Metro Diner's stated goal is to serve "comfort food with flair." Certainly the menu offers breakfast anytime, and an impressive array of dishes that check that box. The Jacksonville flagship dates back 25 years, and the website has a scroll of nods for "Best Breakfast" awards. Plus, it's expanding rapidly with nearly two dozen locations on the books. On my visit to the new St. Petersburg location, however, the promised "flair" went up in flames.
We start with some hope. Our server speaks highly of their "black and bleu" homemade potato chips special, and we're convinced. A huge platter arrives piled high with crisp and dark golden crinkle-cut chips absolutely covered with tiny blue cheese bits and dressing, contrasting drizzles of balsamic reduction, and a sprinkling of chopped bright green scallions. My table is abuzz, and we quickly devour the smothered chips with smiles all around.
Next, we move to cups of hearty chili and tomato bisque as well as Caesar salad. Soups and salads always reflect a kitchen's strengths and weaknesses. The Cheddar-topped chili is OK, if a bit pedestrian. But then things go downhill rapidly. A cup of tomato bisque is thick, cheesy and just unappetizing; I feel like a first grader with a paste fetish. Perhaps things will improve with some torn pieces of romaine.
Caesar salad is classic for a reason. When made properly with garlic, anchovies, fresh lemon and a coddled egg, it's a seductive combination — even before you add the grated Parmesan. Usually, though, restaurants cut corners. While it's rare that you find the dish made tableside as it was in its heyday, it remains a staple and a good way to test a kitchen's eye for detail. Metro Diner's version arrives looking fresh, but with shredded Parmesan and croutons that look distinctly packaged. That's fine — this isn't fine dining, and my expectations are firmly in check. I take my first forkful and am brought up short.
"Please try this," I implore my companions. "What do you taste?"
Sadly, it tastes like old fish, not anchovies, and not in a good way. My companions confirm my analysis. This is one of the worst dishes I can remember in four years of reviewing. It's simply inedible. I'm not sure how the diner makes the dressing, but something from a jar would be a huge improvement.
Our crab cake sandwich comes with onion rings that had obviously been frozen. Although the crab cake is made from shreds and not lumps, at least it's flavorful. It's flat like a burger and nicely caramelized, with a hint of Old Bay spice. The center is too soft, yet has some decent taste by comparison.
One of the diner's big lures is anytime breakfast, and I can't resist one of the six eggs Benedict variations. Since I love sausage, I settle on the country version, which trades traditional Canadian bacon for patties and some caramelized onions. Again, based on experience, I don't expect much from the hollandaise. This most wonderful French sauce is technique-driven and rarely appears in public in a variation that Julia Child would approve of. The heavenly butter-and-egg emulsion is too tricky. All I ask is that the sauce doesn't taste of flour and there's at least some sense of buttery wonder tinged with a distinct hit of lemon.
When your fork pierces a four-minute poached egg, the luscious yellow yolk melds with the hollandaise on top of the meat and the crunch of crisp, buttery English muffins for a taste and texture blockbuster. I’m ready. As my fork slices through the egg, culinary alarms go off. The yolk is soft, but solid; it's nearly hard-boiled. Still hopeful, I take a bite. No butter. No lemon. Just blah. And the muffin is totally soft. Every element that makes eggs Benedict thrilling is missing. Even the sausage is a bit dry.
Our other entrees are equally lackluster. Slow-roasted pot roast has flavor, but its huge onion chunks are unwieldy, and the red-skin-flecked potato mash is bland and unseasoned.
The chicken pot pie béchamel is an odd yellow color and tastes more like a '60s church social dish made with canned soup and Bisquick. 'Nuff said.
When it comes time for dessert, Metro Diner keeps it simple: key lime pie or a salted caramel brownie à la mode. Too often, key lime pie is wimpy. This one has a nice tang, and though there are some unattractive brown spots near the edge, it fares better than what has come before. It's one of the few bites worth swallowing. I wish the same could be said for the brownie. It's of the fudgie (rather than cake) variety. However, even a gooey fudge brownie needs to be cooked. The center of ours is raw. At first, I think I'm being overly sensitive, but after I force everyone at my table to taste a mouthful, the consensus is unanimous.
As one tablemate quips, "This place is not for people who care about food."
The diner is packed on our visit, and I can't explain the disconnect. I guess if you're stuck and need quick fuel for kids or a group on poker night, take your chances. But, for me, find a local mom-and-pop shop instead.
Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system.
This article appears in Aug 18-25, 2016.