Gastropubs hit a wall in this city after the Ravenous Pig and the now-shuttered Smiling Bison and Rusty Spoon set the ceiling where it needed to be — high. Many masqueraded as gastropubs, their chefs opting to shun effort and creativity in favor of menus laden with burgers to pair with their beers. These “restbarants” and “fooboozeries” felt no different than your average Orlando Ale House, but with upgraded ingredients and interior design. So as the gastropub trend slowed and lost favor with food-obsessed restaurant-goers, Redlight Redlight owner Brent Hernandez and former East End Market resident chef Jes Tantalo began quietly plotting the brewpub’s culinary direction. It started with snacks and bar bites post-pandemic, then grew to more ambitious fare prepared out of a makeshift scullery. When talks of a full kitchen buildout came to fruition, a true gastropub was born.
That was more than a year ago.
And, apart from the occasional social media post, there’s been little fanfare about it all — no marketing; no big PR machine inundating inboxes on the daily; no influencer collabs and their insufferable Instagram Reels. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I walked into Redlight Redlight late one Sunday morning for a drink with a friend. They happened to be serving that most detestable of meals, brunch, but thanks to the twat-free environs and Tantalo’s cooking, it was a brunch we’d gladly brave again.
It’s not often I eat acorn squash, but when I do, I want it to be like Tantalo’s egg-in-a-hole ($15). Taking the place of toast was a thick slab of the ribbed gourd holed out in its center. A slather of hollandaise, a fleck of pepitas, a garnish of sage and a side of asparagus and, yeah, what’s not to like about an eggy, sweet, bitter, nutty nosh? Crunchy, too, if you count the toasted focaccia. Another ‘tweener hit: a gorgeous bowl of pink beans cooked in roasted poblano and garlic sofrito ($15). Avocado slices, roasted cabbage, sour cream and cilantro placed around the rim knocked it out of the park. Only thing missing was a bottle of Beano.
Maple syrup infused with fermented pepper nearly upstaged the chicken sandwich ($16), even with its buns of brioche French toast. We learned that seasoned spuds ($6) served with “smothern” sauce can rival the mighty hash brown on any morning, and even challenge the French fry for lunch and dinner. Said ‘taters were popped along with bites of fried smoked mullet ($15), heavy on the smoke. “Mullet is the middle-aged white man of the sea,” said my dining comrade, a middle-aged white man of the land. The smoke was fire, its pungency moderated by creamy grits, a burnt-tomato butter sauce and caraway-pickled red cabbage.
Cabbage ($12) in wedge form never looked so alluring, its seductive char-seared edges sparkling with toasted breadcrumbs. Scooping them in a curry emulsion had me thanking our server for suggesting the Orbital Tilt IPA during a dinnertime visit, which is when Tantalo’s talents really shine. More veg-forward bites like bracing Napa salad ($5.50) and puckery fried green olives ($10) deserve a spotlight on the nighttime menu, while bulbs of the allium variety lend Czech garlic soup ($12) — like French onion soup, only with veg broth, less cheese, more garlic and the addition of potatoes — its brilliance.
But with the chicken pot pie ($16), the menu taps into its pub roots. Peas and carrots glisten in a smooth velouté, and beneath the flaky puff-pastry topper lie chunks of Bell & Evans chicken breast. Escargots ($14) in garlic butter and tinned razor clams ($15) gave us the Euro feels, but salt-brined fries served “disco-style” with queso, scallions and “cease and desist chili crisp” brought it back home. (Love the shade thrown at David Chang, too.) Though I have to say, the ice cream sandwich ($10) fashioned from pistachio blondies and honey ice cream was ugly-delicious. Can’t say the banana bread pudding treat ($5) was any more fetching, but after polishing off the maple-buttered, banana-chipped, walnut-crumbled capper, it’ll always be the de Milo of desserts to me.
Clearly Tantalo and her team take great care and pride in their cooking. Dishes aren’t just deftly executed or beautifully plated; they’re comforting and restorative to the core, as gastropub fare should be. So the next time you feel like drowning your sorrows, do yourself a favor and get some Redlight Redlight therapy.
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This article appears in Dec 11-17, 2024.