The Delano

I have never been a fan of the state of Florida. Sure, it has some beautiful beachs, but to get anywhere you have to drive at least 30 minutes on an eight-lane super highway, past a billion strip malls and gaudy chain restaurants. To me, Florida is largely a cultural wasteland.

And then I went to Miami. South Beach is like the anti-Florida. Cool, hip, happening spots, one after the other. It's pedestrian-friendly, too, which I think is the mark of a good city. And, oh, the pedestrians! My God, is there some good looking eye-candy strolling the streets of South Beach.

The jewel in the South Beach crown has got to be the Delano.

A few years ago, my husband and I were in Miami for New Year's Eve, which happens to be my birthday. When I began looking into New Year's Eve parties, I quickly discovered that we really couldn't afford any. For example, the Delano's New Year's Eve party was $900 per person and it was cash bar! (Nobu was $1200 a person.)

We decided to have lunch at the Delano instead. It was fabulous. Everything was all white and marble. Our adorable gay waiter treated us like celebrities even thou there were actual celebrities in the restaurant at the same time. And, he brought me a complimentary birthday dessert. How sweet!!!

The best thing, the very best thing, the thing that makes me want to go back was the mojitos. Sure, the food was good. But this was lunch and I had a cobb salad. But the mojitos! They were magic deliciousness. I don't know what they do to make them so good. Maybe it's the combination of the awesome sun-drenched, sleek surroundings, the beautiful clientele and the perfect mint leaves. I don't know but if someone knows the exact ingredients, please share!

That $900 party we missed: I read later that George Clooney was there. If I had known that, I would have sold my husband to go.

Dining With Child

Yes, we are those people; the type who take their infant/toddler to fine dining restaurants. I always hear people talking about "kid friendly" restaurants and I wonder "what restaurant isn't?" In my opinion, it's not about whether the restaurant is kid-friendly. It's about picking a kid friendly time to go to the restaurant.

We've been taking our now-two year old son out to eat since we could carry him around in a car seat. For the most part, our experiences have been all good. This is largely due to the fact that we go out to eat at 6:00 pm. No respectable diner is having dinner at that ungodly hour, unless they, too, have kids or they're very old. Either wya, other patrons at that hour are more sympathetic. We get alot of smiles and laughs. No one minds if we suddenly burst into "the wheels on the bus go round and round" for no apparent reason. If they do have a problem with it, screw 'em. They should not be out eating such an uncivilized hour if they don't want to run into kids.


But it doesn't always go smoothly. On beautiful Friday night, when my son was just 8 months old, I suggested to L that we go somewhere outside. I suggested a mexican restaurant (clearly kid-friendly) in an outdoor shopping area. Well, L had another idea. He thought we should go to Dolce.

Now, I know I previously stated that most restaurants are kid friendly, but I would put Dolce in a category of restaurants that really aren't. It's a very sexy room, with dark wall-to-wall carpeting, white leather booths, and sleek lighting. It caters to the hip, party crowd. In fact, the servers are encouraged to do shots with the guests. But we knew the chef and it was 6:00 pm, so we thought it would be ok.

We rolled A's stroller up to our table and I kept him occupied by feeding him mashed avocados and bananas while we sipped cocktails and ordered excellent Italian food.

Then I gave him a bottle.

And maybe some cheerios. I keepd feeding him to keep him quiet.

Perhaps, this was a mistake.

Suddenly, I looked down and my child had turned into Linda Blair. A thick, glow-in-the -dark green vomit erupted from his little mouth, pouring all over him, down his stroller and onto the sleek dark carpeting.

I was horrified.

I carried my puke covered baby towards the restroom which was all black with black toilet paper but no baby changer. My server recognized my predicament and led me to a private lounge area and I was able to change my baby, who in addition to being covered in puke, had a very messy diaper, on a plush black couch. We then returned to our table and finished our meal. Except for the puke, we had a really nice time.

Our son has dined with us all over the city. He has a little fanclub of servers who know and have watched him grow. Recently, we were having brunch at Parish when a server approached me and asked my baby's name. I told her and she said "oh, I met you before. I use to work at another restaurant and I served you there." I said "oh, what restaurant?" She said "Dolce." I walked away in shame.

Sapphire Grill

I lived in Savannah in the year 2000. Sapphire Grill had opened before I moved there. She was the new kid on the block. Unlike her older sisters in Savannah, she was young, hip, sleek and beautiful. She pretty quickly earned a reputation for excellent food and great service and became the new "it" spot for Savannah foodies.

Nine years later, I no longer live in Savannah. Sapphire Grill is no longer the new kid on the block, but she has aged gracefully. I return to see her at least once a year. My husband always knows a trip is imminent when I suddenly start talking about Savannah, or he comes home and finds the webrowser opened to Sapphire's website (the menu to be exact!) He'll say "is getting to be that time again?" He doesn't wait for an answer. The question itself is the answer.

I don't know what it is. Why I love this restaurant so much. Maybe it's because I've been going there for nine years and I feel like I've grown up there. Maybe we've grown up together, Sapphire and I. We share secrets from my life.

I love her elegance, her quiet cool. I love being in Savannah for St. Patrick's day. The city goes crazy with drunken revelers. In the midst of all the craziness, Sapphire is an oasis. Immune, above it all. Here, you can get away from the fray. Catch your breath. Have a glass of wine. Before opening the door and returning to the craziness.

Everything on Sapphire's menu is good but it's the tuna I come back for; I dream about. It's odd because I never liked seafood much. Only recently and it has to be white and mild. I eat tuna; in sushi, but I'm not a big "tuna steak" fan. But somehow, at Sapphire, the tuna mignon, is like no other. It's like velvet. It melts in your mouth. I always pair it with the sweet soy & wasabi. It doesn't need anything more. I love the melted teardrop tomatoes, too. Another simple dish that's somehow impossible to replicate.

I Heart Sapphire. I hear her calling. I'll be there soon.

Could I Get Some Food With That?

One of our all-time favorite dining stories was our experience at the very dramatic, very beautiful Megu in Manhattan.

About 5 years ago, I had an opportunity to live in Manhattan for the summer. I was there on a work assignment and my living arrangements were paid for by my employer. It was a pretty sweet deal.

Because I was in New York, and feeling pretty flush, I made it my mission to dine at all the best restaurants in the city.

A new Japanese restaurant had opened in lower Manhattan shortly before my arrival. I heard it was something like a 10 million dollar build out and it was stupendous. When L. came to visit, I made reservations and we headed over to the gorgeous Megu.

It did not disappoint. Oh my god! We, experienced diners from the South, were like innocent lambs in New York. All wide-eyed and innocent. And Megu, oh Megu..she was like some gorgeous prostitute. We had never seen the likes of her before, but we knew not what we were getting ourselves into. She crushed us.

We arrived at the restaurant. The beautiful Japanese hostess escorted us down the stairs, into the dramatic dining area, with ice Buddha acting as the centerpiece. We sat, ordered drinks and we began delving into the menu. Sushi looked good. $20 for a roll seemed maybe a bit high but not too unreasonable. We continued to peruse the menu. The entrees...hmmm..oh look, kobe steak, that sounds good. How much? $240. Gulp. Let's stick to sushi.

The waiter returned and L. began to order a couple of very expensive appetizers and some sushi. To start with, we thought. After ordering about five rolls (so about $100 worth of sushi), he casually asked "how many pieces of sushi to a roll." The waiter responds "just one piece." In that moment, I watched the blood drain from L's face. He quickly stopped ordering food. L looked at me and said (and I know it killed him to say this) "I can't afford this place."

The waiter returned with our sushi. And then the most amazing thing happened. Someone came to our table with a giant branch. He grated the branch and it turned into wasabi! Who knew that wasabi was made from a tree?? It was so cool. And also the best wasabi I've ever had. The sushi was spectacular. It had been flown in from Tokyo the preceding day. I think after that, we ordered maybe one other item. Everything we had was fantastic. We just couldn't afford to order very much. And the bill was well over $300.

Meanwhile, at the table next to us sat 2 girls, who could not have more than 21 (and I only assume they were that old because they produced IDs and were drinking alcohol), who ordered everything they possibly could off the menu. Oysters, sushi, bottles of wine. Without a care in the world. We watched them longingly. If only we had their parents' credit card, too.

We left the restaurant and went to my favorite french bistro down the street (Les Halles) where L got a burger and fries.

We laugh about this experience to this day. Secretly, we both want to go back. At least, we'll be prepared for the sticker shock. We were not prepared for it last time. I really, really want someone to grate wasabi from a giant branch at my table one more time.

But It's The Best Restaurant In The World (or #5)

We're going to Napa Valley in July. So, of course, a trip to Napa would not be complete without dinner at the French Laundry. Surprisingly, when I first suggested this to my husband, he didn't seem too excited. But eventually, he saw the light. Sure, it would cost as much as our mortgage payment, but it's once in a lifetime experience! How could we pass up the opportunity to have dinner at a restaurant ranked as one of the best in the world??? Even if for some reason, it was disappointing...it would still be a great story. And isn't that what life is about..the stories we collect along the way.

I began going to the website weekly and drooling over the nine-course prix fixe menu. The website was very clear that the restaurant will not take reservations until two months to the date in advance. I've been waiting patiently for that day to arrive.

On Thursday, I called. I got through immediately! A good sign! I told the pleasant sounding "reservation specialist" that my husband and I were coming to Napa in July and wished to dine at her restaurant. She asked for the date. I told her Thursday, July 16 exactly two months from today. She said "no, today is only May 14. We only take reservations two months from the calendar date." I was crushed, but I said I would call back on Saturday, May 16th.

I called today. The reservation line opens at 10:00. I called at 10:15 and was on hold for nearly 10 minutes. I took that as a bad sign. Finally, the same reservation specialist came to the line. I said "I want to make a reservation for July 16." She responded immediately with "we're booked, but I can put you on wait list in case we have a cancellation."

Are you kidding me??????? I quietly gave her my contact information and then asked how could they possibly be booked at 10:23 when the line has only been open for 23 minutes and this is the first day that one could make a reservation for July 16. I didn't point out that she did not ask me if I was interested in lunch or dinner and did not ask me what time I was looking to come in and I did not point out that she did not even consult a computer. But these things have occurred to me.

She patiently explained that they received hundreds of phone calls a day and they only have 16 tables. Still, I find it hard to believe that the restaurant got completely booked in 23 minutes. Nonetheless, I will keep my fingers crossed that they get a cancellation and call me. If they do, I will get all dressed up and race to their restaurant like an over-eager girl to a boy who plans on treating her like crap and I will happily fork over several hundred dollars. And it better be great. How could it not be? After all, it's ranked on the best restaurants in the world.