Hanging Around By Caron Schwartz
“You’ve never been to the Chattaway!”
Such was the response I got to my innocent “where?” when talking with a friend not that long ago.
So, when Covid finally abated enough for my parents to safely venture from their assisted living facility, they wanted nothing so much as a restaurant meal. No time like the present for the Chattaway.
The location was a joy. Plenty of parking in a dirt lot surrounded by gaily painted bathtubs full of flowers and shrubs. No curbs to worry about, and a walker-friendly bridge over the koi pond. Seating galore at picnic and regular tables on an amply shaded patio.
As we were debating where to sit, we were approached by a gracious, gregarious woman who guided us to a round table and helped my dad maneuver from his walker to a comfortable chair. (We later discovered she was Jill Frers, a Brit who had founded the restaurant more than 60 years ago.)
The delightful ambiance, delicious food, and pitcher of beer left us feeling quite jolly. We vowed to return and check out the English tearoom inside.
So when my sister arrived from England (where she’s lived since before the Thatcher administration) we could think of nothing more fitting than the Chattaway. Leaving dad to fend for himself, my mom, sister, and I piled into my other sister’s car for the 10-minute jaunt down 22nd Ave. S to the bathtub-bedecked bistro.
Again, we were greeted by Jill, who suggested we escape the heat and dine in the tearoom. As we sat at the lace-dollied table we admired the decor – teapots and cups, portraits, posters, statues, hats, maps, and plenty of Wedgwood china tchotchkes – all redolent of Old Blighty.
Another fabulous meal was had.
The Chattaway
358 22nd Ave. S, St. Petersburg
727-823-1594
www.thechattaway.com