On the outside, Harrison's Grill-N-Bar is festooned with the kind of tropical undersea murals that decorate many downtown Clearwater buildings. On the inside, dark wood, high-backed booths and stained glass bring to mind a certain Boston pub where "everyone knows your name." The juxtaposition of styles fits Harrison's diverse clientele. During the week, it's a handy lunch spot for downtown employees (the courthouse and other government buildings are right across the street), while on weekends, the bar heats up and live music gives this neighborhood institution a completely different vibe.
The menu at Harrison's is similar to that at most restaurants of its ilk, but the pub fare is saved from the mundane with gargantuan portions, some standout options and a few standard dishes that are truly exceptions to the rule. This week, bypass the ubiquitous Chili's, Applebee's and TGIFs for an independent that rocks the house.
Just make sure you bring the appetite of a high school football team. A $1.95 order of garlic cheese bread would feed a family of three, though the quantity was slightly better than the quality, which was neither as garlicky nor as buttery as I had hoped. My favorite appetizer, the loaded potato skins ($4.95), was somewhat inaccurately named; though the dish indeed contained skins, it would be better described as full baked potatoes cut in half then heaped with cheese, bacon, scallions and sour cream. No chewy, hollowed-out skins here! Though "potato skins" can be found on most pub menus, they are rarely as filling and well-executed as the ones at Harrison's.
A small order of "heaping" nachos ($3.50, and in hindsight, the name should have prepared me) almost didn't fit on our table. The chips were smothered in cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, sour cream, black olives, salsa, slightly desiccated jalapeno peppers and something called Texas chili. My biggest complaint about most nacho dishes is skimpy toppings; after all, we're not paying for plain chips. This version, happily, enjoyed an excess. I liked the slightly sweet, black bean-heavy chili that dominated the nachos' flavor, though my Texan dining companion said it didn't remind him of anything he'd eaten in the Lone Star State. For my part, I wondered if the molasses tinge betrayed an eastern Texas origin (say, on the Louisiana border?), but since many of the other dishes followed a pattern of Southwestern nomenclature, we decided to follow the theme.
So my next dish was the Santa Fe salad ($7.50 with chicken, $8.95 with shrimp). I ordered it with a giant handful of fresh blackened Gulf shrimp, which topped a salad of iceberg lettuce, cheese, tomatoes, tortilla chips, avocado and ranch dressing. I would have preferred different greens, but thought that the delicious, spicy shrimp more than made up for any lack in the other ingredients. The "blackened" dishes at Harrison's were uniformly excellent, whether we tried the blackened chicken sandwich with barbecue sauce and Monterey jack cheese ($6.95) or the blackened fish (grouper or snapper, as the market allows) with a creamy pepper sauce.
The sandwich list, as one might suspect of a pub menu, is extensive. I especially recommend the prime rib Philly ($8.95), which combines the idea of a Philly cheesesteak with a French dip by adding the sauce ungrammatically known in America as "au jus." The Rocky Mountain burger ($6.95), another in the Southwestern roster, adds sautéed mushrooms, thick bacon, Monterey jack (apparently Harrison's favorite cheese), lettuce and tomato to its oversized, cooked-to-specifications hamburger patty.
A house pasta specialty, Cajun black magic ($7.95/$10.95 for chicken, $8.95/$12.95 for shrimp) utilized more of the excellent blackened meats alongside the unlikely combinations of pasta in alfredo sauce, black beans, diced tomatoes and scallions. Though an interesting concept, I didn't think there was enough alfredo sauce or other toppings to flavor the mountain of pasta - and I'd only ordered the half-size portion. For vegetarians, a zesty option is the Southwest pasta ($6.95/$9.95), with roasted zucchini, mushrooms, tomatoes and red bell peppers in a garlicky red sauce with a topping of grated parmesan cheese.
Of course, few of these foods can be described as diet-friendly (don't forget this is a pub we're talking about), but Harrison's provides for those of you worshipping at the altar of Atkins: a short "Adkins" [sic] menu offers carb-light options, including more of that yummy blackened chicken breast ($6.95), this time with a side of veggies or cottage cheese.
The desserts are made in-house, and definitely worth a try, particularly the gooey Kahlua turtle pie ($4.95), a chocolate caramel cake served warm and à la mode, and the Key lime pie made with fresh-squeezed citrus ($2.95).
Harrison's is called a "Grill-N-Bar" rather than the usual "bar and grill," an odd order that perfectly describes the emphasis of food over drinks at the establishment. Indeed, during my visit, the beer taps were broken, though under usual circumstances they have six options and a decent assortment of bottles, as well as a full bar. A long deck outside allows for extra seating, but the street noise from 60 and Ft. Harrison (at least during spring break) makes it difficult to carry on a conversation. However, as the weather gets warmer and the evening crowd turns the inside just as boisterous, the deck tables can be a handy escape.
Harrison's Grill-N-Bar isn't trying to be the fanciest or most distinctive joint on the block. It's just a neighborhood pub with friendly service, giant portions and the type of food that keeps you coming back for more. But of course, if it didn't have something special to offer within its familiar framework, it would probably be just another Chili's by now.
Diana Peterfreund dines anonymously and the Planet pays for her meals. She may be contacted at [email protected]. Restaurants are chosen for review at the discretion of the writer, and are not related to advertising.
