In two days, you celebrate America the only way you know how.
By cooking a bunch of red meat, colorfully blowing up things and listening to Neil Diamond.
But probably not eating linguine and probably not drinking limoncello.
That’s what tonight is for.
Welcome to La Casa Fiorentina, a bright and leisurely cove of airy Tuscan delights (yes, that means pasta/wine), now open in the Hotel Astor in South Beach.
If this place looks familiar, it’s probably because you’ve seen that one romantic comedy where Diane Lane travels to Italy, drinks a bunch of chianti and talks about middle-aged women problems. Or you remember the space from when it was De Rodriguez Cuba (the oversized-lampshade chandeliers are a dead giveaway).
Starting tonight, you’ll want to come here whenever you’re feeling particularly spaghetti-alle-vongole-y (otherwise known as “always”). Head down a flight of stairs to the dining room and sequester yourselves in a semiprivate, suede-covered nook. Then, get intimate with some fried-egg-yolk-topped scallops and a Negroni. Also, your date.
And if the weather’s cooperating (meaning something in the double digits), you’ll want to consider relocating all further evening operations to the bamboo-laden garden patio. It’s got a gigantic tiled mosaic of naked mermaids.
Not that you’ll notice or anything.
By cooking a bunch of red meat, colorfully blowing up things and listening to Neil Diamond.
But probably not eating linguine and probably not drinking limoncello.
That’s what tonight is for.
Welcome to La Casa Fiorentina, a bright and leisurely cove of airy Tuscan delights (yes, that means pasta/wine), now open in the Hotel Astor in South Beach.
If this place looks familiar, it’s probably because you’ve seen that one romantic comedy where Diane Lane travels to Italy, drinks a bunch of chianti and talks about middle-aged women problems. Or you remember the space from when it was De Rodriguez Cuba (the oversized-lampshade chandeliers are a dead giveaway).
Starting tonight, you’ll want to come here whenever you’re feeling particularly spaghetti-alle-vongole-y (otherwise known as “always”). Head down a flight of stairs to the dining room and sequester yourselves in a semiprivate, suede-covered nook. Then, get intimate with some fried-egg-yolk-topped scallops and a Negroni. Also, your date.
And if the weather’s cooperating (meaning something in the double digits), you’ll want to consider relocating all further evening operations to the bamboo-laden garden patio. It’s got a gigantic tiled mosaic of naked mermaids.
Not that you’ll notice or anything.
