o·o·lite (\ˈō-ə-ˌlīt\)
n.
A small, round, calcareous grain found, for example, in limestone.
Synonyms: BBQ shrimp, gin punch, date-night domination.
Yep, makes total sense.
Because it’s Kris Wessel’s latest venture in South Beach. And it’s called Oolite. The bar’s soft-open this Wednesday, but you’ll have to wait until next week for the culinary goods.
It’s in the old Cooper Avenue space. But what’s important is that Kris Wessel is heading things up here now. You know, the guy behind Red Light and Florida Cookery. His new digs: walnut-paneled walls, framed coral formations and slabs of oolite here and there. Random trivia fact: oolite’s the rock Miami’s built on. Feel free to start up some sexy date-night conversation with that bad boy.
And this is how said date night will go down: you’ll convene at the pressed-walnut bar over glasses of the Welcoming Punch (gin, homemade grenadine, lemon juice, orange bitters). You’ll toast to the night. To each other. And yes, to oolite. Because it’s fun to say.
Then you’ll make your way to an olive-colored banquette and delve into a world where fried-green-tomato arepas and BBQ shrimp exist. Where sandwiches are constructed with roti. Where palomilla steak is made Hialeah-style, for chrissakes.
It’s the city of progress, after all.
n.
A small, round, calcareous grain found, for example, in limestone.
Synonyms: BBQ shrimp, gin punch, date-night domination.
Yep, makes total sense.
Because it’s Kris Wessel’s latest venture in South Beach. And it’s called Oolite. The bar’s soft-open this Wednesday, but you’ll have to wait until next week for the culinary goods.
It’s in the old Cooper Avenue space. But what’s important is that Kris Wessel is heading things up here now. You know, the guy behind Red Light and Florida Cookery. His new digs: walnut-paneled walls, framed coral formations and slabs of oolite here and there. Random trivia fact: oolite’s the rock Miami’s built on. Feel free to start up some sexy date-night conversation with that bad boy.
And this is how said date night will go down: you’ll convene at the pressed-walnut bar over glasses of the Welcoming Punch (gin, homemade grenadine, lemon juice, orange bitters). You’ll toast to the night. To each other. And yes, to oolite. Because it’s fun to say.
Then you’ll make your way to an olive-colored banquette and delve into a world where fried-green-tomato arepas and BBQ shrimp exist. Where sandwiches are constructed with roti. Where palomilla steak is made Hialeah-style, for chrissakes.
It’s the city of progress, after all.
