It seems like only yesterday we were talking ceviche, breezy patios and sangria. Actually, it was last week.
But we think your life has room for one more Latin fish joint. Especially one that serves pisco cocktails until 5am.
Which brings us to Cevichery Restobar, a raucous cantina of cured fish and Peruvian drinks, now open in South Beach.
You’ll recognize the flamenco vibe and the mosaic-tiled bar from the tiny space’s days as Café Barcelona. But there are some new touches: Marble tables. Plexiglass chairs. Ceviche. Lots and lots of ceviche.
On a cool evening, you and a date will want to sit at the sidewalk tables outside, soaking in the romance of Espanola Way and taking advantage of the two-for-one sangria special that runs every night until 5am. Start off with a few Chilcanos (pisco, lime and ginger ale) and Papa Rellena (potatoes stuffed with beef), chased with any of half a dozen types of cured fish. Go for something dressed with the aji amarillo sauce, made from the fiery Peruvian orange pepper. (You’ve always had a thing for fiery Peruvians.)
And every night, sometime around 11, the restaurant shuts down the kitchen, cranks up the resident DJ’s Latin beats and transforms into a late-night fiesta where a bartender may or may not start dancing on the bar.
It depends on the song.
But we think your life has room for one more Latin fish joint. Especially one that serves pisco cocktails until 5am.
Which brings us to Cevichery Restobar, a raucous cantina of cured fish and Peruvian drinks, now open in South Beach.
You’ll recognize the flamenco vibe and the mosaic-tiled bar from the tiny space’s days as Café Barcelona. But there are some new touches: Marble tables. Plexiglass chairs. Ceviche. Lots and lots of ceviche.
On a cool evening, you and a date will want to sit at the sidewalk tables outside, soaking in the romance of Espanola Way and taking advantage of the two-for-one sangria special that runs every night until 5am. Start off with a few Chilcanos (pisco, lime and ginger ale) and Papa Rellena (potatoes stuffed with beef), chased with any of half a dozen types of cured fish. Go for something dressed with the aji amarillo sauce, made from the fiery Peruvian orange pepper. (You’ve always had a thing for fiery Peruvians.)
And every night, sometime around 11, the restaurant shuts down the kitchen, cranks up the resident DJ’s Latin beats and transforms into a late-night fiesta where a bartender may or may not start dancing on the bar.
It depends on the song.
