Social Roost: The Restaurant I Was Too Anxious to Try
Social Roost is my new favorite restaurant in St. Petersburg. https://eatatsocialroost.com/
For the longest time, this sign felt like it was saying "cool people only." Anxiety is a terrible translator.
But getting there was a journey.
Social Roost is cool.
There. I said it.
Even writing that sentence makes me feel approximately 97 years old.
For years I walked past Social Roost and looked longingly through the windows.
I would slow down just enough to peek inside.
Then I would see the outdoor tables, shake my head, and keep walking.
Me: "I don't belong out here." Social Roost: "Ma'am, we're literally just serving brunch."
Not for me.
You see, I am 53 years old. I wear T-shirts and jean shorts. I don't own makeup. I have curly hair and glasses.
I am the "before" picture in a makeover movie.
I am Anne Hathaway in The Princess Diaries before the makeover.
And honestly?
I'm okay with that.
I like who I am.
But anxiety doesn't care.
When I see a trendy restaurant in downtown St. Pete, my brain immediately starts making up stories.
Everyone inside is younger.
Everyone is prettier.
Everyone belongs there.
Everyone except me.
So for the longest time, I never went in.
Then one day I pulled up my big-girl panties and decided enough was enough.
Well... that's not entirely accurate.
I mostly slunk through the front door feeling wildly out of place.
I was convinced everyone would point at me and announce:
"You're old. You're uncool. You don't belong here."
Anxiety is dramatic.
But when I asked for a table, the hostess smiled.
A real smile.
She didn't look me up and down.
She didn't sigh.
She didn't act annoyed.
She simply welcomed me and showed me to my table.
Then my waitress arrived.
And she was nice too.
Actually, everyone was nice.
That's when I realized something important.
The feeling that I didn't belong wasn't coming from Social Roost.
It was coming from me.
Because Social Roost may be cool and funky and filled with interesting art and younger customers, but it is also one of the most welcoming restaurants I have ever visited.
I have returned many times since that first visit.
The friendliness never changes.
The staff genuinely seem happy you're there.
There are usually two or three servers working together, helping both the indoor and outdoor tables. You have a primary server, but everyone pitches in.
It feels less like restaurant service and more like a community.
Even the automatic 20% gratuity helps remove a little pressure from the experience.
You don't spend the meal doing tip math in your head.
You simply enjoy yourself.
And enjoy yourself you will.
Because the food is excellent.
And the drinks.
Especially the drinks.
For brunch, I always order the Breakie Board.
Everything is so good that I become strangely territorial about my food. If you wanted some, you should have ordered your own.
Every single time.
I am a creature of habit and have fully accepted this about myself.
The Breakie Board gives you a little bit of everything, and every bit of it is delicious.
Dinner has been equally impressive.
The mussels are hands-down the best mussels I have ever eaten.
The Mussels!
Flavorful.
A little spicy.
Perfectly balanced.
The kind of dish that makes conversation stop for a minute.
During one visit, I was planning to order another appetizer when a food runner passed by carrying a giant bowl that smelled incredible.
Normally I would never stop someone and ask.
But I was feeling comfortable.
So I did.
He smiled and told me exactly what it was and explained that it was one of their most popular dishes.
That interaction probably sounds insignificant.
But it wasn't.
I felt seen.
I felt welcome.
I felt like I belonged there.
The Paloma was equally memorable.
Paloma!
Bright, refreshing, and dangerously easy to drink.
When I ordered it, my waitress asked what tequila I wanted.
I asked about upgrading to Casamigos.
She explained it would cost an extra five dollars.
Then she said something unexpected.
"It's not worth it."
She could have easily upsold me.
Instead, she was honest.
I ordered the house tequila and was perfectly happy.
That kind of honesty sticks with people.
Dessert was a new cheesecake featuring raspberry filling inside and fresh strawberries on top.
Cheesecake!
It sounded unusual.
It worked beautifully.
Not everything was a favorite, though.
And I promised myself I would always tell the truth.
The Chicken Samosas were fine, but compared to the incredible mussels they felt a little one-dimensional.
Chicken Samoas
The Peruvian Chicken was disappointing.
Peruvian Chicken
The chicken itself was dry and lacked flavor.
Oddly, the rice reminded me of microwave rice.
The beans and plantains, however, were absolutely packed with flavor and ended up being the stars of the plate.
Drink-wise, the White Negroni was too sweet for my taste, and the Paper Plane felt slightly out of balance.
None of these issues were serious enough to complain about.
And honestly, if I had mentioned being unhappy, I have no doubt the staff would have fixed the problem immediately.
That's just the kind of place Social Roost is.
Looking back, I'm embarrassed by how long it took me to try this restaurant.
I spent years convincing myself I wouldn't fit in.
Years assuming I wasn't the right kind of person for a place like this.
I was wrong.
Social Roost isn't a restaurant for beautiful people.
It's a restaurant for people.
And some of us just need a little longer to believe we're welcome.
Thankfully, I finally walked through the door.
