3.5 out of 5 stars
700 S. Florida Avenue, Tampa. Appetizers: $7-$15; entrees: $12-$26; desserts: $5 - $5; beer/wine/cocktails $6.50 - $16.
813-204-6352; marriott.com
Is a buck a minute too much to ask to play Zombie Dodgeball?
That is the question. Apart from Garrison Tavern’s 16-foot video wall and old school tabletop shuffleboard, the real entertainment allure here is two Topgolf Swing Suites. You and your posse can play golf, baseball, football, hockey, carnival games, or try to stop the zombie apocalypse with a red rubber ball. Ain’t technology grand? You’ve got to sign on in 30-minute segments, but the options are compelling. Regardless, the walking dead have no interest in Chef Richard Sandoval’s splendid Garrison Tavern menu.
Zombies aside, the space is welcoming—with comfortable booths and an enticing bar. It offers a “contemporary twist on the age-old concept” of a “social house [to] gather together.” There’s a long history of public houses offering games with food to spark conversation. Sadly, we’re just here to eat.
So, we opt for two satisfying starters. A mashup of culinary heritage honoring the caravan of Mexicans who sneaked across the border with Canada. Pork carnitas poutine is a huge plate of French fries and cheese curds buried in crisp pork shreds, all bathed in spicy cascabel pepper gravy. Luckily, the heat doesn’t have a sustained burn on the finish. There are also pickled chiles mixed in, but nothing that a Canadian gringo can’t handle. The whole thing is blanketed with tiny leafy greens that add welcome herbal grace notes.
Boursin cheese dip resembles a warm gravy with bits of spinach and artichoke throughput. The fresh, hot pita is abundant but the cheesy sauce just coats the bread and it’s hard to get it to your mouth without dripping. That said, it’s delicious—just not a dip that holds its shape.
The entrees and sides are also very appealing. The crispy beer-battered grouper pleases our party’s resident Brit, who’s had more fish and chips than it’s possible to count. The golden crust is well-nigh perfect. It’s fine by itself, but there’s also some smoky cilantro-lime tartar sauce and a grilled lemon half to add zippy acidity.
Garrison’s Cuban handheld is quintessential. The pressed sandwich melds mojo-marinated pork, ham, salami, swiss and dill pickle with mayo-mustard on traditional Cuban bread. We upgrade to the Tampa garlic-dill fries, which are pretty subtle, but the horseradish tartar dip adds a well-balanced buzz. My Cuban sandwich connoisseur raves.
The slow-cooked local grass-fed Providence Cattle short ribs are fork-tender and shimmer under a yummy red wine jus. They’re the choice of a former line chef/butcher who’s with me on our visit. If you can please an old pro, you’ve done well. Interestingly, my tablemate can’t say enough about the garlic-almond broccoli. We have a long discussion about the Goldilocks zone somewhere between crudités and mush. Garrison’s kitchen nails it; the florets are just right.
The fish tacos start with a flavorful adobo-grilled mahi on a flour tortilla layered with crisp, marinated cabbage and the aforementioned cilantro-lime tartar sauce. Piped guacamole snakes its way back-and-forth on top to joyful effect. Of course, a spritz of fresh lime is required and brightens the flavors just so.
The other sides are uniformly pleasing. What’s billed as “smoky” macaroni and cheese features al dente pasta and creamy sauce, but doesn’t display any unique twist. Caramelized Brussels sprouts sing in pumpkin seed honey butter, and the split fingerling potatoes are loaded with shredded Cheddar, crumbled bacon, chives, and piped with sour cream. Who could ask for anything more?
Well, perhaps some smoky chipotle baked beans, which are distinctly Mexican. There’s not the sweetness that comes from Boston. First of all, these appear to be red pinto instead of white navy beans covered with chunks of melted Cotija cheese, which creates an enticing topping that’s sprinkled with thin scallion slices. The amply filled rectangular crock is totally shareable.
After the casual tavern menu, the sophisticated plated desserts look like they come from an entirely different restaurant. These glow with fine dining finesse. The mocha ice cream sandwich layers seductive hazelnut praline side-by-side with salted caramel. It’s all wrapped in a surprisingly thin open-sided sweet sheath garnished with raspberry (instead of the blueberry on the menu). It has a very “mid-century modern” furniture look, but is delightful nonetheless.
Most exciting is the honey cake. It’s a multi-tiered cube of ultra-thin layers with luscious dulce de leche cream, and roughly broken pieces of molded honeycomb bark which lean teasingly against the cake blocking your view. Ah, but underneath is a scoop of scrumptious stone fruit compote. There are two other mounds of the delectable fruit and a dusting of crumbs. We all sit gobsmacked, licking our lips and secretly wishing like Oliver Twist, that “please, sir, (we) want some more.”
The whole operation reinforces the quality of the Marriott brand; the adjacent lobby is lovely— but parking near the Amalie Arena is scarce. Luckily there’s a crackerjack valet team, but even with validation, it’s $10 plus tip. Still, how many chances are there in life to combine kick-ass sweets with zombie dodgeball?
CL Food Critic Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system, or email him at [email protected].
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