Space Coast Restaurant Guide, Part II: Return of the Eaters

Well, we've eaten more, so here's additional restaurant reviews!  If you're wondering what "Floridity Factor" means, scroll down two posts for a description.  

Florida's Seafood Bar and Grill

Though the generic name makes this place tough to Google, Florida's Seafood is the cream of the B&G crop in these parts.  Eschewing every extraneous trend of haute cuisine, FSB&G gets straight down to the brass tacks of churning out mounds of delicious seafood in a loud, tacky atmosphere.  The combo boil is simply rapturous.  To make it even more charming, our conscientious waitress made sure we knew that IPA was more bitter than Busch Light, and that, "when it says fish and chips, it actually means fries."  You'll probably have to wait, but who cares?  You're in Xanadu.

Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊 Vaguely tiki decor is supplemented by surfboard-shaped tables and numerous tropical fish tanks.  The outdoor dining area never seems to be open, despite frequent overcrowding.  

Longdoggers

Local chain Longdoggers serves up 12-inch hot dogs, seafood, and various jalapeno-blasted fried shrimp shooter-type seafood-adjacent food stuffs in an inside-outside atmosphere redolent of your classic Florida B&G.  Too new to be ramshackle exactly, but definitely trying hard to be, the 'Dog features a generous kids menu and a very generous Happy Hour(s) menu, meaning it's a real grandparent-grandchild scene between 4-6.  Also a favorite of law enforcement.  You'll likely have to wait, but grab a beer and play some ring toss or cornhole while you do (I recommend Intracoastal's Hatteras Red Lager).  

Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊  The bright atmosphere, good beer selection, and their habit of funding various charitable activities around Brevard County lend Longdoggers a something of a disqualifying sheen.

Sandbar Sports Grill

There's no culinary reason to love this place.  Aside from a pretty good mahi basket, their heavily-advertised fish tacos are extraordinarily Anglo, the beer selection is mediocre, and the drinks lean heavy on sugar mix (they do make a devastating "Level 5 Hurricane," though, with enough booze to punch through the sweet). But far from being a black mark, this all just means ol' Sandy's clicking off those Floridity boxes.  Here the clientele runs the gamut between unruly, sunburnt families fresh off the nearby beach, drunk young retirees dancing to cover bands, and hard-bitten Florida Mans and Womans congregated at an outdoor bar built so close to the property line you can lean back in your stool and smoke without breaking the law. The building's interior is a warren of uncoordinated curios, broken surfboards, beer signs, brightly-painted scraps of 2x4, cancelled license plates, and old-timey nautical gear, with stickers filling in the gaps between items. If you were to ask me for a quintessential, 1-day Cocoa Beach itinerary, I'd say this: stop in and get some beach gear from Ron Jons, park at Shepard Beach Park and grab a roadie from the Sandbar to take to the beach, frolic in the waves for a while, head back to the Sandbar for a long lunch, then walk to the Cocoa Beach Pier for ice cream.  Late dinner at the Port (see below).  You could do a lot worse.

Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊🐊🐊 Merits the full 5 gators.  Accept no substitutes.

Sunset Cafe Waterfront Bar and Grill
Sunset Cafe has no excuse to be as bad as its consistently poor reviews given its heavenly setting right on the back bay (the Yelp page is a real murder scene).  Dolphins and stingrays cruise the shallow waters off the bar deck, and there'll usually be a live musician serenading the dinner crowd as the sun goes down.  But the poor quality food is way overpriced and service is consistently rated as slow.  It's next door to the magisterial, though sadly landlocked, Florida's Seafood (see above), and you really wish they could somehow switch kitchens.  Dang it, really wanted to love this place.  

Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊 Nails the location, and not much else.

SUBCATEGORY: RESTAURANTS AT THE PORT

Port Canaveral, at the north end of the city, is a major shipping a cruise port. Built up along the south side of the canal is a series of fresh fish markets, bar & grills, and party boat fishing companies. Can get very crowded out here when a cruise ship or two is in port.

Fishlips
Yes!  Fishlips is a family favorite, partly because the fish is fresh (try the mango mahi), and partly because they serve your food in these delightfully efficient, stackable bamboo trays, which the waitstaff really seems to appreciate.  It's had a glow up in recent years, so the décor inside is more "we're a serious restaurant, guys" than it used to be, but the upstairs outdoor deck is a ton of fun, and it offers great views of the canal and the adjacent cement factory.  If you're coming to the port to eat, come here first.

Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊 If you can watch dolphins and pelicans while you wait for a table, that's pretty Florida. Too classy for a fourth alligator, though.  

Grills Seafood Deck

Alas, poor Grills, I knew it well.  

A quintessential example of the Florida Bar & Grill, Grills was a must for our family for years until the owner outed himself as an anti-vaxxing MAGA bigot. After Bud Light did a minor, one-off social media promotion with a trans influencer, eyewitnesses claim this clown pulled the beer from his menus, and then proceeded to spoil his entire supply--kegs n' all--by setting it out in the sun in an attempt to swindle Budweiser into free credit.  When confronted, he claimed in the press he did it for religious reasons. Did he pull all Budweiser products from his lineup, you ask, in a display of ethical consistency?  Of course not. That would mean actually risking something for his wretched beliefs. Naturally, he's just another unserious, vice-signaling poser peddling bad theology. Don't eat here.

Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊🐊🐊 Sad, but true.

Rusty's Seafood and Oyster Bar

Another classic port pick, big ol' Rusty's is sandwiched between Fishlips and the Orlando Princess (which fastidious readers will remember from previous entries).  While the interior is somewhat dark and somber, the massive back deck overlooks the canal and is a great place to watch cruise ships embark.  There's usually some live music, too.  I secretly like it more than Fishlips, but don't tell.

Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊🐊 They're trying to smash a Cape Cod theme and like a reggae theme together here, and I don't know if it's working.  But that makes it all the more Floridian, if you ask me.

Gator's

Ugh, a chain that tries too hard and ends up as parody.  Basically a Floridified Chilis. It's good location can't make up for the sloooow service.  

Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊🐊 It's got most of the necessary ingredients, but is too "just so," like when an amusement park dedicates a section to looking like the French Quarter.  No authentic grime, just fake grime.