Driving down for a belated birthday dinner, we parked in front of the Art Deco post office on Washington and walked across the street to a block of grocery stores and tattoo parlors. Opening the door of Escopazzo, we entered another world.
The narrow room featured a large mural on one wall containing most of Italy's architectural treasures. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, and heavy curtains shrouded the front window.
The waiter, on hearing that Hania was a celiac, recommended the tagliatelle made from gluten-free flour imported from Italy. I had the sea bream with eggplant puree; both were delicious. The chef came out, a woman with a warm smile, and told Hania which of the desserts she could eat.
I asked the maitre d' about the name of the restaurant. "It means 'I'm going crazy,'" he said. "When the owner opened it here, in 1993, all his friends told him he was going crazy."
We took a postprandial stroll up past more tattoo parlors to Espanola Way. Despite its name, the prettiest street in South Florida has gone Brazilian, with a Brazilian cafe next door to a Japanese-Brazilian restaurant. Across the street, a dress shop played lovely Brazilian music. Outside, a young Frenchman stood on the sidewalk with his 3-month-old German shepherd named Zach.
A half block to the west, Segafredo had enlivened the once dormant corner with its sidewalk armchairs and ultra-comfortable patrons. While, a few doors down, a family sat eating crepes outside a cafe with the name - nicely rounding out the evening - A La Folie.
Comment feed for this post