Before we begin, I invite you to go back and read Part I, which features my discussion of "Floridity" as a concept, and the follow it up with Part II and Part III
Ok, back from that? Here's part four. Happy eating!
Pier 62 Oceanfront Restaurant & Bar
Let me just start by saying we don't actually know what the indoor restaurant is like because we never get past the excellent little outdoor annex, a bar built right along the southern side of the pier. The food is surprisingly tasty, particularly the mahi sandwich, and the servers are generally peppy. They're also displaying some photos from the salad days of Cocoa Beach and IIRC even a picture of Barbara Eden in her Jeanie costume (her show was set, if not actually filmed, here). Look, I'll cop to this being just a overpriced barlette with no real redeeming intrinsic qualities, but it does afford the ability to drink beer in the shade while peoplewatching beachgoers, and that's good enough for me.
Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊 It's got boring beer offerings, cocktails full of mix, and at least a Florida Man or two posted up at the bar, plus the beach is right there beneath you! Could use a bit more crazy crap on the walls, yeesh.
Graham's Beach Grill
I've had my eye on Graham's for some time, cuz from A1A it looks to have all the goods of a classic Florida B&G, plus also a mediocre exterior mural of sea animals swimming with busty, beer-swilling mermaids. It's big with the biker crowd and has a reputation as a rough joint come late night. But the food gets decent reviews and it advertises itself as "family friendly," which turns out to be a reeeeeaaal stretch given the amount of female nudity and swearing on the wall signs and posters. And speaking of these, Graham's features one of those cringey, wholly-performative "In this place, we aren't politically correct. We always..." signs that itemize a litany of right-wing culture war talking points, then tell you to get out if you don't like it. I'll just note that I saw no one "salute the flag" or say "In God We Trust," while we were in there. In fact, the only flag we did see was a Confederate one emblazoned with the caption "Heritage, Not Hate." So by all means go to Graham's if you support a heritage that is literally defined by succession from the United States for the sake of enslaving people. The mahi tacos were mid.
Graham's Beach Grill
I've had my eye on Graham's for some time, cuz from A1A it looks to have all the goods of a classic Florida B&G, plus also a mediocre exterior mural of sea animals swimming with busty, beer-swilling mermaids. It's big with the biker crowd and has a reputation as a rough joint come late night. But the food gets decent reviews and it advertises itself as "family friendly," which turns out to be a reeeeeaaal stretch given the amount of female nudity and swearing on the wall signs and posters. And speaking of these, Graham's features one of those cringey, wholly-performative "In this place, we aren't politically correct. We always..." signs that itemize a litany of right-wing culture war talking points, then tell you to get out if you don't like it. I'll just note that I saw no one "salute the flag" or say "In God We Trust," while we were in there. In fact, the only flag we did see was a Confederate one emblazoned with the caption "Heritage, Not Hate." So by all means go to Graham's if you support a heritage that is literally defined by succession from the United States for the sake of enslaving people. The mahi tacos were mid.
Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊 You'd think a 4 or 5, but there was too little of the fun side of Floridity here. More parrots and broken surfboards, please, and maybe less porny sedition.
Dirty Birds
A relative newcomer on the scene, massive Dirty Birds ranges over half a block of primo downtown C-Beach real estate. The owner (who also owns nearby the "Dirty Nudes" noodle bar; he's got bit of a yen for this particular naming convention) splashed a tremendous amount of capital to build this little slice of the Floribbean. You've got an enormous outdoor bar with big screens and live music, a crows nest-type tiki bar that overlooks the main intersection of downtown, and inside is a muy authentico tiki bar/restaurant called The Roost. It's a bit jarring to enter the Roost, tbh, since in the blink of an eye you leave a typical Florida B&G and its live band karaoke Van Halen and enter a dark, subterreanean-seeming Polynesian idyll. The drinks and their vessels were top tiki quality, so you would find any filler mix here. Even as legendary a tiki connoisseur as Mark Carlson pronounced these libations legit. Just don't stay for dinner. I can't speak for the outdoor menu, but the food in the Roost was real bad; the mahi in the tacos was was off and the bizzarro jerk meatballs (whose exterior "skins" peeled off to reveal meat paste underneath) were downright inedible.
Dirty Birds
A relative newcomer on the scene, massive Dirty Birds ranges over half a block of primo downtown C-Beach real estate. The owner (who also owns nearby the "Dirty Nudes" noodle bar; he's got bit of a yen for this particular naming convention) splashed a tremendous amount of capital to build this little slice of the Floribbean. You've got an enormous outdoor bar with big screens and live music, a crows nest-type tiki bar that overlooks the main intersection of downtown, and inside is a muy authentico tiki bar/restaurant called The Roost. It's a bit jarring to enter the Roost, tbh, since in the blink of an eye you leave a typical Florida B&G and its live band karaoke Van Halen and enter a dark, subterreanean-seeming Polynesian idyll. The drinks and their vessels were top tiki quality, so you would find any filler mix here. Even as legendary a tiki connoisseur as Mark Carlson pronounced these libations legit. Just don't stay for dinner. I can't speak for the outdoor menu, but the food in the Roost was real bad; the mahi in the tacos was was off and the bizzarro jerk meatballs (whose exterior "skins" peeled off to reveal meat paste underneath) were downright inedible.
Floridity Factor:🐊🐊🐊. Come here for a lively B&G evening or pre-prandial tiki drinks, just vamoose before mealtime.
Southern Charm Cafe
The Southern Charm Cafe slings hot plates of southern cookin' with a heaping helping of hospitality and a side of authentic cornball bonhomie. My tasty shrimp and grits had andouille AND okra in it, and the waitress bothered to learn everyone's name in our party and consistently used them throughout the entire dining experience. Impressive! The walls are thick with faux-handicrafted signage that ranged from the inane ("Live, Laugh, Love"), to the corny ("This is a private sign, please do not read"), to the off-puttingly mephitic (a picture of a chicken over a caption reading, "I poop breakfast"). Places down here love their little signs, and few of them are what you'd call "classy," per se, but that's Florida, take it or leave it. Given all the ambient southern charm, I was willing to overlook the same culture war checklist sign we saw in Graham's Beach Grill given they'd also (paradoxically) posted a sign bidding customers to "leave your politics at the door." But then we spotted a (sigh) confederate flag behind the cash register, and if that's what you all "charm," you can keep it.
Floridity Factor:🐊🐊🐊. Not a Bar and Grill per se, but pretty Florida from a "lots of signs everywhere" perspective.
The Cantina
Stop me if you've heard this one before. Everything's great at The Cantina--a hole in the wall serving up huge portions of no frills Tex-Mex so straightforwardly they don't even need a modifier in their name--until you peep the giant confederate flag with a Dale Earnhardt crest emblazoned on it. This place is a Cape Canaveral staple, and I've been eyeing it for years. So imagine our disappointment when we finally go there and everything's real great and the fresh chips were super salty in the way you want them to be and then you see 15 sq. feet of hate on the wall. I can't tell if there's more confederate paraphernalia in recent years around town, or if we've just started noticing what was always there now that we're on the lookout for it. But it did get us thinking: what justification do people who fly the confederate flag use, anyway? Which of these reasons, reader, do you find most compelling?
A. The confederate flag is just part of the aesthetic down here such that it's become functionally meaningless, like a verbal tic. No one intends anything by it really, it's just kinda there.
B. The symbol is meant only to celebrate the heritage of Dixie and should be understood separately from it's actual history. It expresses southern identity per the via negativa--i.e., we are not the Yankees we rebelled against--without expressing sentiments that are anti-America (which just is, inconveniently, the unity of these very southerners with those Yankees, including Blacks, plus Native Americans, Puerto Ricans, Hawaiians, immigrants, and all the rest). Ostensibly, this "heritage" is one centered around hospitality, a rebellious spirit, and the food, music, and other traditional cultural forms of the region.
But if this is true...
1. As for hospitality, it must account for the extraordinarily inhospitable message it sends to every American who doesn't fly it (namely because, you know, it was the battle flag of the Confederacy). It's as if to say, "our ancestors killed and/or enslaved yours under this banner, but don't take this to mean we aren't a welcoming people." Sure, Jan.
2. As for the rebellious spirit, how does it coexists alongside the ubiquitous expressions of support for the military and law enforcement we see everyday? Are not cops and soldiers paid with your tax dollars to enforce the laws of The Government? If they aren't The Man, who is? This blatant contradiction makes me think of an ad I saw for congressional campaign a few years back for a MAGA guy running as (I kid you not) "The Law and Order Outlaw." Lol. In the words of Jack White, "you can't be a pimp and a prostitute, too."
3.) As for culture, the flag denies the obvious fact that so much southern culture is derived either indirectly from black labor or directly from black creativity. Yet you don't see too many black folks displaying it. And even if it black people hadn't contributed to the rich cultural stew of the south, isn't there a less baggage-laden symbol you could use for, I dunno, rockabilly and country and bluegrass or jambalaya and fried chicken or Southern Gothic literature than a divisive, century-and-a-half old a battle flag?
C. It's kind of a Trumpy-type thing, a noxious verbal wink where what's said isn't what's really meant. You display the flag not because you wish the South to rise again, but because it pisses off snowflakes like me who clutch their pearls and run home to blog about how offended they are. But if this is the case, it means you're tacitly acknowledging how offense-worthy the flag actually is, that the confederacy really did incarnate a racist politics sustained by violent exploitation. The flag-flying troll thus swallows all that evil for the sake of the greater good of making outsiders exactly as outraged as they should be. Again, some hospitality you got here!
D.) You mean everything it stands for.
Now, sadly, for some it's D, and I don't buy A. As resentment is the gasoline in the Dixie political engine, I'm sure there's also a healthy dose of C. But I can't help but think for many it's an unexamined B, or at least I hope it is. We all need roots and a sense that we're part of something bigger than we are. But the confederacy and its symbols can't be healthily reclaimed. Let it die. Anyways, you otherwise have a lot to be proud of [gestures around wildly]! You invented the world's greatest music for God's sake! You are the cradle of modern non-violence! Bourbon and hot chicken and Moon Pies!!!!
Don't go expecting margaritas, the Cantina only serves beer and wine.
Floridity Factor:🐊🐊. All the Packers memorabilia is disorienting (and galling, for this Bears fan).
The Island Waterfront Bar & Grill
Yes! Now we're talking. The Island sits on the inland shore of the Banana River, directly across from the dour Sunset Cafe Waterfront Bar & Grill we panned in a previous edition of this excellent little blog. Though there's a small indoor eating area, it's the outdoor covered deck that pull the crowds. We were greeted by a super friendly waiter who sat down with us and chatted amicably with the kids as we ordered. The seafood platter was enormous and fresh and a few dollars cheaper at Merritt Island prices than it would have been on the Barrier Island. They even improvised a spicy margarita for Erica by pouring some jalapeno juice into a regular margarita, which turned out to kinda work! We were there on a Monday, so weren't pressed by crowds, but they must do a weekend trade tidy enough to merit their neat little satellite bar and big adjacent hang out area with free bags games. Like most Florida B & G's, it's kid friendly, which just means none of the adults mind kids running around while they smoke, drink, and carry on with their loud, often inappropriate conversations.
Floridity Factor: 🐊🐊🐊🐊🐊 Boorish, drunken, chainsmoking younger retirees, workmen at the end of their shifts, Florida Mans and Womans, cancelled license plates, piles of excellent seafood, and hungry pelicans staring at the diners. Really the only drawback is the mosquitos, but if that's not Florida, I don't know what is.
The Alibi
Finally, the Alibi is a bit of an outlier for this blog. A modern, tasteful, low-lighted upscale eatery and bar isn't what the typical Cocoa Beach vacationer is looking for. But if our visit was any indication, it's the NASA/Blue Origin/Space X worker where the Alibi's making it's hay (this crowd sticks out around here like college kids among townies). Several groups of engineers were posted up around the outlandish back dining area, keen to pay handsomely to sample the delightful cocktail menu. The food looked pretty good, too, but we'd sadly already eaten our fill at Dirty Birds. A better choice would have been to do it in reverse: the Alibi for dinner, then tiki cocktails at The Roost, then out into the outdoor bar area for some late night Van Halen live band karaoke. Now that's an evening!
Floridity Factor: 🐊 This lovely little place really could be anywhere. Consider dining here when your personal mercury levels begin to top out from all the fresh fish you're eating elsewhere.
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