Tampa Bay Brewing Company's move was a long time coming. Twice I drove down to Ybor City to review the new digs in Centro, only to find TBBC stuck in the same old quarters on 15th Street, the beer tanks empty and a limited selection of homemade brews available on tap.
It was worth the wait, though. The new location has lost some of the cozy (read: cramped) atmosphere of the old place, but gained about three times the space and still has a touch of that old Ybor look, with brick and dark wood everywhere. It's nestled right against the Centro valet stand, which should help sales. Better yet, three months into the new space, and all eight of TBBC's fantastic beers are tapped and ready.
Obviously, the food at TBBC isn't the star of the show. That honor goes to the liquid flowing through the pipes and valves of the brewing works tucked into a separated corner of the dining room. Big signs label the canisters — "mash tun," "fermentation" — but the end result is all most people care about: simple grain turned into amber gold.
The best introduction to the product of TBBC's brewmaster David Doble (son of owner Vicky Doble) is the sampler ($11.25). A couple ounces of eight different beers, one cask-conditioned ale and one root beer give a group of people the opportunity to sample and choose a favorite. At a table of four, it's likely that everyone will end up with a different pint ($4.50) in front of them. Most popular is the "Old Elephant Foot" India Pale Ale — medium-bodied, lush with soft fruit and subtly zippy from bright hops.
The "Iron Rat" stout is also a hit, the liquid pitch black, creamy and bitter at the same time, but the "Jack the Quaffer" porter is my drink of choice. It's a muddy concoction that's not quite as bitter as the stout, but still dark, rich and heavy, a beer to chew on. The style originally was created to provide a hearty meal replacement for blue-collar workers.
There are also lighter brews: the honey and floral flavors of TBBC's "Wild Warthog" weizen, a "True Blonde" lager that manages to mimic standard American beers while maintaining a little character, and a "Moosekiller" barleywine-style ale that tastes exceptionally silky, brightly hopped and clocks in at 9.8 percent alcohol.
Thankfully, the bar food at TBBC rises to the occasion, providing a worthy accompaniment to the exceptional brews. Like buffalo wings ($7.95) that, at first, seem to be the standard offering. But hidden at the core of this dish, anchoring the spicy sauce dousing the wings, is intense cider vinegar; instead of just tart and hot like traditional wings, these have strong hints of fruit and sweet. It's just a little twist, but enough to turn typical into tasty.
Sweet coconut shrimp ($8.95) are fried crisp and free of excess oil, about all you can ask from such a dish. They're paired with little nuggets of conch fritters. So crisp and dark brown, the fritters seem overcooked until you break through into the steamy, moist interior and find tender batter studded with chunks of soft conch.
I love beer and I love cheese, so soup and dip that combine both is a must. Often, beer cheese dip and beer cheese soup end up dense masses of melty cheese that move quickly from elastic to rubber as the bowl cools. Not at TBBC. The dip ($7.95) is sharp and hot and manages to maintain a liquid consistency even after sitting a half hour.
TBBC's beer cheese soup ($2.95) acts more like soup than cheese, with a brothy consistency that still tastes intensely of sharp cheddar. It's also more addictive than you might imagine, the bowl empty before I have a chance to notice the thin strands of cooling cheese stretching from my chin to table.
Other soups are almost as good, from dense buffalo chili ($3.95) graced with onions and cheddar, to gumbo ($3.95) packed with enough soft discs of smoked sausage to compensate for the bland broth.
So why, you might ask, stray from the beer/cheese synergy?
TBBC's pizzas ($8.95-9.95) are about as good as bar pies get, and the burgers ($7.95-$9.95) are salty and well cooked. Once you get past the typical pub food, though, things can get a little spotty.
Meatloaf ($13.95) is tasty enough and manages that dense-but-light texture that evades some restaurants, but salmon ($14.95) is overcooked and cloyingly sweet, with a honey glaze. Short ribs ($15.95) need long, slow heat to break down the massive amount of connective tissue and gelatin that make them such a luscious treat. After gnawing on the same piece for a few minutes, it's readily apparent that TBBC's haven't been cooked right. The ribs are difficult to cut, even more difficult to chew, and the sugary sweet barbecue sauce doesn't help. Kudos for trying something different, but maybe the place should stick with the more forgiving baby back ribs that fit the rest of the menu.
In the end, though, it all comes back to the beer. Maybe it's just the old saw that everything tastes better where it's made, but a pint of TBBC's finest is more intense, more complex than even the best kegs of microbrew and import trucked in to other beer joints. According to David Doble, TBBC brews about 700 barrels a year — that's about 22,000 gallons — a number that may increase if the new space generates more business. His favorite? "It depends on my mood and the time of day," although he claims not to have a favorite breakfast beer. Sure.
This damn fine beer merits a visit on its own, but the better-than-average pub food helps, as does the added bonus of viewing the brewing process, sort of, from your seat. On one night, I even talked to one of the brewers as he fiddled with valves not 5 feet from our table.
When our irreverent waiter first approached the table, he said, "The beer is great, and the food is relatively good."
Yeah, that about sums it up.
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 advertising.
This article appears in Jan 17-23, 2007.