4 1/2 out of 5 stars
1901 N. Market St., Tampa. Appetizers: $6 – $22; entrees: $26 – $50; desserts: $6 – $18; beer/wine/cocktails: $5 – $25. 813-773-1901, oakandola.com.
Most times you need to wait for the food in a new restaurant to know that you’re in for a special culinary treat. But there are details early on that tip the hand of the restauranteur who understands that whipping the team into shape Bill Belichick-style pays off in spades.
As my posse settles in to the lovely new full-service addition to Tampa Heights’ Armature Works, we’re quickly served water as we peruse the menu and discuss the best strategy to assess chef/owner Anne Kearney’s seasonal menu. I’m thirstier than usual and drink half a glass right away. Within what seems like seconds, a silent ninja refills my glass from a bottle of water on the table in a stealth choreography that’s repeated effortlessly by at least three different members of the service team throughout our meal. Clearly the message is out: If you see a half empty glass, fill it. If there’s an empty bottle, replace it. This instantly says to me that there are high standards for service.
The menu offers a mix of small plates referred to as “somethings,” larger servings “may we recommend,” and entree-sized portions dubbed “provisions.” You can see the French influence of Chef Kearny’s years in New Orleans, but the full menu is a riff on the European Union — sorry, Brexit. There’s a little Spain, a soupçon of Belgium, inventive Italian, French finesse, German wurst, and the tastiest schnitzel that I can remember — channeling Vienna’s finest; more on that later.
When our vino arrives from the well-curated list of wines by the glass, at first glance it looks like the Côte du Rhone is cloudy. But then I realize that there’s a mist of condensation as the glass meets the Florida air on the splendid patio. I’m shocked and pleased. I almost never get red wine served near cellar temperature (55°). Usually, red wines are served at room temp, which is too warm. The subtle contrast between the ambient environment and the wine on your tongue brings it alive. But that’s a hassle for most restaurants and they don’t bother. Clearly, Oak & Ola, which is merely an old-school location reference for those who remember maps, sweats the details.
And that shows in the food, as well. The rustic country terrine studded with pistachios and the soft, creamy duck liver pate in a jar harken back to the French Riviera. There’s briny cornichons, delightful toasted croutons, a smear of mustard plus two fruit compotes, prune and a sweet-tart raisin duo. Pissaladiére, a Provençal tartlet buried in roasted garlic and caramelized onions, is also loaded with capers, white anchovies, niçoise olives and untraditional goat cheese criss-crossed with basil pistou. The cabbage rolls are cousins to Polish golabki, stuffed with lamb, pork, and barley then covered with tomato coulis and crème fraîche dollops. The European cheese board, which is also a dessert option, has a quartet of ripe cheese, with fruit bread, honeycomb, and julienned apple sticks. Each starter — even those glimpsed at adjacent tables — shows care in conception and execution.
The same is true with the classic entrees. Gulf fish — in this case, flounder — amandine bathes a splendid fillet in beurre noisette (brown butter the color of hazelnuts) topped with toasted sliced almonds and fresh herbs. Plus, it’s paired with so many perfect haricot vert we can’t finish them all. Onglet, or hanger steak, is 8 ounces of luscious beef, topped with enough blue cheese to start a penicillin factory, plus a Cabernet-shallot vinaigrette with a bed of wilted pea shoots that one of my tasters quips, “looks like an Easter basket.” Nevertheless, it showcases fine ingredients, presented with care and flair.
As I alluded to earlier, the pork schnitzel á la Holstein leaves me gobsmacked. The breading is crisp, the meat is juicy and the fried egg, fresh white anchovy, and lemon-caper butter garnishes represent the high finesse level that this kitchen embodies. The braised red cabbage awakens tart receptors on your tongue and balances each bite. The diminutive spätzle dumplings have been caramelized just a bit too long, but I don’t care — the pork is just revelatory. Sadly, as the seasonal menu morphs, this winter dish must give way to spring.
The house-made vanilla gelato is superb and a nice transition as we get ready to gobble up some decadent sweets. British sticky toffee pudding is one of my favorite desserts, but you rarely see it here. O&O’s version is loaded with the wonderful toffee sauce, but the cake is much lighter than you’d find across the pond. It’s not pudding in the American sense — as in custard. In England, pudding is a universal word for the course that ends the meal. I remember being confused when I first heard, “would you like ice cream for pudding?” And so it goes for those instances when we are two countries divided by a common language. Regardless of what you call it, it’s delicious.
The same is true of the lemon-almond cake, which is elevated by the attention to each component. The toasted pound cake is dense and flavorful, with the crisp edge providing texture that surprises. The intense, sweet-tart lemon curd is perfection. And the dried cherry compote with fresh whipped cream is a divine topping. It’s old school done with the utmost care.
A meal at Oak & Ola soars, does a few loop-de-loops, and gently lands in the upper echelon of Tampa Bay dining.
CL Food Critic Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system, or email him at food@creativeloafing.com.
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This article appears in Apr 4-11, 2019.