Eat Florida

Feasting on Ybor’s Heritage: A Seafaring Sojourn at Shrimp & Co.

Share this feature and help others explore their world!

It was on a sultry afternoon, when the Tampa sun was beating down in all its steamy splendor, that I found myself wandering the storied streets of Ybor City. Here, in this grand old neighborhood, every red brick building and wrought-iron balcony seems to whisper a thousand tales of cigar rollers, festive parades, and meandering roosters who take their stately morning strolls like mayors surveying their domain. While the spirit of the past flutters around you as tangibly as the Spanish and Cuban influences in the air, there is a humble portal into culinary delight that beckons all who traverse these fabled avenues: Shrimp & Co.

South sidewalk entry to Shrimp and Co in Ybor City.

Now, one might guess from its moniker that Shrimp & Co. traffics in the gastronomic wonders of the sea, and indeed they do. But their domain extends beyond mere shrimp to encompass a whole array of oceanic feasts, each dish presented with a flair that suggests someone in the kitchen has not only kissed a cookbook or two but perhaps carried on a serious, long-term romance with it. Being a curious soul, I resolved to investigate the source of this rumored magic. Their online presence at https://shrimpandco.com/ offered a promising preview, like a postcard from a dear friend who wants to lead you astray into the best possible mischief. That alone could have sealed the deal, but it was Ybor City’s own brand of history and charm that served as the final persuasion.

You see, Ybor City feels like stepping onto a stage set for a historical play—be it the deep, rich aroma of roasting coffee, the flamboyant swirl of Cuban and Spanish music, or the echoes of old cigar factories that left their smoky footprints on every street corner. The buildings stand proud, testaments to an era when folks fought for a dream under the Florida sun. Situated just across the street from the iconic Columbia Restaurant—an institution in its own right—you will discover Shrimp & Co. Without fanfare, they quietly invite you in, as if to say, “Now that you’ve walked this far, friend, let us show you how Tampa truly tastes.”

Light, crispy, and bursting with sweet onion flavor—these golden rings at Shrimp & Co. are a crunchy delight for any true foodie.

The moment you swing open the door, there is a heady mix of bustling kitchen activity and the tang of fried goodness that wraps around you like an affectionate greeting. I took a seat, letting my eyes wander over the modest furnishings, the maritime knick-knacks, and the swirl of families and solo diners, all keen on devouring the sea’s bounty. The lively chatter from the tables blended with the sizzling symphony from the open kitchen, orchestrating a kind of edible carnival. If Mark Twain himself ever had the inclination to hail from the Gulf Coast, I daresay he would have planted himself here, pen in one hand, shrimp in the other.

Naturally, I could not resist the preamble to the main event: the revered fried green tomatoes. Presented on a simple platter, each slice wore a delightfully crisp, golden batter, as airy as a Florida cloud on a bright day. The crunch was so delicate that one almost feared exhaling near it, lest the coating flutter away. Within that airy armor lay a tender green tomato, subtly tangy, offering a harmonic contrast to the batter’s sweetness. It was as though the tomato had once roamed the countryside unencumbered, only to be draped in a regal cloak of batter befitting an edible monarch.

Crisp as a Florida sunrise, these fried green tomatoes at Shrimp & Co. bring Southern tradition to Ybor City—tangy, golden, and downright irresistible.

Next, I turned my wandering fork toward their infamous coleslaw. Now, coleslaw is a dish so often overlooked or relegated to an afterthought—like the sidekick in a Western film who only chimes in with a comedic aside. But not here, my friend, not at Shrimp & Co. Their coleslaw is quite unlike any I’ve encountered. It arrives looking innocent enough, pale greens, crisp shards of carrot, flecks of seasoning. Then you take a bite, and that spicy jolt hits you like a cunning jack-in-the-box leaping from behind the cabbage. It’s a dance of heat and crunch, each step elegantly accompanied by little morsels of shrimp intermingling throughout the dish. At once, I understood the brilliance: coleslaw can be more than a supporting cast member; it can be the star of the show if given the proper attention and some added briny intrigue.

And then, dear reader, arrived the piece de resistance: the Mahi Mahi platter. You could see the pride in the server’s eyes as they set it gently before me, like a craftsman presenting their prized creation. The fillet itself was lightly blackened, its surface dappled with the seasonings that teased the eye before wooing the palate. A gentle press of the fork revealed the flaky interior, which parted into succulent morsels that fairly melted upon meeting the tongue. The delicate sweetness of the fish interlaced with the spices in a manner that could only be described as a joyous waltz. Each bite carried with it the memory of Gulf breezes and sunlit horizons. It was enough to prompt one to toss a fedora in the air and shout hallelujah.

Feast your eyes on this Mahi Mahi platter at Shrimp & Co.—flaky, seasoned perfection, served with savory red potatoes and hush puppies that celebrate the ocean’s bounty.

Yet, a dish is often judged not solely by its centerpiece but by the companions it keeps. Fear not, for this Mahi Mahi was attended by perfectly cooked sides—perhaps a bright, vine-fresh salad or robust hush puppies, each nibble attesting to the cohesive brilliance of the kitchen’s design. If you’re anything like me, you’ll find yourself methodically rotating through each element, a gastronomic carousel, until you arrive back at that fish, fresh as a morning wave lapping the shores of a quiet beach.

All the while, one never loses sense of Ybor City’s historic heartbeat. Patrons stroll in wearing Panama hats or floral summer dresses, reminiscent of a time when folks lingered in town squares, sipping coffee and exchanging yarns. You can look out the window—if you’re blessed with a good seat—and see the façade of the grand Columbia Restaurant peering from across the way, a silent reminder that you stand in hallowed gastronomic ground. Indeed, if Columbia is the grand old dame of Ybor dining, Shrimp & Co. is the spirited younger cousin—akin to the one who sneaks you out of a formal gathering to spin you around the dance floor of life.

By the time I finished my meal, I felt as though I had come to know this little corner of Ybor City in a more intimate fashion than all the historical markers and tours combined could reveal. For what better way to absorb a place’s spirit than through its food? The hush of the past mingles with present-day laughter, and the succulent flavors of the sea merge with the smoky ghosts of a bygone era, as natural a union as rum and Coke on a humid Florida eve. Stepping out into the Ybor dusk, I felt a gentle fullness—both of the belly and the soul—that only remarkable meals in storied locales can impart.

If you’re ever in search of a taste of the sea that’s as lively as a brass band at Mardi Gras, if you’re longing for a bit of crisped delight in your vegetables, if you want coleslaw that dares to be bolder than coleslaw has any right to be—then, by all means, let your footsteps lead you to Shrimp & Co. Their website, https://shrimpandco.com/, is a handy compass, but the real treasure awaits in person, tucked under the bright Florida skies and the centuries-old aura of Ybor City. Accept their invitation, friend, and may your taste buds do the two-step of happiness just as mine did. If Mark Twain’s ghost were in town, I suspect he’d tip his hat in approval—and perhaps come back for seconds of that spicy shrimp-laced slaw.

Leave a Reply