This Mouth is On Fire

Woo, lawdy — it's not just my mouth, but my tongue and of all things, my ears burn after eating Kelly's. Trust me on this, y'all. That burn that makes you feel like Dracarys just breathed fire straight into your face is so worth the food.

Kelly's Authentic Jamaican Foods, also affectionately called Kelly's Jerk or simply Kelly's, is a true Five Points Athens gem. The last time I ate here was approximately 2010, and at the time I rarely ate anything spicier than mild salsa at Mexican restaurants. I couldn't tell you what I ate, but I distinctly remember sitting in the restaurant area with my coworkers, my eyes watering from the peppery, sweet and hot meat and sides. I couldn't stop eating even though my 21-year-old self could barely handle the heat. Everything was just so flavorful and delicious.

Eight years later, and with a slightly better food vocabulary than "flavorful and delicious," I'm happy to report that Kelly's is still serving up intensely seasoned dry-rubbed meats and complementary sides. Over the intervening time period, I was introduced to and learned to appreciate a variety of different styles of spicy flavors (Sriracha, spicy Latinx and Hispanic foods, sweet-spicy Thai, savory and sweet Indian ...), so my palate welcomed jerk with open tastebuds.

Two jerk pork plates from Kelly's Authentic Jamaican
Foods in Athens, Georgia. Side selections were spicy
squash, rice & beans, mac 'n' cheese and green beans. 

My boyfriend and I ordered a couple of to-go jerk pork plates, which each come with two sides. Though I did not get a chance to ask Mr. Kelly about his recipe secrets, jerk seasoning is typically a spice blend of herbs and ingredients like cumin, allspice, cinnamon (the top three I detect the most prominently in the pork and spicy squash), hot peppers, black pepper and salt. Not that I am anywhere near expert at Jamaican foods, but I feel like jerk seasoning is one of those things that gets guarded as a restaurant or family secret not unlike the recipe for Coca-Cola syrup: there will often be imitators, but there will never be duplicators. Everyone's seasoning has the same basic ingredients, then you swap a few out to suit your tastebuds, then you play with proportions to get the sweet vs. spicy vs. savory ratio that's ideal for your dishes.

When I walked into Kelly's this weekend, I will be completely honest in that I must've looked like a complete idiot — I stared at the beer and soda cooler behind the order counter looking for a menu board until the sweet woman working the register took pity on me and pointed to my left, where a white board spelled out the day's options. I already had my heart set on the jerk pork my boyfriend mentioned (if you've followed Meatetarian Eats for any amount of time, you know I have a special place in my heart for pork dishes). For our four sides, two per plate, I was feeling the spicy squash, mac 'n' cheese, green beans and rice and beans.

Each of these was served in generous portion in Styrofoam to-go containers, with a little extra pork gravy poured over the rice. And you can't leave Kelly's without cornbread. Few know this, but doing so is committing the eighth deadly sin. That's because Kelly's cornbread is more like a sweet honey cake with the consistency of cornbread than it is a Southern-style dry and buttery cornbread. I highly advise you to get a big square of it, put it on your plate and let it sop up the grease and gravy from your meat.

Holy smokes. I don't know if you've ever eaten spicy honey before, but that is what this tastes like. It's tantalizingly sweet and then slowly at first, but then faster, the heat comes on and you're left trying to figure out what peppers got put in your cake. Or well, maybe you're not, but I am.

As for the sides, the spicy squash had more of a sweet heat to it, and the rice and beans had more prominent peppery notes (granted, that may have been from the additional gravy poured over it). The mac 'n' cheese was gooey and savory, and tasted as though perhaps some cumin was added to it. I don't know how y'all feel about mac 'n' cheese, but my absolute pet peeve on this side is when it's served up as noodles doused in cheese so melted that it's more like eating cheesy noodle soup. This had more consistency of a baked mac, and I greatly appreciated that! Another weird Meatetarian quirk is how I am about green beans. I abhor the fancy long beans, wax beans, Italian green beans, etc. Basically, I like my green beans out of a can. I don't think Kelly's green beans came from a can (if they did, I am totes OK with it), but they had the perfect size, moistness and brininess as canned green beans. The flavor was subdued compared to the other sides, but with so much spice on your plate, I think it was a good idea to get something a little more mellow to round the meal out.

I don't think it's entirely far-fetched to wonder if there's some addictive additive inside Kelly's jerk seasoning. Considering how on fire my entire body is at this point (sunburned arm included), it's the only logical explanation for me wanting to drive back over for more.

Comfort Food + the New Normal

Food has always been a source of comfort for me. Not necessarily in the sense of when I'm sad/have feelings I eat a lot (though I fully admit I'll grab a piece of chocolate to sate those emotions), but more along the lines of associating food with a sense of comfort; of happiness or unhappiness.

When I'm happy, I eat. I eat good food. Quality ingredients. Local restaurants. Award-winning chefs. Go out of my way to find incredible things to put on my tastebuds. The typical foodie shit.

When I'm — I hesitate to use the word depressed, because I have never been diagnosed with depression, and I don't want to negate the serious implications associated with this battle so let's go with — less-than-happy, I still eat. But I eat food that's not "good." It's usually fast food. It's usually me being lazy. It's usually me fighting this overwhelming sense of "I'm not good enough." I can't explain this feeling. I can't control it, but I got very good at hiding it. And for a good, long while, I got very good at hiding it from myself.

I would wait up late at night at eat pizza or chicken fingers or a QPWC or (my personal favorite) a take-out Philly cheesesteak when J got home, sometimes as late as 1 a.m. I would wake up the next morning and lay in bed, fighting the urge to get up, wondering what was so wrong with me that x-part of my life was such a failure. My small business failed. My job was a shambles. My life was a shambles. But I had a constant. I had to be the strong one, because though I do not have clinical depression, I was deeply, deeply in love with someone who fought mental battles I could never imagine; only do my best to be there for him. I thought I was sure that things would be OK. If we could only get over this hurdle. That obstacle. Fight another battle of one of us having these awful feelings that we could do nothing right.

We couldn't. I'd like to think we tried our damndest, in our own ways. But sometimes things aren't what they seem.

Getting there.

As a suddenly single 28-year-old, I had a choice to make. J made the one that was right for him, and though it took me a couple months to realize it, I think the choice he made was the right one for both of us. There was a new normal to get the hang of.

During the past few months, I changed my eating habits and how I was living my life, and the happiness level has upped itself. Slowly but surely, I'm able to be at a weight I am beyond happy over and still treat myself to good food that makes me happy, eaten alongside people that make me feel the same way.

I met new people. I dance a lot. I'm not 100 percent back to being my sassy sexy self, but I'm getting there. And if you're reading this, you probably know what role you play in that. So thanks a ton, humans; y'all da real MVPs. I've had to get used to a new normal. And as much as it sucked when it began, now I'm excited about the future. It's still terrifying, of course, as any change is for me. But again, we're getting there.

One of the ways I'm healing is making new memories with my comfort food. Those places J and I went together as two people who we thought would one day get married ... now they're places I am slowly reintroducing into my life with different people. One of these days I'll write about North River Tavern (probably the onion rings, to be completely honest; they're SO GOOD). But today I'm going to give y'all a little snippet of Sandy Springs Diner.

This is a place J and I went together. We went with his parents (they found it, so shout-out to them for this one!). We went with Daddy after he and I ran our 5K last September. And today, it's a place I can go with family or friends and still love it just as much.

And by "it," I mean the French dip sandwich. Like holy crap.

Having grown up in the South where our idea of a diner is WaHo, I can't say I have much experience in the realm of diners. Note to self: write about The Majestic and The Grill. But I have it on good authority from J's parents that this is precisely what a diner should be like. It's not much to speak of, atmosphere-wise, with burgundy (my least favorite color next to beige) as the main hue in the decor, but the food man. The food.

In the unfortunate off-chance you are unfamiliar with French dips, they are a hoagie roll stuffed with cheese and thinly-sliced beef served with a side of au jus to dip in. In the extra unfortunate chance you are unfamiliar with the French dip served at Sandy Springs Diner ... y'all just come on up and I'll treat you to one. Seriously. This is not a joke. I need more human interaction and more of this sandwich in my life.

The French dip at Sandy Springs Diner

The dip at Sandy Springs has three key components that make it stand out: the thinly sliced tender roast beef; the perfectly toasted hoagie roll (crispy just on the crust and fresh-baked soft on the inside); and the dipping sauce. Au jus, by the way, is the fancy French way of saying "meat-flavored oil to dip a sandwich into." This au jus is au yeah. The bread soaks it up, the meat soaks it up, so each bite melts in your mouth.

It's the second-best French dip sandwich I've ever had. The first is at a restaurant in Aiken, South Carolina, and honestly the main reason that one gets top spot is because of the fries. At this particular restaurant, or at least the last time I ate there (it's been at least a decade, whoops) the fries were divine. That perfect middle ground between McDonald's and potato wedges (at Sandy Springs Diner, the fries are more akin to potato wedges).

But I can get over the whole fry thing in honor of having this French dip within walking distance of my house, especially now that I am able to walk there to make new memories with different people. I heard once from a wise woman named Elle Woods that walking is the type of exercise that gives you endorphins.

Endorphins make you happy. And determined women who are happy with a bellyful of this sandwich don't want to kill people. So really, this French dip is a service to humanity. You're welcome, world.

Crazy Uncle Sandwiches

I knew from an early age I was destined to be a Georgia Bulldog. Though I didn't have a clue that I would graduate not as a veterinarian, but as an agriculture and science journalist, I knew the blood in my veins ran red and black, and the deep guttural "WOOF WOOF WOOF" rose naturally from my vocal cords.

It should surprise no one that one of my random, earliest memories on campus as a Baby Bulldog had to do with food. We were on a bus tour, driving through North Campus (that's the part that gets on all the University of Georgia postcards, with the magnolia trees and lots of green grass, and also the Arch) and the bus migrated downtown. A kid on the bus got really excited as we careened down Broad Street: "Uncle Otto's! That place is supposed to be so good! I can't believe it's here!"

I'd never heard of this place before. From the outside, it looked like any other restaurant crammed into historical building space — but I'll never forget the logo: some crazy dude's face. Knowing that this complete stranger highly recommended it to everyone on this packed tour bus, I made my Nanny come with me for my maiden voyage that year ... and spent the next three regularly patronizing this crazy Uncle Otto's.

Uncle Otto's specialized in a version of these European-style sandwiches called "kebap," which are a combination of Greek gyro and American sandwiches. If you're a native Athenian, or just frequent the Classic City, you probably know Uncle Otto's as the forerunner to today's KEBA Sandwiches, a franchise restaurant churning out those same delicious kebap that I first ate 10 years ago. 

A lamb kebap and Belgian fries from KEBA
Sandwiches in Athens, Georgia

I hadn't been to KEBA in several years, but jumped at the chance to slide a lunch break into my schedule this week while in Athens. It was just as good as I remembered.

You're offered three choices: sandwich, wrap or salad. For the true kebap experience, you're going to want to get the sandwich. Forget the whole healthy, no-carb crap. Just treat yo'self and indulge in this bread, because it's what makes KEBA stand out. It's shaped similarly to a pita pocket, but tastes sooo much better. Think of an unsweetened, thick waffle, and that's exactly what the bread is. It's even griddled. 

The stuffing choices include meat options (or if you're not me, falafel or feta), a selection of vegetable toppings and a sauce. I got lamb topped with lettuce and banana peppers (and would've added black olives if the restaurant hadn't been out). Sandwich sauce was roasted red pepper; for no particular reason other than it sounded good. 

There's just something about a perfectly cooked bread: slightly crisp on the outside, but super-fluffy inside, that makes eating a sandwich a mouthwatering experience. I'm unsure if the lamb is still spit-cooked like it used to be (or is at a lot of traditional European places), but it still tasted good. Lamb can either go real tough or real soft, and this was right in the middle. Enough chewiness to give it a mouthfeel, but it wasn't like you were eating shoe leather. The red pepper sauce was a good addition, too. It soaked right into the bread, and what didn't get absorbed dripped all over my fingers. 

Being a true Southern lady, I licked all that right off. Napkins are for squares, yo.

And because you can't come to KEBA and not get the thick-cut Belgian-style French fries, I couldn't resist the temptation to order a combo. I highly recommend getting the creamy feta dipping sauce for these. There's also a light creamy feta sauce if you are on one of those diet things. 

I sat on the patio with my friend Peter, alternately discussing his chemistry research and how much life can change in the blink of an eye, devouring the entire meal. I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've eaten more than Pete in a meal setting.

That's how much I missed this place. The name may have changed over the years, but the KEBA kebap is a true Classic City classic.

Have Cake, Eat it Too.

The last time I went to Charleston, South Carolina, was about three years ago. I don't remember many specifics about that trip, but one thing that stuck with me was a visit to this dessert place downtown. Mom and I walked from Barret's apartment, stumbled upon it and ordered alcoholic coffee and a brownie sundae so big that we had to call in reinforcements to eat it all. It was like Woman vs. Food, except we didn't get free T-shirts. Just a lot of chocolate.

The Charleston Museum is America's oldest.

During my recent trip Labor Day weekend, I had Sunday pretty much to myself. I had two things on the books that day - visiting the Charleston Museum, and eating at Kaminsky's again.

It's kind of funny. My geography of downtown Charleston is not very good. I knew the main streets were Market, King and Meeting, but that was about it. So I rolled into the visitor's center, got a map and took the tacky tourist route of figuring out my bearings. The map was one of those that had advertisements all around the border. But I didn't see one for Kaminsky's. I vaguely remembered it being on one of those three streets, and I was on no particular schedule, so I decided to walk aimlessly until I found it ... like we did three years ago.

The only problems with this plan were that it began to rain, my feet hurt after three hours of walking in really old tennis shoes that didn't have an inside sole and by 2 p.m. I was starving and wanted a destination, not a meander. I sucked it up and asked a shop owner, who gave me directions.

If a dessert cafe can be likened to a speakeasy (or, rather, what this 26-year-old imagines when she thinks of a speakeasy), Kaminsky's is one. It's dim inside - the brightest lights shine on the dessert case - and the furniture and walls are all made of deep-stained wood. It is exactly the type of place where you feel clandestine coming off the street and stepping in for an illicit chocolate beverage and sinful piece of cake without anyone noticing.

There are three types of things you can order at Kaminsky's: coffee, coffee with booze and dessert.
(Well. That is a bit of an exaggeration. A tiny bit.)

After scouring the menu for a solid 15 minutes (my poor waiter ... sorry!) I settled on the Thin Mint martini. Clearly it is impossible to go wrong if you have enough trust in your drink to name it after a Girl Scout cookie.

The Thin Mint lives up to its moniker. It's heavy on the chocolate, light on the mint. Strong on the liquor, but not overpowering. It's a little thinner than chocolate milk in terms of viscosity, so it makes a great accompaniment to the food you're getting. By "food," I most definitely mean "cake."

I took a gander at the dessert counter and after much thought and weighing of pros and cons, what arrived to my table was a giant slice of caramel pecan cake. The term "slice" is used vaguely. As you can see in the picture ... well. It's a hunka-hunka burnin', whole lotta lovin' on the plate.

Thin Mint martini + caramel pecan cake. What a lunch!

Texture-wise it was dense, yet still light in flavor. The buttercream icing (I am a major fan of icing and I will judge you if you choose whipped cream over frosting) was decadent and melted in my mouth. And in between the two layers of white cake - soft, salty-sweet caramel and chopped pecans. Had I not already promised Barret some of whatever I ordered, that thing would've been in my belly, crumbs and all. But since I swore I'd share, I did the classy lady thing and slowly savored each mouthful. The only thing that could have been added to it to make it better would be crumbled bacon.

One nifty thing I noticed about the layer cakes (and you can see it in the picture) is that instead of using a knife to slice the top off each layer and make them flat, the bakers at Kaminsky's invert the two domes on top of one another. This means 1) you save time baking cakes and 2) there are guaranteed two bites of basically just frosting in each slice. What a novel idea! I'm so using that.

There's a veritable smorgasbord of dessert choices, hot toddies and more to be had in this place. Kaminsky's is not for the faint of heart or the gluten intolerant. But for me? It was a sweet way to enjoy my cake, and eat it too.

More Photos!

Robert Lange Studios - my favorite place to spend an hour

Curiosity shop - best little hidden gem in Chucktown

Bay Street Biergarten - thanks for welcoming this
Georgia girl, even though y'all wanted to watch the
Clemson game

Beyond Casual

Georgia State students blocking the entry to my parking deck. High school cross country teams out for morning runs. The leaves outside my apartment turning gold and falling to the ground. Fall is nearing and the dog days of another sweltering Georgia summer are coming to an end.

There seemed no better way to commemorate the season change than by eating outside at the Evans, Georgia, Rhinehart's Oyster Bar the last time I was in town.

Rhinehart's has been an Augusta-area staple for longer than I've been alive. It opened in 1983 and brings the flip flops and pop tops aura of beach eating to its two locations in the CSRA. Thinking about it now I can actually hear the radio commercials from my childhood, proclaiming "This is Amy from Rhinehart's Oyster Bar" loud and proud in my ear. Aside from the fact that it's one of my favorite stomping grounds on my weekends home, I wanted to do a Meatetarian Eats post on Rhinehart's because recently it received some shoddy press from consumers who are 1) over-reactive and 2) have no idea what they're talking about. Let the Meatetarian educate you for a moment.

Just like worms that occasionally invade your apples, there are some marine worms that can come live alongside oysters in the wild. We like mother of pearl shells and so do they. Occasionally, according to the North Carolina Department of Environment and Natural Resources, so-called oyster worms can make an appearance in restaurants alongside the mollusks customers order. And I quote, "they do not affect the health, quality or taste of oysters, and they do not pose a known health risk to consumers, especially if they are discarded when found." So, if you happen to see a weird little moving object on your oyster shell, alert your server, ask for a new oyster and maybe advise the kitchen staff to keep an eye out for more wigglies so they can be taken care of before the half shell hits the plate.

Right. Back to the task at hand, which is the $7.67 shrimp basket lunch special.

Light, flaky breading is a trademark of Rhinehart's shrimp and oyster baskets

As a wee thing I ate my fair share of popcorn shrimp. I was used to heavy breading and a dense, deep brown shell surrounding my prized crustaceans. When Rhinehart's finally opened a second location in Evans and I got my first opportunity to eat there, the light flaky batter surrounding butterflied shrimp tails was a refreshing spin on my childhood favorite!

Each basket has a handful of sweet, juicy shrimp and fries. The fries are skin-on, a good thickness and seasoned with salt, pepper, grease and what I'm 99 percent sure is Old Bay. You're also presented with two cups of dipping sauce: a bright red cocktail and a salty tartar. This is one of the places where the sauce is probably there for shrimp dipping purposes, but the fries are excellent dipped in there as well. Forget ketchup when you've got these on the plate!

If you're not up for shrimp, you can also get a fried oyster basket, though it's a little more than $7.67 (a price that you can't beat for the food you get). The po'boys aren't bad either, and though I've never had it, members of my family like the burger, too.

I do think the best way to experience a Rhinehart's lunch special is outside at one of its picnic tables with a cold beer and hot sun. The inside is fine, but it's dim lighting and reminiscent more of a bar than of a day on the coast, so I prefer to eat outside and pretend I'm closer to the surf than I really am!

ProTip: Unlike eating at an actual beach restaurant ... I think management might not let you in if all you're wearing is a bikini and flip flops. Rhinehart's may be beyond casual, but it's still got standards, friends.

The Meatetarian Eats AMI: Part 2

Welcome to day two of our journey together eating Anna Maria Island! On Monday you got to read about my three favorite places, and here are the four that get the honorable mention (aka the four that wouldn't fit in the first post, because it would have been ridiculously long).

Sandbar

Stuffed Sandbar Grouper - and check out that
baked potato side!

Sandbar is on the beach, which makes it a great place to go for dinner, drinks and sunsets. You gotta budget a little bit for this one -- I'm going to tell you up front. Sandbar's are not the cheapest eats on the island, but they're worth a little extra moolah. You will also want to order grouper, because we had three different grouper entrees at our table and they were each so, so good. And seasonally there's soft-shell crab, but I didn't get it since I had it relatively recently (read about that in my post on De Novo).

I took on the Sandbar Grouper: one thick, meaty piece of fish stuffed with crabmeat, shrimp and pepperjack cheese. Holy fish sticks, Batman. Grouper has a mild flavor and kind of bouncy, flaky texture. Not the type of fish to fall apart on your fork; it's more substantial, probably why it holds up to being stuffed. I loved having the fish, sweetness of crab and tender shrimp in the same bite. And whoever said fish shouldn't be mixed with cheese ... well, they got another think coming. The melted pepperjack offered up a nice bite in comparison to the sweet and mild seafood flavors.

Oh, and for this one you get a Boozy Bonus. Order a key lime martini. Your level of happiness will increase by a factor of 10. If you really want to up the ante at Sandbar, sneak in a key lime doughnut and eat it alongside your key lime martini for dessert.

Waterfront Restaurant
Down on the main drag at AMI is Waterfront Restaurant. It's not quite waterfront, because the water is across the street, but you still have a nice view of City Pier and sailboats drifting in front of the bridge. I'm putting this one on the list mostly for its cocktails -- nothing wrong with the food, but what I found most memorable both when we went last summer and when we visited last week was the beverage I had in my hand.

I highly recommend the margaritas (one has ginger to spice things up, and the other includes jalapenos), the mule (it's brought in a copper mug which is about the only hipster thing I like on the reg) and the beverage I partook in this time around -- the Stone Sour. It's pretty much a whiskey sour with Jameson and homemade sour mix, but blended with egg whites for a slightly thicker viscosity. The whites don't add flavor to it, necessarily, rather, they give it a better mouthfeel.

A healthy heaping portion of crab atop this caesar salad.
Lobster bisque cup on the side.

As for the food, I went the soup and salad route. The crab salad was good, and I appreciated the generous amount of crab in the salad. Don't you hate when you order a salad with some kind of meat and there's like ... one chicken finger on there? Thankfully, Waterfront treats you well and gives you lots of the good stuff! The lobster bisque here I found interesting because it was a heavy tomato base. It was almost like eating your regular tomato soup, just with added cream and a bit of lobster to give it a little sweetness.

Island Time Bar and Grill
The trip to Island Time actually takes you to a city called Bradenton Beach, so for this one you will need to pack into the car. A word to the wise: This may not be the ideal restaurant to bring kids to, because there is lots of live music and because it is completely open air, smoking is allowed. But if you do bring your kids here, their meals are served inside frisbees that you can take to the beach the next morning!

When you walk up, it doesn't look like it's going to be that great of a meal. It's a little dim and dark inside. The music lends itself to a great drinking atmosphere, but it looked super casual and laid-back. I can only speak for what I had, and what I saw my aunt order, but I was pleasantly surprised with how good my food was.

Less tomato-y lobster bisque, and crisp coconut shrimp

After a hot day on the beach I wanted something light and flavorful, but I was over salads and had
eaten my fair share of fish. It was time for some shrimp. I selected the coconut shrimp off the "munchies" menu and expected to be presented with a platter of the frozen food section coconut shrimp. What appeared instead was a handful of giant shrimp that had been dipped in a coconut and sliced almond breading and baked (I assume they were baked, not fried) until the edges of the coconut flakes were lightly browned. They had a great crunch that gave way to sweet, perfectly cooked shrimp inside. The dipping sauce they came with was delicious. It was billed as an orange horseradish sauce, and though I didn't get the spicy kick I expected from the horseradish, it was definitely a mellower sweet than a lot of duck or orange sauces I've had in my day.

On the side of this I also grabbed a cup of lobster bisque. This took the cake as the better of the bisques I had on the trip. It was not a tomato base, and it had good-sized lobster chunks all in the soup, plus a few more sprinkled on top for artistic effect.

Capt. Anthony's Seafood
I purposely saved the best for last on this post. I am so, so excited to find this place. It's not even a restaurant -- it's a fish shack full of wonderful things like stone crab, grouper, red snapper, homemade ceviche, fish dip and mango salsa, which you can take home and turn into the best mama-made fish dish.

Homemade ceviche featuring snapper. We couldn't get enough.

The ceviche was to die for. Like we bought one thing of it for eight people and I wanted to sneak it away in my room, lock my door, barricade myself in my closet and eat the whole container ... slowly, relishing each bit of fresh peppers, onions, cilantro and marinated red snapper as it touched my tongue. We gave up using chips and started eating it with a spoon instead. Theoretically there were supposed to be leftovers to put on fish tacos we made the following day with our leftover grouper fillet, but we ate all of it and were spooning through what was left of the fresh, acidic marinade to make sure every bit of solid ingredient got eaten.

Stay tuned for a Chew & A with Joanna, wife of Capt. Anthony, who stole my heart and captivated my soul the moment I met her. Hopefully she'll let me share what we did with our three pounds of fresh-caught grouper over on Meatetarian: Foodish for you!

The Meatetarian Eats AMI: Part 1

Never heard of Anna Maria, Florida? Then y'all got some researchin' to do. My family discovered Anna Maria Island last summer and I'm forever glad we made it a regular trip. There are SO many good places to eat here!

Over the next two days, we're going to walk around the island and I'll point out a few of my favorites and why you should get here when you can.

The Donut Experiment
By far, my absolute most favoritest (Yes. It's a word.) place to eat on this island, and also potentially the state of Florida. Here's the concept of The Donut Experiment, which was formerly known as Anna Maria Donuts: You go in and fill out an order form for your doughnuts, selecting the icing and topping combo of your choice. Take it up to the counter, hand it over, pay for your doughnuts and coffee, then hang out until they call you with your order. Simple as pie. This place is good and is therefore always packed. And like any other place that hand-makes you fresh doughnuts while you wait, it is so worth it.

You can't walk down Pine Ave. and not smell the luscious, sweet odor of freshly cooked cake doughnuts. It draws you in and then you're faced with a potentially life-changing choice: "Do I want caramel icing with sea salt, or should I go for the big one and bring home a Sriracha doughnut?" The answer, clearly, is both.

I only managed to make it to TDE (unofficial abbreviation) thrice during our most recent trip, but dang y'all. I could've easily eaten here every single morning that week. Let me show you how much better my breakfasts were than yours:

Out of these three, the favorite was key lime. This includes a good dip in creamy white frosting, a dunk in crumbled graham cracker and a zig-zag of key lime syrup on top. It's what would happen if you made a dessert that is a layer of key lime pie on top of a layer of cake. In other words, magnificence! I stuck to the "one way" doughnuts on this trip, which means you order them and you get it how it comes. The special one-way this week was caramel delight, which I ordered despite having no idea what I was about to be presented with. As you can see, it's chocolate icing, crispy toasted coconut flakes (which were great, by the way; I'm not a huge coconut fan, but I loved this addition!) and a drizzle of caramel. It's hard to go wrong with chocolate and caramel. That final one is the Sriracha, and it is the definition of "spice is nice." The moist cake doughnut is smothered in a rich peanut butter that melts on contact with the piping hot doughnut, sprinkled with chopped peanuts and then a layer of peppery Sriracha hot sauce is drawn on top. There is nothing sweet about this breakfast except your mouth crying out for sweet Jesus as you chow down -- both because it's spicy and because you can't get over how good it is.

Poppo's Taqueria
Second favorite place in Florida ... which just so happens to be right next door to The Donut Experiment. They share a porch.

I love pork tacos these days, and Poppo's does not disappoint. All of their food boasts such amazing flavors that one moment there's a taco on your plate and about three seconds later you look around and wonder where the heck your lunch went because you ate it that fast and already want more. I love the Classic concoction, which is pork with cilantro, diced red onion, hot sauce and lime on a corn tortilla. That hot sauce has a good kick, but I absolutely crave it when it's on top of succulent, melts-in-your-mouth pork and the burst of freshness from the cilantro.

To be honest, Poppo's may have the best carnitas I've had the pleasure of eating. Carnitas is a Mexican way of cooking pork by braising or roasting it before shredding. It's just so juicy here. I don't know what they put in it, but the pork tacos here are crave-worthy. In fact, I typically get a second taco (seriously; finishing one will leave you wanting more, so you're gonna want two at a minimum). That one is pork (duh) full of slaw, cheese, pico, cilantro and a drizzle of sauce. Having this taco is what made me start to like red cabbage -- yes, I realize it took me 25 years to appreciate red cabbage -- because the slaw is honey and lime marinated red cabbage. Can we talk about food that makes me hungry?!

Thankfully in Atlanta there's a Willy's, which is the closest I can get to pork tacos of this caliber, but it just ain't the same as being outside at Poppo's, eating a freshly made taco with carnitas juice running down your fingers and dripping on your plate and swallowing a tasty craft IPA from local Big Top Brewing to wash it down.

Rod & Reel Pier
If you don't do doughnuts for breakfast (at which, I must inquire what on Earth is wrong with you!), I recommend the bike ride to Rod & Reel Pier. There are two piers on AMI -- one is City Pier, which is larger and home to bar food, apps and brews; and the other is Rod & Reel. It serves food all day, but what I've been most impressed with is breakfast.

You go upstairs, sit down and have a view of the Gulf of Mexico while you eat. There are fishermen downstairs on the dock, the St. Pete bridge in the distance, a solid look at Egmont Key State Park and plenty of open water to watch for dolphins, rays and all other manner of sealife as you chow down on eggs and bacon. I recommend the omelettes of all varieties: they're pretty much the size of an infant so you might want to pay the $1 price to share it with someone! The pancakes are amazing too. Light, fluffy, almost cake-y in flavor, and they're served hot with powdered sugar on top, which caramelizes as the pancakes cool. You can also be healthy(er) and get fresh berries or fruit served on top.

This trip I tried out the bacon, egg and cheese biscuit sandwich. Sandwiches are an essential part of my diet, so it's hard to resist the offer of one full of fried egg, salty bacon and melty cheese. Rod & Reel breakfast is comfort food that'll keep you full until dinner, at which point you can return for fried grouper.

Tune in tomorrow: I'm taking you on a stroll to some other tasty treats you can devour while in this beautiful island community.