No matter where around the globe you travel, street food is, to quote Donald Trump, “HUGE!” In fact, wandering chef Anthony Bourdain told the World Street Food Congress that “street food, I believe, is the salvation of the human race.” No matter your longitude or latitude, there are mind-boggling variations on pizza, crepes, noodles and dumplings galore — from sandwiches to dim sum, from empañadas to every imaginable meat-on-a-stick.
When it comes to North America, however, two icons stand out: the all-American hot dog and poutine, Canada’s sloppy but delicious mashup. It is on these two comfort foods, that King, an English bulldog, has built his nascent empire with the assistance of human follower, Stephen Schrutt. The kingdom reigns as Kings Street Food Counter, Schrutt’s second downtown St. Pete restaurant concept (the other being the AVENUE eat/drink).
For a pooch, King has an unerring design sense, with a black, white and sea-foam green retro flair. He’s allowed the humans a handsome 1950s diner interior with a counter and booths, but provided a large, luxurious AstroTurf-clad garden for his canine pals. It’s outfitted with sleek wood and white gloss communal tables and chairs. Knowing humans’ predilection for beer and sports, he’s also furnished an outdoor bar with local brews on tap and a couple of HDTVs to make sure the bipeds extend their visit. Smart dog.
Another canny choice is the huge nostalgic cartoon mural spanning the length of the building. It mimics the anthropomorphized dancing and singing hot dogs from those ’60s drive-in movie pre-show concession come-ons that ensured whining kids would get parents to open their wallets. There’s our eager, smiling Sun in hipster glasses and an airborne crinkle-cut spud on a skateboard. At night, the mural’s black border extends to the sky and onward to infinity. Only a bulldog with a discerning eye would showcase such details, but I guess that’s to be expected from a royal pup.
Under the watchful eye of the smiling hot dog wearing King’s crown, it’s a daunting task to choose, much less eat, one of the 16 100-percent Vienna all-beef wieners. But we finally settle on 3 Amigos, dressed with jalapeño salsa, avocado, queso fresco and chipotle sauce that’s spicy hot, even as the dog itself is surprisingly cool. Still, it’s a tasty mouthful. The Good Fella is a piping hot spicy Italian sausage topped with sauteéd onions and red peppers that, for me, is as good as it gets.
The other comfort food option teases diners with 10 delectable grilled cheese sandwiches. Teacher’s Pet juxtaposes Brie, caramelized onions, green apples and butter-toasted almonds, as the Pear-fect centers on gorgonzola, caramelized onions and pear with bacon. While the flavor combinations are terrific, there’s just not enough oozing cheese for these sandwiches to cross over into decadence. Comfort food, after all, is not noted for restraint.
Each main comes with your choice from five sides. The tomato bisque is a traditional match for grilled cheese, particularly for those who like to dip. It’s thick and rich with a balanced marriage of tomato and basil, though just a little on the salty side. The yummy local beer chili is finished with sour cream and a layer of Fritos. Cold macaroni salad is tossed with bacon and blue cheese for plenty of flavor, and the cucumber, tomato and onion salad is a healthy option with just a touch of vinaigrette. And if you haven’t gone the poutine route, you can always have some crispy fries.
There are also five inventive breakfast items served all day, and fresh chopped salad options if you’re not seduced by comfort food. Everything is packaged to dine in or take out. It’s smartly served in brown cardboard boxes with paper liners that mimic the great retro graphics. “Silverware” comes in the form of an endless supply of cello-wrapped black plastic.
It’s then that we turn to the third and last dessert: the cronut. Two flaky warm croissant donuts are absolutely covered with thin chocolate ganache and sprinkled with bacon. This is the dessert I picture being made by two mischievous, giggling teenagers when mom and dad are out of the house. It’s decadent and divine, but you must like bacon with chocolate.
So my hat is off to you, King. Just keep your keen canine eye peeled and your heightened sense of smell attuned to humans who have had too much beer. I hear tell that sometimes they may behave like animals and foul the AstroTurf, even under the watchful eye of the giant hot dog with a crown.
Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system.
This article appears in Nov 19-25, 2015.