White’s Gourmet House
When planning our walking trip to the Hyde Park area of Tampa, it was with an aim toward something simple, comforting and inexpensive that inspired me to seek out a delicatessen for our lunch. Aside from famished, we’d be hot, weary and impatient after our trek and a deli sandwich could be just the prescription to cure our ills. Some internetting revealed that Wright’s Gourmet House was a short drive from Hyde Park and it was on our Must Eat Vittles shortlist for the area.
I had been wanting to visit White’s Gourmet for a few months since discovering it on Tripadvisor. The problem was that there was nothing else of interest drawing me into the vicinity of White’s (obviously I am not a golfer). So, I took the opportunity of being in Hyde Park to hop over to Palma Ceia West for a lunch of succulent sandwiches—made with house-roasted meats—and tongue tantalizing layer cake.
Ah, the serenity of simplicity. When it comes to meals few are more simple than the sandwich: tasty comestibles between pieces of bread. The basic sandwich is hand-held comfort food. Whether a crisp, buttery, melty grilled cheese with some tomato soup on a blustery day, a BLT in late summer with tomatoes just picked from the vine, the cool mayonnaise harmonizing the smoky flavors of the crisp bacon with the juicy sun-warmed tomato and crunch of toasted bread, or the spartan baloney and cheese with yellow mustard on soft white bread, the basic sandwich is sufficient to calm growling stomachs and sooth tempestuous spirits.
These days, the sandwich has been over constructed, deconstructed and reconstructed into countless incarnations of a basic design: foodstuffs between edible finger protectors for ease of eating without utensils. We live in an unparalleled age of menu inventiveness with options galore and infinite variations on a theme. This is generally a boon to mankind, but not without its busts.
When I feel the need for feed, I sometimes seek respite from menu overload and option onslaught by looking to the sandwich as a restorative. Give me an honest ham and cheese with fresh tomato, iceberg and a spread of Gulden’s Spicy Brown mustard and my mind will be at peace while my mouth mulls over the salty meat, sweet ‘mater, crunchy lettuce and spicy spread. Take me to deli or lose me forever.
The ease of eating part has often been thwarted by over-enthusiastic minds who pile fillings of Dagwoodian proportions atop inadequate breadery to create a sandwich by definition, but a catastrophe in practice to both portability and eatability. I’ve tackled the Pittsburgh style sandwich made famous by Primanti Brothers and while it tasted fine and was a singular experience, it was so impossible to eat without making a mess, so unwieldy as to make eating in the car impossible, and so large that it could never nestle between a pack of Zingers and a thermos of juice. It defies logic to even create it as a sandwich in the first place. Open-faced glutton fare is a more apt descriptor.
A group of four could share one of these french-fry-stuffed-deli-case-on-a-rolls, say they’ve done it and strike it from the list. That is not to say that I don’t like illogical glutton fare. I love it, but there are a time and a place and when I want glutton fare, the time is plentiful and the place is Bingeville, population: several beer drinking buddies with a follow-up visit to Recliner Town. When I decide that I want a sandwich, the time is short and the place is Convenienceville, population: me, with a follow-up visit to Igotshittodoburg.
Then there are the deconstructionists who attempt cleverness by breaking down the sandwich into its component parts and arranging them on a plate in such a way as to render them neither a sandwich nor a meal, but a plate of loosely related things. Deconstruction thwarts the ease of eating and the portability factor that prompted sandwich creation in the first place. When you deconstruct a club sandwich, you haven’t necessarily created something novel and interesting, you’ve simply made several piles on a plate…with a balsamic reduction. A deconstructed club sandwich is a chef salad.
I’m not condemning creativity and innovation, I’m merely making the point that the basic sandwich is a proud and noble beast, worthy of our reverence and without the need of embellishment. It’s a faithful friend who’s always there for us to sink our teeth into, chew into a paste and pass through our gastrointestinal tract. But we do so with pleasure and gratitude. “You’re cool, sandwich–My BFF. I got you. In my belly. For the moment.”
Founded by Marjorie and Pete Wright in 1963 and now run by their grandson Jeff Mount, this gourmet shop turned deli is a fine example of entrepreneurial ingenuity, perseverance, and achievement. In addition to the deli/cafe with dine-in seating for 80, outdoor seating for 24, Wright’s Gourmet House offers take-out, a full-service bakery with pies, cupcakes, cookies, bars, and loaves of bread. Wright’s also offers catering for nearly every size and occasion.
Right before your very eyes, quality yet simple ingredients join house roasted meats on house-made bucket bread in a pristine open kitchen. Wright’s makes many of their own salads, sauces, and are possibly most famous for their fresh made layer cakes.
The Tampa afternoon traffic in this area was a steady flow that carried us to 1200 S Dale Mabry Hwy. The angled parking spaces in front of Wright’s white, single level structure were full, so we turned the corner and found a place on the side along West Watrous Street.
Wright’s Gourmet House
1200 S. Dale Mabry Hwy.
Tampa, FL 33629
Phone: 813-253-3838
Fax: 813-251-0143
Hours:
Monday through Friday – 7:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.,
Saturday – 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Closed on Sundays
wrightsgourmet.com/
Wrights is known for their layer cakes and when you first enter you’re greeted by an open cooler stocked with plated and wrapped wedges as well as boxed whole cakes. They offer a monthly or seasonal special cake as well as their standards. I was torn between the Hawaiian Princess cake and the Hummingbird cake—both customer favorites—but settled on her majesty. My wife chose the seasonal special: Strawberry with three thick layers of pink tinted cake sandwiched and enrobed in an even pinker sugary frosting.
We then stopped at the salad case to get a look at the offerings. Before settling on broccoli and peanut salad for me and dill potato salad for her, we considered from a host of delicious looking options. We made mental notes for giving our order, then approached the sandwich line to look at that menu.
I had already made my sandwich decision before arriving, having looked at their menu online, but I scanned it once more to make sure. A sign informed that you could choose to have your sandwich plain, toasted or grilled. This first time, I opted for plain—a decision I later came to regret, but only for personal tastes. We were called next and gave our order, first sandwich, then any options, then any sides, then any beverages.
I ordered the Beef Martini sandwich, my wife chose the Turkey Martini sandwich. Other than the meat, the two are identical: a garlic and herb butter spread and sauteed mushrooms on butter-crust white bread. We added our salads, two drinks and the cook repeated our order and upon our approval, directed us to pay at the cashier and wait nearby for him to call when our order was completed. We did as much and then filled our cups from one of several fountain soda and several iced tea options. In addition to the sweeteners fresh cut lemons and fresh mint leaves are provided—a nice touch.
While I filled up, we reminisced with another customer about filling our cups with a mix of every soda when we were kids. Did anyone not do that? It’s the little things of childhood that bind us all together. The iced tea was fresh brewed and I truly appreciate the availability of fresh cut lemons and fresh mint leaves that really made it special, like mom used to make.
Within five minutes or so, not too long a wait at all for handmade sandwiches, our order was ready. We found a table inside, though outdoor seating is available. After seating my wife realized she had been given the wrong potato salad–instead of dill, she received the home style. They are served in lidded portion cups and she probably could have swapped it for the right one but opted not to. It was a creamy blend of mayo and mustard with chopped German pickles and hard-cooked egg, and at $1.50 the large single scoop was a great value.
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The broccoli salad was made with fresh, crisp florets, whole peanuts, sliced red onion and a sweet mayonnaise dressing. Standard fare, though I missed the typical raisins, it was still a tasty accompaniment to the sandwiches. I’d get it again.
On to the sandwiches: the turkey was house roasted, fresh, and sliced thin. The roast beef (also roasted in-house) was fresh, rare, very thinly sliced, and piled like lacy pink doilies. Each slice of bread was carefully and evenly spread the garlic and herb butter and the adequate portions of piled of meat were topped with sauteed sliced mushrooms marinated in white wine and crisp substantial slices of bacon.
They come cut in fours, a nice touch that makes it easy to eat nibble by nibble with a forkful of potato salad or broccoli rotated in. I imagine it could also aid in not overeating, by slowing the pace, but the mind trick failed to work on me. I scarfed it all down, leaving barely enough room for cake.
I pulled a few fingers full of rare beef from a quarter and popped it into my mouth–the taste of mildly seasoned beef, rare and lean, yet full of fresh wet-aged flavor. The mushrooms were savory, but not overwhelming and the bacon was a basic cure, medium thick with a tender yet crisp tooth. Altogether, it made for a whole greater than the sum, at least for the first half.
For my personal taste, as I advanced into the second half, the flavors began to diminish and lose their oomph. For this, I blame the garlic herb butter. I think the cool paste of fat coated my tongue, causing the flavors to become masked as my taste buds became spackled with butter. Sipping the cold tea only helped to set the greasy coating making it difficult for the milder flavors of beef and mushroom to penetrate. Of course, nobody puts bacon in a corner and it danced straight through to the dulled senses, but with a noticeable loss of passion.
This absolutely has not put me off of the Beef Martini, however. I know it was the cold butter and decided that next time I will order my sandwich grilled or toasted so that the heat will alter the structure of the butter and cause some of the fat to absorb into the bread and meat while the rest will be less able to coat my mouth. The added flavor from the toasted bread can only be a bonus. It’s important to note that my wife experienced no such problem and loved every crumb and morsel of her Turkey Martini.
After the scrummy main we moved on to the Princess and strawberry cakes with gusto. I’m surprised we didn’t eat them first while waiting in line. After your eyes adjust to stunning vision, the next attribute you notice is their size and heft: these things are massive wedges and weigh a few pounds. This is a generous portion of cake and makes the price of $5.50 well worth it. Three people could split a wedge after a meal and be fully satisfied.
From the Princess, I carved a forkful from the narrow end of the top layer making sure to get a good dose of coconut, pineapple and cream cheese frosting. It was delicious and the only thing missing was a cup of hot coffee. The remaining two-thirds came home and were devoured over the next few days, ending as breakfast. Christa reduced her strawberry cake by the same amount and thought it was fantastic. If she lived close by, she’d be here the next day, bright and early for more.
We enjoyed our food and experience at Wright’s Gourmet House. I loved entering to the sight of those cases stocked with thick-frosted layer cakes. I appreciate the bakers and cooks in their whites and headgear regimentally performing their craft. I felt the camaraderie of being one of the eager faces of customers queued up for service in anticipation of delicious food. I like that they roast their own meats and that their buttercrust white bread is made on premise in #10 cans.
I especially appreciated the process: picking your dessert, scanning the menu boards and making the selections, welcomed by the very cook that will prepare your meal, placing your order that is then repeated to be exact, paying at the register, and filling your beverage, waiting and watching as the meal is constructed, then taking your laden tray to your seat and digging in. The aromas and tastes are enough to secure a return trip, but the novelty of the process makes it enjoyably je ne sais quoi.
Novelty can wear off, though. It will take further trips to decide if Wright’s Gourmet House to hold its value for me. Only, with so many other places to try, it’s difficult to justify a visit unless I’m coincidentally in their vicinity and craving a sandwich; a reason for this is the price. Each of the sandwiches in the above pics from other establishments was less ten dollars or less (albeit a few years ago). Ten dollars for a two-slice-of-bread sandwich with little mass for leftovers is a bit salty for regular consumption. At least a ten dollar sub sandwich can be eaten a half now, a half at midnight.
If Wright’s Gourmet House was down the block from me, I’d be likely to splurge when I was feeling particularly lazy, had money to burn or wanted some of that decadently sweet and oh, so moist and tongue tantalizingly delicious layer cake. I don’t fault them for the prices they list. The prices are higher because they are popular and they are popular because they are good. Simple story.
Customers set prices, and I can’t argue. You’ll rarely read me using words like “overpriced” and “exorbitant”, excessive”, or unreasonable” in relation to prices. Any price at which an exchange is made is a reasonable price to those involved and no one outside the transaction has an opinion of any weight. It just means that I cannot indulge as much as I’d like to.
So, why do I like Wright’s Gourmet House? They excel at simplicity and quality. They make a simple sandwich, it tastes great and it sates the hunger, without leaving you to feel like a stuffed goose. They use quality ingredients and have a system of service and preparation that feels like something from another time and place.
I’ve been to New York delis with long lines, rapid-fire order taking, matzo balls the size of your head, high piled sandwiches, and high piled prices. I love it, but Wright’s is different. I’ve been to cafeterias where you queue up and request prepared dishes from the staff behind the pass, adding sides and desserts from shelves of pre-plated cellophane wrapped options. I like it, but Wright’s is different.
Yes, we’ll be back. We just can’t stay away from the singular experience, taste, and satisfaction. We arrived hot, weary, and impatient and left cool, full, and exultant. Wright’s is different, in a great way—it’s something I can’t quite put my finger on, but I like it. It’s gourmet.
Thanks for reading!