Two Chefs Restaurant Remains a Timeless South Miami Gem

The strip mall restaurant feels like a dying art. Between high rent prices, COVID-19, glitzy influencer overtures, and the ease of buying food almost anywhere through Uber Eats, the strip mall bite has been dealt a heavy hand in the last decade (rest in peace to this writer's beloved Gold China, Sakura Japanese Restaurant, and Ciro's Pizza & Italian Restaurant).

Still, these restaurants have endured since the invention of the strip mall roughly a century ago. No finer lesson in perseverance can be seen than chef Jan Jorgensen's three-decades-old South Miami restaurant, Two Chefs Restaurant, a fine-dining eatery situated between the Vitamin Shoppe and Joanna's Marketplace.

"At the end of the day, we’re just a restaurant, like anybody else," Jorgensen tells New Times over the phone while he makes a cup of coffee at the restaurant. "We wake up, we cut the onion, and we make our food, and we serve it. But we can adapt without looking bad. And that's the best part, because we can pay attention to seasons."

Jorgensen, a chef and recent cookbook co-author of Cook's Table: Food and Wine Together, was born, raised, and trained in Denmark before working in renowned restaurants in Zurich, Greenland, and San Francisco before moving to Miami in the early '90s to operate the late JanJo's in Coconut Grove.

Over 30 Years of Quality Cooking — Recession, Hurricanes, and All

He opened Two Chefs Restaurant in 1994 and has run the restaurant independently (the name originates from a second chef, Jorgensen, who partnered with him but left the business early on). "I saw a flower shop that was for rent. It had a walk-in cooler," says Jorgensen, describing Two Chef's inception. "I thought that was beneficial because we wanted to do these cooking classes." Two Chefs still offers cooking classes twice a month. "We wanted to be hands-on. This was before we had Bed, Bath & Beyond on the other side."

Walking into Two Chefs today still carries the warmth of the '90s aesthetic and the fancy, unpretentious neighborhood eatery. The ceiling-mounted dome lights are set to ombre and bleed into the dark wood paneling. Each table has oil candles and white placemats. You sit on rounded, upholstered chairs. The curved open kitchen, with its stone oven, is in the back, while a mahogany bar and veteran bartender welcome guests at the front.

"We were hearing people say, 'I want to sit so I can see the front door,'" Jorgensen's remarks about the fear of going out shortly after the September 11 attacks. "We've been through hurricanes. We have been through the financial problem in '07 and '08. I closed another restaurant that only lasted nine months because of it." Yet Two Chefs became a refuge for comfort in chaotic times, even if you had to scale down to a once-a-year splurge during economic woes. It was the perfect place to celebrate milestones, such as anniversaries, graduations, and bat mitzvahs.

Theoretically, Jorgensen could have served a child who is now bringing their family to eat the stick-to-your-ribs cooking. "And that's the beauty of time, because you have a rapport. Rapport is the right word. You have a history, you have a rapport, and that goes a long, long way."

What It's Like to Dine at Two Chefs

Two Chefs opens its evening service from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. on Mondays, and from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. from Tuesday through Saturday. Lunch is available from 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Monday through Friday. Regardless of time, a veteran hostess greets you, and a waiter promptly hands you a menu.

When New Times visited, the first course was a Caesar salad ($16) presented in large wedges with crotons encircling the lettuce, a nod to the early 2000s presentation. Then came a standout — the escargot.

Jose Guerrero, the evening head chef, shared the concept behind their appetizer. Starting as a prep cook, Guerrero worked his way up to head chef throughout his 24-year tenure at the restaurant. He explained that variety is the lifeblood of Two Chefs, alluding to why his version of escargot, which debuted last Wednesday, eschews the classic French butter garlic parsley sauce and snail tongs. Guerrero's rendition features snails submerged in a mushroom sauce with cremini mushrooms and bacon. On top, a savory gruyere soufflé floats. "I tell Jan that we need to go out," says Guerrero. It's the only way we can keep changing."

The entrees were lobster, shrimp, polenta ravioli with grapes, cucumber, and saffron ($48), and pan-cooked branzino with heirloom tomato salad ($42). Though upscale, the portions are hearty, and you're likely to leave with leftovers. However, there is one peculiarity on the menu. Sharing the column with steak with truffle fries ($48) and a double-cut pork chop ($42) is none other than the heart of post-1945 suburbia cooking: meatloaf. 

"A gentleman came in to make a reservation, and he was, like, 'Oh my God, this smells so good.' We gave him a taste because that's what you do. And he says, 'You should put that on the menu.' I’m like, 'Meatloaf? Are you kidding me? I can't put meatloaf on the menu?" Nonetheless, it remains a top seller.

South Florida's Famous Soufflé is Still A Must Try

Distilling the restaurant down to one item is doing a disservice to Two Chefs. Indeed, Guerrero told us he did not want this item to be the sole reason to visit Two Chefs. But the article would be remiss not to mention the lauded soufflé. You simply cannot say you've been to Two Chefs without trying the triptych of the Grand Marnier, chocolate, or pistachio soufflé ($16). Despite the French nomenclature and notoriety of baking a soufflé, as if comparable to splitting the human genome, Jorgensen assured me that the egg-white-based dessert is merely a test in timing to achieve that rook-shaped lift.

"And then the grandmother and the high priest of all desserts have always been those soufflés. I go so far back in history with cooking that, I mean, I've been cooking since I was 15 years old, chef school and all that stuff, and soufflé is not the hardest thing to do. It’s actually the easiest thing to do of all desserts there is."

The hardest part is ensuring that the server fires it correctly. "It needs to arrive at the table at the correct time. Once the dessert is done, it needs to be served. And that takes, in my environment, a six-ounce ramekin is what we serve, to come up in the proper height and cook through approximately 15 to 17 minutes." Whether it be hard work, rapport, the food, or the cosmos, Jorgensen and his dogged staff have cemented a legacy without the help of reels or an algorithm, instead relying on ink-on-paper reviews and word of mouth. Two Chefs' legacy in South Miami may never be deflated under the heat when it has mastered combining change with simplicity.

"We stir our martinis. We don't shake them, unless it's asked for. You know, there are certain things we just do. When we cut a lemon, we cut the white part off so it squeezes directly into it, instead of all over the place. I mean, there are just rules on how to do things right.”

Two Chefs Restaurant. 8287 S Dixie Hwy, Miami; 305-663-2100; twochefsrestaurant.com.