I see a big Weber gas grill behind the counter at Brisket Basket. That's a good sign. So is a white oven that looks more like a home appliance than restaurant equipment. The top is full of simmering sauces or occasional-use ingredients, but none of the action is over there. Obviously, the grill sees a lot of use.
Soon enough, the important parts of my chicken sandwich and burger hit that hot grill, the meat immediately sending out sizzle and smoke signals, with a bit of flare-up for good measure. Looking good. At least when it comes to the chicken.
Perfectly cooked and subtly seasoned with salt and spices, that grill-marked chicken ($5.95) makes a great sandwich (everything at BB is served sandwich-style), especially topped with manchego and some smoky paprika mayo. The burger ($5.95)? Well, that's the problem with grills — looks like those flare-ups got out of control, leaving the medium-rare flesh covered in a crisp shell of burnt protein. Done right, it's a tasty burger topped with cheddar and fried onions from a can. It's hit or miss.
Basket's namesake brisket ($5.95) is cooked in that tiny oven, slowly braised in its own juices over a period of hours. On a simple, yeasty white bun it tastes like a better-than-Mom's leftover pot-roast sandwich, the moist meat disintegrating from chunks to shreds with the slightest pressure. Have it with rich mayo and crunchy dill pickle slices to relive your youth. Well, my youth.
Not the meatloaf ($5.95), though. My mom was never an accomplished loafer, but this isn't much better. The giant bland slice has trouble maintaining structural integrity, crumbling away with each bite. Maybe a stint on that grill or a little more binder will stop the meat erosion, but something needs to put a meaty backbone into this wimpy slab.
There are obviously still kinks to work out in the menu and cooking technique, especially with the side dishes. Cole slaw ($1.99) is crisp and happily unfussy, but beans (five types mixed together, $1.99) suffer from a surfeit of cumin and cardamom, as does chili ($2.99) that tastes solely of those two spices or chowder ($2.99) infused with sweet vanilla. Those spices make sense, considering owner Linda Bernard's background — she owned Tangelo's and Ringside — but they need to be reined in a bit here.
Gummy balls of giant hominy ($1.99) the size of marbles are loaded with cheese and green chiles, but the texture is freaky. Definitely a love-it-or-hate-it sort of dish. German potato salad ($2.99) has a mess of bacon and just enough of a vinegar blast to make it the best side on the menu. Fries ($2.99) are hand-punched every morning, crisp, creamy and laced with salt.
Brisket Basket is the kind of place where you will quickly figure out what's good. And the good stuff can be damn good. Step outside and chow your brisket sammy on the picnic tables of this former drive-in restaurant (Triplets, missed by St. Pete High across the street), or just call ahead and they'll bring the food right to your car, albeit without the roller-skating flourish I might hope for.
City's Cafe doesn't quite have the downscale soul of Brisket Basket, but the restaurant has its own charms. For one, the menu of this mostly lunch joint is astounding. Sure, a lot of it is just protein and fixins rearranged in different styles — wrap, sandwich and salad — but there is certainly a wide choice chalked onto the giant board above the open kitchen. Five grilled cheese sandwiches? Yeah, I gotta get one of those.
The standard version ($5.50) consists of a prodigious amount of emmenthal, cheddar and smoked gouda cheeses melted between two slices of toasted rye, with a slice of warm, ripe tomato that attempts to provide a counterpoint to the fat. The sandwich oozes, crunches and slides apart in my hands. Delicious.
Built on such good bread — rye, whole grain and sourdough, all cut super thick — it doesn't take much to make some great sandwiches. The loaves are flown in from New York and California, some of them finished in the café's own ovens. The basic cold cuts are Boar's Head and the cheddar comes from Cabot in Vermont. I guess it takes more than a village to make a great sammy.
Blackened grouper (actually, the fish is corvina this time of year, I'm conscientiously informed by the lady at the counter, $7.99) is powerfully seasoned, intensely moist and just barely cooked through. It works best with the tangy sourdough and the café's cool tartar sauce.
Instead of hunky roast bird, the fresh turkey ($7.50) at City's Cafe is sliced super-thin and disappointingly dry, even with a schmear of sweet and tart cranberry sauce. Chicken breast is better ($7.50), grilled, seasoned and stacked with crisp veggies, smoky bacon and gouda.
Wraps are a disappointment, most of them weighed down with rice and beans that come across as tasteless filler. Still, the grilled chicken or steak that anchors them is pretty tasty. Hmm, throw in a handful of cilantro or some of the excess cumin and cardamom from Brisket Basket and these bland burritos might find some life. Or you can stick with the Med-inspired falafel and hummus wraps.
Breakfast is a fancier affair, with a variety of Benedicts featuring beautifully poached eggs, stuffed French toast made with City's exceptional bread and short-order specials. Dinner? Nightly features that never quite seem to overcome the lure of the sandwiches.
In the end, City's Cafe makes or breaks on the lunch business, which is good for them. Although some joints struggle with the concept, sandwiches aren't difficult to do well. Good bread? Check. Fresh veggies? Check. Cheese and meat? Check. Other than a couple of minor missteps, City's Café has all the right ingredients.
Brian Ries is a former restaurant general manager with an advanced diploma from the Court of Master Sommeliers. Creative Loafing food critics dine anonymously, and the paper pays for the meals. Restaurants chosen for review are not related to advertsing.
This article appears in Apr 11-17, 2007.