Downtown Dunedin is a beautiful place, a tiny slice of scenic Florida that has somehow managed to escape the worst of our unchecked growth and rampant development. Packed into just a few placid blocks are a slew of interesting restaurants, a fantastic local brewery and a bounty of laid-back folk just taking in the scene. I love Dunedin. I just hate getting there.
The 10-mile stretch of U.S. 19 that leads to State Road 580 takes a toll on my psyche. Unending construction, innumerable strip malls and more titty bars than I can shake a turgid stick at. Do you blame me for my reticence?
But then Casa Tina, a longstanding and popular Mexican joint smack dab in the heart of Dunedin's Main Street corridor moved into bigger digs next door and turned the former space into a wine bar. I've felt it tugging at me since it re-opened just three months ago, so I put on some blinders and braved the corridor of pain for a quiet night of wine, mole and friends.
And, just as I remembered, Dunedin proved to be more than enough balm to soothe the scars of that trip up 19. But while Dunedin is still a draw, Casa Tina won't be my destination the next time around. The new wine bar? Maybe.
Casa Tina's new space is twice as big and feels it. Noisy. Boisterous. Thrumming with commerce, even on a Sunday night.
Rustic woods and well-worn fixtures give the restaurant a lived-in aura despite the short run of the new location. The staff is hopping from the bar on the right to the semi-open kitchen in back to the low booths and wood tables of the dining room, bearing golden margaritas and platters of steaming tortillas and sauces stained red, black and green. It's controlled chaos. Maybe we'll start with a glass of wine next door.
In comparison, it's eerily calm at Casa Tina's Pan y Vino wine bar. Deserted. It doesn't appear that the two businesses generate a lot of crossover clientele, perhaps because the feel is so vastly different. Pan y Vino blasts modern music, from Buble to the White Stripes, just under conversation-threatening levels. The décor is mostly shabby-chic gastro-pub, with oddly undersized booths along the walls and hefty wooden tables in the center, along with a plushly cushioned conversation pit in the front of the room.
Pan offers almost two dozen vino options from around the world — as well as a short but sweet list of cervezas — almost all available both by the bottle and by the glass. The price is right, too, with just one glass breaking the sawbuck ceiling and several hovering closer to a fiver. Don't know what to pick? They'll pour you a taste of anything you're considering while filling you in on key components to look out for. And, since it's empty, the server has all the time he needs to take care of us.
Although somewhat varied, the list is dominated by big, New World-style wines at the expense of more subtle options from Europe. You can choose from hefty chardonnays like California standbys Sonoma-Cutrer ($10 a glass) and Beringer ($5), or pick an equally weighty option from Australia, but no Burgundy. Likewise, there's the Ferrari Carano merlot ($8.50), Simi cab ($10) and St. Francis Bordeaux-blend ($7) but no actual Bordeaux.
The best choices all come from Spain, including a bright albarino from Martin Codax ($7) and a subdued, earthy tempranillo from La Granja ($10). Without those, though, it's like Pan y Vino ignores a whole continent of wine that would add depth to the list.
A few more European wines would also go better with Pan's vino-centric food. The cheese plate ($12) is tasty, if a little uninspired, with flakes of manchego, sections of gooey brie and cubes of cheddar alongside mixed nuts and grapes. Better are simply sautéed mushrooms and water chestnuts ($7) accented by thyme and Madeira, or crisp empanadas ($4) stuffed with spinach, jack and feta. There are also standard dips, smoked salmon and bruschetta to cut your glass of wine.
After that calm prelude, we dive back into the Casa Tina fray for a heartier, if not actually more satisfying, meal. Unlike most Mexican-themed joints, Casa Tina tends toward the authentic, avoiding the slew of Tex-Mex and Americanized dishes that dominate the industry. Authentic, but not necessarily flavorful.
Soups are a mess. Posole ($4.95) is studded with shreds of chicken and plump grains of hominy and stained a deep brick-red by ancho, but the chile flavor just isn't there. Puréed black bean soup ($3.95) is so thin that it's more like cilantro-flavored water. Add some vodka and it might make an innovative martini, but it just doesn't cut it as soup.
The cilantro used in the soup would have been better used in Casa Tina's ceviche ($8.95), a workmanlike dish that needs a lot more herb to wake up the lackluster flavor.
Chayote relleno ($4.50) is so subtle that it's borderline bland, the steamed squash buttery and smooth with breadcrumbs for texture and just enough garlic to keep my attention.
Dry grilled fish and melted cheese dominate Casa Tina's fish tacos ($12.95), no amount of sauce or cabbage able to wake up the massive slab of sea-going protein. Sad, but the real tragedy comes from mole poblano ($14.95), the grandest of all Mexican dishes. Here, Casa Tina manages to inject a healthy burst of chocolate that's missing from lesser Mexican joints, which is authentic, but that comes at the price of a cloying sweetness, which is not authentic. At least the mole verde ($14.95) is tasty, with bright tomatillo and a subtle vein of heat.
Thankfully, the night is saved by a return to Pan y Vino and its Sunday special — half-price wine after 8 p.m. A couple of glasses of inexpensive vino later in the still-deserted wine bar and I'm fortified enough to brave the bright neon and flashing barricades of U.S. 19 for a second time.
This article appears in Jun 4-10, 2008.