Why Miami Needs More New York Restaurants
How else would we know about magical tap water?
Much has been made of the influx of New York City restaurants coming to Miami, opening in prime neighborhoods and showing us why $48 is a perfectly reasonable price for a dish my mom used to call “Noodles and Classico.”
And on behalf of everyone in Miami, I want to offer these fine, venture capital-backed “hospitality groups” a heartfelt Thank You for bringing Miami’s food scene into the big leagues. Without you, we’d still be eating out of dumpsters.
Ok, maybe not dumpsters. But before every New York restaurant Eater ever put on a Heatmap opened here, our food scene was basically Palatka without the Waffle House.
The Miami Food Dark Ages – aka Pre-New York
Until New York blessed us with its culinary mastery, the greatest contribution we’d made to the food world was a ham sandwich. A ham sandwich, I might add, that was invented in Tampa. Which left Miami’s major culinary achievement as cocaine. Which, say what you will, tastes pretty awful.
The best restaurant in most neighborhoods came with vinyl-covered menus and catchy rib jingles. Their bars served all-day two-for-one well drinks, like neighborhood dives with less hepatitis.
Before every New York restaurant Eater ever put on a Heatmap opened here, our food scene was basically Palatka without the Waffle House
If you wanted a little variety, you could go out for Cuban food, and its 47 different variations of rice, beans and pork. There was also Puerto Rican food, best characterized by its signature dishes of rice, beans, and pork. If you got tired of that, you could try Colombian food - rice, beans, and pork IN A STEW! To call our food scene “diverse” was like calling country music “provocative.”
We would never have moved out from under our mountain of rice and beans if New York hadn’t blessed us with its cultured approach to food. We’d still consider Flanigan’s special occasion dining, and no city can be taken seriously when their version of “gourmet” includes rib rolls.
A Cornucopia of Earth’s Bounty Set Between Two Rivers
How should Miami be expected to understand what good food is when we are, basically, living in a swamp? What grows here? Sea grapes? Have you ever eaten a sea grape? Schnebly won’t even make wine out of sea grapes, and I’m pretty sure they once made wine out of flip-flops. Alligator? It tastes like chicken, if your version of chicken involves pencil erasers.
We needed a city with access to fresh ingredients like New York to show us what good food was, a place where the rats won’t gnaw on steak unless it’s medium rare. A place where fresh vegetables are harvested from apartment building rooftops, fertilized by free-range pigeons and exhaust from the L-train. Where a literal sheep’s meadow sits in the middle of the city, and fisherman arrive daily with their fresh catches from the East River.
It’s basically Sicily, with better pizza.
New York Shows Us What Good Food Is
Our local chefs tried, but they never had the gastronomic genius that can only be gained spending your entire paycheck on cigarettes. The flavor nuances one learns sharing a cramped apartment with three line cooks and a rodeo clown just can’t be grasped by going home to your parents’ house in Kendall.
It took New York to show us that great Italian food isn’t crafted from fresh ingredients and finely-honed recipes. It’s created by zebra-print chairs and a 40 minute waits at the bar.
We needed a city with access to fresh ingredients like New York to show us what good food was, a place where the rats won’t gnaw on steak unless it’s medium rare.
It took a city with New York’s sophistication to show us swamp people that great bagels should not be judged by crispy crusts and chewy insides. They should be judged by how many people stand in line for their egg sandwich. Only New York could show little old Miami that the best Mexican seafood comes from Brooklyn.
We never knew what food was until New York showed us, and for that we are eternally grateful. So I say bring more New York restaurants to Miami. Bring ‘em all. Much like with driving and finances, when it comes to food nobody in this city has any idea what we’re doing. Now if you could only bring us some private members’ clubs too.