Full Belly Files | Eating (and Really Enjoying) St. Augustine

This edition of Full Belly Files was originally emailed to subscribers on September 29, 2023. To receive Matt Kettmann’s food newsletter in your inbox each Friday, sign up at independent.com/newsletters.

Florida is a funny place.

The political and cultural rivalries between that Sunshine and our Golden states are apparent upon arrival, and they only grow more palpable with each interaction and intersection. The curious twist is that the long histories, diametric upper/lower class divisions, urban-versus-rural geographies, and carefree beachy vibes of each state are remarkably similar.

The effect is like looking at a funhouse mirror, where you recognize some features rather intimately while others appear outsized and misshapen. Depending on your angle, the reflected caricatures can trigger everything from humor and ridicule to sadness and sympathy, as much of what seems funny on the surface probably comes from deep-rooted socioeconomic disparities.

But that’s not really what I was thinking about during my week-long trip to St. Augustine, where my cousin got married last Sunday. Rather, I was immersed in the city’s fascinating, if brutal, colonial lore, much of which reminded me about Santa Barbara’s early days. (I bet that much of downtown S.B. would look alike if it weren’t for the earthquakes.) And when we weren’t walking the old town (founded in 1572!), looking for alligators on airboats (saw two small ones, even though it was hunting season!), and exploring the sandy, seashell-stocked beaches (water’s warm!), we were eating and drinking in the Ancient City’s varied haunts.

Saganaki at Athena and the pesto sandwich at Kaiser’s on Anastasia Island | Credit: Matt Kettmann

We jump-started our journey by taking the Corks & Forks Culinary Tour, which featured flame-flashed saganaki and gyros at Athena on the downtown square; pesto sandwiches at the newish Kaiser’s Deli (run by a popular bartender); a global but Italian-leaning wine tasting at Carrera Wine Cellars (we bought bottles of falanghina and Rioja); and decadent dessert with cocktail pairing at Old City House Inn (amazing composure). We followed that with beers at Dog Rose Brewing Co., just steps from our rented house.

The next day, we got properly schooled on the “Conquistador of St. Augustine Walking Tour” thanks to our excellent guide Kyle, who kept things entertaining but could also go as detailed as we wanted on every question. We ate lunch in the Café Alcazar, located atop what was once the sprawling indoor swimming pool for the Hotel Alcazar. That evening’s festivities were at my cousin’s house, where his brother-in-law-to-be griddled sliders and pulled-pork sandwiches with bottles from Sanford Winery washing it down.

Dessert at Old City House Inn and Boat Drinks on St. George Street | Credit: Matt Kettmann

Back downtown, we hit up Boat Drinks for the Lava Flow–like Miami Vice cocktails, then dove into Guinness as a musician played all the ’70s hits at Meehan’s Irish Pub. The next day flowed into lunch at Odd Birds Cocktail Lounge & Kitchen, where a Venezuelan influence made the menu pop with things like doughy, cheese-stuffed tequeños, mojo-doused chicharrónes, and cachapas, which are corn cakes drizzled in tangy nata cream. Most impressive was my Cuckoo’s Nest cocktail, which somehow wove tequila, green-curry mango syrup, pineapple, truffle salt, lime, and oregano together in refreshing ways.

After a stop for brews at A1A Alehouse — well, some went to whiskey and tequila at that point — we finished that evening with three bottles of wine (zesty picpoul from the Rhône, an aged Medoc from Bordeaux, and a zesty 2022 from Burgundy), a charcuterie board, French onion soup, and all four flatbreads on the menu at The Drunken Horse. By then, only one of my many cousins had hit his limit and disappeared into the night.

Charcuterie board at the Drunken Horse and boiled peanuts and Yuengling at the airboat marina | Credit: Matt Kettmann

Strengthened by some Yuengling lager and boiled peanuts self-served into a Styrofoam cup, we spent the morning of the wedding day exploring the nearby swamps on the deck of an airboat piloted by Sea Serpent Tours. Lunch was country-club fare at AJ’s Kitchen & Cocktails inside the World Golf Village, where bargain mansions go for barely a half-million bucks. We finished the evening’s nuptial festivities at The Bar with No Name, where beers were sipped while overlooking the Castillo de San Marcos, one of the oldest structures in all of North America.

In order to see another cousin from the other side of my family, I spent an extra day in Jacksonville, where clean buildings and a massive sports complex rise above the somewhat empty downtown streets. We had a great lunch at Bellwether, where my “Don Don Noodles” used mushrooms in place of the traditional meats served in the Sichuan dish dan-dan noodles. I asked the chef how the little nuggets were made — a mix of pan-frying and dehydrating — so I’ll let you know if I ever pull it off.

That night, I ordered DoorDash for my first time to bring some simple Japanese food to our airport hotel. When the somewhat-disoriented, very-much-disheveled driver showed up with our food, there was a loud crash outside the lobby. I thought she’d hit a sign, but it was just the bottom of her car falling off. As I hustled back to my room, no one really batted an eye. The bizarre scene was, well, so Florida.

Those who want to see our whole journey as told through photos can check out my Instagram story here.

Burrito Week Debrief

Though our third annual Burrito Week is done, we’re still enjoying the photos that readers are sharing via social media. Here are a few of our favorites, including the one from a book club in town that shares multiple burritos at once. Thanks to @absolutealex, @aron1253, @posh4penniesbae, @jaggerdwagger, @stevesiz, and everyone else for playing along.

We’re also looking for insights on how to improve the experience next year. Got thoughts? Fill out this survey.

Wine Legends Leaving Us

We’re at a time in the age of a wine region where the legends that built this place are reaching the ends of their lives. I wrote a story last week about beloved wine-grape grower John Belfy leaving us for that big ranch in the sky, but you may have missed the same news about John Clark of Brophy Clark Cellars.

According to his wife, Kelley, John died suddenly at the end of July from sepsis while being treated for leukemia at Cottage Hospital. He’s been making wine on the Central Coast since 1985, working for Corbett Canyon, The Wine Group, and, in retirement, Rava Wines. He was only 69 years old.  

Here’s his full obituary. Raise a glass when you can.

Love for Goleta

With the Lemon Festival coming this weekend, the Santa Barbara Independent went all in on the Goleta Valley this week, publishing a cover story about the region’s agricultural roots.

I wrote two Goleta pieces: this one about Terra at The Steward, a new restaurant run by Chef Augusto Caudillo of Scratch Kitchen fame in Lompoc, and this one about the Main-Begg Farmhouse and the general efforts to capture and present Goleta history.

Truffles, Anyone?

You may recall the stories I did on truffles: this one about the ones being grown in Paso Robles at Caelesta and this one about truffle expert Pierre Sourzat. Now the entire domestic truffle industry is coming to Paso Robles for the North American Truffle Growers’ Association annual Truffle Congress on October 9 and 10, and you’re invited.

Ticket options range from $175 for a truffle orchard tour and tasting to $825 for the whole package, which includes a four-course dinner with wine pairings. But they have to be purchased by October 1, so act fast. Full details are here.