By Zachary Fagenson
By Bill Citara
By Laine Doss
By Laine Doss
By Carina Ost
By Valeria Nekhim
By Hannah Sentenac
By Carina Ost
Executive chef Sean Brasel tried a Lincoln Road meatery once before: KISS Steakhouse, located in the Albion Hotel, opened and closed in 2002. The restaurant's failure probably had more to do with the scantily clad go-go dancers gyrating on Plexiglas stages above the tables than the food's quality: The steaks, as I recall, were excellent. And while belly dancers and flame throwers never scared away the clientele of Touch (Brasel's other rowdy Lincoln Road eatery), KISS proved that not everyone wants to be titillated while masticating on a T-bone.
Live and learn: The same group has gotten everything just right with Meat Market (beginning with the name; one shudders to think where they might have headed next after going from Touch to KISS).
It's hard to envision this space having formerly housed Pacific Time. Some diners at our table thought the room appeared larger than before, some insisted it looked smaller, but all agreed the radical makeover looks fantastic. The décor is incongruously forged from materials that range from warm wood and stone to cool translucent fiber-optic panels suspended from the ceiling. Then again, there is such a hubbub of activity spilling from the crowded entrance to the bustling bar (and raw bar) area to the dazzling dining room that climate and clientele meld into one dizzying, effervescently sexy scene.
915 Lincoln Road
Miami Beach, FL 33139
Region: South Beach
The food, too, shows pizzazz. Diners are brought an assortment of soft rolls and butter, followed by a four-compartment platter that on the night we visited was packed with spiced cauliflower, spicy wasabi peas, fried garbanzo beans, and assorted olives. The plates to come included a similar panoply of potent flavor combinations — something of a Brasel signature. Among the crudo selections, mahi-mahi gets spiked with jalapeño juice, tequila, and cilantro; tuna tartare touts ginger, soy, and mango molé; oysters on-the-half-shell are chaperoned (strong-armed?) by yuzu-truffle mignonette, "atomic horseradish," and habanero cocktail sauce.
Among hot appetizers, "crispy crab tail" is the most distinctive; according to chef de cuisine Aaron Taylor, only one or two purveyors in the country carry this cut, which is a medallion-shaped flap pulled from Alaskan king crab. It comes served as two thin, tender, circular scaloppine that have been bathed in egg batter and pan-fried. A stir-fry of bok choy, shiitakes, and micro shiso sprouts propped the crab rounds, the pile pooled in passion fruit butter sauce punched with sesame-and-aji-panca oil. Another highly recommended starter is a single, singular, sizable ravioli of slightly sweet gourmandise cheese, ethereal bites of which get embraced and contrasted by a marmalade of Harris Ranch beef, wilted locally grown arugula leaves, a scattering of walnuts, and light lemon vinaigrette.
The only dish that left us cold was a trio of tuna tacos — cubes of seared fish arriving in fragile rice paper shells, the add-ins consisting of cabbage, grilled watermelon, guajillo chilies, and roasted garlic sauce. The tastes blended well enough, but using my hands to pick up crumbled taco pieces in so posh a surrounding made me feel as if I'd been banished to the children's table.
If you haven't figured it out by now, Chef Brasel obviously has a thing for chili peppers; he is also blessed with a deft hand in applying them. Chipotles, for instance, provide a perfectly proper prick of piquancy to the smoky bacon broth that bolsters a pristine Florida grouper. Soft strips of conch, borlotti beans, and browned goat butter are the finishing touches — the sort of entrée Escoffier might have dreamed up had he indulged in recreational drugs (and he known what chipotle was). Wild salmon cooked in cedar paper and brushed with candied jalapeño-orange glaze, one of the chef's old tricks from Touch, looked delectable — in front of the person at the next table, that is. We'll catch this one on a return.
It is perhaps stating the obvious to say that most folks come to the Meat Market for meat. They surely won't be disappointed with a center cut of wood-grilled New York steak, the crust so crisply caramelized it could double as the cap to a beef brûlée; the tenderloin-tender meat within was nearly as soft as that pudding might be. This steak, as well as 12-ounce filet mignon, are offered in half portions, which is such a smart thing to do. Eating nine ounces of New York strip is — let's be honest — better for salubrity and weight than indulging in 18 ounces, and spending $26 instead of $47 portends better economic well-being. Plus fewer doggy bags are needed, which environmentalists will be happy about — if not Fido.
Other under-$30 options include prime deckle steak prepared three ways, wild African pheasant, that luscious grouper, and braised brisket. The last gets cooked with mango, Cuban sweet potato, and wild mushrooms in a coconut-infused broth. This is probably not your mother's brisket preparation, but the tropical touches proved tasty with the meat. The prime cut was presented uniquely too — an unsliced, steak-like rectangular slab that unfurled into soft, juicy strings.
It is again being less than prophetic in concluding that most folks don't come to a steak house to eat brisket. And some will shy away from the "reserve cuts" too, but only because of the cost. Reserve prices top out at $95 for a six-ounce A5 Kobe tenderloin, followed by a 30-ounce Harris Ranch bone-in New York steak ($84, for two). From the same renowned ranch, we rounded up a 16-ounce bone-in filet mignon with a clove-and-allspice accented ancho-and-coffee spice rub ($49). The fat filet was outrageously soft and succulent, the beef taste as subtly pleasing as veal — a great steak that would have been greater without the gritty, potently seasoned crust; in this case, Bernal's blitz of flavors proved disproportionate to the delicate meat. The more assertive, gamier notes of buffalo tenderloin steak are probably more capable of standing up to its "chili and espresso" dusting.