Pincho Y Pincho, in the old Ponce De Leon Hotel at the end of Central Avenue, stakes a claim to authenticity and age — even though it's only been open for a month. Owned by Ceviche's Gordon Davis and crew, Pincho manages to look just like a traditional Spanish tapas joint without the polish and bustle of its big brother next door.
Some of that authenticity flows naturally from the size of the place. Pincho is tucked into a tiny, 400-square-foot spot that used to house an ice cream parlor. There are a few seats outside on the sidewalk, but the interior barely has room for a small bar and a few tight tables, just like the classic pub-crawl places in Barcelona or Bilbao that spawned the inescapable U.S. tapas trend.
Ceilings are low and lined by bundles of brick-red dried peppers and Serrano hams in hanging nets. There is Spanish tile and dark wood, reflecting some of the accents featured next door, but somehow, Pincho looks old. Not shabby, just heavy with the weight of a history that it hasn't had a chance to earn, at least not yet. An instant classic.
And the food fits perfectly. Pinchos are the traditional tapas of the Basque region and commonly consist of a slice of bread with stuff on it. Brilliantly simple bar food.
Bread-based options include meltingly tender seared beef sprinkled with creamy Cabrales blue cheese ($8); hummus decorated with roasted red and yellow peppers ($7); or rich grilled anchovy paired with bright tomatoes, sweet onions and fresh cilantro ($8). My favorite of the bunch is simply cured salmon and luscious Mediterranean canned tuna atop the same tomatoes, onions and cilantro of the anchovies ($9).
The rest of the menu features dishes largely similar to the cold tapas you can find at Ceviche, which is nothing to be sad about. Highlights include pipirrana ($5), the misleadingly described cucumber salad that features a blend of firm white beans and a confetti of colorful peppers and other veggies dressed with powerful sherry vinegar. There's also a slew of antipasti-style collections of meats, olives and cheeses.
If you need something hot, a chalkboard behind the bar features a few daily hits from Ceviche, like albondigas or potatoes with saffron aioli. Don't see what you want? Ask nicely, and they'll likely get you whatever you want from big brother's menu.
In the end, though, stick with what Pincho does best: the simple food, simple wines and a casual atmosphere that provides a counterpoint to the popular showplace of Ceviche.
Southern Gems Café, a palace of home cooking on Blind Pass near St. Pete Beach, approaches authenticity from another angle. The restaurant doesn't attempt to push the limits of Southern cuisine or decor, instead concentrating on classic home-cooking standards that'll fill you up on your way to or from the beach. The food tastes like it came from someone's grandma's kitchen because, well, it did. Like any home-cooked meal, some things are more successful than others.
The mere presence of shrimp and grits ($9.99) on my breakfast plate can excuse a lot. Here at Southern Gems, it'll have to excuse overcooked but well-seasoned shrimp and cheese grits that are gelatinous and devoid of cheese flavor.
Still, the over-easy eggs are perfectly cooked — barely firm whites covering golden yolks that race from fork-pierced domes. A shrimp, a dredge in rich yolk and a scoop of grits transport me to a mythical childhood filled with the Southern food that I was never served. In my house, there were only dry scrambles or Eggos I wanted to leggo.
Gems is owned and run by two restaurant amateurs — Lekeshia Bush and her grandmother Eula Stringer. A few months ago Bush, a pharmacist, had one of those profoundly life-changing moments where she suddenly realized, "Hey, I can do that."
And Bush and gran can, especially when it comes to fried catfish ($8.99). The filet's salty crunchy cornmeal crust provides a striking contrast to the soft grits, the moist interior making the fish a much better choice than the shrimp.
No matter the main dish, though, the stars of any Southern Gems Breakfast are fabulous flapjacks. Essentially pancakes laced with cornmeal, you might expect them to be a bit dense. One bite of these tender, fluffy cakes will disabuse you of that notion. Chew a bit, and you'll even find that the added cornmeal gives them a depth of flavor missing from your average syrup-sucking breakfast patty.
Biscuits are a more crumbly affair that manage the distinctly Southern blend of dry and buttery; rich and salty sausage gravy ($5.99) is almost a necessity, unless you prefer a surfeit of jelly.
Can a classic Southern dish originate in New York City? Let Harlem have its due, but fried chicken and waffles, from the Big Apple even, deserve to be co-opted by the South. Here at Gems, the waffles can be a bit flaccid, no competition for the crisp crust of rich dark meat chicken ($8.99). Go ahead, coat the whole plate in syrup. Not only do you want to, it's expected. Escape with fingers that don't stick together, and there's something wrong with you.
That same fried chicken is a staple at lunch ($8.99) as well, along with baked chicken ($8.99) that is seriously — and happily — seasoned with a blend of salt and dried herbs. Order dark meat for both, as the breasts tend to be cooked too long and too dry.
Side dishes are the heart and soul of Southern cuisine, and there are about a dozen available on and off at Gems, accomplished with varying degrees of success. Mac never quite gets integrated with globs of gooey cheese, but it is filling; potato salad is soupy with mayo; and macaroni salad is laced with shreds of tuna and sweet relish. Collards and green beans are the best bets, both tender and infused with bits of smoky hock.
Sadly, Gems' amateur cooking works a lot better than the amateur service they put forth. Misunderstandings, slow food and downright chaos are typical around the small dining room lined with plastic furniture, especially during what constitutes the breakfast and lunch rush. Good home cooking can be quaint; poor service just reminds me that I'm paying for the experience.
