saltines.  They were fine, but I still contend that anything Saltines can do, Ritz can do better.  But my wife loves Saltines, and I wanted to follow the founders’ intent here.

At this point, a couple of you might be lamenting “What if I don’t eat fish?” or “What if I don’t like smoked fish?”  Well, first of all, I would probably suggest trying a different restaurant.  There are so many to choose from up and down St. Pete Beach and on the mainland, and many are in the good-to-great range.  But just in case, I had always read that Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish serves really tasty burgers, and I had to put that to the test.  I’m a cheeseburger guy, and I think American cheese is the best cheese you can put on a burger.  But my wife doesn’t like cheese on burgers, so I ordered a plain hamburger with her in mind, just in case any of the fish were “too fishy” for her.  When I showed her the plain burger as an option, she said it looked a little sad, plus she surprised both of us by liking the smoked salmon and mullet as much as she did.

Now I like a lot of stuff on a burger (surprise, surprise), so if it looked sad, that’s because it was plain.  Since she wanted nothing to do with it, I added ketchup, yellow mustard, and relish (from included packets), the “seemingly ranch” sauce, and lettuce and tomato.  It was delicious!  It tasted like a burger you’d get at a cookout with that nice flavor from the grill.  The bun was your typical squishy white bread bun, not grilled or toasted or anything, but absolutely fine for what it was.  Adding American cheese and grilled onions and grilling the bun might have brought this burger over the top, but I have no complaints.  If you don’t want your fingers or your breath to smell like smoked fish for hours after dining, like if you’re on a really hot date at Ted Peters, then consider the burger.

Now key lime pie is one of my favorite desserts ever, but my wife doesn’t share my love for it.  I was all ready to skip the tempting key lime pie on Ted Peters’ menu for the second time, but it was actually her idea to order a slice.  Of course I did not argue!  It was nice and tangy, an ideal dessert for balancing out smoky, rich fish, but the crust was rather crumbly and a bit bland.  Rather than the standard moist graham cracker crust, it might have been made of shortbread or even ‘Nilla Wafers, that mainstay of Southern-style banana pudding.  (When I was a little Saboscrivner, before I spent 15 years working for a Catholic law school, I used to think the “wafers” consumed during Catholic mass were ‘Nilla Wafers.)
I would definitely recommend it anyway, since key lime pie is Florida’s official dessert (or should be), and it does go so perfectly at the end of a meal like this.  But this is a rare occasion where I might give the edge to the Publix bakery, and I would be remiss if I didn’t credit the award-winning baker Evette Rahman of Sister Honey’s Bakery in Orlando for making the best key lime pie I’ve ever had in my life.

So anyway, Southern Living is right on about this place.  And if you don’t believe me and don’t believe them, my friend and role model Amy Drew Thompson, the food writer for the Orlando Sentinel, is a fellow fan of Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish, and she definitely knows what she’s talking about.  But hopefully you can see from my words and pictures that Ted Peters is a unique experience, something that is all too rare in Florida and almost nonexistent anywhere else.  After our most recent visit to St. Pete Beach, I said again what I’ve said before, that if I had to live anywhere in Florida that isn’t in or around Orlando, the St. Pete/Tampa area would be it for me.  My wife and I love St. Pete Beach for short little weekend getaways, but it would totally be worth a day trip from Orlando just to take in a taste of timeless Old Florida at Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish.  Eat on the patio,  spring for the dinner so you can have German potato salad and cole slaw, get your hands a little dirty, raise a frosty mug, and be glad that after all these decades and generations, the crew at Ted Peters still smokes fish every day.

Philippe the Original (Los Angeles)

On my second trip to Los Angeles for work, I caught a Lyft ride at the airport and went straight to another famous, historic L.A. restaurant, luggage and all, before even checking in at my hotel or reporting to work.  I had done my research like any good librarian, so I planned to go to Philippe the Original (https://www.philippes.com/), the inventors of the French dipped sandwich.  Founded in 1908, Philippe the Original has probably changed very little over the decades.  The prices have surely gone up in the past century and change, but not nearly as much as you would think.

You order and pay at the counter, and then the very patient servers assemble you a tray, cafeteria-style, while doubling as cashiers.  I miss cafeteria-style restaurants.  We went to a bunch when I was a kid, from Morrison’s in the mall to the old K-Mart cafeteria, but you don’t see this much anymore, aside from some casual Latin restaurants like Orlando’s Lechonera El Barrio.  Philippe the Original also has a diner feel to it, since it also serves breakfast (and Los Angeles is a big diner city).  But I was not here for breakfast, dear readers.  Oh no, I was a man with a shopping list.  With an agenda, even.

The main draw is the French-dipped sandwiches, which come on a delicious French roll.  You can also get them on white, wheat, rye, or sourdough bread, but please don’t do this.  You can get the sandwiches single-dipped, double-dipped, or “wet” in au jus, so I opted for a single dip as a first-timer, with an extra ramekin of jus on the side for this Jew.  You can choose between sliced beef, pork, lamb, New York pastrami, ham, or turkey, and even though I’m sure you can’t go wrong with any of those, I had a hard time choosing.  I asked, fully expecting to be told no, if I could get two kinds of meat on my sandwich, and the nice lady said of course!  I couldn’t get half the roll with one and the other half with the other meat, but I could definitely get two different meats stacked upon each other.  Now we were talking!  I asked what she recommended, and she said of the six, she would narrow it down to beef, lamb, and pastrami.  Now, I already had plans to meet friends at one of L.A.’s most iconic deli institutions, so I figured I would save the pastrami for that later meal.  Beef and lamb for the win!   I also added on bleu cheese, which pairs so well with red meat, but rarely makes an appearance in sandwiches and even less often as a thick slice.  It got surprisingly melty on there, between the warm roll, hot meat, and hot jus.  You can see the light brown lines in the cross-section of this roll above the cheese, and that is where they dipped the roll in the jus.  This was a huge, thick, hearty sandwich.  The beef and lamb were both very tender, but I preferred whichever one was sliced thinner (the beef, I think, which surprised me, since I always gravitate toward lamb when it is an option).  That purpley-pink thing in the corner was a pickled egg, one of many accoutrements I ordered with my two-meat sandwich, fished out of a big jar on the counter.  I couldn’t resist!  It was so vinegary and tangy and good.  I love pickled eggs, but never  thought to employ beet juice when I make my own at home.  Now I know… and knowing is half the battle!

Believe it or not, Los Angeles is a big chili city.  Angelenos love putting chili on hot dogs and burgers and serving it in diners, so I figured the meat-centric Philippe the Original would serve a good cup of chili.  They did.  Like everything else, it was pretty classic — no frills, not fancy, just mildly spicy, and of course they knew better than to add beans.  If you imagine a cup of chili from a diner, you’ve got it.  It might not win any awards in the Terlingua Chili Cookoff, but this is quintessential L.A. chili.  And to me, that makes it quintessential American chili.   

Like any classic diner or cafeteria, Philippe the Original also had a refrigerated glass case full of tempting pies, cakes, baked apples (talk about old-school!), and prepared salads: cole slaw, macaroni and potato salad.  As much as I would have loved to try all three of those, I was already going a little wild.

I chose the macaroni salad, which normally edges out potato salad for me, and I chose wisely.  It was a simple, mayo-based macaroni salad with a slight crunch from celery (or green bell pepper?) and a tangy sweetness.  It reminded me of a macaroni salad you would get at a mid-century lunch counter, maybe in a drugstore or even a department store.  I miss those places too, and they were already 99% phased out by the time I was a kid in the ’80s.

Each table had a squeeze bottle of a relatively thin, horseradish-heavy hot mustard, that I applied to my wonderful beef, lamb, and bleu cheese sandwich after taking a few unadorned bites as a control.  It was an excellent mustard that complemented the rich, salty, juicy sandwich perfectly.  I noticed they sell it in bottles, but as much as I would have loved to bring one home, I do not check bags, and I knew TSA would confiscate it.  Regular readers know my obsession with mustards and other condiments (such as my Cutting the Mustard reviews), but at least I got to try it in the restaurant.

Also, I got the most delightful little glass of lemonade for something like 95 cents.  When I saw the price, I didn’t know how big the glass would be, but it was wee.  I guess this is like portion sizes were like back in the day, before Big Gulps and whatnot.  Really refreshing lemonade, though, especially after all that salty food and waking up at 4 AM for a flight.

I might have looked like a big weirdo, wheeling my roll-aboard bag through Philippe the Original, but I knew it would have to be my first stop in L.A. or I wouldn’t be able to make it back later.  I’m so glad I did, because it was truly awesome.  It lived up to all the hype I had read online, to say nothing of  passing mentions and sightings in L.A.-based TV shows like Bosch.  I love these historic restaurants that have been doing the same thing for decades, sometimes lasting a century or more, because they are that damn good.  Los Angeles is full of them, and I look forward to exploring more on future work trips (and eventually getting around to reviewing everything from this last visit).  If you appreciate a good French dip sandwich, try to make a pilgrimage to the creator some day.  The originator, the O.G. — Philippe the Original.

Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant (Los Angeles)

Any of my friends, family, and long-time readers know I am a huge fan of delicatessens, whether they are Jewish or Italian.  I am thrilled to say that I recently got to visit the city of Los Angeles for the first time, and on a short, three-day work trip, I still managed to fit in meals at two separate Jewish delis.  I’ll write about the first one I visited a little later, since it was part of a magnificent food hall, but this review is about the second L.A. deli I went to, which happens to be second to none.

Founded in 1947, Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant (https://www.langersdeli.com/) is a timeless classic, probably the L.A. equivalent of the legendary Katz’s Delicatessen in New York’s Lower East Side.  I have been to Katz’s a few times and reviewed it after my latest trip there, in 2019.  The atmosphere at Katz’s is chaotic, like so much else in New York City, but the pastrami is so good, it is worth the high prices and less-than-relaxing meal.  However, my admonition to anyone going to Katz’s is to request their pastrami sandwich on a club roll, since the rye bread sucks.  It is essentially an edible napkin, although it doesn’t work much better as a napkin than it does as bread.

I have no such grave advice to offer about Langer’s Deli on the left coast, aside from just making sure you go to Langer’s.  I would rank the pastrami on par with Katz’s — equal, if not better, but that makes it god-tier pastrami that is better than just about anyone else’s from anywhere.  We all got a kick out of the description of the pastrami from Langer’s menu, especially the last part: “Hot pastrami is a select cut of beef, sugar-cured and seasoned as corned beef, then slowly smoked for tenderness and tantalizing taste and flavor, then covered with choice and costly spices.”

I am also thrilled to report that the rye bread at Langer’s is terrific, and it is also a lot more of a chill vibe there, without the bedlam of the Katz’s experience.  I went with two of my new co-workers who are both based in L.A., but none of us had been there before.   Located on the corner of 7th and Alvarado that has seen better days (man, that sounded like a bit of inter-song banter on a ’70s Tom Waits record), Langer’s is near another Los Angeles landmark, MacArthur Park, a once-beautiful park where someone once left a cake out in the rain, but it is kind of sketchy and foreboding today.

Anyway, we all had a very pleasant lunch, and being smart people (librarians all), we stuck to the house specialty, that perfect pastrami.  My new supervisor ordered the French dipped pastrami sandwich, which came on a roll with au jus on the side.  Apparently, L.A. is the place to be if you’re a French dip fan, with the famous Philippe the Original as another destination for sandwich aficionados that I hope to visit in the future.  (EDIT: I did go to Philippe the Original on my next trip to L.A.!)
He seemed to love his sandwich, even if he expressed a bit of cognitive dissonance over our other colleague’s choice.

She ordered the iconic #19, Langer’s most popular sandwich, with pastrami, Swiss cheese, creamy cole slaw, and Russian dressing on rye bread, which was a very smart choice.  I could not get over how soft the rye bread was, yet it had a crispy, crackly crust that you never get with supermarket rye.  

As for me, I could not decide between two sandwiches on Langer’s menu, so in true Saboscrivner style, I ordered both of them, to eat a half of each at the restaurant and enjoy the other halves later.  This was my #6, with hot pastrami, chopped liver, and Russian dressing on that same perfect rye bread.  You can see that the pastrami is hand-carved into thick slices, and it was so juicy and moist and tender and rich and fatty, I cannot rave enough about it.  The chopped liver was savory and creamy and perfect, and a squirt of mustard brought some acidic brightness to this sensational sandwich.  

My other choice was the #44, with hot pastrami (of course), sauerkraut, and Nippy cheese, served on grilled rye.  It was essentially a pastrami Reuben, except the Swiss was replaced with Nippy cheese.  What the heck is Nippy cheese?  I loved the sandwich, and yet I’m still not entirely sure.  I was too distracted to ask our patient server, but my research shows that Kraft used to sell a processed cheese spread called Nippy cheese (before my time), but the stuff at Langer’s is more like a tangy American cheese that had melted into the grilled rye.  It was such a rich and salty sandwich, almost any cheese would have gotten a bit lost in the shuffle, but I like American cheese more than most, and I have zero regrets about my choice.  It was the best Reuben I’ve ever had, especially because I prefer pastrami to the standard Reuben filling of corned beef, and because almost any cheese has more character than Swiss (fit for Reubens, Cubans, and that’s about it).  The pickles were pretty classic deli-style kosher dills, by the way.

Even though I order macaroni salad almost anywhere that offers it to compare and contrast, I can say that the macaroni salad at Langer’s was nothing special, and I think my co-workers agreed.  The mayonnaise-based dressing was a bit thin and runny, and I think there was yellow mustard in there too.  I had been curious about it, and I’m not sorry I ordered it, but I would not get it again.  If I ever make it back to Langer’s, I think I will try their chili next time, perhaps in the form of chili cheese fries.

As a mustard aficionado (see my past Cutting the Mustard features for more mustard reviews than you ever dreamt of), I was a little surprised to see Langer’s uses good ol’ Gulden’s Spicy Brown, but that’s the mustard my dad always bought, and it’s a classic for good reason.  
My colleagues were good and drank water, but I had heard Langer’s has its own cream soda available as a fountain drink, so I couldn’t resist.  It was much better than that deli staple Dr. Brown’s — sweeter, more vanilla-ey, and more refreshing.  It was a hot August day in L.A., and I definitely took advantage of the free refills.

I had such an amazing time on this trip to L.A., especially getting to meet my co-workers in real life and visit the beautiful school I work for remotely.  Aside from the professional stuff, this magnificent meal at Langer’s Delicatessen-Restaurant was a highlight of this too-short visit (the first of hopefully many).  Not only did the pastrami live up to its legendary status, but I had wanted to eat here for many years — ever since I read journalist David Sax’s 2009 book Save the Deli.  I had planned to go there alone as my first act in Los Angeles, on the way from the airport to work, before even checking into my hotel.  However, sharing that experience on my second day in the city with two new co-workers, getting to know them better over sandwiches, and considering them friends from here on out, made my Langer’s lunch that much more profound and unforgettable.  (And unlike Katz’s, it was a relaxing lunch on top of everything else good about it!)

CLOSED: Outpost Kitchen, Bar, & Provisions

EDITOR’S NOTE: On November 9th, 2023, The Outpost Kitchen, Bar & Provisions suddenly closed, apparently evicted from its Maitland location after falling $64,000 behind in rent payments.  Staff were not given any prior notice.  See https://www.orlandosentinel.com/2023/11/10/outpost-kitchen-evicted-from-maitland-city-centre-records-show/.

***

After years of attempts, my wife (Doctor Professor Ma’am) and I finally had the most outstanding dinner last night at Outpost Kitchen, Bar, & Provisions (https://www.outpostkbp.com), a restaurant in suburban Maitland, nestled between Casselberry and Winter Park, surprisingly close to home.  It seemed like life kept conspiring to keep us from dining there, with all kinds of illnesses, injuries, and random emergencies forcing us to cancel previous reservations, but once we made it, it was totally worth the wait.

The décor is at once both rustic and hipster-modern, full of wooden tables and chairs (no booths), Edison-style hanging light bulbs, and even a retro refrigerator in the dining room, not far from the open kitchen.  There is also a large bar, an outdoor patio, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows surrounding the free-standing building that provide plenty of natural light and views of “scenic” Highway 17-92.

Shortly after being seated in that expansive, high-ceilinged, wide open dining room, we met the co-owner, Kevin Casey, who reached out to me on Facebook last year to invite us out to the Outpost.  Kevin was jovial and warm and welcoming, and I apologized for it taking us so long to get out there.  I can also say that the entire serving staff was top-notch.  We received some of the best service we’ve ever encountered at a restaurant in Orlando, not just from our own server, but from her compatriots, who all checked in on us periodically, hoping we were having the best experience.  (We were.)

I had not eaten all day, so my wife and I started our decadent dinner with handmade Outpost tots ($12), a wooden platter of eight golden-brown fried spheres, drizzled with Outpost sauce (not as sweet as a barbecue sauce, but thicker and not as hot as a hot sauce) and bourbon ranch.  Now, we all know tater tots, but these were nothing like standard tots or the beloved Beefy spuds at Orlando’s iconic Beefy King.  Each of these orbs, which were about the size of large golf balls, were more like potato pancakes, also known as latkes — crispy on the outside, but yielding and fluffy-soft and seasoned on the inside.

Kevin told us that these are complicated to make right, because the potatoes are all hand-shredded, and if the kitchen staff took too long, they would oxidize and ruin the batch, but they came up with a method to simplify the process.  Whatever they did, it worked, because these are some of the most perfect potato products we’ve ever partaken in.  If you ever go to the Outpost, don’t sleep on these not-so-tiny tots!

Something else cool about the Outpost is that they pay homage to Orlando’s culinary past.  So many people dismiss our touristy town as “chain restaurant hell,” even though I started this blog just about five years ago to combat that misconception and shine a well-deserved spotlight on some of our best local restaurants.  Kevin and Julie Casey are doing the same thing with their series of Memory Lane Menus, recreating classic dishes from beloved and much-missed eateries that closed years or even decades ago.  They first did that with Pebbles, a restaurant that I’ve heard about, but it closed before I moved here in 2004, and their current Memory Lane Menu is a tribute to the legendary Ronnie’s Restaurant.

Now I never made it to Ronnie’s either, but my wife has told me all about it, and it would probably have been my favorite restaurant in the city, had I ever eaten there.  I’ve seen the voluminous menu, and it looked very similar to another long-lost legend — Wolfie Cohen’s Rascal House, a Jewish delicatessen/diner on Collins Avenue in North Miami Beach.  Unlike Ronnie’s, I got to enjoy many meals at the Rascal House, first with my family as a kid and a teenager during weekends at the old-timey Art Deco motels right on the beach with names like the Dunes, the Driftwood, and the Desert Inn.  Years later, I would visit friends on trips home from Gainesville and catch up with them over late-night overstuffed sandwiches and metal dishes of free pickles and cole slaw.  I even got to take my wife to the Rascal House once, in 2007, when we were still newly dating, before the it closed its doors for good.  I will always treasure those memories and those meals, especially because the Rascal House was the first restaurant I recall my family traveling out of its way to, trekking from suburban Kendall to Sunny Isles Beach, decades before seeking out the best food anywhere I could find it would become one of my adulthood hobbies.

But back to Ronnie’s now: the Outpost’s Memory Lane Menu for Ronnie’s is available for ONE MORE WEEK, until Saturday, June 10th.  They are offering three classic Ronnie’s dishes: cabbage soup made with beef short ribs (which was sadly sold out when we went last night), a chocolate eclair made from an original Ronnie’s recipe, and a corned beef and pastrami platter, which we ordered to share as an appetizer.  I had heard stories and fables about Ronnie’s corned beef and pastrami, served with potato salad and sliced tomatoes, and I must be honest, that was what finally spurred us to make it to the Outpost.  I’m so glad it got us in the door, because it was amazing, and so was everything else.  

Here’s a close-up of the thick, hand-carved slices of mostly lean pastrami, crusted with a delicious, peppery, spicy “bark”: 

And as much as I love pastrami (which is a lot), I liked the Outpost’s version of Ronnie’s corned beef even better, because it was marbled with so much creamy, unctuous fat.  Even without rye bread and mustard, these deli delicacies were a huge hit.  We just nibbled on them at the restaurant, but I finished them in a sandwich earlier today (on a toasted sourdough roll since we didn’t have rye at home, but with good Carnegie Deli dusseldorf mustard). 

My wife always likes a good steak even more than I do (I’m more of a sandwich and burger guy), and one thing she always craves is a coffee-rubbed steak.  Very few restaurants in Orlando offer them, but the Outpost sure does: the Crusty New Yorker, a peppercorn and coffee-crusted New York strip steak, covered with garlic caper cream sauce and served on a bed of creamy cauliflower rice.  She asked for the steak rare, and it was cooked perfectly, beautifully rare, pre-sliced and rich purple-red inside.  She also loves capers and cream sauces, so she was in heaven with this dish.  She was admittedly skeptical about the cauliflower rice, but we both really liked it.  It had a slight crunch that regular rice doesn’t have, but the creaminess and seasoning reminded me a bit of risotto.With the bounty of everything we ordered, she would end up getting three full meals out of this generous portion.

And even though I was tempted by many dishes on the menu, one of the Outpost’s burgers really sang out to me: the Black Cherry Burger, cooked to an ideal medium rare and topped with house-smoked brisket, yellow cheddar cheese, caramelized onions, and sliced hot cherry peppers on a brioche bun.  I wish it had been a little bigger (only because I wish all burgers were bigger, from White Castle on up), but it was delicious.  I would rank it among the finest burgers in the city, without a doubt.  It came with really solid fries, which I dipped in a little metal ramekin of house-made barbecue sauce.  Good fries, but after those tantalizing, tremendous tots, they were almost anticlimactic.

My wife is a bigger dessert person than I am, whereas I can often take or leave something sweet after a big meal.  Still, we were both equally tempted by two different desserts on the Outpost’s masterful menu, and we splurged and ordered both.  This was the drunken blueberry bread pudding, served in a small, sizzling-hot skillet.  It was made with brioche and sweet Hawaiian bread, bourbon custard, fresh blueberries, tangy orange icing, and blueberry compote.  It was really decadent, but not nearly as sweet as you might be thinking.  It was spectacular, and a perfect way to end a summer meal.  This was my wife’s favorite of the two desserts.

They also offered a pineapple upside down cake special, and even though I bake a mean pineapple upside down cake myself, we were both intrigued by it too.  Unlike mine, which is a light, moist pineapple-flavored cake, this one was a denser spice cake, almost like a richer, sweeter gingerbread.  It was topped with a roasted pineapple ring and some sweet, sticky caramel glaze, and that is a dehydrated pineapple ring on the side, thin and chewy and sweet and sticky like fruit leather.  (Kinky!)  The dark pools are a cherry glaze, although i thought they might be balsamic reduction at first.  Cherry definitely fit better with pineapple upside-down cake.  Our dutiful server told us that this was such a big hit, it would probably become a regular menu item moving forward.  You heard it here first, folks!

Now you stalwart Saboscrivnerinos (my baker’s dozens of regular readers) know that The Saboscrivner takes pride in his journalistic integrity.  I am proudly not an influencer (in fact, I still take perverse pride in some rando Redditor referring to me as an “anti-influencer”), and I never go into these restaurants asking for freebies in exchange for a good review.  I wouldn’t dare, and I think that is rude and gauche and presumptuous and any number of unprintable terms.  That said, since Kevin invited us in so long ago, I let him know we were coming since I wanted to meet him and thank him for reaching out… and he ended up hooking us up, out of the goodness of his heart.  I was shocked, and I insisting on paying as much of the bill as they would let me, in addition to leaving a generous tip for our server based on what this large, luxurious meal would have originally cost.  It was all so great, I would have written this identical review anyway, minus this paragraph.  We loved everything, and we look forward to returning and becoming regulars.  But that’s how nice the owner is, even during a time when local restaurants are struggling.

That’s why I am doubling down with my recommendation here.  Visit the Outpost!  They serve brunch on Saturdays and Sundays, and apparently Saturdays are a lot more chill compared to the busier Sundays.  They are even planning to institute a weekday brunch menu, so be on the lookout for that.  If you loved Ronnie’s back in the day (or you just love Jewish delis, like I do with all my heart), definitely stop by in the next week for a taste of Ronnie’s classic menu.  I will definitely swing back by, hoping for that beef short rib cabbage soup to go!  Also, stay tuned for the Outpost’s next Memory Lane Menu, paying homage to Gary’s Duck Inn, apparently the inspiration for the original Red Lobster.  I never made it there either, but some locals probably have, and it sounds like something that should not be missed.  The Outpost should not be missed, either.

Arbetter’s Hot Dogs (Miami)

Of all the restaurants I’ve written reviews for, I’ve been going to Arbetter’s Hot Dogs (https://www.arbetterhotdogs.com/index.html) the longest, ever since I was a little kid in the ’80s.  It’s an institution in Miami’s Westchester neighborhood, not far from where I grew up in Kendall, where my parents and brother still live.  The bright yellow building on Bird Road (SW 40th Street), just west of Galloway Road (SW 87th Avenue), has been serving up Miami’s most iconic hot dogs since 1972, after first opening in 1960 in a different location.  It has survived everything, from recessions to fickle foodie trends, keeping its prices low and its aesthetics simple and old-school.  It reminds me of Orlando’s beloved Beefy King that way, another culinary time capsule from a bygone era that continues to survive and thrive because it never changed what people love about it.

Even though my dad wouldn’t ever consider himself a foodie, he introduced me to all of his favorite Chinese restaurants and Jewish delis in Miami in the ’80s and ’90s, starting me on my lifelong quest to discover all the best food and tell people about it, whether they asked or not.  He would also take me to Arbetter’s, usually after trips to A&M Comics and Books, another Bird Road landmark that still survives today, the second-oldest comic book store in the country.  These jaunts fueled my lifelong loves of comic books and reading in general (and also hot dogs).

It had been far too long since I returned to this legendary hot dog spot for a taste of my youth, so it was fitting I made it back to finally write a review in 2022, its 50th anniversary in the Bird Road location.  That’s an incredible feat for any restaurant, especially in expensive, clout-chasing Miami.

Prices have gone up since the mid-’90s, the last time I was a permanent resident of Miami, but not as much as you would think:

I ordered two hot dogs, even though I could have easily eaten several more.  As Lake Street Dive sang (but surely not referring to hot dogs), they go down smooth.  On the left, behold Arbetter’s West Virginia dog ($3.99, a bargain at twice the price), topped with yellow mustard, onions, creamy cole slaw, and their delicious house-made chili (with no beans ever).  What a combination, between the crunch of the cabbage and onions versus the softness of the dog and the bun, the acidity of the chili and the pungence of the mustard versus the creamy coolness of the slaw.  On the right you see a traditional dog with mustard and sauerkraut ($2.99), the “control” in this little experiment.  The dogs are simple, and so are the plain buns. 
Since my last visit, back in 2015, Arbetter’s started selling grilled, all-beef, natural casing Sabrett hot dogs for slightly more money, which are high-quality dogs that I love and recommend.  But visiting the place I grew up and this particularly nostalgic restaurant, I had to go with the old-school boiled dogs, which are softer and smokier than the Sabretts, but not as salty or garlicky.  They tasted just as good as I remembered, and they went down soooo smooth.

Arbetter’s has always had awesome fries (currently $3.69), made even better by getting them topped with chili and molten melted cheese ($4.99).  Instead of getting fries on my July 2022 visit, I opted for the onion rings instead ($3.69), because as my constant readers know, I will ALWAYS opt for onion rings and review them on this blog in a little feature I like to call RING THE ALARM! These were great onion rings — breaded rather than battered, not too thick or too thin, not too greasy, not ripping out of the breading.  I definitely rank them as “the good kind” of onion rings.  I dipped them in a ridiculous mound of ketchup, but in retrospect, I failed my readers and also myself by not getting them topped with chili and cheese (which would have also been $4.99, just like the fries).

Finally writing this review a few months after my meal at Arbetter’s, I’m feeling that nostalgia again and wishing I could get some right now.  I’ll almost certainly pick up a pack of hot dogs when I finally leave the house today, and I already have buns, a jar of Silver Floss kraut, and a multifarious multitude of mustards, plus some ground chuck defrosting in the fridge and a block of habanero cheddar begging to be shredded — everything I need for some chili cheese dogs and classic hot dogs of my own.  But it won’t be the same, not without that old yellow building with the same old faded posters and signs, the sense of community, and the memories of my youth.

I always felt like a stranger at home, growing up in Miami.  I have a good family and wonderful friends I’m still in touch with, but now I enjoy my rare visits to the city a lot more than I ever liked living there.  The food is a major aspect of why I appreciate Miami so much more now, and why I feel pride for my hometown that I never felt back in the day.  Even though Arbetter’s Hot Dogs isn’t fancy or glamorous, it’s an icon, an institution, and a survivor.  It still brings people together, over 50 years later, and makes them feel good, feel special, feel home.  And if that isn’t a microcosm for Miami, I don’t know what is.

Alessi Bakery (Tampa)

Alessi Bakery (https://www.alessibakery.com/) first opened in Tampa in 1912.  That is older than any bakeries in Orlando, by several decades.  Founded by Italian immigration Nicolo Alessi, it is now run by the fourth generation of the Alessi family: Phil Alessi, Jr., who expanded the bakery and started a huge catering side to the business.  I think stories like that are beautiful, and I love supporting family-owned restaurants and businesses, especially with that much history behind them.  Orlando locals might have even tried Alessi’s baked goods without knowing it, because they make all the king cakes that Publix sells around Mardi Gras, at least here in the Orlando area.

I first discovered Alessi Bakery on a brief Tampa trip in 2017 and fell in love.  You can get overwhelmed browsing the gorgeous cakes, cookies, pastries, pies, cupcakes, breads, sandwiches, snacks, and prepared foods in the glass cases.  There is even a dining room for you to enjoy things right there, rather than packing everything up to go.

Here is an assortment of coconut macaroons, rugelach cookies filled with fruit preserves, and beautiful danish pastries I brought over to a gathering of Tampa friends back in March, our first time hanging out post-pandemic:

I also brought over four beautiful sfogliatelle pastries, an Italian bakery classic sometimes called “lobster tails.”  Light and crispy and flaky, these shell-shaped beauties are dusted with powdered sugar and filled with a slightly lemony custard:

And here is an assortment of Italian tea cookies I brought home for my wife after that March visit.  She loves these little dudes.  I remember cookies like this from small, mom-and-pop Miami bakeries from my childhood in the ’80s.  My mom always loved cookies like this too. 

This is another assortment of goodies I brought home: pound cake, New York crumb cake, zucchini bread, and multicolored birthday cake.  The pound cake slice at the top was by far the biggest hit.

Remembering this, we got two more wrapped slices of the pound cake on our June trip today:

I couldn’t remember what this thing was, but one of my good friends (who is also an Alessi fan, after I introduced him and his family to it) told me it is crème brûlée bread pudding.  He said it is his favorite dessert from here.  I’m sure I liked it too, because come on, look at it!

In addition to all the pastries and sweets, another Alessi Bakery specialty is scachatta, a kind of bread that looks like pizza and smells like pizza, but brother, it ain’t pizza.  It is a soft, yellow, egg-based flatbread (kind of like focaccia, but softer), covered with a slightly sweet tomato sauce full of very finely ground beef, but no cheese except for a light sprinkling of parmesan.  It is then cut into squares or rectangular slices and served at room temperature.  If this sounds weird, I cannot disagree with you, but it’s a thing, and it’s so much better than it sounds or even looks.  Saveur wrote a neat article about scachatta, and so did pizza blog Slice.  

This is a half-sheet ($19) that I bought to share with my friends when I caught up with them back in March.  Everyone really liked it.

When I returned to Alessi in June, I had to do one of my Saboscrivnerrific “Dare to Compare” experiments with the Alessi Bakery scachatta and the scachatta from Tampa’s other legendary Cuban bakery, La Segunda Central Bakery, which was founded three years later, in 1915.  I reviewed La Segunda back in October 2018 and tried the scachatta then, but for the sake of good food writing, I dragged my poor, patient wife to both bakeries back-to-back today and got a few items at La Segunda too.  The sacrifices I make for the stalwart Saboscrivnerinos out there!

Here is a photo I took back at home earlier today, with a small slice from a quarter-sheet of Alessi’s scachatta ($11) on the left, and a single slice of La Segunda’s scachatta ($2.29) on the right:
I love Alessi’s scachatta, really and truly.  But I have to give a slight edge to La Segunda here!  Their version was more savory and less sweet, and it had more flavor, perhaps due to the visible green pepper chunks in the sauce.  But I’d order either again, any time.

The only place to order anything remotely similar to scachatta in Orlando is at my favorite Italian restaurant, Tornatore’s — or to be more accurate, at their Italian market next door.  They serve an upstate New York delicacy called… STEAMED HAMS!  No, no, sorry, I kid.  Tornatore’s serves tomato pie — another soft flatbread spread with tomato paste and served at room temperature or chilled, but no cheese to put it into pizza territory.  It’s interesting how different regions came up with their own pizza-adjacent specialties.

Anyway, here is another delicious treat I’ve only ever found in Tampa: devil crab, a crispy croquette full of shredded, seasoned, savory crabmeat, coated in Cuban bread crumbs and deep-fried.  I had my first devil crab on my first-ever trip to Alessi in 2017, introduced a pescatarian pal to them back in 2018, and ordered two to share with my wife before our drive home from Orlando today:

In case you’ve never had a devil crab yourself, here’s an interior shot, to show it bursting with tender crab that melts in your mouth.  

Since we were sitting down to eat in Alessi’s dining room, I decided to try their macaroni and potato salads ($2.50 each).  I might not have bothered to drive back to Orlando with those mayo-based salads, with a 90-minute drive ahead (that ended up taking over two hours due to terrible traffic in the middle of a Saturday), but I’m so glad I treated myself to them.  This was one of the two best macaroni salads I’ve ever had in my life.  IN.  MY.  LIFE.  (The other is from Poke Hana, my favorite poke spot right here in Orlando.)

Both Alessi Bakery and La Segunda Bakery prepare fabulous sandwiches on fresh-baked bread, including Cuban sandwiches, yet another Tampa specialty, always served on Cuban bread and pressed in a plancha.  Yes, Miami people, I know Cuban sandwiches are a major Miami thing too.  I’m from down there, and I grew up eating them.  But Tampa did them first, due to an earlier Cuban population working in the cigar factories of Ybor City alongside Italian, Spanish, and German immigrants.  That’s how the original Cuban sandwich (called the “mixto” at the time) was born: a combination of Cuban roast pork marinated in sour orange juice, garlic, and herbs, Spanish sweet cured ham, Italian Genoa salami, and German mustard and pickles.  (The salami is a Tampa thing, specifically — Miami people are always outraged by it, except this Miami person.)

This is the hand-carved Cuban sandwich I brought home on my trip to Alessi back in March, with really thick slices of roast pork and ham.  It was good, but almost seemed like a little much.  I’m guessing this was the 12″ sandwich ($13.95).

On my June trip with my wife, I brought home the regular Cuban sandwich (a 9″ for $8.95, which is me showing unusual restraint), and I thought it was a lot better than the hand-carved version.  The pressed Cuban bread was less well-done, and the meats had a better texture with their thinner slices.  It was so much more pleasant to sink my teeth into, literally and figuratively.  Even eating it at room temperature, standing up in my kitchen immediately after driving back from Tampa, it was an excellent Cubano.

One thing to note about both Alessi Bakery’s hand-carved and regular Cuban sandwiches: they come with both yellow mustard and mayo, which was fine with me.  Some Cubanos are too dry, even with high-quality ingredients, and I think the mayo makes a fine sandwich lubricant here.  Also, even though the menu says they contain Genoa salami (Tampa’s gonna Tampa), neither of these Cubanos, ordered on two separate trips three months apart, had any.  (The Miami people are breathing a sigh of relief here, but I was looking forward to having a little salami, as a treat.)

I also brought this Italian sub ($11.95) home from my March trip to Alessi, and it was top-notch as well.  Thrill to the sight of Genoa salami (nobody can argue it doesn’t belong in an Italian sandwich), ham, spicy capicola, provolone cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, awesome hot pepper relish, oil, and vinegar on nice, soft, fresh-baked Italian bread.

Backtracking to Alessi’s Cuban bread, I brought this loaf over when I visited my Tampa friends in March, and everyone ripped into it with gusto.  The Cuban bread they sell at Publix cannot compare.  It doesn’t even come close.  I don’t think any Cuban bread I’ve tried in Orlando does, and I’ve been gone from Miami for far too long.

Once again, I wanted to DARE TO COMPARE Alessi’s Cuban bread to La Segunda’s, so during this busy morning of bakery-hopping, I bought a THREE-FOOT-LONG loaf of fresh La Segunda Cuban bread (left; a real attention-getter!), a new 18″ loaf of Alessi Cuban bread (center), and some buttered Cuban toast from La Segunda (right) for my wife, since she loved it so much on our 2018 visit when I reviewed it.  As you can see, La Segunda’s bread is double the length (and also thinner and softer), and Alessi’s is thicker and has more of a crackly outer crust.  By the way, that is a six-inch Cobra Commander action figure from the G.I. Joe Classified toy line, for scale.  COBRAAAAAA!  RETREAT AND EAT!

Boy, that’s a lot of Cuban bread, you may be thinking, and you would be right.  I already know both Alessi and La Segunda are famous for their Cuban bread for good reason, and I have already enjoyed it in plenty of their sandwiches.  I will be making several sandwiches of my own in the week ahead, and because of some other ingredients I’ll be using, you will read all about them on The Saboscrivner in the next week or two!

In the meantime, if you are ever in or near Tampa, I’d say Alessi Bakery is definitely worth a special trip.  You can feel four generations of history and love in everything you eat there.  That’s a rare thing in today’s world, especially when so many experiences and sensations are fleeting and ephemeral.  Oh yeah, I almost forgot — the fresh lemonade is exceptional as well, especially today, driving home in temperatures over 100 degrees that felt like walking through warm Jell-O between the bakery and our little car.  If you go, don’t miss that lemonade, on top of all these other treasures!

Grocery Grails: Fox’s U-Bet Syrups

This week I’m taking a break from restaurant reviews to bring back my recurring Grocery Grails feature, where I review and recommend some of my favorite food products you can buy at supermarkets and grocery stores.  In the past, I’ve reviewed pickles and ramen noodles in order to highlight the best store-bought varieties I’ve ever found, as well as all kinds of potato chips under the Tight Chips banner, reviewed sardines in features called The ‘Dines List, and mustards in a recurring segment called Cutting the Mustard.  Stay tuned for more of those, sharp-eyed Saboscrivnerinos, but today we’re going to cool things down with something a little different.

Have you ever eaten too much, or too much of the wrong things?  I have.  Sometimes you get that feeling where you’re too full and bloated, or you’re an anhedonic altacocker like me and suffer from a bit of acid reflux.  In that case, allow me to recommend the perfect solution for your indigestion: an egg cream!  You’ve probably heard of these delightful, deli-derived digestive drinks before, and I’ve even mentioned them in some of my past reviews.  An egg cream contains neither eggs nor cream, but three perfect ingredients to help you feel better after a heavy meal, and to leave a sweet, creamy, refreshing taste in your mouth: seltzer water, milk, and a flavored syrup.  And folks, if you make your egg creams with anything but Fox’s U-Bet Syrups, you’re not living right!

Fox’s is one of those beloved, old-school New Yawk products that is harder to find these days, and costs a little more, but is totally worth every penny.  Founded in Brooklyn in 1895 by H. Fox & Company, the Fox’s U-Bet brand is now owned by the Gold’s Horseradish company.  They do not contain high fructose corn syrup, unlike many comparable brands, and they are kosher for Passover.  The thick, rich chocolate syrup with the yellow label is the standard for egg creams, but I would strongly recommend it for any of your chocolate syrup needs: making chocolate milk, hot chocolate, ice cream sundaes, milkshakes, or anything else.  It tastes better than any other chocolate syrups, and definitely any powder mixes I’ve ever tried.Personally, I like the U-Bet vanilla and coffee syrups even more than the chocolate, which speaks volumes about how good they are.  Both of these are thinner than the thick, sticky chocolate syrup, but they are so good. They are harder to find around here, though.  I found the coffee syrup once at a “bougier” Publix than my normal location, and last fall, I was lucky enough to find some vanilla U-Bet bottles marked down for clearance after Yom Kippur at another swankier Publix, so I grabbed them all.  Pickles Delicatessen in Longwood also sells the chocolate and vanilla syrups.

With any of the three, squirt some U-Bet syrup into a tall glass, fill it about halfway with the milk of your choice and stir well, making sure it doesn’t all stick to the bottom and sides of your glass.  Fill the rest with seltzer, stir some more, and enjoy an effervescent, foamy, sweet, creamy, classic beverage that goes so well at the end of any meal as both a dessert and a digestive aid. 

Our plastic glasses have seen better days, after going through the dishwasher for 13 years, but here’s one of the many vanilla egg creams I’ve made to relax after work.  Hey, as a non-drinker, I take my simple pleasures where I can find them.

Last year I discovered a game-changing new product that completely changed my egg cream game, and it can change yours too.  The Polar brand makes several calorie-free flavored seltzers with all-natural ingredients, no sugar, and no gross artificial sweeteners added.  Sprouts Farmers Market grocery stores in Orlando and Oviedo (but interestingly, not Winter Park) sell a toasted coconut flavor of Polar seltzer that is absolutely delicious on its own, but elevates chocolate, vanilla, or coffee-flavored egg creams to the next level.  Think about how good a toasted coconut flavor would be when combined with any of those flavors, but especially my absolute favorite, the vanilla.  Combine that with 1% or 2% milk (which still taste so luxurious to me, after growing up in a house with skim milk, or vaguely milk-flavored water), and your egg cream will taste so much richer and more decadent than it really is.   I buy every bottle of Polar toasted coconut seltzer on the shelf every time I see them at Sprouts, just so we never run out!

Last year, a really good friend visited Rhode Island and brought me back this huge bottle of Autocrat coffee syrup, completely unknown here in Florida, but a standard shelf staple in Rhode Island, where everyone drinks “coffee milk.”  (Yes, it’s essentially the same thing as chocolate milk, just made with coffee syrup.  And I knew about it because I am obsessed with regional foods, especially anything I can’t easily find around here.)   I despise autocrats in real life, and there are far too many of them these days with too much power and control, but I sure did like the coffee syrup named after them.I almost never drink coffee due to the aforementioned acid reflux, but I like the taste of a sweet, creamy, chilled, coffee-flavored beverage.  Naturally, I enjoyed comparing it to the Fox’s U-Bet coffee syrup and using it in some coffee egg creams with plain and toasted coconut seltzer.  I decided the Autocrat works great for coffee milk, but nothing can touch the flavors of the Fox’s U-Bet products for egg creams.

If you read through this review and still have no idea what I’m talking about, treat yourself to a bottle of Fox’s or find a deli or a bagel shop willing to mix you up an egg cream.  You’re not gonna regret this!

CLOSED: Royal Castle (Miami)

EDIT: The last remaining Royal Castle closed permanently in October 2025.  The Miami Herald wrote about it, of course.  I’m so glad I got to try it before it was too late.

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A note to constant readers: I mistakenly published this review two weeks ago, while I was still working on it as a draft.  My small subset of subscribers should have subsequently seen it e-mailed to them, but I unpublished it immediately… UNTIL NOW, when it’s shined and polished for public consumption.  For those of you who have already read and reveled in my Royal Castle review, regrets for the redundancy.

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Growing up, my dad would sometimes get nostalgic about the restaurants he used to frequent in Miami that were before my time.  So many dearly-departed delis for pastrami sandwiches, Lum’s for hot dogs boiled in beer (I was so surprised to see Lum’s and those legendary hot dogs referenced in Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman last year!), and Royal Castle for tiny hamburgers and birch beer.  My dad doesn’t consider himself a “foodie” at all, and reads this blog with a mix of amusement and bemusement, but I feel like I became The Saboscrivner due in part to his influence.

A transplanted Brooklynite who moved to North Miami in his late teens, he always knew where to find the best hot dog carts, by-the-slice pizzerias, and all-you-can-eat Chinese buffets.  He had no problem packing us in the car for the hour drive from suburban Kendall to the North Miami Beach/Aventura/Sunny Isles area to take us to the much-missed Mister Coney Island and Wolfie Cohen’s Rascal House.  That entire part of Miami was magical to me from childhood through my college years, with two good comic book shops, the legendary Blue Note Records, and a Toys R Us on NE 163rd Street that always seemed to have a better selection than the ones closer to us.  But those places are all gone now, like so much of Miami’s glorious, golden past.  (Stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this.)

Anyway, my dad likes what he likes and sticks to the classics, but he was cool enough to step out of his comfort zone a handful of times to take us for Thai food (once; he claimed the spices made him angry), German food (once; he got weirded out when a bunch of people showed up in lederhosen and dirndls, but who could blame him?), and even a live jazz club on Miami Beach that served burgers and ribs, exponentially expanding my limited teenage horizons.  These were all big-deal formative experiences for me back then, growing up in the ’80s and ’90s.

Royal Castle always stood out to me because it sounded like Miami’s homegrown version of the White Castle and Krystal chains, much like how Orlando’s beloved and long-standing Beefy King is the last bastion of a local chain that was once poised to compete with Arby’s back in the ’70s.  There were once over 150 Royal Castles spanning Florida, Georgia, and Louisiana, but only one remains.  Founded in 1958, this Royal Castle is a true family business, sold to 28-year-old James Brimberry by the previous owner, his grandfather, “the first black employee to work inside any Royal Castle restaurant as it integrated just ahead of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.”  See Carlos Frias, “Miami’s last Royal Castle slings its burgers and birch beer for a new generation,” Miami Herald (June 27, 2019).

Here’s another article about Royal Castle for additional background information:

Miami Herald Archives, “Remember Royal Castle? The burger boom went bust, except for one last survivor,” Miami Herald (February 26, 2019).

By the way, Carlos Frias is one of my favorite food writers and an excellent person to follow on Twitter, whether you live in South Florida or not.  Earlier this summer, Royal Castle made his list of Black-owned Miami restaurant recommendations:

Carlos Frias, “Eat like a local at Miami-Dade’s black-owned restaurants. Here are some of our favorites,” Miami Herald (June 2, 2020).

But it was his June 2019 article I linked above that inspired me to seek out the last remaining Royal Castle on a quick overnight work trip to Miami last fall.  I had one free afternoon to grab lunch on the way down, so I decided to storm the Castle for myself.  Since they don’t have a website with a full menu, I was surprised to see they had a large diner-like menu with breakfasts, sandwiches, and sides — way more variety than I expected from a fast food burger place.  It’s definitely more like a diner than fast food as we all think of it.DSC02630

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I already love li’l slider burgers (see my Krystal review from last summer), and despite the other menu options that I wasn’t expecting, I made the special trip out of my way to Royal Castle to try their famous sliders.  I grabbed a stool at the counter and ordered this 6-Pack combo with cheese added to the burgers, crinkle-cut fries, and a lemonade, which was a reasonable $12.25.  (Unfortunately they were out of their famous birch beer, which I had really been looking forward to.)DSC02634

Close-up to see that nice melty American cheese, still the perfect burger cheese (and grilled cheese cheese).  I had just driven almost four hours and was starving and in a hurry to get to my destination, so I apologize for not taking more or better photos.  Rest assured there were steamed onions and pickle slices underneath the thin burger patties, and I made sure to apply plenty of ketchup to those fries and a dab on each slider.  DSC02635

In retrospect, I wish I had ordered more food, but I didn’t have the time to savor it or a fridge in my hotel room to safely store it.  They were perfectly fine little sliders that hit the spot and got me through a bunch of work schmoozing, but for me, it was all about making that pilgrimage, feeling that Miami history, and eating where my dad ate when he was probably half the age I am now.

The Northwest Miami neighborhood has seen better days, and the restaurant probably has too, but heck, so have I.  After this year, I think we can all say we’ve seen better days.  But it’s a testament to the Brimberry family that the last Royal Castle is still standing after 62 tumultuous years, still in the family, still proudly Black-owned, and still serving filling, flavorful fast food and a lot of local flavor as well.

Nikki’s Place

It’s a scary and stressful time to be alive.  Just leaving the house comes with its own set of dangers during a pandemic, and following the news is depressing and draining.  But it’s our responsibility to stay informed and learn about how we can repair the world, or at least make it a better place for everybody.  I know this food blog is strictly small-time and I’m kidding myself if I think I’m doing anything grand and important, but I really do hope to boost the signal for local restaurants I love, establishments that everyone should know about, ideally sending more business their way with these reviews.

That’s why I was so psyched about trying Nikki’s Place (https://www.nikkisplace.net/) for the first time yesterday.  It’s a soul food restaurant in the historic Parramore neighborhood near downtown Orlando, and it has been open for business since 1949, originally as Roser’s Restaurant.  It’s rare for any restaurants in a young city like Orlando to have lasted that many decades, and it feels like an incredible legacy because Chef Nick Aiken Jr. worked there as a child in 1952.  Chef Aiken and his wife Elaine took over his Aunt Roser’s restaurant in 1999 and renamed it Nikki’s Place, after their daughter Shannea “Nikki” Akins.  An Orlando Sentinel review from 2013 and additional articles from 2015 and 2017 tell more of this story, with the later article detailing how the landmark restaurant rebuilt and reopened in 2017 after a fire forced it closed two years earlier.

So on top of wanting to shine a supporting spotlight on one of Orlando’s Black-owned restaurants, soul food is comfort food, and this is a time we all need some comfort.  I know I do.  Nikki’s Place serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner daily, except for Tuesdays, when it is closed.  When I arrived at 11:15 on a Saturday, several customers were picking up breakfast takeout orders, but I came with lunch on my mind.  Luckily, they start serving lunch at 11 AM on Mondays and Wednesdays through Saturdays.  (On Sunday you can just order breakfast and then dinner, but not the cheaper lunch specials.)

As of this writing (June 6, 2020), Nikki’s Place has not yet reopened for dine-in service.  When you get there, they have laminated menus near the front entrance.  (It is double-sided, so don’t miss all the options on the back!)  They prefer you hang out in the front and let them know when you’re ready to order, and then they’ll join you to take your order and bring it over to you when it’s ready.  I placed a pretty large order that seemed like it was ready in ten minutes, but it would have been worth it even if I had to wait an hour.  This was some of the most delicious food I’ve had in a long time, and I felt so welcome just waiting there, near that doorway.  Everyone was so friendly and warm, the staff and fellow customers alike.  I spoke to one lady picking up some smoked sausage, the only other customer waiting inside when I arrived.  This was her second visit, and I told her it was my first.  We were excited for each other and chatted about food while we waited.

Longtime readers know there are some dishes I can’t refuse when I see them on a menu, and oxtails are one of them.  I’ve had Jamaican oxtails (at Golden Krust and Mark’s Jamaican Bar & Grill, among others) as well as Cuban-style rabo encendido, but never the soul food version.  Much to my wife’s amusement back at home, these oxtails ($10.50) made my eyes roll back in my head upon my first bite.  They were so tender and juicy, served in a savory stew with soft carrots and potatoes.  They weren’t as strongly seasoned as the Jamaican oxtails I’ve had many times before, but that gave the rich flavor of the meat more opportunity to stand out.
DSC03192All lunches come with two sides, so as you can see above, I chose macaroni and cheese and collard greens with my oxtails, two longtime favorites when I’m eating barbecue or Southern food.  The creamy macaroni and cheese has to be in the top five in Orlando, and the greens (stewed with pork or turkey?), were easily the best collards I’ve ever had before.  I could have eaten a whole pot of those greens and slurped down the “pot likker” that remained.

My wife loves fried catfish, so that’s what she had asked me to bring home ($8.25).  I like catfish too, but that’s not a dish I tend to think of ordering, even when I see it on menus.  Of course, when I got the food home and removed it from the styrofoam box to plate it for her, I had to try a tiny taste, for the sake of journalism.  Yeah, that’s the ticket.  And no joke, folks, this was the best catfish I’ve ever had.  As in, even though I couldn’t decide between six dishes on the menu today (catfish not being among them), I’d probably order that catfish for myself next time.  Some restaurants serve it with a bland and gritty cornmeal breading that I could take or leave, but this golden-brown batter had a better flavor and consistency than the usual fried catfish I’ve had elsewhere.  It was a nice-sized fillet, too.DSC03195My wife had asked for candied yams and rutabaga as her two sides.  I cook rutabaga for her at home once in a while, and I’ve boiled and mashed it and served it like mashed potatoes with a bit of butter and sour cream to offset the slight sour taste, and also cubed and roasted it with butter or EVOO and a sprinkling of brown sugar to caramelize on top.  It’s a versatile vegetable that never gets its due, but I strongly recommend experimenting with it.  The rutabaga from Nikki’s Place (mostly covered by the catfish in the photo above) was cubed, but that’s where the similarities with my recipes ended.  It was maybe the most strongly seasoned item I brought home, like no vegetable I’ve ever had before.  I think I detected cumin in the thick, sticky sauce, and I’m not sure what else, but I liked it because it was so unexpected.

Anyway, I told you I had a hard time deciding on my food, so I made the very easy decision to order a second meal for myself for later.  As excited as I was to try turkey necks, pork neck bones, pig tails, and the legendary fried chicken, I had it narrowed down to smothered rib tips (because how can you go wrong with ribs?) and chitterlings.  Of course, being a dorky white guy in a soul food place, the very patient waitress asked me if I’ve ever had chitterlings before, and I admitted I hadn’t, but I was excited to try them.  She disappeared for a brief moment and returned from the kitchen with a spork and a little plastic condiment cup full of chitterlings for me to sample!  I love small acts of generosity like this from restaurants, especially because I love trying new things, but just like any adventurers, I don’t always love everything once I try it.

As if I wasn’t already feeling the positive, welcoming vibe at Nikki’s Place, I was ready to unmask in public for the first time since this pandemic started and try my first chitterlings… and of course eating them standing up, with that tiny cup and awkward spork, I dribbled the brown gravy all over my lowered mask like it was amateur hour.  Sorry I didn’t get a picture, but there’s a picture of them in local food writer Heather McPherson’s Orlando Sentinel review from 2013.  They weren’t at all what I expected.  They were chewy, but tender… kind of like the consistency of very tender calamari?  And the sauce was thinner than most gravy you would think of, very savory but not spicy at all.  I liked it and would totally order it in the future!

But since I got an unexpected taste of the chitterlings, I opted for the rib tips ($7.99) as my additional takeout order, figuring my wife would be more likely to want to share them with me.  They were even more tender than the oxtails, completely falling off the bone.  They were smothered in another rich gravy rather than barbecue sauce, and they weren’t smoked like typical barbecue ribs.  DSC03194

I chose two more sides to go with this third order, so I ended up trying six of the sides today!  I love a good potato salad, and this version was fantastic.  Tinted yellow from mustard, it was a Southern-style potato salad similar to one you may have tried from the Publix deli.  I actually attempted making Southern-style potato salad at home early in the quarantine, and mine was awful.  This was even better than Publix, which I always considered the gold standard of potato salad.  It was cool and tangy, and I would get it again in a minute.  It would go great with deli sandwiches, fried chicken, barbecue, seafood, scooped into the middle of an otherwise-healthy green salad, you name it.

My final side was boiled, seasoned cabbage, one of my favorite vegetables.  It was so soft and tender.  Once again, I’d make cabbage like this at home all the time if I could.  It had to be seasoned with some pork or turkey too, it was so rich, but I could be wrong there.

You’ve probably noticed the small corn muffins in these photos.  All the lunches come with a corn muffin in addition to the two sides, and they were awesome.  Sometimes cornbread is too dry and crumbly for me, but these were very soft and fresh, with the sweetness you expect in Southern-style cornbread.  I don’t consider myself a cultural Southerner at all, despite being a lifelong Floridian, but I surely prefer my cornbread sweet.  On the subject of sweetness, another thing I can’t turn down is fresh lemonade, so I ordered one ($2.75) and guzzled it on the drive home.  It was super-sweet and tart the way only fresh-squeezed lemonade can be, easily one of the better lemonades I’ve had in this city.

But wait, there’s more!  Nikki’s Place offers several desserts, and I knew I couldn’t come home without dessert.  A friend with great taste told me the sweet potato pies were not to be missed, and I also saw peach cobbler, so I had to get one of each!DSC03196Despite pie usually being my favorite dessert, I can take or leave sweet potato pie.  This is one I’m so glad I took ($3.50 for a small “personal” pie).  It had a very firm flaky crust and a nice creamy texture with spices that make me think of Thanksgiving every time.

As a pie guy, I also gravitate toward fruity cobblers, crumbles, and buckles, and I love peaches, so I was expecting this peach cobbler ($4) to be the favorite.  It was very good, don’t get me wrong, but my wife surprised me by liking it even more than I did, so it was a big hit!  Between the two of us, the cobbler didn’t last very long, whereas we were both restrained enough to divide the small, rich sweet potato pie into quarters, and we have half the pie left going into tomorrow.

You’re probably hungry now.  I hope so.  That’s the whole point of The Saboscrivner!  But take a moment and think about all the lives that were enriched by a restaurant like this lasting 71 years, first as Roser’s and then as Nikki’s Place for the past 21 years.  Think about those tens of thousands of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners served, the thousands of families and friends who talked and laughed and cried and caught up over the decades, the hundreds of meals they cooked for the local homeless population in Parramore.  Restaurants come and go.  It’s a tough business.  The ones that stay are either good, lucky, or occasionally both.  I don’t know how much luck had to do with Nikki’s Place becoming a center of its community and a historic dining destination in Orlando, but just upon entering, I knew it was going to be GOOD.  After my first visit, I felt warmth, joy, and love from the people I chatted with and the wonderful food I brought home to my wife.

That’s the beauty of soul food — it makes you happy.  It nourishes the body, mind, and soul.  It makes everything temporarily better in the present and gives you hope for a better future.  I’ve been feeling kind of hopeless about things recently, but this lunch made me feel a little more positive about everything.  It was probably the most pleasant experience I’ve had in weeks, and it helped me shake off this spiraling dread and depression and think about how I can do more for my community, like Nikki’s Place does.  Imagine making that much of a positive impact on that many people over that many decades.  It’s rare when you get a lunch that’s also an inspiration, but that’s what I brought home today.  Hopefully I’ve inspired you to make a pilgrimage to Parramore for some Southern soul food.  Tell them I sent you and they’ll have no idea who you’re talking about, but go anyway!