Top 50 restaurants of Tampa Bay 2016 edition

Since Roux debuted in 2014, a number of people have headlined in the kitchen. Some of this is by design — Suzanne and Roger Perry love bringing in guest chefs from Louisiana for the “unique flavors and stories each one brings to our kitchen” — but some is because they’ve been trying to find just the right fit for their upscale modern Cajun/Creole. In July, chef Bonnie Breaux moved from New Iberia, La., and set a steadier course. She says she has moved things in a more Cajun direction (think more dark roux), but the big hubbub these days is about the weekend brunch (Bananas Foster pancakes, BOGO mimosas and Bloodys). I think nighttime is when the restaurant really shows best, with its glammy Bourbon Street pressed-tin ceilings, gilded mirrors and lavish drapes (I hardly ever get to write the word drapes anymore).

Must eat: Oysters are the top-selling dish (prediction: You’ll dispatch six buttery-cheesy chargrilled babies and have that irrational “Should I order six more?” thought) and other seafood seems to be where Breaux and company hits high gear (shrimp and grits, seafood Wellington). Then the Olympic-level dismount: bread pudding with a Buffalo Trace bourbon butterscotch sauce. And the cocktail spectrum, from Pink Fairy to Sazerac, is made and presented with finesse.

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Richard Gonzmart’s commitment to the Tampa Heights neighborhood seems to know no bounds. In December, he announced that he was buying an old furniture store on N Florida Avenue, into which he would pour $2 million to transform it into a culinary school for neighborhood high school students. This on the heels of the $6 million he plunked down to overhaul the 1906 Water Works Building that houses Ulele. With that one, though, it wasn’t just this historic but economically beleaguered neighborhood that benefitted — locals and tourists on both sides of the bay have flocked to enjoy “Native-inspired foods & spirits.” It’s a restaurant with so many notable bells and whistles, it’s tough to shoehorn them in here: Tim Shackton is the brewmaster for the award-winning onsite brewery (Rusty’s Red, Magbee’s Honey Lager); the amazing two-level space showcases the work of a number of local artisans (Gonzmart’s own arrowhead collection is embedded in the bar); partner Keith Sedita oversees a crackerjack front of the house team; and executive chef Eric Lackey interprets early Florida foods in a way that won’t discomfit anyone. In 2016, look for two new projects from Gonzmart: Goody Goody in Hyde Park Village and a Sicilian restaurant in Ybor City.

Must eat: The charbroiled oysters on the barbacoa continue to be my go-to, as does the Florida beef from Strickland Ranch (beef that gets fed the spent grain from the brewery in a circle-of-life dealio), especially when it is accompanied by a side of fried, but not breaded, okra with house ketchup.

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Coming up on its three-year anniversary, one of the prettiest restaurants in Tampa is poised for change. A private dining room, annexed from the defunct Five Guys next door, debuts with seating up to 25, and an expanded kitchen means a major menu overhaul will be unveiled in February. I hear people fidgeting — no, this will not mean the stinky buns or the truffled tater tots will be eighty-sixed. Partner Xuan “Sing” Hurt says they’ll keep the crowd favorites. Hurt and partners, husband Kevin, Rafael Millan, Ro Patel and Mai Tran, took a chance on downtown, which, with Curtis Hixon Waterfront Park, the Riverwalk and a dramatic influx of residents and businesses, has paid dividends. They’re in a great location, but it is the strength of the sprightly Korean-ish/southeast Asian range of flavors, combined with a raft of smart cocktails (kudos to bar manager Ryan Brown) and a live DJ in the late evenings, that has made Anise a happening spot at lunch and dinner.

Must eat: The Hurts ran the Stinky Bunz food truck from whence braised pork belly with kimchi buns and red curry crispy chicken buns came. More recently they’ve added a range of burgers, some Asian-accented cheese and charcuterie and a great gluten-free Korean japchae noodle dish to which you can add a protein of choice.

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When Bamboozle Cafe opened downtown in 2008 you could hear a collective sigh, “Finally, a spunky Asian alternative to pizza and turkey clubs.” Since then, banh mi and pho have become staples for downtown workers, with Fusion Bowl the most charming addition of 2015. Owned by Michelle Vuu (Chinese) and Bao Lai (Vietnamese), it leans most heavily toward Vietnam, but with a smattering of dishes from Japan (udon bowls, teriyaki rice bowls, gyoza) and some classic American morning fare (waffles, toast with eggs and avocado). What lifts it into memorable territory is its wonderful array of muddled fruit teas and exotic hot teas (Kaleisia Tea Lounge near USF, I love yours too, but your food less so) and a more recently added vegetarian menu. Plus, it’s cute as a button, the perfect place to camp out with the newspaper or a magazine (beyond the free Wi-Fi, the bonus is that there’s a huge, fruit-infused self-serve water dispenser). This is breakfast and lunch only.

Must eat: It’s hard to make a vegetarian banh mi with real razzle-dazzle. They’ve managed. The pho rivals that at any of the area’s better Vietnamese spots. Finish lunch with a Viet-French drip coffee and a bowl of outstanding ginger ice cream studded with crystallized ginger. Take your time, your boss will understand.

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Danny Hernandez had me at taxidermy, but the burnt ends (a.k.a. barbecue candy) really cemented the deal. He grew up in the restaurant business with his family’s Pipo’s, then masterminded his plot for world ’cue domination. First he swapped out the Armenia Pipo’s for his first Holy Hog (he says the taxidermy decor was mostly about getting it out of the house at his wife’s behest), then came the Henderson location, then downtown, Amalie Arena and Carrollwood. At any of the Hog Nation outposts, the menu is heavy on Texas-style brisket, a couple kinds of sausage (smoked summer and spicy beef), St. Louis ribs and a whole lot of alluring sides. I’ve had HH cater a couple parties, although party pics have required extensive Photoshop de-saucing. For dining in, the indoor-outdoor downtown location, with its powerful misting fans, is pleasant and has a good beer list, but I still prefer the relaxed atmosphere and broad picnic tables of the flagship.

Must eat: Steer toward the fattier point end of the brisket or the burnt ends, although it’s easy to be beguiled by the sides, housemade chips, corn fritters and jalapeno mac and cheese at the top of the heap.

When I was young and naive, I thought there were four styles of barbecue: Texas-style was brisket and beef ribs shellacked with a sweet, sticky, tomatoey sauce; ’cue from the Carolinas meant pork smoked and then bathed in a more vinegary, sometimes mustardy sauce; Memphis was all about pork ribs, dry-rubbed and served “wet”; and then there was Kansas City, more of a melting pot, sauce sweet and thick, where they talked about barbecue in terms of snoots, brownies, short ends and long ends. Ah, how quaint I was. There is Florida barbecue and hybrid barbecue and all sorts of barbecue anomalies. The Brandon area tends to be impressive barbecue country (props to Down to the Bone), but First Choice is top dog. They’re not real specific about the provenance of the recipe. When pressed, Florida barbecue sums it up just fine: no dry rub, a lot of smoky flavor and a sauce that is ketchup-based with a kick of vinegar.

Must eat: Ribs are tender, deeply smoky and delicious eaten sauced (on the sweet side) or au naturel. Spicy macaroni salad has proponents, but the fries (crisp, skin on, fresh-cut) are hard to overlook and the beans are good if you like them sweet with a hint of nutmeg or cinnamon.

I got a little mopey when they knocked down the produce stand last year at the corner of MacDill and Swann. It wasn’t pretty, and sometime the veggies could be a little wan, but it felt like a link to the olden days. I’m over it now — 4 Rivers Smokehouse opened its second Tampa location there around Christmas and I’ve never seen it without a line snaking out the front door. After a couple of visits, I can say that it’s better than the location that opened at the end of 2014 in Carrollwood, and not quite as good as the flagship Winter Park location, opened in 2009. John Rivers, who spent the first 20 years of his career in health care, was bitten by the brisket bug and now has 11 barbecue locations with two more to come this year. They pretty much operate the same: Queue up at the door and an assembly line of affable young employees serve up Texas-style 18-hour smoked Angus brisket, burnt ends, Southern pulled pork and St. Louis-style ribs, with sides from fried okra to sweet-smoky baked beans and Texas corn bread.

Must eat: The desserts are going to distract you. Oversized layer cakes, extravagantly decorated cupcakes with lurid frosting, homey confections like coconut bombs and pecan bars. Eyes over here: I’ve had the brisket when it’s amazing and when it’s just pretty good. A consistent star is the smoked chicken salad sandwich, a weird thing to get at a ’cue joint, but there you go. Then tack on an order of smoked jalapenos. Good for what ails you.

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I’m still gaga for Ava. But a year into its life, I’ve experienced enough inconsistency in food and service that I find myself overexplaining and making excuses to detractors. Michael Stewart is still a vigilant owner, Joe Maddon is frequently in residence in off-season, and Joshua Hernández and J. Ward still preside over the pizza oven and kitchen, respectively. The outdoor patio, with its heavy canvas-and-plastic siding, has the feel of being outside but the benefits of being indoors, and the airy dining room is still among the prettiest in Tampa Bay (the new Grey Salt at the Hard Rock has a similar vibe). I’ve zipped in recently and had a great Bestia pie and outlandishly good braised octopus with dilled fingerlings and pickled fennel, but I’m smitten with the just-instituted weekend brunch, which, at least thus far, has the added allure of no pesky lines, unlike Daily Eats across the way (seriously, kids, how long are you willing to wait for those breakfast nachos?).

Must eat: Maddon’s Mary has a kick like a mule (fine, eat the pepperoni stick, but if you nibble the hot pepper out of the olive there will be consequences), and the Eggs in Purgatory (some of Hernández’s gorgeous bread smothered in spicy San Marzano tomatoes and poached eggs) amplify the smolder. Benedicts come on flaky-sturdy biscuits, with a great Florentine version that beds down on a juicy portobello.

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Their hilarious marquee signs alone should scoot them onto “best of” lists (loved the ones about Adele and Star Wars). Roger and Suzanne Perry never stop innovating, changing things up, sussing out new foods and people to get excited about. They also may be personally responsible for the overexposure of bacon. The single problem at Datz, less so at their next-door Dough, has always been service: They do an absolutely obscene business at brunch, with servers sometimes lacking the hustle and/or disposition to keep up. Thus, practice your mindfulness and deep breathing and brunch will go swimmingly, especially if it’s on the patio on a nice Florida winter’s day.

Must eat: I would like to recommend the Spaaa Blahblahblah cocktail because it is only 150 calories and I like to imagine you ordering it, but the Bloody Mary with bacon (see?) or the frothy Bacon and Eggs cocktail (ahem?) are the way to start, with an order of monkey bread with bacon (seriously?) as finger food for the table to start. The Billy Benedict has the “bene”fit of being on a sturdy, cultish Wolferman’s English muffin from Kansas City, topped with ham, swiss, poached egg and hollandaise, which you can have accompanied by bacon-infused potatoes or a side order of . . . oh, nevermind.

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If you play your cards right, you can stand in the cave, close your eyes and breathe deeply. Whoa, that’s cheesetastic. Haven, the little sibling to Bern’s, which opened in the SideBern’s spot about a year ago, has the most ambitious cheese program perhaps in the state. Chef Chad Johnson said his initial order was 2,000 pounds of product and though he wouldn’t put a dollar figure on it, he said it was north of $20,000. Now add to that a charcuterie lineup that keeps expanding, some housemade, some sourced from the great cured meat producers of the world. Here’s the rub: Although it’s tempting to hunker down at Haven to eat only meats, cheeses and accoutrements, the rest of the menu is tremendous. Oh, then add in a remarkable list of more than 300 bourbons, ryes and other whiskeys, plus a great cocktail program and wine list, and the ordering process can be paralyzing. Luckily, Haven has the kind of suave staff that can deftly get you unstuck.

Must eat: By the time you try the 18th cheese, you might be in a flop-sweaty dairy fog, but it’s worth it. The cheesemonger plate ($47) is best undertaken with a couple buddies, the white ceramic tray with divots accompanied by a cheat sheet alongside crusty bread, cornichons, fruit compote and Marcona almonds. On the charcuterie side, a recent headcheese with bell pepper mostarda was wonderful, as was a sumptuous foie gras and duck rillettes paired with a sour apple jam (love how fattiness is juxtaposed with something sweet-tart). But you shouldn’t vacate the premises without investigating the whole roast cauliflower and the spicy mussels.

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“I’d like a glass of chardonnay.” “You want the J. Lo?” (Restaurant critic assumes this is a Chinese pronunciation quirk with J. Lohr.) “That’s what I call it because I really like J. Lo.” Can’t argue with that one bit. The Yummy House staff, always in high gear, is full of sass and able at a glance to tell whether you’re a sweet-and-sour chicken person or a tripe with Chinese pickle diner. No judgment. Owner John Zhao, 36, has been in the restaurant biz since he was a kid, building up his Yummy group since 2008 with the original Waters Avenue location, then Hillsborough in 2011, a Sarasota outpost in 2012, Gainesville in 2013, Ocala in 2014 and Orlando last year. Next up for him is a pan-Asian Yummy Bowl and Asian Noodle Bar that will follow a Chipotle-like model: Pick your noodles (Korean, Chinese, Japanese or Vietnamese), pick your ingredients (vegetables, chicken, beef or seafood) and then select your broth. I prefer the bistro to the original because the setting is more convivial and attractive (bargain hunters may prefer the other: It’s BYOB, so you can save money with no alcohol markup).

Must eat: Bare bones, no reservations, no booze, the first Yummy House was an instant hit because we’d been starved for authentic Hong Kong-style food. We still don’t have much of it. Bright sauteed greens, still-crisp veggies, burnished-skin ducks, cracked crabs redolent of ginger and scallion and whole steamed fish — even if kung pao is your jam, branch out. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, salt and pepper tofu, ong choy (a water spinach) with garlic if they’ve got it, and at lunch (when dim sum is offered), any of the rice porridges or the steamed rice rolls stuffed with beef or pork.

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It used to be tiny and a little crusty looking but underwent an expansion and gussying up some years back. There has been a slow accretion of crud since then (amateurish, unframed food pictures tacked to the wall surrounding one perplexing painting of megabuff horses wading in the surf), but it still attracts an in-the-know crowd, often big families spinning the lazy Susans in serious concentration.

Must eat: For this story, I went to Yummy and Yuan back to back. Both great, but I’m going to give China Yuan the nod on a couple things. First, the duck: Gleaming Bain De Soleil-tinted and hanging sadly by the neck, it is offered Cantonese-style, $19.99, for when you’re trying to be fiscally prudent. For $39.99 you can do the whole two-course Peking style, first the little pancakes or buns (they do both) with hoisin and scallion, crisp-skinned boned-out duck, then a second course of the bones in soup. Magic. And second, their dim sum is noteworthy. They don’t do cart service, the up-side being that dishes are made to order so things are really fresh and hot, some in round metal containers and some on white plates. Get the sweet sesame balls with red bean paste.

Flour, yeast, salt and water. So elemental. And yet. My hope is that 2016 will be the year we finally get a critical mass of exceptional bread bakeries in these parts. Kevin and Karyn Kruszewski have been hoeing that row solo (say that out loud) for years, supplying many of the top restaurants with crusty loaves each week. But that’s just one part of what this South Tampa institution accomplishes. During the day it’s a jammed order-at-the-counter lunch spot and bakery, folks grabbing giant triangles of fancy-topped thin-crust pizza or roasted acorn squash stuffed with chicken salad (fun fact: It is former Buc Ryan Nece’s fave). And then Wednesday to Saturday the lights dim, things slow down and it becomes a fancier Italian-accented table-service dinner house. Pane Rustica has changed locations, it has expanded, it has added a full bar. But one constant through it all is a crazy-good burger.

Must eat: The burger is on the specials menu at lunch and dinner, and it’s not cheap (usually $16 or $17), its accoutrements shifting. It starts with all-natural Niman Ranch beef in a fairly coarse grind, the hardwood grill imparting perceptible smokiness, on a bun that changes year by year but is often rustic with an open texture like a pugliese. You may find it topped with Stilton, arugula, sliced tomato and roasted garlic aioli, or maybe sauteed mushrooms, arugula, oozy taleggio and oven-dried tomato. Post-burger, it is essential you order the twin espresso cookie sundae.

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The Grand Central complex and the whole Channel District have grown up around suave Cena, a nearly three-year-old Italian anchor that is the personal and distinctive vision of talented chef Michael Buttacavoli (Council Oak, SideBern’s). He and his team (Kyle Martin as sous, Evan Schmidt on pastry, Jessica Wentworth the new general manager) have set a steady course as newcomers like the just-opened District Tavern, Fabrica Woodfired Pizza and Ginger Beard Coffee (which works out of Pour House in the morning when it is closed) have gotten things bustling, a Duckweed Urban Grocery on the horizon. Buttacavoli is working on some wine dinners and a new small-plates menu for the bar, but the bulk of his time is taken with refining his already elegant dinner menu: A handful of pastas, risotto and “secondi” are served in a serene dining room dominated by oversized photos of textural rock formations.

Must eat: Name another local restaurant with five risotto options. That should tell you something. With riffs from red wine gorgonzola with tender Kobe beef cheek to a wild mushroom version, this is a part of the menu to scrutinize. And Schmidt’s desserts tend to be architectural and multi-element, with keen juxtapositions of texture and mouthfeel. Plus, they sometimes look like spaceships with chocolate wings and propellers.

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When Michael meets Sollozzo and Capt. McCluskey at Louis’ Italian American Restaurant in The Godfather, I like to put Spartaco Giolito in the role of the proprietor (but I get him out of there when Michael starts shooting). He’s straight from central casting: Big and warm, he has a thick Italian accent and is prone to busting your chops while making you some nice veal scallopini dish he thinks you’ll like. It is the only restaurant I know of that still writes out bills longhand, with Giolito there at his little desk in front working the pencil, carry the 2, then totaling the bill in his slanty handwriting (how many of us now take the time to check the math?). He’s from the coastal town of Rimini, ergo seafood is front and center. Unless lasagna features prominently in your daydreams. Tip: No reservations and the juice glass is for wine (about three reds and three whites) and the wine-ish glass is for water.

Must eat: Your first time, get the strozzapreti alla “Bel Sit,” a twisty pasta that looks like a Cigar Rolling Camp, Day One, heaped with mixed seafood and either a white or red sauce (go red). Then, branch out. You can get half orders of pasta (menu doesn’t say that) and he’ll do pretty much whatever you want with chicken and veal. My order? Linguini with clams, white wine sauce but with chopped tomato, extra spicy.

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If I lived near Florida Avenue, I’d have a money-making scheme: Rent spots on the driveway every night ($20 seem mercenary?) to would-be Ichicoro diners. Or maybe I could hire some kids to flog cups of Top Ramen for those who can’t cope with the wait. I can say that in recent years there hasn’t been an opening as anticipated, especially one where the average dinner costs $12. Noel Cruz, Masa Takaru, Chakira Hiratsu and team tinkered with their ramen concept in New York before making a big splash in Seminole Heights in November. Brand Architecture in Orlando and Live/Work Studios in Seminole Heights did an amazing job with the hip but intimate design, and the open kitchen is supported by an urbane service staff (major girl-crush on head bartender Jessie Wohlers — hey, feel like coffee?). Newsy bit: Ichicoro just opened for lunch.

Must eat: You are going to cool your jets at the bar, at which point you will eat the steamed pork buns, the crushed cucumber tsukemono and the satsumaimo karaage (fried sweet potato) and hope you don’t fill up before the main event. And then you’re ready for “Tampa-style ramen.” For the full glory of what real ramen is, opt for the shoyu: smoky-fatty braised pork, soft-boiled egg, scallion, papery-crunchy nori and thin planks of fermented bamboo shoots in a rich, chicken-based broth over pale gold, springy, chewy noodles.

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In such a strong year for Tampa Bay restaurants, even very worthy chain concepts didn’t make the Top 50 cut. Debuting in the increasingly reinvigorated Hyde Park Village in July, this Connecticut-based chain is one of only a couple exceptions, on the strength of its novel approach, visual appeal and price point. Each table has a little ordering chit. You check off the tacos and “not tacos” that appeal, then pop the blue dragonfly card into the metal holder and a server swings by. Need a new drink? Dragonfly card. (Anisoptera fans, they also sometimes offer free temporary dragonfly tattoos.) Opt for shared platter samplers: Paper-lined aluminum trays, small ($26) or large ($38), make the whole experience collaborative and finger-foody, and then you can double up on the tacos you especially like.

Must eat: In all likelihood, you will be doubling up on the roasted cauliflower taco, topped with zingy romesco and toasted almonds, and the fried oyster taco. Which is fine, because all tacos are $2.50 or $3.50. Where things can get quickly out of hand is with the rum- and tequila-centric cocktails, bartenders ostentatiously squeezing citrus, muddling things and vigorously shaking shakers in the pretty dining room. Who can say no to all that earnest enterprise? Drinks change seasonally, so summer’s chorizo spice-infused margarita has given way to a winter caipirinha.

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Dan Bavaro opened in downtown Tampa in 2009, back when the sidewalks rolled up at 6 p.m. He persevered and is now one of dozens of restaurants doing brisk dinner business. At the same time, he has built a bottled pasta and pizza sauce business with a gleaming 6,500-square-foot facility in Tampa, and he will open his second restaurant in April at 945 Central Ave. in St. Petersburg with the aim of having seven locations by the end of the year. At the core of his success is a lovely, mosaic-tiled, rounded, 900-degree brick pizza oven handmade outside Naples by Stefano Ferrara and family the same way for the past 100 years. But like a pedigreed racehorse, you need a jockey unafraid of the beast. Rene Franco has been that man for the past four years, with a brief break last year as the No. 2 pizza guy presiding over Ava’s Acunto oven.

Must eat: These are thin-crust Neapolitan-style pies about 12 inches, with a tender center and a blistery, puffed outer edge, best eaten with fork and knife. Sauce is a bright, chunky puree of hand-crushed and deseeded San Marzano tomatoes, but there are plenty of good white pies, such as a vegetariano I had recently with cow’s milk moz, shaved zucchini and yellow squash, mixed peppers and a swirl of fruity olive oil. The best route at Bavaro’s: share a salad, then a pasta (housemade tagliatelle with slightly spicy 50/50 sauce), then a pie.

Move over Frenchy’s, there’s new grouper sandwich royalty. Nick Cruz opened this little charmer last summer in an unglamorous former seafood market in an unlikely Ballast Point spot. Immediately the pilgrimage was on for Floridians pining for old-timey fish shacks. The staff is preternaturally friendly, the tiny room kitted out with glass buoys and customer-supplied “big fish” photos, and all that emanates from the deep fryer are things of beauty. Big Ray’s is mostly lunch-only, with early dinner hours Friday and Saturday, and a limited number of tables means you might end up taking out (I defy you not to eradicate every onion ring while driving, extra points for standard transmission).

Must eat: Fried, blackened or grilled, you choose, the black grouper is fresh and meaty, piled onto a tender bun with a swath of fully ripe tomato, crisp romaine, thick-cut but not fiery onion, and then finished off with a little swipe of tangy homemade tartar. That said, the lobster corn dog is what my mind returns to (during staff meetings or meditative yoga, say). It’s a whole lobster tail wrangled onto a fat stick and enrobed in sweet, crunchy cornmeal crust. It was $21 when I ordered it, but I can’t remember an Andrew Jackson so enjoyably spent..

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I waffled. I like the lakeside patio setting and cocktail list at Ocean Prime. But it is the consistently exceptional service that puts Eddie V’s ahead by a nose. Clad in starched white jackets and jaunty bow ties, servers are polished, knowledgeable and suave, able to detect if you are a diner who prefers lots of hand-holding or sleight-of-hand invisibility. Orlando-based Darden (Red Lobster, Olive Garden, Capital Grille, etc.) bought the chain in 2011 and this was the first one opened on their watch. The concept is now up to 13 locations, its strength an old-school steakhouse sensibility with glamorous dining rooms (moody lighting, snowy linens, dramatic glassed-in wine cellar and suave live jazz in the bar).

Must eat: Along the row of high-end chain concepts on Boy Scout Boulevard across from International Plaza, what distinguishes Eddie V’s is an equal adroitness with prime steaks and premium seafood. I’ve heard that it’s a myth that the bone itself adds depth of flavor to a bone-in steak, so maybe it’s a placebo effect: the 22-ounce bone-in prime rib eye comes lushly marbled with velvety fat, but with good chew and a deep, minerally flavor. Now pair that with pan-roasted wild mushrooms and broccolini with lemon and garlic and it feels luxuriously nostalgic, especially if preceded by shrimp cocktail or a jumbo lump crab cake and finally punctuated with a disc of hot bananas Foster butter cake.

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Since the hotel debuted, this has been the ne plus ultra for high rollers or those who aspire, despite the fact that restaurateur and Chopped judge Marc Murphy debuted the lovely Mediterranean Grey Salt onsite in November. Council Oak is in a bit of flux right now with the recent departure of chef de cuisine Omar Torres, appointed in July. For now, top brass Bill Gideon and Michael Balles are overseeing the steakhouse until a replacement has been chosen. Based on a recent meal, this is not bad news for diners. To get you oriented, butchers cut USDA prime 21- to 28-day dry-aged steaks in a stainless steel and glass exhibition butchery near the entrance. Interestingly, the Seminole tribe now has its own Florida-raised beef line, but this isn’t on offer in the sleek, white-tablecloth dining room with just the faintest ding-ding-ding from the 5,000 slot machines nearby.

Must eat: In 2008, the Japanese Meat Grading Association changed its BMS (Beef Marble Score) so it starts at 3 and goes up to 12. You: “Um, what?” You need to know this because Council Oak serves Australian wagyu steaks graded at +9. Akin to when Tufnel’s Marshall amp went up to 11 in Spinal Tap, this means the 12-ounce rib eye ($125) is really, really good. And if you’ve proved to be an exceptional stud at Mississippi Stud, I also recommend the raw bar sampler (king crab, Maine lobster, shrimp cocktail, oysters from both coasts) to start.

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We have so few notable female chefs in the Tampa Bay area, and the few we do have are petite. No matter. In the case of BT Nguyen, she lives life large. When I want an unvarnished, from-the-hip (but articulate) chef’s opinion, this longtime Tampa restaurateur (seven restaurants and counting) provideth. This year she debuted BT to Go a few blocks from her flagship, the culmination of a lot of thought about how to feed people, especially families, quickly, healthfully and with Viet-French panache. It grew out of dinner guests at Restaurant BT jonesing for her lunch menu items (pho, bun bowls, banh mi), but Restaurant BT at night, with its fancy ghost chairs, chic wall of air plants and suave French-accented service, is about luxe. Lunch is more straightforward Vietnamese, whereas dinner features that strange colonial serendipity that happens when one cuisine bends toward another.

Must eat: Year by year you see more regional farms named and “organics” indicated on her menu, even while some dishes endure (the vegetarian galangal-amped chunky pumpkin soup, the filet tartare bo tai chanh, spicy with chiles and dotted with basil and peanut). In recent visits, the splurge items seem the way to go: shaken beef, bouillabaisse or a trio of crème brûlées with an equally sumptuous glass of Sauternes.

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At the economical end of the Vietnamese spectrum, I debated between Thuy Café (and Thuy Le’s fancier downtown St. Pete location, La V; news: she has a third restaurant in the works for 2016) or the place where many of us first encountered the charisma of the banh mi. I opted for the latter. It has had an avid following among the banh mi cognoscenti since 2005. Lam Le offers four varieties, all for $3, in keeping with his prices for pho, bun and a whole lot of wrapped-in-plastic neon pink and green jellied grab-and-go items at the counter.

Must eat: The best sandwich is the combo. Order and they assemble pronto: Baguette, very crispy, slathered with pate (tastes chicken livery, but liver could have other provenance), headcheese and ham, piled up with crisp, sweet and just slightly spicy daikon and carrot matchsticks and soft pickley cucumbers, lots of cilantro (cilantro stems add seductiveness) and a tang of fish sauce and jalapeno. Warm. And wrapped in waxed paper. Follow it with a tiny tub of pudding that everyone else in line seems to be grabbing as an impulse buy. The pudding is called che bap and it has corn and tapioca and coconut milk and vanilla and strands of chewy seaweed and little reddish beans.

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I know it’s supremely weasely to lump Thai restaurants in with Vietnamese in a category. Truth is, in a very strong year, I had to figure out a way to keep categories and total numbers down, such that whole swaths of Asia (and the entire continent of Africa!) got short shrift. In my defense, there are very few Thai restaurants in our area that really distinguish themselves. A sameness to many suggests there are a lot of tubs of Mae Ploy curry paste out there. By a mile, the most engaging and satisfying Thai dining in our area is outdoors from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Sundays in back of the Thai temple. It’s a weekly fundraiser put together by parishioners and community members, with long, snaking lines, one for fresh and fried rolls, another for noodle soups. etc. What you do is this: Bring a posse, arrive early, give everyone $10 cash, whiz off in all directions and meet at a picnic table 15 minutes later and unveil your bounty while sitting under moss-draped trees on the bank of the Palm River. Afterward, slip your shoes off and enter the ornate gilded temple to witness services, 1 to 2:30 p.m.

Must eat: Crowds are getting bigger all the time. But can you blame them? There are some perfect foods here, i.e. sticky rice with mango, a tart-creamy-coconut milky-salty party. Generous noodle soup bowls are more of a hold-your-own dish, offered with a beef or pork base with thin, medium or wide noodles. The pumpkin curry with chicken might have been my favorite dish on an early January visit, and fried bananas and sweet potatoes have a consistently exuberant following, but less so than the always-thronged line for small coconut custards. I’ve never had the stamina. So there’s a resolution for 2016.