Creative Loafing still pays my way for reviews, but on my own dime it's getting tougher and tougher to justify $20 for a pile of pad thai and some spring rolls. But wait a minute: Shouldn't everything I eat outside of my home (and sometimes in) justify a new line on my expense report? Call it research, or background, or some other reporterly jive talk. Yeah.
Eventually, though, all those quick lunches and takeout dinners have to be justified to the powers that be, before the free-flowing but well-monitored pipeline of expense money starts to run dry. This week I'm serving a bountiful potluck of dining experiences for your reading pleasure, each designed to get me through another couple of weeks of having CL pay for my convenience dining.
The only thing that changed when Z Grille became Zurritos — besides the name, I guess — was the menu. It's still the same casual, relaxed restaurant staffed by attractive 30-somethings (I'd call them hipsters, but that always gets people in trouble). Owner Zack Gross might be edging out of that demographic, but the tattooed chef still looks the part. And he's not giving up on the Z Grille name.
The moniker has been transferred to his new place, just down the street in the new Signature Place condos. That Z Grille is going to be just like the old, but amped up with exciting décor and an expanded and more refined menu that still manages to stick with Gross' Baja-Mex focus.
But with Gross busy at the new spot, he's keeping Zurritos cheap and simple. Nothing over $10. And, in classic quick-Mex tradition, it's all based on the same meat, rice and salsa combined in different ways.
The focus is on burritos, built around Gross' lightly fried fish or slow-cooked beef and pork that's chunked into the wrap and shreds easily under your teeth like well-seasoned pot roast. The other fixin's are good too, although I'd rather have a more herbaceous burst than that provided by Zurritos' bland cilantro oil. Fresh is best and would give the girthy 6-inchers a little more oomph.
There's also bean dip that's like a salt lick, saved only by decadently rich queso ladled on top; or you can just skip the sodium and order the queso separately. That same cheesy sauce elevates faux-enchiladas that are essentially just burritos crisped in the oven. Guac is tasty and fresh, and salsas start at a tomatoey mild and hike up the heat scale rapidly — medium will sear your tongue more than you might expect.
The new menu fits the place, almost better than the old one did. I can still order excellent beer, listen to a playlist that alternates between old-school hip-hop and reggae, and sit on the sidewalk watching Central Avenue go by while I chomp on cheap eats. And if I want more, soon I can just walk down the street to the new Z Grille.
Pita Pit is a large, multinational chain that entered the SoHo scene (and up near USF) earlier this year. After my experiences with the burgeoning Subway-style chain burrito barns that have popped into the Bay area over the past few years, I had to ask: Do we need a Subway for pitas?
Nope, but Pita Pit is still worth a nosh. This chain stuffs a little more into their elastic wraps than you find at a typical fast food stop. And it seems to come by the inevitable grease and carb-loading naturally, with less Frankenstein science food than you'd expect.
That means that chicken is just chicken, seasoned well and slapped on a griddle before being pita'd. They'll throw just about anything on the hot plate with the chicken, from mushrooms and onions to any of the cheeses, lending everything glorious, glistening, skillet-fried bits of crunchy caramelization.
When pre-cooked falafel patties came out of a warmer drawer, I expected failure. Damn if they didn't have just the right flavor of chickpea and spice after a stint on the griddle. You can also get eggs mixed with soggy potatoes and sausage all day, a greasy pita bomb that I'm sure gets a lot of play after last call. (Pita Pit is open late.)
The veggies — set-up in classic Subway fashion — are fresh, and there's feta, provolone and shredded orange cheese. Sauces are fine, but stay away from that sweet and salty juice if you want to continue the non-chain aura.
Pita Pit prices will also remind you that this is more than your usual fast food: A pita, drink and chips comes in at nearly $10. But if you don't have time to sit, and you don't want a quarter pound of nutritionally engineered diabetes, it's probably worth it.
Whaley's Market
There was a big sigh of sadness in South Tampa when Whaley's announced they were closing up shop earlier this year. No picket signs, maybe, but this 75-year-old family business was a lonely independent outpost in an area that's becoming less and less friendly to anything but bars, restaurants and chains.
It didn't take long, though, for Whaley's to reopen a mile or so away, just outside SoHo on Kennedy. Don't expect the same selection: The new place is much smaller, with enough room for the deli case, some wine displays and a few racks and coolers filled with high-end sauces and ingredients. Think of it as a gourmet convenience store.
Owner Todd Whaley says that'll change. He plans on taking over the attached building and courtyard, where he'll set up a semi-permanent farmer's market and expand the Whaley's product line.
In the meantime you can still get the damn fine chicken salad and other sandwiches (up a buck to $5.99 on my expense report), prepared foods and freshly butchered meats you came to expect at the old location.
This article appears in Nov 12-18, 2008.