For a city so savvy and money-minded, it’s something of a shock to discover that Miami’s hottest restaurant isn’t some toes-in-the-sand beachside lobster shack, or a panoramic sushi bar perched on top of some downtown skyscraper, but a tiny Italian joint on a truly unprepossessing strip in Little Haiti, where the store next door loudly advertises the fact it sells shoes at $5.99 a pair. Walk in, though, and it instantly becomes clear why this place is so loved. In a city otherwise obsessed with scale – roomy restaurants, huge portions, epic menus – Boia De is an oddity; it’s tight-packed like a New York neighbourhood joint, the atmosphere is intimate, and choice is refreshingly limited.
Given the all-round Brooklyn-y vibe to the place – the team is all tattoos and broad smiles, and the soundtrack is reassuringly anglophile: The Cure, Smiths, and Kinks – you feel almost obligated to start with a glass of their Lebanese pét nat rosé while you decide exactly how gluttonous to be. The style is small-plate but the food goes to the edges, so everyone gets a proper amount of every dish, which is as it should be in a place with cooking as good as this.
“Boia De” is a bit of Tuscan slang that roughly translates to “Oh, My”, which is the only reasonable reaction to Luci’s Chopped Salad, a pile of radicchio, cannellini beans, dried tomatoes and provolone cheese in a punchy dressing that appears to be ordered by every table in the joint. Other highlights include crispy polenta with marinated aubergine and ricotta, and a doppio agnolotti with morels, one of the menu’s many magnificent, butter-dressed pastas. For pudding, the restaurant’s signature is their locally revered crispy tiramisu made with unsoaked lady fingers and a good lick of booze.
5205 NE 2nd Ave, Miami, FL 33137, United States; boiaderestaurant.com
