Lesley Elliott

​A heady fizz practically kisses diners as they enter the Dutch. This self-described American restaurant, bar, and oyster room bubbles over with a fabulous clientele, and the boisterous decibel level is jazzed with the razzmatazz buzz that "it" places possess. The staff hustles and bustles to the beat of the room's rattle and prattle while a battalion of managers dashes about trying to keep the chaos organized. It feels like a party, and in a way it is.
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Photo by billwisserphoto.com

The Villa's truffled asparagus salad.

​The wealthiest 1 percent of Americans take home 24 percent of all national income, own 40 percent of the country's total wealth, and are most likely to be seen dining in any restaurant where Jeff O'Neill is the chef.

O'Neill, who cut his chops in the masterful New York City kitchens of Daniel Boulud and Eric Ripert, has in recent years plumped the wealthy at L'Escalier at the Breakers Hotel, at Mar-a-Lago by Donald T., and now at the Villa by Barton G. (in Casa Casuarina by Gianni V.). A stint in between at the more pedestrian Gibraltar at Grove Isle has been all but excised from O'Neill's resumé, yet that's where he first gained notice among Miami diners for his bold style of cooking. He replaced Justin Albertson at the Villa in August 2010, shortly after we last reviewed the restaurant.
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Photo by billwisserphoto.com

Azul's Carnaroli rice risotto.

​At Azul, guests arrive to the sound of water trickling rain-like alongside a marble-and-tile-clad open kitchen. This peaceful, feng shui welcome has been in place since the restaurant premiered at Miami's Mandarin Oriental Hotel in December 2000, and so has the interior: a softly lit dining area with linen-draped tables facing floor-to-ceiling windows that wrap the room with a condo-lined vista of Biscayne Bay. Ambiance too remains the same: on the dull and stuffy side.

The food, though, has changed quite a bit since new chef de cuisine Joel Huff's arrival last February. Azul has seen few toque turnovers during its tenure: Michelle Bernstein and Clay Conley are the only predecessors. Those are two big pairs of shoes to fill. Unfortunately, Huff's dishes are ambitious but ultimately too inconsistent to match up.
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Joni Williams

​Well, actually it's the other way around: the dog went to the Metro Organic Bistro. And this, ladies and gentleman, marked a first in his just-past-the-puppy-stage life.

Heretofore, the only restaurants where my darling dining doggie has accompanied me have been in the vain of sit-down, fast food variety. Woofing a Big Mac down in the car with a slobbering, hungry-eyed pooch in the passenger seat is no fun.

So, when I found out the Metro was not a chain and not fast food, but was Fido-friendly, I just had to check it out. And, natch, I took the little rascal with me. I'd tell you his name but we were both incognito so as to do a true review.

As we first stepped foot-- and paw-- into the covered patio area, the beeping horns and grinding gears of the street seemed to instantly melt away. Can you say, "Ahhhh"? The decor, all vanilla's and chrome against a backdrop of green foliage, was simple and elegant. Likewise, the white, cloth-covered outdoor tables sported real glass dishware and silverware. Uh oh. Toto, we're not in McDonald's anymore.

Our server appeared quickly Two thumbs up for both him and the menu, which proved quite extensive. If your idea of organic is granola and yogurt, or lettuce and sprouts done a dozen different ways, you'll be pleasantly surprised by Metro Organic Bistro's offerings. There's seared ahi, a garlicky pork T-bone, and steak -- grass fed, of course.
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Photo by billwisserphoto.com

Huevos estrellados with unbroken yolks.

​Plenty of popular new restaurant concepts -- small plates, food trucks, boutique burgers -- have recently popped up around Miami. The team at Spanish Grupo La Misión, owner of Brickell mainstay Dolores But You Can Call Me Lolita, have pioneered the notion of grabbing attention with a goofy, nonfood-related name. The group has struck again with Crazy About You, but there's another conceptual novelty at work here. It's called value.

The menu is set up much the same prix fixe way as at Dolores-Lolita. About a dozen salads/appetizers are listed on top -- sans pricing, because whichever one you choose will be included with your entrée at no extra charge. The entrées are divided into three pricing options: $15.75, $19.75, and $23.75.
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Photo by billwisserphoto.com

Vieras rellenas, stuffed scallops baked in the oven.

​Why is it that so many waiters insist on memorizing orders instead of writing them down? This often requires diners to repeat themselves until the waiter gets it right or, worse, delivery  of the wrong food. Both occurred during a recent visit to Tapas & Tintos in Midtown Miami. You'd think a meal composed of numerous tapas would make a pen and pad especially essential.

Then again, so much about this restaurant is off-kilter that the food mixup was all but forgotten by the time we got up from our chairs at meal's end. Like, for instance, the chairs themselves: The eatery's outdoor seats are hard wicker, the kind that need a cushion not only for even a modicum of comfort but also for raising you to the proper height for dining. The chairs are likewise wider than the gap between table legs, so you can't pull them in close enough.
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Photo by billwisserphoto.com

Haven's Chef Todd Erickson.

​Less than a decade ago, Miami had arguably the worst dining scene of any famous city in America. If you wanted a great meal back then, you were better off heading to Ohio. (Seriously, Cincinnati had much better chefs.) But our restaurant fortunes soon began to rise. New Times' year-end wrapup in 2008 concluded Miami had reached "the big league of American food cities."

No sooner had the proclamation left our lips when a lull set in. Recessions will do that. But starting around mid-2009, we rebounded, with topnotch new joints opening monthly: from Red Light Little River to Sakaya Kitchen to Gigi, not to mention Shake Shack and a procession of food trucks. Miami had clearly moved up. It's difficult to say exactly which municipalities we passed on the way (Atlanta? Houston? Denver?), but by the end of 2010, there we were -- perched toward the top of the nation's second-tier food cities.
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Photo by billwisserphoto.com

Cinco Cantina's jalapeño rellenos. View photos of Cinco Cantina & Tequila Bar here.

​It seems fitting that Cinco Cantina & Tequila Bar opened in the Village of Merrick Park this past Cinco de Mayo. Not only are the two "Cincos" in sync, but the holiday is celebrated more here than south of the border, just as Cinco Cantina's food is much more American than Mexican.

Cinco is part of restaurateur Carmine Giardini's Palm Beach-based Carmine's Restaurant Group, which made its name on Italian cuisine, so one can't be blamed for trusting his lasagna more than his Mexican chicken lasagna (a layering of poultry, peppers, sour cream, cheese, and corn tortillas).

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Photo by Alex Rodriguez

​Last night, my dining partner and I were invited to a chi-chi press dinner at the Villa Mayfair Restaurant & Lounge in Coconut Grove. So we got dolled up and arrived very hungry.

The restaurant (which turns into a lounge after hours) is stunning. Dim lighting, classy antique-like furniture, low-slung textured ceilings -- everything from the tiled floors to the hammered-brass bar is gorgeous. We arrived for a late dinner, around 9:30, and although the doorman had a little trouble finding us on his list, he was well-mannered.

We were seated comfortably away from the noisier area, but with a view of the entire venue. The place is small and intimate enough for a date yet comfortable enough for a large group of friends.
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Lesley Elliott

Welcome to the House of Horror.

​Well-rounded eaters will embrace a crusty corn dog just as happily as a slice of seared foie gras, and I absolutely fit within these parameters. In fact, what kind of food writer wouldn't appreciate the glory of greasy fries covered in chili and cheese just as much as a three-star worthy lamb en croûte?

So, when I received an email from my editor who thought it would be "fun" for me to trek out to the House of Horror at Miami International Mall in Doral and write a review of the carnie food, I figured, Okay, that's totally an excuse for a calorie fest, I'm in.
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