12.02.2010

Connie's Keeps Geech's Gift Alive

St. Petersburg -- Billowing smoke blows across 16th Street South, masking my view of Frezell’s Car Wash and sparking my olfactory nerve. I can smell different forms of cooked pig in the air, while the thick, smoky aroma singes my nose – in a good way.

The fragrant smoke signals coming from Connie’s Bar-B-Que frequently subside, but still alert Midtown residents that there is at least one place left to get some killer barbeque, with a side of south St. Petersburg tradition.

“Customers always say, ‘so I heard you got the Geech sauce,’” said Melvin Hall, Connie’s son and business owner. “Everybody knows about it.”

Back in the day, Geech’s was the place to stop for some real old-fashioned barbeque. John “Geech” Black created a special mustard sauce to top his authentic dishes that kept customers around for years.

“My mom use to work with him a little bit,” Hall said. “He retired but she kept it going.”

Hall remembers the old days, when Geech’s thrived on a lively street. “On Friday, you couldn’t even get down 22nd Street,” he said. Hall said the road use to be packed with restaurants, night clubs and pool halls.

Although Geech’s Bar-B-Q Stand has vanished, much like everything else from the former 22nd Street South hubbub, a taste of its legacy still remains at Connie’s.

As I unwrap my first Connie’s chopped pork sandwich, I can see drips of the Geech sauce escaping from the wax paper already stained in bright yellow. The thin mustard sauce is tangy and sweet, but not overpowering, as if a jar of French’s Mustard had been squeezed onto my sandwich.

The sesame seed bun is thick and squishy. It provides the perfect stability for the globs of tender, shredded meat in the middle of the bun, soaked in the Geech. The juices do not soak through and ruin the bun like they do at other restaurants that drown everything in sauce, often leaving you with a dilapidated sandwich and need for a fork.

The caramelized kernels of the deep-fried corn on the cob are a perfect meal addition to cleanse your palet between helpings of pork.

The crinkle-cut french fries are made to order with a unique flavor kick. Fries are served golden brown with added salt. Cooked potato seeps out of the crispy edges and burns the roof of my mouth. It feels like money well spent.

The aftertaste of the fresh fries has the subtle flavor of funnel cake from a state fair.

“We touch ‘em up a little bit,” Hall said with a smile.

Connie’s has been serving home-cooked barbeque for 24 years and remains one of the only places to score some real barbeque in Midtown. The restaurant packs two cookers in case of a busy weekend and houses the last Ms. Pac-Man video game in town. Loyal staff members also add to Connie’s Bar-B-Que’s character.

“I love meeting different people and joking around with them,” said Geno Harrell, longtime employee. Harrell has been working at Connie’s Bar-B-Que for more than 15 years and learned different cooking techniques from Hall and his mother.

“I’ve been cookin’ all my life,” he said.

Although times have changed since Geech’s legacy and their 15 cent hot dogs, most meals at Connie’s cost $10 or less, unless you start picking at slabs of ribs. Drink prices run from 60 cents to a dollar.

Everything at Connie’s is homemade and fresh, with original recipes that have not changed since the beginning. Employees even grind the meat for the burgers and don’t use any preservatives in the food.

Hall works six days a week to guarantee good food for Midtown barbeque lovers. Connie’s is closed on Sunday, giving Hall a relief from the seven days he used to work.

“After awhile I said, what am I working seven days a week for? I’m cuttin’ down,” he said.

In his spare time, he likes to spend his days shooting pool, riding his motorcycle and hanging out with friends at Tampa clubs.

On the weekends, Connie’s serves late-night munchies until 1 a.m. instead of the usual 11 p.m.

Stop in and look for Hall behind the ordering window, wearing his brown apron and wide-rimmed glasses. He’ll tell you about his mom, the family business, and Connie’s famous rib sandwich. If it’s a slow day, he might sit with you while you soak your face in the Geech sauce, offer dating advice and listen to your story, too.

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