Goody Goody
3.5 out of 5 stars
1601 W. Swann Ave., Tampa. Breakfast: $5-$9; lunch and dinner: $5-$15; dessert: $1.50-$4; drinks: $1-$6. 813-308-1925; goodygoodyburgers.com.
Richard Gonzmart has a big heart steeped in nostalgia. His family's deep roots in Tampa are on display for all to see in his flagship, Ybor City's Columbia Restaurant, and at the modern Ulele celebrating the city's native heritage in Tampa Heights. But who would've guessed he had a soft spot for burgers, milkshakes and the short-order cuisine that peaked in the Eisenhower years? Luckily for us, the resurrection of Goody Goody is mostly a wonder of culinary and architectural time travel.
It gets all the details right from the first-come, first-served counter to booths and lights that echo a Happy Days past. You can certainly imagine ghosts with poodle skirts and bobby socks. And while one in my posse laments the lack of patina that only years of grease can provide, Goody Goody's resurrection of butterscotch pie, lime and orange freezes, and Cheeseburger POX are only the tip of a satisfying nostalgic iceberg.
The POX label refers to the "distinctive, messy, tasty tomato-based secret sauce" along with "precisely cut pickles and onions" that became the trademark of the iconic burger. The result is a throwback burger that's a step up from fast food, but occupies a realm outside the artisanal burgers now in vogue. Still, for the menu's style and price point, it's a tasty effort. It comes paper-wrapped in a plastic basket with crisp, stubby golden fries tossed in seasoned salt.
The famous Goody Goody freezes made with Tampa's legendary homemade Old Meeting House sherbet are seductively creamy, without a hint of iciness. Both the lime and orange versions pack bold tastes, as do the thick, lovely shakes. The chocolate is impossibly dark, while the strawberry almost looks vanilla. The flavor, however, delivers in spades. Instead of artificial color, you get a big jolt of berry goodness. On my initial visit, I detected a slight plastic note on the finish of the lime and chocolate versions that I, at first, thought was coming from the straw. On my subsequent trip, however, all is well. While I'm not sure what caused this anomaly, I trust that now you may enjoy these superb creations without unwanted intrusions on your palate.
The root beer float is also top flight, whether you choose for it to go with your meal or as a sugary flight of post-burger fancy.
Stuffed with a hard-boiled egg, the old-style meatloaf arrives unexpectedly medium-rare and delicious. It's everything this comfort food is meant to be and seldom achieves. And, perhaps more importantly, the fresh mashed potatoes are a creamy, buttery delight. One notable improvement over the ghosts of dinners past is the absolutely pitch-perfect green beans. Instead of the canned variety that seemed OK in days gone by, these bright beans are fresh, al dente and surprisingly worthy of Gonzmart's gourmet restaurant siblings.
The huge ceramic casserole of shepherd’s pie is really, correctly, cottage pie because it's made with Fresh From Florida beef instead of lamb. But it's got plenty of peas, carrots and corn in the mix topped with mashed potatoes and baked until golden brown. It's supremely satisfying, but the meat is spicy and much more taco-like than a traditional version. Just be forewarned.
The Southern fried chicken engulfs two boneless breasts with nicely seasoned batter, then breads and fries them to a juicy golden brown. It's also served with mashed potatoes, gravy and the same delectable greens beans.
On a grilled split roll, the all-beef Goody dog layers pickled green beans, sliced tomato and Goody red relish. Though it bursts with meatiness, we have to ask for the menu-advertised spicy mustard, and the roll, in our case, is a bit dry. However, the house-made onion rings are thick and scrumptious, even without the buttermilk ranch dipping sauce.
The restaurant offers a hearty "Rise & Shine" breakfast all day, featuring the usual suspects: omelets, pancakes and breakfast sandwiches. The OMG! French Toast gets its own highlighted box on the menu, so I decide to take it for a test drive. The lineup lists "four slices, battered and grilled, topped with powdered sugar and butter with cracker maple syrup." What shows up is actually six slices of thick-cut bread similar to a baguette. It is positively wonderful, full of custardy goodness that delivers the OMG as promised. No wonder it has top billing. The side of three perfect sausage patties is just icing on the cake.
Except for key lime, pie has largely faded from most dessert menus. But here, pie is at the center of the conversation. Annabelle Johnson's Goody Goody pies come in the old-fashioned flavors you might expect — coconut, chocolate and banana creams, plus the all-American apple. We sample the quintessential banana, which is superb, yet are knocked out by the absolute perfection of the legendary butterscotch pie. It's the star of the show with ultra-rich butterscotch, torched meringue and flaky crust. It's like being given permission to eat a whole jar of dulce de leche with meringue. Some may find it too rich, but I say "bring it on."
Another nice touch that reflects Gonzmart's enthrallment with historic Hyde Park Village is that the charming paper placemats are a cartoon guided tour of the neighborhood circa 1925, when Tampa first got the POX. Goody Goody oozes local pride and is a triumph of culinary anthropology.
Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system.
Related Stories
Goody Goody will close this month in South Tampa
This article appears in Sep 15-22, 2016.