I love Tampa's downtown nightlife. Awright, awright, you caught me — there isn't any. Decrying the lack of entertaining diversions in the darkened business district is an old saw for us culture critics, but it's oh so satisfying, I couldn't resist.
Still, there is — occasionally — a reason to venture back into the city after dark, thanks to two of our best cultural venues. This week, the seemingly immortal Cathy Rigby will prance around as Peter Pan at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center, while a few blocks away, the Tampa International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival continues to present films from around the world at Tampa Theatre. The streets will be filled with boys and girls caught up in the magic of fairy dust, elaborate costumes and breathtaking swordfights; plus, there will be some people going to see Peter Pan.
With this in mind, I formed a little pre-event scouting party with some friends and trekked to Spain Restaurant on Tampa Street for some truly urban exploration. Within a couple of blocks of both venues — and with a full liquor bar — this downtown fixture could be just the place for pre-show refreshment.
When Spain moved a half-block in 2003, ownership took the opportunity to decorate in a truly modern style, with square melamine tables, molded plastic chairs and an oval of dangling pendant lights illuminating the dining room. Every square inch is a stark white, the only color provided by an oversize red-and-yellow Spanish flag suspended above the bar. In the light of day, the place feels like a sterile hospital cafeteria, although certainly more General Hospital than Tampa General.
That's fine, though. It suits the nature of Spain's self-service breakfast and lunch offerings, the kind of hearty fare that owner Maria Castro has been dishing out to the blue- and white-collared Tampa working class for decades. People line up to fill plastic trays with Spanish and Cuban classics: pork roasted with a hefty hit of dried herbs ($6.50), simple tomatoey ropa vieja ($6.50), saffron-infused arroz con pollo ($6.25), and, of course, crunchy Cuban sandwiches ($3.50).
Plantains ($1.25) are caramelized to gooey, candy-like perfection, and the black beans ($2.50) are served au naturel, with just a touch of chicken stock for moisture. Avoid the deep fried devil crab ($1.75), though. Is it my imagination, or are these bland little balls of crabby dough never good anywhere?
On a recent lunch visit, Spain served a special of grouper stuffed with crabmeat ($7.50). Even after sitting in a steam tray, the tender fish was moist and ideally cooked, wrapped around mild crab-and-crumb stuffing. Soggy breading was easily overlooked after the bulging filet was doused in subtle chicken gravy carrying a fresh hint of lemon. It was better than anyone has the right to expect from a buffet line; if they served it at dinner, I would have been just as happy.
At night, even a tiny bit of light makes the white surfaces radiate a neutral glow more comforting than severe. Flowing curtains separate the cafeteria line from the dining room, and tapas becomes the operative culinary principle. Handmade ceramic pitchers filled with Spain's brandy-heavy sangria flow from the bar, just as small plates of simple foods fly from the kitchen.
There are great fried bar snacks: rollitos ($7), like mini egg rolls stuffed with spicy pork sausage; tender breaded calamari ($8); doughy, picadillo-stuffed empanadillas ($6); golden brown croquetas ($6) of potato and cheese that could have used a more generous stuffing of Serrano ham. Bite-size, salty and consistently good, Spain's tapas are just the thing to accompany a gin martini or glass of Rioja.
A few items stand out. With a crisp brown crust and meaty packed shellfish, Spain's crab cakes ($9) are better than most, especially when smeared with the restaurant's fragrant mango chutney. It's dark and heavily spiced, more Indian than Florribean, and worth spooning up by itself. Champinones extravaganza ($9) plays on all of my favorite themes — cheese, bread and cream. A rich wine-and-mushroom sauce is generously ladled over tall chunks of baguette that have been topped with melted goat cheese.
Ceviche ($9) is plentiful, overflowing a tall martini glass with squid, shrimp and little bay scallops. I normally prefer a stronger dose of bright citrus and spicy cilantro with my ceviche, but the little sea creatures at Spain are so fresh and vibrant on their own, little else is necessary.
Spain serves its paella as both tapas ($9) and entrée ($18). It suffers a bit from quick cooking — the rice is good, as is the seafood, but the dish lacks the deep flavor that's the hallmark of great paella. Better is the arroz con pollo ($13), perhaps because I don't expect as much from chicken and rice. The golden rice is heavy with chicken stock and fragrant saffron, the shredded chicken moist and plentiful, and slices of chorizo add spicy and smoky notes.
With breakfast starting at 7 a.m., Spain could provide a full day of satisfying food. Ropa vieja during your brief lunch hour, tapas and sangria for dinner, then a greasy egg, cheese and chorizo sandwich on crusty Cuban bread with café con leche after you stumble out of whatever after-party you found the night before. Do they have after-parties for Peter Pan?
Spain might not drag me downtown all by itself, but it's just the thing to add some spice to Cathy Rigby, or provide some sustenance and lubrication between films.
Brian Ries is a former restaurant general manager with an advanced diploma from the Court of Master Sommeliers. He can be reached at [email protected]. Planet food critics dine anonymously, and the paper pays for the meals. Restaurants chosen for review are not related to advertising.
