So intimate, there’s only one table
Eating Companion (EC) and I have been trying to figure out a cheap but romantic lunch spot to take our not-yet-significant others. Upon the recommendation of a certain lady, we found ourselves trying to find a parking space within walking distance of Jim’s Small Batch Bakery, on Gulf Gate Drive. We luck out and park right next door, in front of a business called Muscleintensity.com which apparently sells supplements and whatnot to very aggressive exercisers. Ladyfriend is waiting out front, more or less twiddling her thumbs.
Jim’s Small Batch Bakery just celebrated its one-year anniversary. The place has made quite a name for itself in that short time, earning a reputation for exquisite artisan breads, some tasty sandwiches made from the aforementioned loaves, as well as some seriously decadent desserts and pastries. It’s a tiny little place, hidden at the end of a strip mall riddled with the most bizarre variety of shops — everything from Asian and British gift boutiques to vacuum repair and jewelry stores.
Owner James Plocharsky was previously Michael’s on East’s pastry chef, and is the type of dude that greets you by saying, “Hello, is this your first time in my bakery,” without the faintest shred of affectation or tone, just flat and deadpan. The smell inside is downright ridiculous, a combination of heady warmth and sugary sweetness with an undertone of … wait for it … yep: bacon. There is only one table inside, which is kind of charming, honestly.
We resist the urge to go straight for the bakery case, which is chock-full of sinful sweets, and order some sandwiches. Jim’s menu is very small, but cleverly curated. All the sandwiches are a whopping $6 and served on various fresh-baked breads. We go for a chicken salad, a ham and brie baguette, and what sounds like the most delicious sandwich of all time: the candied bacon BLT, or (C)BLT.
Plocharsky fries the bacon, then bakes it with maple syrup, brown sugar and a dusting of red pepper. He makes all the sandwiches fresh, one by one, so we take a minute to pick out some desserts: the magic bars look pretty killer, as do pecan sticky buns and cheese crumble rolls. We also nab the very last candied bacon croissant, sweet heavens. We order all four, then notice something we had missed: sticky toffee pudding. Jim demands he warm it up while we eat our sandwiches, which are ready by this point. EC and Ladyfriend look ravenous.
The place has an almost unfair advantage in the sandwich department, using such majestic bread. The baguette with ham and brie is airy and dense, the meat thin and delicate, the brie thick and smoky. The chicken salad comes on a fresh artisan white bread, with slices of deep-red ripe Florida tomatoes, and romaine. The salad has walnuts and cranberries (take note: all chicken salads should involve fruits or nuts — cranberries, raisins, fresh grapes, apples; walnuts or almonds, maybe even cashews, though I’ve never tried it) and the mayo tastes fresh made, light and smooth. The bread is so airy, so light.
It is actually kind of romantic in here, EC is saying, talking about the one table and the warm, lovely smell of baking bread and sweet bacon, which gets us to the (C)BLT. Although bacon is one of those catch-all, put it on something and someone will swoon meats, BLTs have been seemingly forgotten about. Shameful.
Jim’s (C)BLT is a dream, the bacon sweet and spicy, rich and crisp, the snap-fresh romaine and juicy tomato balancing the whole thing out on sliced French bread. We’ve almost forgotten about the desserts, we’re so ensconced in the sammies.
Jim brings out what we have come to call our dessert sampler, as well as the warmed toffee sticky pudding, with a few fresh raspberries and some whipped cream. The candied bacon croissant is tiny, a tender pocket of flaky pastry with a dense stack of the aforementioned bacon, which I’m not kidding I would pretty much put on anything. The other rolls are tasty and warm, especially the pecan sticky bun, which would be perfect at 8 a.m. with some good coffee.
The sticky toffee pudding lives up to its name, a pool of warm toffee sauce oozing out all over the plate. We dig in, ooh-ing and ahh-ing. The thing is unreal, rich and smooth, set off with the tang of fresh raspberries and whipped cream. The toffee is thick and dense, salacious.
We are a mess. We are gluttons. If lunch could ever be romantic solely based on the food, this is it. We’re golden.
