Tonight, some breaking and entering.
The plan: infiltrate a private complex in Key Biscayne.
The tactic: head-to-toe camouflage. Or asking the guards nicely.
The payoff: more mussels than you can shake a stick at.
Welcome to Exit One, a highly classified date spot that’s hidden inside a private condo building, now open in Key Biscayne.
So this isn’t exactly the easiest place to find. Mostly because, yes, it’s nestled in a cluster of residential buildings on the edge of a state park. It’s unmarked. Unaddressed. Not listed on any sort of GPS. To get inside, you’ll have to slip past a guard gate and a security desk. Also—and this is where it gets dangerous—cougars unloading groceries from their cars.
Come here when you’re looking to escape. With a mistress. With a comely coworker. With an international flip-flop exporter who’s in town for Swim Week. What you seek is on the first floor of the second building. Just to the right of the lobby. It’s an intimate coral-walled dining room laden with vintage black-and-white photos/slowly braised cuts of beef. Relax. Eat. Drink. Nobody will be able to find you.
And when it’s time for a post-meal tipple, head to the adjoining marble bar. Tell the tender you’d like two Calle Ocho Old Fashioneds with orange and mole bitters.
That’s mole. Like the sauce. Not the birthmark.
The plan: infiltrate a private complex in Key Biscayne.
The tactic: head-to-toe camouflage. Or asking the guards nicely.
The payoff: more mussels than you can shake a stick at.
Welcome to Exit One, a highly classified date spot that’s hidden inside a private condo building, now open in Key Biscayne.
So this isn’t exactly the easiest place to find. Mostly because, yes, it’s nestled in a cluster of residential buildings on the edge of a state park. It’s unmarked. Unaddressed. Not listed on any sort of GPS. To get inside, you’ll have to slip past a guard gate and a security desk. Also—and this is where it gets dangerous—cougars unloading groceries from their cars.
Come here when you’re looking to escape. With a mistress. With a comely coworker. With an international flip-flop exporter who’s in town for Swim Week. What you seek is on the first floor of the second building. Just to the right of the lobby. It’s an intimate coral-walled dining room laden with vintage black-and-white photos/slowly braised cuts of beef. Relax. Eat. Drink. Nobody will be able to find you.
And when it’s time for a post-meal tipple, head to the adjoining marble bar. Tell the tender you’d like two Calle Ocho Old Fashioneds with orange and mole bitters.
That’s mole. Like the sauce. Not the birthmark.
