My husband was living in an apartment building next to the Miami River, a self-styled "yacht club" on NW North River Drive. At first, the polluted river, the color of burnt cheesecake, did not entice us. Gradually, though, as I stood on his balcony in the moist morning air, already appreciating the blue-and-gold days, I also began to feel something indefinable for this river. From his fourth-floor view, the river's browning took on an oily, almost entrancing sheen. I never tired of watching the tiny tugboats gliding on it, nipping the toes and heels of bigger ships like a sheepdog herding her flock. And I was enough of a newcomer to Dade County to be enthralled by the lackadaisical manatees that surfaced now and then.
Yet not a single time from that balcony did I imagine myself actually sitting alongside the river, close enough to dip a foot, munching on a dolphin sandwich so fresh the fish looked as if it just finished swimming. I never pictured picnicking on a cement dock, my friend and I waiting in vain in the setting summer sun for a glimpse of her Coast Guard boyfriend, who might, we hoped, come to us via the water. But the river has now convinced me that when I moved to Miami, I unreservedly made the right decision. Its biggest treat yet is Garcia's Seafood Grille & Fish Market.
Co-owner "Este" Garcia feels the same way about opening his restaurant, despite the obstacles he and his father Esteban have faced. A lack of sufficient parking almost forced them to abandon their idea of a seafood grill and market at their North River Drive location A the city refused to issue them a restaurant permit, then relented when they added more parking. Even small issues, such as the number of indoor tables the restaurant would be allowed to have (now it has five, each one a different kitchenette set with matching Brady Bunch-era chairs), became stumbling blocks. And it took them five months to win permission to construct a 50-seat riverside patio in back of the restaurant (now completed), almost as long as the place has been in operation. Patrons face their own challenges: The restaurant closes early (7:00 p.m.) and is in a scruffy neighborhood, but this charming eatery is well worth seeking out.
In the front of the room, a long standup counter, topped with squeeze bottles of ketchup, tartar sauce (which worried me a bit in the heat), and cocktail sauce, accommodates diners who must eat in a hurry or are willing to forgo the indoor tables. On the August evening my friend and I feasted, we expressed a desire to sit outside, ostensibly to locate her seaward steady. The patio had not yet been built. We would have happily perched on the edge of the dock, dangling our work-a-day heels over the boat Este's uncle found while fishing, apparently abandoned by Cuban escapees. But the crew at Garcia's would not have it, carrying out a table and two chairs for us, even replenishing our drinks and food, though this is mainly a casual, fend-for-yourself kind of place.
We welcomed the superb goodwilled service; Este embodied that spirit by introducing himself to all of his customers.
Our meal that night matched the sincere, friendly hospitality. The menu isn't large and neither is the staff, though Este says more of both will be added. These come under the category of hoped-for improvements, as do nonseafood specialties, extended hours, and a downtown catering and delivery service. I know some colleagues of mine, the ones who recommended Garcia's, will be thrilled by the prospect of such changes.
Although there's a printed menu, the restaurant relies largely on its blackboard-and-display-case style when you dine. See something you like? The sea bass is fresh today, and the dolphin just came in. Or perhaps you have some grouper in mind. Try it house-style, grilled with lemon-flavored pepper and salt, served on a hard roll with chopped onions, chopped tomatoes, shredded lettuce, and a swipe of parmesan-peppercorn dressing (or any condiment you prefer). Blackened and breaded are other preparation options; in my two visits I haven't cared to depart from the kitchen's favorite method, grilling, which is also mine.
Sometimes nothing will do but an honest fish sandwich. And lightly seasoned crinkle fries on the side match perfectly. But for those who disdain such finger foods, the fillets also arrive as flat and as large as a plate, accompanied by a choice of white fish mixed with rice, parsley potatoes, those fabulous fries, green or ripe plantains, or cole slaw. Hush puppies are also available for the exorbitant price of ten cents each (the nerve!). Seafood kebabs, jumbo shrimp, crab legs including imported king and local blue and stone (in season), and Florida lobster are other entree options.
For appetizers, my friend and I refreshed ourselves with a conch salad, the most tender bits of conch I've ever tasted, marinated in lime and vegetable juices and garnished with minced peppers and onion; for those who like their fish spicy, this dish needs only a dash of hot sauce to achieve perfection. The Garcias, however, won't serve raw bar shellfish until the summer months are over and they're to be congratulated on their restraint, because these crustaceans can't be obtained fresh during this season.
Seafood Caesar salad and soups are menu constants. I've tried two of the soups, both delicious and based on fish stock. My friend swears Garcia's stole her grandmother's fish head soup recipe for the grouper chowder, a broth hefty with saffron and filled with bits of fish and rice. I think it more likely they share a common Cuban heritage, one in which good cooking counted. On another day, I enjoyed a lobster soup, which included a great many seafood items aside from the lobster, including, unfortunately, bits of lobster shell. That didn't prevent me from finishing the whole bowl -- it just made me more careful.
Though Este swears everything is homemade, and the soups obviously are, the fried calamari appears to be commercially prepared. I saw one of the staff take them out a box already covered in batter; in addition, the seasoned and battered rings seemed far too uniform to be hand-cut, and the flavor of the calamari paled in comparison to the other wonderful cuisine.
Having conquered the bureaucracy, Este Garcia, a confident 27 year old, remains resolved. Fish have been part of his world since childhood: he grew up with his father's wholesale fish business and the small La Camaronera chain of fast food fish restaurants that serve soup, fried shrimp, and yellow rice and fish. He thrived on the water -- pictures of his family going fishing adorn the glass refrigerator doors: Este holding a record red snapper, his cousin George, who also works in the restaurant, displaying his catch. And the right location was never an issue; the senior Garcia has owned the property for years, formerly operating a gas station on the site, an outfit with which Joe's Seafood next door felt comfortable -- until the site became transformed into a rival.
Almost as close together as residents of a two-family house, the two restaurants serve a similar menu -- the freshest fish available. Some customers, unaware of Garcia's existence, wander in expecting Joe's and become temporarily confused when confronted with Este. He doesn't mind when they ask him how to find the neighboring restaurant. Half the time, catching the fish-laden breeze wafting off the grill, or eyeing the fillets from the display case and perhaps the bag of Florida lobsters that just arrived, they change their minds and stay. "Competition," Este says, "is what America stands for."
He expects the restaurant to be around for the next 100 years. Or at least until he's 97. Which would make me, well, let's just say the oldest regular at Garcia's.
