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  • Wilton Manors, What’s not happening on the Drive

    Recently, I was out with a group of people when the conversation turned—almost inevitably—to the Drive. This certainly wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, and it wasn’t the first time I’d participated in it either.

    The same questions came up. Why don’t places seem to last? Why does the area feel like it has so much potential, yet never quite reaches it? Why do some restaurants open with excitement, only to quietly disappear months later?

    What struck me wasn’t just what people were saying—but how familiar the conversation felt. It’s one I’ve heard from locals, visitors, business owners, and even industry professionals who genuinely want Wilton Manors to succeed.

    And as someone whose blog is focused on the improvement of restaurants and bars throughout Fort Lauderdale and the surrounding areas, this keeps catching my attention. Not as gossip, but as a pattern. When the same concerns surface again and again, they’re usually pointing to something deeper than individual success or failure.

    That night didn’t spark a new idea—it confirmed one. If the same conversation keeps happening, it’s worth asking why. And more importantly, it’s worth exploring what could change.

    As many may remember, several years ago there was a major push to “bring life” to the Drive—positioning it as the true heart of the city. There were meetings, presentations, and plenty of talk about transformation. An office was even opened, complete with renderings that showed what the Drive could become.

    The ideas were ambitious and, at the time, exciting.

    Plans included vertical parking to solve long-standing access issues. The Drive was envisioned as one lane in each direction to slow traffic and encourage walkability. There was even discussion of a trolley running down the center, making it easy for people to move from one end of the corridor to the other—creating a flow similar to what works so well on Las Olas Boulevard.

    The goal was clear: turn Wilton Manors Drive into a destination, not just a pass through.

    Here is what happened for those of you that may not have lived here that long.

    Property Owners & Some Business Owners

    Not all—but enough to matter.

    Primary concerns:

    • Fear of losing direct, front-door car access
    • Worry that customers wouldn’t walk if parking wasn’t “right there”
    • Anxiety that construction would hurt already-thin margins
    • Skepticism that Wilton Manors could pull off a “Las Olas–style” transformation

    For many small operators living month-to-month, certainty beats vision. On-street parking felt tangible and immediate. Garages and trolleys felt abstract and risky.

    Wilton Manors didn’t lose the vision because it was wrong.
    It lost it because no one was willing—or able—to carry the risk long enough to execute it.

    Retention Needs to Matter More Than Ribbon Cuttings

    Right now, opening a new place gets attention. Keeping one open does not.

    That’s backwards.

    A serious retention strategy could include:

    • Temporary rent relief programs tied to longevity
    • City-backed promotional support for businesses that hit 12, 24, or 36 months
    • Fast-track permitting for operators expanding or reinvesting
    Sidewalk Life Creates Momentum

    If we want people to move up and down the Drive—from the bridge to Five Points and beyond—we need to open the street up.

    That means:

    • Covered sidewalk seating
    • Café-style restaurants and small boutique food concepts
    • Shops that spill visually onto the sidewalk
    • Outdoor lighting, planters, music, movement

    People don’t walk toward blank walls and closed doors.
    They walk toward life.

    This isn’t about massive restaurants or big-box concepts. It’s about small, well-designed spaces that invite curiosity. The kind of places where people stop “just to look” and end up staying. I can count on one hand the restaurant’s that have taken this indoor/outdoor feeling, and guess what. These are the place that are working.

    We Have to Stop Thinking This Is a “Gay-Only Town”

    This is an uncomfortable topic, but it has to be said.

    Wilton Manors is proudly inclusive—and that should never change. But inclusivity means welcoming everyone, not unintentionally narrowing the audience.

    I’ve been part of this conversation more times than I can count, and I hear the same thing over and over:

    “We want our little town to stay the same.”

    The truth is, that way of thinking is slowly killing it.

    A town that doesn’t evolve doesn’t stay charming—it stagnates. Diversity in restaurants, shops, hotels, offices, and visitors doesn’t dilute identity. It strengthens it.

    The Bottom Line

    If the Drive keeps treating restaurants and shops like isolated businesses instead of parts of a living street, closures will continue. If storefronts remain closed-off and uninviting, people will continue to drive through instead of linger.

    But if Wilton Manors embraces outdoor life, sidewalk energy, diverse concepts, and smart growth, the Drive can finally become what it’s always promised to be—a place people don’t just visit, but experience.

    Staying the same isn’t preserving character.
    It’s preventing progress.

    This Is a Leadership Moment

    At this point, what’s happening on the Drive isn’t a mystery—and it’s no longer just a market issue. It’s a leadership issue.

    When restaurants and small businesses open and close at the pace we’re seeing, that’s not bad luck. It’s a sign that the environment they’re operating in hasn’t been designed for long-term success. And fixing that doesn’t fall on individual owners alone. It falls on the city.

    Wilton Manors doesn’t need another vision board or another set of renderings. It needs clear direction, consistent follow-through, and leadership willing to make decisions that look beyond preserving “how it’s always been.”

    The pressure to keep the town small and unchanged may feel comforting, but it comes at a cost—empty storefronts, constant turnover, and a Drive that never quite reaches its potential. Growth, when done intentionally, isn’t a threat. It’s the solution.

    This is the moment for city leadership to ask hard questions:

    • Are we designing streets for people—or just for cars?
    • Are we supporting businesses after they open—or only celebrating ribbon cuttings?
    • Are we inviting new visitors—or quietly discouraging them?
    • Are we planning for the next decade—or protecting the last one?

    The Drive doesn’t need to become something it’s not. But it does need to become something more.

    That means embracing outdoor life, walkability, diversity of concepts, and development that brings people here consistently—not just on weekends, not just to the center, and not just for one type of visitor.

    Wilton Manors has everything it needs to succeed. What’s missing is not potential—it’s commitment.

    And until leadership chooses progress over comfort, restaurants will keep opening with hope and closing with silence.

    A Choice Leadership Can’t Avoid

    What’s happening on the Drive isn’t accidental—and it isn’t just the market at work. It’s the result of decisions made, delayed, or avoided.

    When restaurants and shops open with energy and close within months, that’s not bad luck. It’s a signal that the environment they’re in was never designed for longevity. And fixing that doesn’t fall on individual owners alone. It falls on the city.

    Wilton Manors doesn’t need more studies, renderings, or nostalgia-driven caution. It needs leadership willing to move past “keeping things the same” and toward building a street that actually works—one that invites people in, keeps them moving, and gives businesses a reason to last.

    Preserving the past cannot come at the expense of the future.

    The Drive should be active, open, and alive—restaurants spilling onto sidewalks, storefronts that pull people in, and a corridor that functions as one connected experience from the bridge to Five Points and beyond.

    That outcome requires intention. It requires planning. And it requires leadership willing to accept that smart growth is not a threat—it’s the only path forward.

    Wilton Manors has a choice: continue managing decline quietly, or commit to building a Drive that thrives.

    Until the Next time – Happy Holidays

  • Fogo de Chão

     “Fire on the Ground “

    The concept of Fogo de Chão dates back to 1979, when it was founded in Porto Alegre, in southern Brazil, by two sets of brothers steeped in the gaucho tradition of “churrasco” — cooking meat over an open fire, the old-School way.

    So, when you go to Fogo, you’re not just eating steak — you’re stepping into a centuries-old Southern-Brazilian tradition, reimagined for the modern international diner.The Fort Lauderdale location opened on August 19, 2022, at 201 E. Las Olas Blvd, Suite 100 — on the corner of Southeast Third Avenue and Las Olas Boulevard, inside “The Main Las Olas,” a mixed-use development combining residential, retail, and office space.

    I have to say, I was very excited to try Fogo de Chão.
    Maybe my expectations were a little too high, but what unfolded ended up being one of the most disappointing — and expensive — dining outings I’ve had in Fort Lauderdale.

    Expectation vs. Reality

    Fogo is marketed as a polished, high-energy Brazilian steakhouse with a reputation for top-quality cuts, nonstop table service, and a vibrant dining atmosphere. Add in the prestigious Las Olas address, and you walk in expecting something memorable — maybe even spectacular.

    But from the moment I sat down, things started to miss the mark, and the gap between the expectation and the actual experience grew wider with every course.

    From the very beginning, the service set the tone for the entire evening — and not in a good way.

    Our server approached the table looking visibly nervous, almost shaky, and clearly overworked. It was obvious he had far too many tables to handle. Instead of the confident, attentive service you expect at a premium-priced churrascaria, we were met with someone who was already overwhelmed before we even ordered drinks.

    Cocktails, Calm Words… and Then the Bread Situation

    We ordered cocktails, and I even tried to put our server at ease — I told him we were in no rush, that we wanted to relax and take our time.
    Honestly, I thought those words would lift a weight off his shoulders.

    The drinks arrived (a small miracle given how many tables he was juggling), and a moment later a tiny plate of four Brazilian cheese breads (Pão de Queijo) appeared on the table.

    They were warm. They were delicious.
    But then… we all looked at each other with the same confused expression:

    “Wait… where are the plates?”

    There we were, sitting in a polished Brazilian steakhouse on Las Olas, holding cocktails like civilized adults, and suddenly we’re faced with a communal mound of cheese bread sitting in the middle of the table like it was the last appetizer at a Super Bowl party. At this point, we just gave up on the idea of plates entirely and picked the bread up with our hands — holding it like it was some sort of sacred offering from the gods.

    Honestly, we looked like a group of pilgrims who had just discovered carbs for the very first time.

    There was this dramatic pause before each of us took a bite, as if we were thinking:

    “Is this how Fogo wants us to do it? Is this part of the cultural experience? Are we… supposed to worship the cheese bread?”

    Pushing on, the server came back — still looking like someone had assigned him three extra tables while he was walking over — and he kindly suggested we head to the salad bar.

    I turned to my guest and repeated it out loud, slowly:

    “…The salad bar?”

    As if I was trying to process a plot twist I did not see coming.

    Now keep in mind:
    This restaurant is huge.
    And very, VERY loud — like airport-terminal-during-a-holiday-rush loud.

    So I glance to my right, and somewhere about half a mile away — honestly I think I could see a different climate zone out there — was the salad bar. And not just a salad bar… but a line to the front door.

    A line. For a salad bar.
    At a place that charges luxury-steakhouse prices.

    Now, I could go on, but I’ll try to keep this short.

    We all politely passed on the whole “Golden Corral Buffet Adventure” and decided to sit tight and actually order something.
    At this point, optimism was hanging on by a thread.

    We decided to share a shrimp cocktail — because really, what could be safer?

    Well… the shrimp cocktail arrived looking like it had been emotionally damaged by life.
    Four shrimp, arranged dramatically over a glass like they were auditioning for a retirement home brochure.
    They were cold… but not refreshing cold — more like “I’ve been sitting out too long” cold.

    But we powered through.
    Because hope springs eternal.
    Or stupidity — at this point it’s hard to tell.

    We placed our entrée orders at the same time. I’m not a meat eater, so I went with the sea bass.
    I thought: It’s sea bass. How hard could this be?

    Apparently, very.

    When it arrived, it was so dry I’m convinced it had been reincarnated three times before it made it to my plate.
    I took one bite and immediately understood what sawdust tastes like.
    Honestly, if I had thrown it on the table, it probably would have crumbled into powder.

    My guests ordered the signature Full Churrasco Experience, the big Fogo specialty.

    And all I can say is… they barely got any passes from the Passadores.

    It was like the gaucho chefs were avoiding our table on purpose, using us as the “ignore this section” training exercise.

    My Takeaway

    In the end, my overall impression of Fogo de Chão is simple:

    Overpriced. Overhyped. Over everything.

    I walked in with sky-high expectations — honestly, I was ready for a full culinary event, a “Las Olas night to remember.”
    Instead, I walked out feeling like I would’ve gotten more joy, gratitude, and eye contact if I had just handed my dining budget to a random person on the street.

    At least they would’ve appreciated it.

    Between the nervous server, the Golden-Corral-on-steroids salad bar line, the sawdust sea bass, and the lukewarm parade of meat that barely paraded… I can’t say I’ll be sprinting back anytime soon.

    If Fogo was trying to give me a memorable night, congratulations —
    I will be remembering this for a long, long time.

    Just… not for the reasons they hoped.

    Until the next time ! Bon Appetit

  • Tulio’s , A Mexican Fiesta in Wilton Manors

    Let’s start from the beginning

    Tulio Alas came to the U.S. from El Salvador, started working in kitchens (dishwasher, etc.), learned his trade, and eventually teamed with Brian Parenteau (and Doug Herbst) to create a restaurant/bar concept.

    The idea for Tulio’s Tacos seems to be: a place where Mexican-style (and Latin-influenced) food meets a lively bar/tequila-cocktail lounge, tailored to the Wilton Drive / Wilton Manors scene (which is known for its vibrant nightlife, dining, LGBTQ+ friendly atmosphere)

    Walking into Tulio’s Tacos & Tequila Bar feels like stepping into the love child of a modern Mexican cantina — but with lighting flattering enough that you’ll want to take selfies, order a margarita, and maybe find someone to buy you another one. One of the best things about Tulio’s is the way the place blurs the line between “inside” and “outside”—almost like the building couldn’t decide what it wanted to be, so it chose both (great decision, honestly).

    Large open fronts and wide doors pull the sidewalk right into the restaurant, giving you that breezy, easygoing sidewalk-café energy without sacrificing the comfort of being indoors. You feel connected to Wilton Drive’s constant parade of characters, nightlife, and energy—yet you still get the cozy, lively atmosphere of the dining room.

    It’s the kind of setup where you can sip a margarita while people-watching like it’s a full-time job. The open-air design lets the Florida breeze drift through, so every seat feels like prime real estate. Whether you’re inside looking out or outside looking in, everything feels like one seamless social space.

    It’s casual but chic, open but intimate, and honestly? It’s the kind of indoor–outdoor flow that makes you think, “Why don’t all restaurants do this?”

    Let’s talk about the food ( AKA: The reason I’m now emotionally attached to Tulio’s)

    First up: chips and salsa.
    The salsa tasted so fresh I’m convinced someone’s abuela is hiding in the back, chopping tomatoes with the precision of a brain surgeon. And the chips? Still warm — like they just came out of a spa treatment. Honestly, if chips could purr, these would.

    Then came my shrimp quesadilla, which was nothing short of culinary perfection. The shrimp were cooked so flawlessly I considered writing them a thank-you note. The whole thing was melty, toasty, and so good I momentarily forgot my own name.

    Now… the margaritas.
    Listen, these things are dangerously smooth. The kind of margaritas that whisper, “Don’t worry, you’re fine,” while your future self begs you to drink water. They go down so easily they should come with seat belts.

    In short, the food was excellent, the drinks were fabulous, and I’m still not entirely convinced I didn’t fall a little in love with the shrimp quesadilla. It was that good

    Final thoughts

    .If you’re looking for a high-quality, low-stress, “I-deserve-something-nice-today” kind of outing, then Tulio’s is absolutely your spot. It’s the perfect blend of good vibes, great food, and margaritas that should honestly come with a permission slip.

    I’m already plotting my next visit — and possibly my next margarita.
    Fantastic job, Chef! Whatever magic you’re doing back there, keep it up… my taste buds and I fully support this lifestyle.


  • J Alexander’s Fort Lauderdale FL

    Always feels like coming home

    Let’s start from the beginning, The Fort Lauderdale restaurant opened in 1995 at 2415 N. Federal Hwy. It was one of four new J. Alexander’s units the company (then still known as Volunteer Capital Corporation) opened that year as it expanded beyond its early Tennessee/Ohio footprint.

    The concept was—and remains—polished-casual American dining with a scratch kitchen and wood-fired grill, a formula the brand had been refining since its first restaurant opened in 1991 under the Nashville-based parent.

    In 2015, the company rebranded a group of locations (including Fort Lauderdale) to Redlands Grill—a sister concept with a slightly broader, “modern American” menu. The Fort Lauderdale unit later returned to the J. Alexander’s banner.

    The restaurant is once again listed by the company as J. Alexander’s – Fort Lauderdale at the same Federal Highway address. The brand has been part of SPB Hospitality since a 2021 acquisition.

    Now lets take a minute to talk about the interior, Walking into J. Alexander’s these days feels like stepping into a time capsule of comfort and mahogany. The vibe still whispers “Midwestern lodge meets steakhouse nostalgia,” complete with that soft amber lighting that says, “Yes, we take our martinis seriously.”

    But after nearly three decades of loyal service, the interior is starting to show its age—like an old friend who still insists on wearing their favorite corduroy jacket from 1998. The booths, once plush and cozy, now have all the support of a broken promise. You don’t sit down so much as sink into a conversation with your chiropractor.

    Still, there’s something undeniably charming about it. The warm wood tones and classic design feel like a hug from the pre–Wi-Fi era. You can almost hear the ghost of a waiter from 2002 saying, “Our prime rib is excellent tonight.”

    All that’s missing is a subtle update—maybe some fresh upholstery, a few modern light fixtures, and a whisper to the universe that says: “Please, someone bring me into the 21st century.”

    The Menu ;

    Browsing the menu at J. Alexander’s feels a bit like flipping through a yearbook — familiar faces, same smiles, and maybe just a touch more “well done” than last time. It’s comforting, sure, but after so many visits I could probably recite the menu backwards while blindfolded and still order the same thing.

    The dishes are as reliable as your dad’s old Buick: they start, they run, and they get you there — but no one’s mistaking it for a Tesla. Every plate is solid, consistent, and entirely devoid of surprises. Which, depending on your mood, is either culinary comfort… or gastronomic Groundhog Day.

    Part of me secretly hopes a rogue chef will slip something new onto the menu — maybe a rebellious truffle aioli or a daring vegan detour — just to see if anyone notices. Until then, I’ll keep ordering my go-to, smiling nostalgically, and wondering when “classic” officially crosses over into “vintage.”

    Now, before I sound like the grumpy critic who wants J. Alexander’s to serve edible art on a lava rock, let’s give credit where it’s due. Some dishes are so consistently good they could probably survive the apocalypse — and the Avocado Bomb is one of them.

    Picture this: hand-cut Ahi tuna mingling with a delicate crab salad, served with crispy wontons like a little culinary summit meeting. The plating is beautiful — greens, pinks, and golds so vibrant it’s practically begging for its own Instagram filter.

    The first bite? Pure heaven. The kind that makes you forget the booths have lost their bounce and that the menu hasn’t changed since the Clinton administration. It’s fresh, rich, and just bold enough to remind you why J. Alexander’s is still worth the visit.

    Moving on to the entrées, the Salmon remains the undisputed star of the show — cooked so perfectly you half expect it to stand up and take a bow. It flakes beautifully, it glistens just right, and it somehow manages to taste as if it has a personal trainer and a skincare routine.

    But then… there’s the cold orzo salad. Ah yes, the loyal sidekick that’s been tagging along since dial-up internet. It’s not that it’s bad — it’s just been sitting next to that salmon for so many years it probably qualifies for tenure.

    Visually, it’s like the chef plated the gorgeous salmon, stepped back, and said, “Hmm, this looks too professional — let’s add a random scoop of something beige for contrast.” The result: one side of the plate sings, the other side feels like it wandered in from a picnic.

    If they ever decide to retire that cold orzo salad, I might just throw a farewell party. Until then, I’ll keep ordering the salmon, quietly moving the orzo aside, and pretending it’s not judging me.

    And then there are the Crab Cakes — once one of J. Alexander’s crown jewels, the kind of dish that could make you daydream about your next visit before you even paid the check. But lately, something’s changed. The spark is… well, a little dim.

    On my last visit, the presentation looked more like “lunch rush” than “legendary.” The plating lacked the excitement it used to have — no flourish, no flair, just two modest crab cakes huddled beside what can only be described as a mountain of French fries large enough to qualify for statehood.

    Now, I love a good fry as much as the next person, but pairing them with delicate crab cakes feels like sending a ballerina to a wrestling match. The poor crab cakes never stood a chance. And to make matters worse, they’ve somehow shrunk over the years — like they’ve been through one too many budget meetings.

    The flavor is still there, faintly reminding you of their former glory, but it’s clear these beauties are overdue for a comeback tour. A little refinement, a lighter touch — and maybe just half the fries — could bring back the magic.

    Now, if seafood isn’t your love language, J. Alexander’s knows exactly how to make it up to you — with beef so good it could heal emotional damage. Two clear standouts: the Filet Mignon with Béarnaise and the Slow Roasted Prime Rib.

    The filet arrives looking like it came straight from a culinary magazine shoot — center cut, beautifully charred, and paired with a baked potato so generously loaded it should come with its own warning label. The Béarnaise sauce? Smooth, buttery, and just fancy enough to make you feel like you should’ve worn a nicer shirt.

    Then there’s the Prime Rib — slow-roasted, juicy, and unapologetically classic. The kind of entrée that doesn’t need to reinvent itself because it’s already nailed perfection. Served with smashed potatoes and au jus, it’s hearty enough to make you forget you ever doubted this place.

    Both dishes are cooked to perfection, dependable as ever — the culinary equivalent of that one friend who always shows up on time and never forgets your birthday.

    Final thoughts

    At the end of the day, J. Alexander’s still holds its ground as one of Fort Lauderdale’s most dependable go-to spots for a great evening out. From the smiling faces at the host stand to the servers who somehow manage to top off your water before you even notice it’s low — the service remains as polished as ever.

    Yes, the décor may be quietly whispering “renovate me,” and the menu could use a little creative spark, but there’s something to be said for a place that still delivers comfort, consistency, and genuinely good food in a world obsessed with reinvention.

    I still look forward to every visit — for the warm welcome, the steady quality, and that comforting sense that, no matter how the culinary world changes, J. Alexander’s will always be there, serving great meals with quiet confidence.

    It may be due for a facelift, but it’s still smiling — and honestly, so am I by the time I leave

  • Aquaplex , Oakland Park FL, The Show Must Go On (and It Does) But bring a life Jacket

    After 17 years of being known as ” Lips” they Closed, and was reborn as Aquaplex.

    The venue was acquired by Michael Barrett and Jonathan Barrett. They also own the original location of Aquaplex Key West.

    Driving up to Aquaplex Fort Lauderdale is like pulling into a tropical fantasy that… ran out of funding halfway through. You’re greeted — if that’s the word — by two heroic yet half-dead palm trees, bravely holding on like they’ve seen one too many drag brunches and just can’t anymore.

    They stand there, one drooping dramatically, the other giving “I’ve had enough of this humidity” — it’s basically The Real Housewives of Oakland Park: Botanical Edition

    renovation ? In one article, it is stated that under the previous ownership “for several years, [the venue] … ignored maintenance and put the day-to-day burden … on the queens” (i.e., performers). So: the baseline may have been quite run-down.

    While claims of “major cosmetic and infrastructure upgrades” are made

    Some patrons may feel that what was done appears limited to surface-level cosmetic touches rather than a full interior refit. It’s plausible that much of the existing furniture/fixtures remained in place (seating, tables, bar cabinetry) and what was changed were accent elements . That can give a sense of “used furniture / second-hand store” if the furnishings are older, mismatched or not fully consistent with the new vision.

    Now on to the food and service

    We came for the Aquanettes Drag Brunch — a dazzling $49.95 spectacle of wigs, lashes, and mimosa-fueled chaos. Our server was also part of the show — a glitter-drenched queen who served sass with a side of sequins. Honestly, she was the best thing on the menu.

    With the brunch special, we were promised bottomless mimosas — which sounded fabulous until we met them in person. The “sparkling” part was… sparkling something. Could’ve been prosecco, could’ve been Sprite — we may never know.

    Then came a pitcher of what appeared to be orange juice, though “orange” is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. It had the same shade as a traffic cone that’s seen better days and the flavor of Vitamin C’s distant cousin who dropped out of school to become a mixer.

    Together, they formed a cocktail that tasted vaguely like optimism and regret. Bottomless indeed — because after the first glass, you start questioning how deep that bottom really goes.

    I decided on the grilled salmon cakes, which I can only describe as… a cry for help in patty form. They arrived with what the menu called a creamy key lime sauce, though I suspect the “key” might’ve been to the janitor’s closet.

    Let’s just say, the drag was high art — the food, not so much. While our server was lip-syncing for her life, my salmon cakes were gasping for theirs.

    Now on to the show

    Now, the show — thank goodness for the show. It was an absolute blast: high energy, high heels, and higher hair. The queens served up glitz, glam, and glittery chaos with the precision of Vegas headliners and the humor of your most unfiltered aunt at Thanksgiving.

    There were multiple acts, each more over-the-top than the last, and by the second number, the crowd was living for it. Sequins flew, wigs defied gravity, and the lighting budget was clearly doing all the heavy lifting that the kitchen wasn’t.

    Because let’s be honest — the food wasn’t the star of this brunch. The queens were. They turned what could’ve been a sad salmon Sunday into a full-blown sparkle spectacular. If laughter burned calories, I’d have finally forgiven those salmon cakes.

    Final Thoughts

    In fairness, the show is what people come for — and it delivers. The queens are electric, the energy is high, and the laughter is contagious. It’s dinner theater meets drag cabaret meets “what exactly did I just drink?”

    The Aquaplex is less a full renovation and more a reincarnation — same bones, new wigs, and a healthy dose of glitter. It’s a place where you’ll have fun, make memories, and maybe reconsider ordering the salmon.

    But hey, that’s brunch in Oakland Park: part performance, part mystery, and 100% unforgettable — whether you want it to be or not.

  • Salvo Osteria Romana: A Roman Holiday… with a Plot Twist

    Salvo Osteria Romana: A Roman Holiday… with a Plot Twist

    Let’s start with the man himself: Salvatore “Salvo” Mulé — restaurateur, nightlife impresario, and all-around Wilton Manors personality. You might recognize him from The Eagle, his other local business where the dress code is… let’s just say, more leather-forward.

    Born in Sicily, Salvo brings that unmistakable Italian flair — and a little bit of drama — to everything he does. Before opening restaurants, he worked in the airline industry (so he knows turbulence), then in real estate (so he knows location), and finally, into hospitality and nightlife (so he knows how to throw a party). Now he’s added “Roman-inspired dining” to his résumé — because why not complete the trifecta?

    His latest creation, Salvo Osteria Romana, opened in mid-2025 at 2389 Wilton Drive, Wilton Manors, serving “Roman-inspired Italian cuisine.” In true Salvo fashion, the vibe is big, bold, and just slightly over the top.

    The Scene: A Roman Mural and a Minor Identity Crisis

    As you walk up, you’ll be greeted by a massive Colosseum mural so realistic, you half-expect Russell Crowe to emerge holding your tiramisu yelling, “Are you not entertained?!” The two painted gladiators watching from the wall give off “Roman surveillance system” vibes — like the ancient version of a Ring camera.

    At the host stand, I said, “Reservation for 6:45.”
    The host replied, “For 6:30?”
    Me: “No, 6:45.”
    Host: “Oh, you’re Jack!”
    At last, my identity and my dining time aligned. Small victory.

    Dinner in the Twilight Zone

    We were seated near the restrooms, which, to be fair, is convenient if you’ve recently hydrated. Our server was pleasant — emphasis on pleasant, not necessarily professional. Menus, water, cocktails… check. So far, so good.

    Drinks arrived fast, like warp-speed fast. Then came the question:
    “Are you ready to order?”
    Sir, we just sat down. My drink hasn’t even emotionally bonded with me yet.

    Bread was brought out, but the olive oil and balsamic were pre-mixed — a tragic omen of culinary shortcuts to come.

    Before my second sip of wine, our server returned with what can only be described as a laminated picture book of specials and a tiny notepad. As he bravely attempted to pronounce the dishes, I realized this man was fighting for his life. We ended up correcting him, like a live episode of Duolingo: The Musical.

    The Food (and the Flash Speed Service)

    I ordered the Pasta e Fagioli, my guest went for the Burratina and Prosciutto Crudo. Shockingly, both dishes arrived in what felt like minutes. NASA should study this kitchen’s efficiency.

    The Pasta e Fagioli was flavorful, served at the perfect temperature, and comfortingly familiar. The Burrata, however, came with exactly two crostini — as if the restaurant was facing a global bread shortage.

    Feeling brave, we tried the Polpo Alla Griglia (grilled octopus with chickpea purée, $22). The octopus was excellent — for exactly one bite. After that, the chickpea purée took us on a one-way trip to Blandsville.

    The Noise, the Speed, and the Mystery

    Here’s where things got weird(er). The noise level inside the restaurant was straight out of a 5th-grade cafeteria — if that cafeteria also served martinis. Between the clattering plates, shouting servers, and echoing voices, my Apple Watch actually asked if I wanted to enable “Hearing Protection Mode.”

    The pacing was just as chaotic. Tables were seated, served, and gone before I could finish a sip. One table got their drinks, their meals, and a hasty goodbye all within ten minutes. Another table left without even touching their cocktails. Did they see something we didn’t? A secret trapdoor? A portal to better service? The mystery remains unsolved.

    The Patio: A Ray of Roman Sunshine

    As we escaped — ears ringing like I’d just left a Guns N’ Roses concert — I passed by the outdoor patio. And here’s the thing: this is where the magic could happen. It’s charming, breezy, and blissfully quieter. If Salvo could merge the energy of his nightlife with the calm of that patio, it would transform the whole experience.

    Final Thoughts

    If you go to Salvo Osteria Romana, bring:

    • Earplugs
    • A Xanax
    • And only enough quarters for 20 minutes of parking — you won’t need more time.

    There’s potential here — the food shows flashes of brilliance, and Salvo’s heart is clearly in it. But right now, it feels less like “Roman dining” and more like “Roman chaos with a nice bread basket.”

    r

  • Papa Duke’s Wilton Manors

    Papa Dukes Deli – Wilton Manors, FL.

    So lunched at Papa Duke’s a few weeks ago and here was my take away.

    Let’s start outside — because honestly, it could use a little love. The building has all the charm of a strip-mall dentist office. It’s not exactly calling you in from the street. A fresh coat of paint, maybe some greenery, and a couple of tables out on the sidewalk would make a world of difference. This is Wilton Manors — we like to eat outside, people-watch, and pretend we’re in a European café. Papa Duke’s, if you’re listening, throw a few chairs out front and you’d be golden.

    Now we are inside, lets talk about the Décor,

    If you can call it décor — and by “décor” I mean a mashup of 1990s breakroom meets your uncle’s garage — then you’re in for a surprisingly delicious time at Papa Duke Deli. The inside feels like they decorated by accident and then decided to just roll with it. The lighting is a little harsh, the art looks like it came from a yard sale clearance bin, and the furniture gives “we just moved in yesterday” energy.

    Now, about the counter service — buckle up. It’s not exactly intuitive. You’ll stand there for a solid minute trying to figure out where to order, where to pay, and where to pick up your food. There are no obvious signs, and everyone behind the counter looks busy (and slightly surprised you’re there). Eventually someone will wave you over and take your order, and then you’ll play a fun game called “Guess When My Food Is Ready and From Which Direction It Will Appear.”

    But here’s the thing: the food absolutely redeems every design sin in the place. Once that first bite hits, you forget all about the paint color choices and start forgiving them for the chairs that squeak. The sandwiches are loaded, the flavors are on point, and everything tastes like it was made by someone who actually cares about what you’re eating — even if they clearly don’t care what the walls look like.

    The service is friendly in that unpolished, local-deli way — casual, fast, and honest. You can tell Papa Duke is more focused on feeding you right than winning an interior design award.

    In short:
    Atmosphere: A decorating mystery.
    Service: Friendly but feels like a scavenger hunt.
    Food: Very Good. Worth every confusing minute.

    Come for the sandwiches, stay for the story — and maybe bring a compass for the counter.

    Would you like me to tailor it for Google/Yelp style (shorter, punchier) or for a blog/review article (a bit

  • WILD SEA ON LAS OLAS ( WHERE FLAVOR GOES TO DIE

    Wild Sea On Las Olas

    Frist off ” Why do we choose to dine on Las Olas?”
    Because we like to pay too much, park too far, and pretend we’re enjoying ourselves while being served indifference on a white plate.

    Las Olas is where ambiance goes to flirt with disappointment. We come for the vibe, stay for the cocktails, and leave wondering how a $40 fish could taste like office printer paper.

    Dining on Las Olas is basically a sport — you compete for parking, endurance-test your patience with the wait staff, and practice your best fake smile when the bill arrives.

    At this point, I don’t go to eat — I go for the performance art.

    Now on to the pick of the week Wild Sea.

    If “Wild Sea” refers to the state of your stomach after eating here, then the name is spot on. The place looks nice — all coastal chic and Instagram-ready — but beneath that fancy decor lurks a menu that tastes like it lost a fight with a microwave.

    Our waiter clearly missed his calling as a prison warden — every interaction felt like a punishment. He sighed when we asked questions, rolled his eyes when we ordered, and vanished entirely when we actually needed something. I started to wonder if “Wild Sea” referred to the waves of hostility coming off our server.

    When my drink finally arrived (after what felt like a small geological era), he practically dropped it on the table like he was auditioning for a role in Waiters Gone Wild: The Angry Edition.

    I ordered the “Blacken Fish Tacos ,” and I swear it tasted like it had been caught sometime during the Obama administration. The only thing wilder than the fish was the price — my lunch cost more than my first car, and it came with a sprinkle of something pretending to be sauce.

    To be fair, the view of Las Olas was lovely — perfect for gazing out and wondering where it all went wrong.

    In short: if you enjoy overpaying for under seasoned seafood while listening to other diners pretend they’re impressed, Wild Sea is your new spiritual home. For everyone else, might I suggest literally anywhere else with a fryer and a pulse?

  • TEE JAY’ SUSHI – WILTON MANORS

    Tee Jay’s Thai Sushi – Wilton Manors

    Tee Jay’s is one of those Wilton Manors landmarks that feels like it’s been here since sushi was invented — and honestly, we’re glad it has. The food is consistently delicious, the portions are generous, and the staff has mastered the art of being friendly without hovering. The sushi is fresh, the curries are rich, and somehow everything tastes even better after a cocktail or two from next door.

    Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the dining room — the décor. It’s got that “early 2000s Asian fusion” look that time forgot. The walls have seen some things, the lighting feels like a soft nod to a tanning booth, and the furniture has that lived-in charm of a restaurant that’s fed half the neighborhood. It’s clean, don’t get me wrong, but if the interior were a person, it would definitely be wearing cargo shorts and flip-flops to brunch, let’s just say it’s got “character.” The décor hasn’t changed much in years — and that’s part of its charm (or maybe a call for a makeover). The space could use a little updating, but there’s something oddly comforting about it — kind of like grandma’s old couch: a little dated, but you still wouldn’t trade it for anything, at least while she’s alive.

    Still, Tee Jay’s makes up for it with flavor, value, and personality, fast, filling, and wallet-friendly

    Come for the food, stay for the nostalgia, and bring your appetite (and maybe a dimmer switch).

    One of the best-kept secrets here is their daily lunch specials. They offer a great variety at very reasonable prices, making it an easy go-to for a quick, delicious lunch. The bento boxes and Thai lunch combos are especially popular — filling, well-balanced, and served fast, even during busy hours.

    What really makes them stand out, though, is their delivery app and online ordering. It’s fast, easy, and the food always arrives hot and fresh — no soggy rolls, no missing sauces, no mystery substitutions. It’s basically like having grandma deliver dinner to your door, minus the guilt trip about not visiting more often.

    In short: Tee Jay’s might not be the fanciest spot on Wilton Drive, but it’s one of the most dependable. Great food, fair prices, and a delivery system that actually works — what more do you need?

    Well possibly a can of paint and new furniture ?

    Till the next time !

    Thanks for reading please let me know if you are enjoying the blog

  • ETHOS, Wilton Manors FL

    DID YOU KNOW :

    In Greek, ethos means “custom” or “character.” As originally used by Aristotle, it referred to a person’s character or personality, especially with respect to a balance between passion and caution. In English, ethos is used today to refer to the practices or values that distinguish one person, organization, or society from others. In rhetoric, ethos is often studied alongside pathos and logos as a technique to successfully persuade an audience.  

    Ethos restaurant in Wilton Manors FL , couldn’t have been named more fitting. Opening their doors to the public in 2016 they will be celebrating 10 years soon.

    Still under the guidance of the original owners that developed the concept and have only improved it as the years have gone on.

    Walking up to the entry you cant help but notice the extraordinary architectural design of the restaurant, In casing covered outdoor seating for dining and to the well placed bar, leading you in to full indoor dining room. The atmosphere is often described as modern and sleek.

    Amazingly enough, you have the extraordinary full view of a kitchen, separating you only by a glass window. I am always impressed with a restaurant that is courageous and confident enough with their management and staff to put it all right out there for everyone to see. Coming from a restaurant background this is really something special.

    Now lets talk about the menu, Some of the signature dishes include Lamb Chops — “cooked to perfection” and among one of the very best things on the menu.

    Bronzini , Mediterranean sea bass, always a favorite for dinner

    Orzo Paella — Seafood lovers especially love this, citing its variety (shrimp, calamari, mussels, scallops) and zesty sauce. And of course their Greek Salad a great starter or meal by itself.

    These are just a few highlights of the full menu, Choosing some of the most popular.

    Those who know me , will always see me somewhere on Sunday for brunch. I’m a “Brunch junkie” and Ethos is my favorite. Not only is the menu perfect for the brunch crowd, but they offer the best bottomless mimosa’s. Including my personal favorite ” blood orange “

    Summarizing my thoughts on Ethos is easy. Here is a wonderful jewel of a restaurant that never stops improving and growing, these praises come well earned by the hard work of the owners. mangers and staff. This is what running a restaurant is all about.

    Keep up the great work and cant wait to visit again !