Sometimes a restaurant is just a restaurant. Sometimes, it's a statement. Sangria's, on Howard Avenue in South Tampa, is the latter. Though the establishment serves tasty, well-prepared tapas, those "little dishes" of Spain that are the current creme de la trend in Tampa, eating at Sangria's doesn't seem to be half as important as being seen there.
On a recent weekend night, however, it was practically impossible to see anything through the crush of bodies filling the main area of the restaurant. My dining companion and I managed to enjoy a full hour of dining before the tone of the restaurant changed dramatically from quiet little taverna to south Tampa hotspot.
The clientele at Sangria's is among the most uniform to be found in Tampa. Wall-to-wall young urban professionals decked out in their most stylish summer togs (read: pink tube tops and white pleated mini-skirts for the girls, chinos and purple, charcoal or royal-blue Oxfords for the boys) milled about the place, snacking on mussels and sipping the restaurant's eponymous drink. Every single woman in the place had long, blown-straight hair with perfectly spaced, professional blonde highlights. I felt like I'd somehow stepped onto the set of The Stepford Wives: The Next Generation.
By the time the restaurant filled with the sun-kissed ranks, my dining companion and I, who do not fit the above description, felt a definite twinge of unease. As the place grew more crowded and the decibel levels louder, it became impossible to carry on a conversation with either the rest of your table or your server (also dressed in club wear and distinguishable from the clientele only by the fact that the waitresses tended to be brunettes).
Menus may have been hurried in and out of our hands, but the service was surprisingly efficient and thorough during the rush period. Our waitress paused in her duties to answer questions, give advice on dishes, and even battle her way through the hordes of bystanders to regularly refill our water and top off our sangria from the pitcher on our table. It is very easy for an incandescent watering hole like this one to let its service slide, taking the opinion that diners should consider themselves lucky to snatch a table. It's good to see that at Sangria's, quality is maintained despite its popularity.
Of course, no meal at this happening joint would be complete without a cup (or pitcher) of sangria. We sampled the champagne sangria ($33/pitcher), which was an almost cloyingly sweet, fruity concoction featuring enough floating apple slices for a pie. It was delivered in a large, ceramic pitcher that we were sure would motivate us to call a taxi for the ride home. Surprisingly, there seemed to be very little alcohol in our particular mix. I'm a certifiable lightweight and my dining companion was chock-full of cold medicine, but neither of us felt the warm sangria buzz, even after consuming half a pitcher each. However, on another visit, a glass of the restaurant's red sangria ($6) possessed a far more satisfying kick.
The food at Sangria's does justice to its popularity, if not entirely explaining its cause. We sampled a variety of tapas dishes, from the simple to the exotic and were happy with almost every one. I'm most pleased to report that the restaurant has avoided the common tapas-joint pitfall of the "very little dish." Though I rarely find that the quantity of food on a tapas plate is worthy of the price tag, Sangria's did better than most in giving me bang for my buck. I would like to note, however, that if a restaurant is arranged around diners ordering many small dishes, its tables should have enough room to serve said dishes on. Sangria's is already hurting for space, but between the ceramic pitchers, cobalt wine glasses, candles and five tapas plates, our itty-bitty corner table was definitely groaning.
For a first course, we sampled the tomato and mozzarella salad ($6), which, though not a particularly original choice, was carried off with a good deal of finesse and a surprising flair — rather than the usual fresh basil leaves, the salad featured dollops of tasty pesto.
We also tried the croquettes of the day ($6), which were filling cornmeal dumpling served piping hot with tiny, unidentifiable bits of meat mixed into the batter. Though we later discovered that the meat in the croquettes was pork, we spent most of the meal assuming it was some sort of seafood, since the aioli served with the dish had the flavor (and the chopped green seasonings) usually found in tartar sauce.
Much better was the dish of tender braised eggplant with a sharp goat cheese in tomato sauce ($8). The strong flavor of the cheese balanced perfectly with the acidic sauce and slightly bitter skin of the eggplant. The same sauce was present in a dish of homemade meatballs ($8) made with a mixture of pork, beef and veal. The meatballs, unfortunately, were rather dry and chewy inside, and were one of the more disappointing dishes we ordered.
Our favorite of all the tapas was the generously portioned shrimp sangria ($8), a delightful combination of fresh Gulf shrimp sautéed in a spicy tomato sauce redolent of the traditional Spanish flavorings of sherry and garlic. Beyond tapas, Sangria's offers an enormous, saffron-scented seafood paella for two ($26) which is more appropriate for weeknight diners, who are given more time and space to enjoy their meal. For dessert, we tried a massive slice of the "cake with 1,000 layers" ($5), an assembly of phyllo dough, chantilly cream and strawberries that made our sweet teeth very happy indeed.
Weeknights at Sangria's present an entirely different face. The Gypsy Kings play softly over the stereo system, and the scent of smoked meat and cinnamon in the air is not overwhelmed by a crush of humanity. The food had the same hit-or-miss quality, and the servers were more at leisure to discuss the menu.
Sangria's basks in its status as a Howard Avenue hotspot. Though a decent dining experience, and occasionally impressive, given the constraints imposed upon the restaurant by its own popularity, I failed to understand what it was that turned this adequate but arguably commonplace tapas joint into such a madhouse every weekend. Sometimes, a restaurant just has it, that indefinable quality that draws the mini-skirted, highlighted, trend-setting crowds.
I could take it or leave it.
Freelance writer Diana Peterfreund dines anonymously and the Planet pays for her meals. She may be contacted at diana.peterfreund@weeklyplanet.com. Restaurants are chosen for review at the discretion of the writer, and are not related to advertising.
This article appears in Jul 15-21, 2004.