3.5 out of 5 stars
5303 W. Kennedy Blvd., Tampa. Appetizers: $5-$25; entrees: $10-$42; desserts: $7-$9; beer/wine: $5-$15.
813-405-1153; thespainardtampa.com.
Somehow I missed that Westshore’s Crown Plaza, where I attended ballroom wine tastings over that past few years, had been overhauled as part of Hilton‘s Tapestry Collection and rechristened Hotel Alba.
As I pull in off West Kennedy, the traffic patterns that I knew all too well are totally changed. The parking lot now has controlled access requiring patrons to snag a ticket to raise the pivoting boom barriers. Luckily, patrons for The Spaniard restaurant get validation stickers.
From the rear lot, it’s not clear at first how to access the space. We walk to the front of the building in search of the lobby, as there’s now a tall, shiny white iron fence indicating “don’t go this way.”
Finally, we turn the corner looking for the hotel entrance only to see backlit letters announcing that we’ve found The Spaniard. Entering the double doors, there’s a spacious area with an empty host station. We walk toward what turns out to be the lobby bar and restrooms looking for a welcoming smile. Then, doing an about-face, we enter the restaurant unescorted. The room is nearly empty; just two couples are scattered about. Still no sign of any staff. A melody rings in my brain, “sometimes I feel like a motherless child.”
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, a server appears. “Please sit wherever you’d like.”
We settle into a comfortable spot and peruse the menu. Red sangria is always a good place to start at a Spanish-themed restaurant. It’s a classic drink and gives clues as to what expectations there might be for the cuisine. In this case, it’s more like a forgettable fruit punch. However, what follows is far more exciting.
The wooden board of Chef Brian Agoncillo’s charcuterie includes rolls of Spanish cured meats, slices of chorizo and other “embutidos,” chunks of a variety of aged cheeses accompanied by flatbread crackers plus crisp wedges of thin, toasted herbed bread. There are also a few artichoke hearts, a variety of marinated olives, and some small stainless steel cups of grainy Creole mustard and a splendid tomato-bacon jam.
The beautiful gambas al ajillo piles plump, pink, tail-on jumbo shrimp perfectly sautéed in olive oil and garlic in a mound topped with chopped scallions. They’re surrounded by a quartet of enormous crisp, golden toasted bread spears extending far beyond the plate. The whole thing looks like a big starfish missing an arm.
As lovely as these two starters are, the star of the evening is the surprising tocino and Brussels sprouts. The tocino (cubed bacon the size of casino dice) is tossed with lusciously charred sprouts and soft, tamed roasted garlic cloves. There’s also a sprinkling of shredded manchego, that most wonderful tangy sheep’s milk cheese from the La Mancha plateau. But what turns this dish into an “impossible dream” is the surprise element of an unnamed North American secret ingredient. Maple syrup adds a perfect touch of sweetness to enchanting effect.
Our entrees are nice, but less transporting. A tender sautéed mahi fillet with grilled lemon and caper butter shines atop tangled creamy sautéed spinach adjacent to a lineup of crisp fried yucca sticks. Yucca is a good choice because it’s substantial and delivers the textural juxtaposition of crisp edges and creamy centers.
The shreds of slow-braised marinated mojo pork are tender, but alas a bit dry. The red onion salsa criolla adds flavor, but not moisture. The saffron jasmine rice pilaf, fried yucca, sweet plantains and black beans are not distinctive enough to make this one memorable.
The desserts, though, once again up the game. The mini chocolate bundt cake delivers a soft warm devil’s food crumb with dark chocolate truffle glaze and crisscrossed white chocolate topping. Stars of piped whipped cream and a split fresh strawberry provide welcome garnish grace notes.
The wonderfully dense and creamy dulce de leche cheesecake is topped with a light caramel mousse and drizzled with a few swirls of warm caramel sauce just for kicks. The coup de grâce, however, is delivered by a warm churro cut into pieces. The addition of this trio of ridged cinnamon and sugar-coated pastry is an unexpected adornment that turns my table into a bunch of giggling kids.
Hotel restaurants are often a crapshoot; for every Élevage or HEW Chophouse, there’s most often a disappointment. The friendly servers here deserve more patrons in order to make a living and also to practice the fine points of attentive care. Anticipating the needs of a table marks well-trained staff and patrons will surely reward you when it’s time to sign the check. I do hope The Spaniard develops a following. It deserves more attention than just transient business types or tourists can provide.
CL Food Critic Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system, or email him at food@creativeloafing.com.
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This article appears in Aug 8-15, 2019.
