).
(
More pics from Bouchon).
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Crispy Grouper Cheeks - EntreNos (Miami Shores) |
I
really hope that Evan Burgess and Osmel Gonzalez come back with a permanent home for
EntreNos, after ending their extended pop-up at
Tinta y Cafe in Miami Shores. When they first opened in late 2023, I promptly dubbed it the
most exciting newcomer of the year. My initial impressions were confirmed by every repeat visit. There's a gratifying attention to thoughtful technique and focused flavors; and their dedication to local ingredients put to creative use is maybe unparalleled among this generation of restaurants. They already made an appearance in
Part 1 of my 2024 list, and are back here with an off-menu special: grouper cheeks fried in a crispy shell dotted with black mustard seeds, topped with tempered curry leaves, served over a cushion of creamy tomme cheese sauce. Breaking lots of rules, with great results. Please come back soon.
Another short getaway took us to Santa Barbara for a weekend, where I highly recommend getting
fresh sea urchins at the docks from
Santa Barbara Fish Market. I will also highly recommend
Silvers Omakase, where chef Lennon Silvers Lee,
[6] with Ryan Mayo alongside, is doing really nice things – things like dry aging some of their fish, and bringing in a special varietal of un-milled brown rice direct from Japan. They mill the rice themselves for service, and it was some of the most pillowy soft shari I've ever sampled. I enjoyed pretty much everything –
sashimi of kurodai in a melon ponzu, a particularly lush and fatty bite of
hiramasa nigiri, the assortment of
kagami crystal sake glasses – but nothing more so than this bowl of sushi rice mixed with uni, topped with a generous mound of ikura, crispy bubu arare, and gorgeous purple shiso buds. A perfect final savory course before dessert. Within a year of opening, Silvers was recognized with a Michelin star; I'm not surprised.
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Caesar Salad - Sunny's (Little River Miami)
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I promised you we'd talk about
Sunny's. Here we are. I am not going to surprise anyone by mentioning Sunny's in this list. After the pandemic era pop-up called "Sunny's Someday Steakhouse," a remarkable feat of hospitality that recreated a steakhouse vibe with a jerry-rigged outdoor kitchen and white linen covered picnic tables in an old industrial space in Little Haiti, the prospect of a return was eagerly awaited. When "Someday" finally came, the transformation was nothing short of astounding. That same space now holds two dining rooms done up in a lavish but comfortable Art Deco / Palm Beach Regency style, with a gorgeous bar, a sprawling outdoor patio, and a massive, well-equipped kitchen. It's got a super-smart bar program run by Will Thompson, who's educated me on all sorts of less-heralded old-school martini variations that have become favorites. It's got the super-skilled chef Aaron Brooks running the kitchen along with Carey Hynes, which is just an abundance of culinary talent. It's got an expanded menu that includes samplings from Aaron's charcuterie creations, and Carey's pastas from the old Jaguar Sun menu,
[7] to go with fresh, bright crudos and raw shellfish, gorgeous salads, quality steaks and chops with an assortment of great sauces, and the occasional culinary equivalent of the bartender's handshake (i.e., the "Ko Egg" which Carey used to make at Momofuku Ko in New York).
Within weeks of opening, it became one of the hottest reservations in town and has pretty much stayed that way ever since. And for good reason. It's really pretty much a perfect restaurant that is doing everything right. Over the years I've heard a lot of folks talk about "reinventing" the steakhouse genre. This is how its done. And I know it may seem weird that my favorite thing on the menu is a salad and not a steak, but this Caesar salad: it just doesn't get any better.
So I encourage you to choose your own adventure, but here's how we do Sunny's: first, a cocktail. If you're a martini person I encourage rolling the dice on one of their "improved" martinis, which will invariably expand your drinking horizons. And if you're not, get something goofy and outrageous like the Green Ghoul or the Circus Permit
[8] or the
Living Dead, a spirit-forward tiki concoction served in a ceramic skull highball. Then something raw and/or cool, either from the sea (
hiramasa or
scallop crudo, perhaps) or land (
wagyu carpaccio or some of Aaron's
hams or
terrines or
chicken liver mousse) – or if you've got a big group or you're just a baller, do both. Get
two salads: the Caesar and something else. They're so good; you will not regret it. Maybe if you're especially hungry, a pasta or that Ko Egg. Do not forget to get the
Parker House rolls; and try to save them until your mains arrive, so they're available to dunk in the sauces (this will not be easy). Split a
big steak among several people, and – this is also important –
get all the sauces. Relatedly: get both the french fries
and the russet potatoes cooked in chicken fat and dusted with fennel pollen. You will dunk them in the sauces, along with whatever bits of the Parker House rolls you've not already wolfed down. (You already ate your rolls, didn't you?) Finally: don't skip dessert. I know you're feeling full, so get the
kouign amann ice cream sandwiches, they're actually quite dainty.
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Oyster, Scallop, Beef Tartare - Palma (Little Havana Miami) |
It took me a while to get to
Palma, but I sure was glad when I did. An intimate, quiet space in an off the beaten path location near the Miami River. A tightly curated 8-course tasting menu that changes every month. A combination of the best locally farmed produce, together with thoughtfully sourced ingredients from further afield. A patient, deliberate approach to cooking focused on highlighting and extracting the most flavor from those ingredients. Some really good taste in wine selections. Friendly people. This is my kind of place. Chef Juan Camilo Liscano – Florida-born but world-traveled
[9] – is doing something really special here.
It was all captured in this opening plate from my first visit last November. A squeaky fresh raw scallop, sandwiched between leaves of
French Farms blue collard greens, spread with a nori paste to amp up the umami. A Beausoleil oyster dressed with a tart-sweet, vibrantly hued blueberry ponzu and roasted kombu oil. A delicate, raw squash blossom, filled with a rich beef tartare, then blanketed in shavings of 18-month aged Comte cheese. Each bite tasting so clearly of its ingredients, while enhanced by their combination.
[10]
I was recently back for a return visit, and while the courses were entirely different (with the exception of the mid-meal
plantain brioche roll with coconut caramel and dried plantain leaf butter, a staple on every menu), the ethos and execution were every bit as good, if not better. This is a place that will reward your attention.
A little history. Wind the clock back about a decade and a half, and chef Michelle Bernstein had just won the
James Beard Foundation Best Chef South Award on the strength her flagship restaurant Michy's. In late 2008, she opened
Sra. Martinez in a historic space in the Design District that was originally the Buena Vista Post Office and then in the late 1920's became the Moore Furniture Building.
[11] The tapas-centric restaurant was one of my favorites at the time, so I was excited to hear that after a long hiatus Sra. M was making a return, this time to Coral Gables. And then we waited, for what seemed like years. But that opening finally came in December. The menu includes several old favorites from the original – the
fantastic croquetas, the
crispy eggplant drizzled with honey, the
butifarra and gigante beans enriched with foie gras and port wine, the
egg yolk carpaccio with crispy potatoes shamelessly borrowed (with due credit) from
Bar Mut in Barcelona. But maybe my favorite dish on this return trip was the rich, dense arroz negro with grilled calamares, brightened with herb oil and enriched with dollops of silky aioli. Bonus point: Michy's
Fried Chicken Night is now a Wednesday thing at Sra. M, all summer.
[12]
Chef Shinichi Inoue spent a couple decades at sushiyas in Tokyo before making his way to New York to work at Michelin-starred
Kosaka. For the past couple years he has been doing extended pop-ups at the
Surf Club in Surfside, while waiting for the completion of a permanent venue of his own. In the meantime, it is a pretty cool experience to
ascend the stairs up to the Hemingway Tower, a space usually reserved for club members and guests, where a small sushi counter and a few dining tables await. Kihong Kim and Mihyun Han are incredibly thoughtful, attentive hosts, and Chef Shinichi works with gentle grace and charm. A lot of omakase courses tend to move from leaner to richer fish, but Shinichi seems to like to play ping-pong instead, where you're never sure what may come next. On my first visit, it turned out that the first bite of nigiri was the highlight: kohada (gizzard shad), possibly my favorite neta, a small hikarimono (silver-skinned fish) lightly cured in vinegar that perfectly highlighted without overwhelming the flavor of the fish. The Inoshin pop-up has wrapped up for the season; I'm looking forward to it finding a permanent home.
Around Christmas we took another brief jaunt to New Orleans, a place I always love to go. There are always venerable old standards to visit,
[13] but this time around I was interested in what's new. For a city whose dining reputation was long based on traditional creole and Cajun cooking, the past decade in particular has seen a boom of creative, fun, diverse places. We had a brunch of pupusas and baleadas at
Alma Cafe, "naanwiches" and dosas at
Lufu,
[14] lemongrass fried chicken gumbo and catfish cha ca la vong at the counter of
Palm & Pine, a stacked seafood tower at
Seaworthy, all of which were excellent. But my favorite bite at my favorite place of this trip was at
Mister Mao, which describes itself as a "tropical roadhouse" and which makes about as much sense as anything I could come up with. The menu veers all over the place, but mostly South Asia, run through the filter of New Orleans, and it's all pretty delightful. I loved the
chaat with puffed rice, sprouted lentils, pickled beets, satsuma and avocado; the
kashmiri fried chicken with Sichuan peppercorn topped with "poor man's pink pineapple"; but most of all, these pani puri, filled with turmeric potato masala, pomegranate seeds and tamarind chutney, with "fiery mint water" to pour into the shell before shoving it all into your face in one bite.
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Saffron Tagliatelle alle Vongole - Boia De (Buena Vista Miami) |
And we end where started this post: at Boia De, where it's becoming something of a tradition for Mrs. F and I to spend an early New Year's Eve dinner and then scramble home before the fireworks start. There's usually
canapés and
caviar and other good things, like this tagliatelle alle vongole with broad ribbons of saffron infused pasta, plump clams, a shower of herbs, and good butter. A favorite dish, made well, and a happy way to close out the year.
Of course now we are more than knee deep into 2025, and it's amazing what a difference half a year makes in the dining zeitgeist. The progression from boom to bust could give you whiplash. And yet there are signs of hope. Smaller spots in lower-rent neighborhoods – I'm thinking of places like
Recoveco in South Miami,
[15] Palma in Little Havana,
Edan Bistro in North Miami – are hanging in there. Mike Pirolo, of
Macchialina fame, has defied all the odds by opening not one but two great new spots over the summer:
Bar Bucce (a casual pizzeria / market / bottle shop) in Little River, and
Fluke (a crudo and martini bar). The ticket to survival seems to be some combination of (1) making sure you've not taken on too much (debt / space / staff) so that you have the flexibility to survive the slow season; (2) cultivating a core clientele of local diners so you're not overly dependent on the fickle, seasonal tourist market; (3) offering something that differentiates yourself from the crowd; and (4) giving people a reason to come. There have been a bunch of intriguing special events and collaboration dinners this summer already, most of which I've unfortunately not been able to catch, but I think this is a great idea. Here's hoping folks find their way through.
As always, I'm tremendously grateful to all the people who work so hard, and often struggle so much, to make diners like myself happy – all the chefs, line cooks, prep cooks, managers, servers, bussers, dishwashers, bartenders, sommeliers, farmers, fishermen and foragers. Every year I wish them all the same thing my grandfather wished for his family: "Always better, never worse."
_______________
[2] And while editing this post, news came out that brother Nando Chang, who kept things in the family by
winning the same award last month, will be closing his omakase counter
Itamae AO which was operating inside Maty's – temporarily, while finding a new space.
[4] That's a lot of p's and a lot of hyphens.
[5] There actually is a pretty significant culinary family tree connection: Tomo's chef, Brady Ishiwata Williams, like Atoma's, also spent several years in the kitchen at Canlis.
[6] Another family tree connection, literally this time: Lennon Silvers Lee and Philip Frankland Lee, who started Sushi by Scratch, are brothers. And now both have picked up Michelin stars for their sushi bars.
[7] Carey and Will closed downtown local's fave Jaguar Sun in order to open up Sunny's, but then promptly opened Vice Versa along with Valentino Longo to effectively take its place.
[8]Named for what they were originally operating under when they first opened the pop-up.
[10] Case in point: I know everyone loves to fry squash blossoms, and I get it: they're the perfect size and shape for stuffing and frying, and that crackly texture, maybe with something oozy inside, is delightful. But there is something truly beautiful about the fresh, delicate taste of a raw squash blossom that usually gets lost in the battering and frying, and which was perfectly captured in this dish.
[11] At the time, one of the only other signs of life in the then-nascent Design District was Michael's Genuine, which had opened a couple years earlier. The "Design" in "Design District" still referred primarily to the home-goods, furniture and appliance stores that had long been situated there, and not the constellation of luxury brands that have since moved in. The space which Sra. M took over had very briefly been home to a restaurant called Domo Japones which turned over in less than a year. Sound familiar? It was an implausible setup with a kitchen so narrow that chefs had to go in and out single-file to work the line, supplemented by a cold station downstairs in the middle of the dining room which used to be a sushi counter, and a tiny bar upstairs manned by master Julio Cabrera. It was crazy and delightful.
[12] One more bonus point: if your timing is right, and you were a fan of chef Andrew Gilbert's lovely Gables gastropub Seven Dials, you might find Chef Andy's Fish and Chips on the menu at Sra. M (Andy was an OG Sra. M alum and is back in the kitchen at the new incarnation).
[15] Recoveco is not in this list only because I did not make my way there until after the calendar had turned. But I've fixed that omission since, and – *SPOILER ALERT* – it is absolutely everything I treasure in a restaurant. Creative, thoughtfully prepared food often inspired by local ingredients, with a tight, focused menu that hides a few surprises here and there, in a small intimate space with incredibly gracious, graceful service. You'll undoubtedly see it here in the next round.
****
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