By David Minsky
By Jen Mangham
By Bill Wisser
By Laine Doss
By Bill Wisser
By Dana De Greff
By Laine Doss
By Zachary Fagenson
No, the reason I realize the annual mania has resumed is because local restaurants have been turned topsy-turvy. A recent meal at Rosinella, a usually reliable Italian joint on Lincoln Road that I frequent for its homemade gnocchi, was a logistical disaster: Of the three dishes we ordered, only one arrived after a 40 minute breadless wait. Servers at NOA (Noodles of Asia) brought us the wrong items twice before finally hitting the mark with the duck and soba noodle combo we'd actually requested; they are also unfamiliar with the menu, assuring us that some dishes weren't spicy when they practically vibrated with chili peppers.
But I can deal, sort of, with discombobulation and poor training. On SoBe that's par. What really drives me nuts, though, is the condescending attitude I encountered at Joe Allen, one of my few genuine haunts. Last year when I wrote about the upscale diner, I admired several of its characteristics: the hidden location, the neighborhood crowd, and both the menu and waitstaff's refreshing lack of pretension. I've recommended the place not just for its tasty American fare, but also because I've always felt comfortable dropping by, my daughter in her stroller in tow. Well, no more. When the baby and I showed up at 6:30 p.m. recently, the hostess turned me away. "Oh, I am so sorry," she said. "We simply can't accommodate the stroller."
I glanced around the restaurant. It was full -- of empty tables. Few people dine on South Beach before the moon rises, which is precisely why baby and I have become early birds. "I eat here all the time with her," I protested.
"We're about to get very busy," the hostess replied with an air of self-importance. "From now on you simply must make a reservation." In other words we couldn't even wait for a table. She quickly turned her attention to the party of four that had entered behind us, who also had no reservation. But then they didn't have a baby. "Can you be out by 9:00?" she asked them before leading them to a table.
Christine Lee's, a Cantonese restaurant in Sunny Isles Beach, could give Joe Allen a lesson in courtesy. Like Joe Allen, the 202-seat eatery is subject to seasonal fluctuations. Like Joe Allen, customers are catered to in the off-season. And like Joe Allen, when the restaurant is busy, as it has been since the snowbirds have come to roost, Christine Lee's encourages reservations. But unlike the suddenly snotty Joe Allen, Christine Lee's doesn't sneer at business: It accommodates customers regardless of time of year, baby or no baby. On a recent Sunday evening when the place was packed, my daughter and I were welcomed, even courted; the staff gave her chopsticks to play with and orange slices to teeth on while I exercised my grown-up choppers on a prime sirloin steak.
The juicy, tender beef, simply broiled and comparable in quality to that served in finer local steak houses, is probably the best reason to visit Christine Lee's. (It can also be ordered as Chinese steak, which is served sliced over vegetables.) Owner Mary Lee Carothers's mother Christine Lee started the business in the early Sixties in New Jersey before opening a second location in the Golden Strand hotel in North Miami Beach; she eventually closed the Jersey restaurant to concentrate on the Florida business, moving it to the Thunderbird hotel when the Golden Strand was sold. After 21 years in the Thunderbird, problems with the landlord and the threat of another sale pushed Lee and her husband Steve Mallock out the door and across the street to the restaurant's present home, a former store in the RK Plaza. But while locations have changed and management shifted (Lee passed away two years ago and Mallock retired) the menu has remained consistent. "My mother believed that not everyone could eat Chinese every day of the week," Carothers confides. "She wanted to get them [customers] out one night for Chinese food, the next night for Continental. She didn't want to be identified as just Chinese."
That philosophy explains the menu's Continental specialties, which include Dover sole almondine, shrimp scampi, and broiled spring chicken. These main courses are served with rolls and butter, choice of starch (baked potato, French fries, potato skins, or pasta), and a tossed salad. Many folks stick with meat dishes, however; a glance around the dining room revealed at least as many double-cut loin lamb chops, veal chops, and steaks as covered dishes of mu shu pork and honey-garlic chicken. In fact Carothers notes that American fare accounts for about 60 percent of her sales, adding, "A lot of people like to start with Chinese appetizers, then order a steak."