Three Coins owner Dino Tsontzos, decked out in an outfit appropriate for 1970s America or 1990s Eastern Europe, passes our table mumbling a quick "How's everything?" He might be seriously interested, but he ambles by so quickly that our response is directed at the pack of Parliament menthols dangling precariously from the back pocket of his khakis. Even though he's only owned the place for a month, he probably knows the answer to this rote bit of managerial customer service: "It's good, Dino!"
There's a distinction between your run-of-the-mill greasy spoon and the kind of serious diner that has made restaurants specializing in inexpensive home-cooking a pop-culture phenomenon for the past 50 years. A lot of it is in the trappings, which Three Coins has in spades. The counter is fronted by dinged chrome stools bolted to the floor; the petite wooden booths look like they were designed before the era of obesity; and the waitresses are just like the sassy, talkative ladies you've seen on TV. Three Coins is loaded with the type of weathered authenticity that only comes from 27 years of continuous operation.
Ambiance can only take you so far, though. Slap pre-made, defrosted and deep-fried products on a plate, and people will stop by occasionally for the kitsch factor. Make real, tasty food, and locals will be happy to occupy a seat three times a week for the rest of their lives. That's the real secret to Three Coins' longevity.
Three Coins' reuben ($6.25) — instead of using Boar's Head slices — is stacked with half-inch thick slabs of beef corned in the kitchen out back, exceptionally tender and nicely spiced, along with the usual tart sauerkraut, gooey Swiss and rye. Typical thick-cut steak fries are a fine accompaniment, especially with the extra couple of cornmeal-coated onion rings always thrown on top, but the better choice is a cup of homemade soup ($1.75). Navy bean is nice, tender and rich, with a backdrop of salty smoked ham.
To be a good diner, it must serve a good burger ($4.95). Three Coins' patties have the irregular outcroppings of hand shaping, with that midsized thickness that's unique to diners, bridging the size gap between fast food and fancy restaurant burgers. Dark crust covers both sides of the salty patty — a sure sign of tasty grease oozing out of the meat on the griddle — and it's completed by a few leaves of crunchy iceberg, tomatoes and pickles. Three Coins nails the burger.
Usual diner fare is just as accomplished at Three Coins, from a simple BLT ($5.50) to a gyro ($5.95) laced with excellent tzatziki to creamy tuna salad ($4.50) heaped on a toasted English muffin. The meatball sub ($5.75) can be a bit chewy, but the meatballs are made in house, too, along with the marinara poured on top.
The same corned beef from the reuben is spectacular in hash ($5) with onions and potatoes and a couple of eggs over easy. It's easily one of the best breakfasts in town. Other breakfasts tend toward sturdy, short-order classics, but the pancake stacks ($3.95) are fluffy and sweet.
Healthy choices have never been a strong part of any diner's repertoire, but Three Coins' chopped lettuce salads are big and can be fortified with scoops of straightforward egg, tuna, shrimp or chicken salad. If you really crave nostalgia, go for a "Health Platter" anchored by a mass of cottage cheese.
Dinner is the only meal with some shortcomings. The steaks and chops are hearty but not high quality, and the large selection of pasta sauces rarely work. Chicken ($9.95-12.95), both fried and sautéed, and with a variety of toppings, is a safe choice, especially the chicken parm ($10.95) doused in that homemade marinara or the well-seasoned souvlaki ($7.25). But the best thing about Three Coins dinners? They come with Jell-O!
When Tsontzos took over in the beginning of October, he was actually the second new owner this year. Thankfully, he's keeping the place open 24 hours a day, every day, a schedule he inherited from the previous regime. "Every night it picks up more and more," he says. The proximity to Seminole Heights and USF, along with the lack of late-night eateries throughout Tampa, can't hurt.
Otherwise, Tsontzos — who owned similar restaurants in Philadelphia — isn't going to meddle with the Three Coins formula. The homemade items will still be homemade and the ingredients will stay the same. He knows which side his bread is buttered on.
"People don't like changes," he sagely opines. "People are used to this."
This article appears in Nov 7-13, 2007.