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.”
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Bite the beaches 
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