Baseball is always fun, even when you're losing, but this season has already been memorable because we have been treated to an unusually poignant series of games featuring our home team, the young Tampa Bay Devil Rays, struggling to find its groove.
Oh yes, the team still ranks near the bottom of the American League, but its record is already better than last year at this juncture, and even the world-weary, crotchety sports writers are noting undeniable signs of promise. In most games, you see more hustle, more determination, more hope.
Maybe part of it is fear of the homicidal fury etched on the face of new manager Lou Piniella when someone does something stupid, but I don't think so. I think it's more like how the sculptor's chisel gradually transforms a sheer block of marble into a statue so life-like, it looks as if it could step off the pedestal and walk away: A team discovering its collective soul.
That's what I was pondering as I sat at a linen-covered table, 404 yards opposite home plate, perched directly behind my two favorite Devil Rays, outfielders Aubrey Huff and Carl Crawford, at St. Petersburg's Tropicana Field. I was dining at the stadium's fanciest restaurant, The Batter's Eye, with a reasonably good view, wait staff, yawning buffet, full bar and even an adjacent open patio, perfect for noshing and hanging with friends.
I guess some people manage to sit through a whole game without snarfing everything in sight, but to me, food is as much a part of baseball as the bat. Still, at the 208-seat Batter's Eye, you'll find atypical baseball fare — cold martinis, sesame-crusted ahi tuna, colored corn chips. Standouts are roast turkey and gravy and a good salad bar studded with handmade dressings; however, much of the food tasted institutional — greasy, bland lasagna, fajitas barely spiced and heavily fried, dried-out rolls and desserts.
Maybe that's because the restaurant is operated by Centerplate, the stadium's concessionaire. Still, there was enough among the dozens of dishes to pick and choose a perfectly acceptable meal, and paired with a fine day of baseball, you can't beat it with a stick. Plus, if there's someone you have trouble dragging to the games, The Batter's Eye can function as a suitable lure. (As in: "Sue, I'll treat you to a whiskey sour, fancy cheese and crackers, and hot roast beef if you'll come to the game with me.")
You have to buy a ticket to get into the stadium, but don't waste money on expensive seats because you're not going to be sitting there, anyway. You sit in the restaurant or outside on its patio. So, buy the cheapest ticket, which sells for as low as $1, they tell me — but I paid $9 at the box office.
Overheard at the next table: Guy: "Are these the best $9 seats you ever had?" Girl: "They are. I feel like I'm in a skybox!" Add $10 for parking and the cost of the buffet — $24.95 per adult and $14.95 per child 12 and under. It might come to less than many fans spend just on tickets, and it's a nice alternative for families who might otherwise dine elsewhere, anyway, those celebrating anniversaries or birthdays (if you notify the team ahead, the announcer sends greetings during the game), or groups of friends who enjoy quaffing, nibbling and chatting while the game plays out before them.
I started inside the restaurant's main dining room, three levels set behind windows, with bar and buffet on top. My first stop was the hot appetizer station, manned by an engaging chef, who produced a decent version of fresh ahi tuna encrusted with sesame seeds and lightly sautéed. His chicken fajitas were less successful, too greasy and badly in need of spicy heat.
Nearby was a carefully decorated table loaded with great mounds of cheeses and crisp crackers. It was really finger food, and you could carry it out to the patio, where the view is much better. The cheese was fresh, and the crackers crumbled in the mouth. I sent the whole mess south with a big slug of dry red wine.
Two big basins of fresh green salad sat in ice along a separate buffet, set with delectable veggies and handmade dressings, like a delightful raspberry vinaigrette. There were also bowls of so-so potato and pasta salads, shrimp, and fresh fruit salads. The soup that day was Andouille sausage, kind of gluey, but hot and not terrible.
My favorite entrée was a simple roasted turkey breast, sliced and doused with a spirited, deep brown gravy, set with smashed potatoes and steamed brussels sprouts, which I have never before eaten at a ballpark. Other good entrées were a dynamite pork dish, baked with cabbage and apples; and a simple side of roast beef matched with another glistening, smooth, tasty gravy.
Skip dessert. I tried chocolate cake ($6), thick with real chocolate and heavy with frosting, but too cold from the fridge and dry from sitting around too long; ditto the "apple pie" ($6) ordered by my dinner companion, a cakey fruit torte, again too cold and too old.
If you want dessert, try the Carvel hot fudge ice cream sundae sold by vendors along the halls of the stadium, a huge mound of cold ice cream topped with lots of chocolatey goo, or colorful cotton candy — more traditional baseball fare.
Food Editor Sara Kennedy dines anonymously, and Weekly Planet pays for her meals. She can be reached at sara.kennedy@weeklyplanet.com or 813-248-8888 ext. 116.
This article appears in Jun 5-11, 2003.
