As he came and went, our lovely server popped over to the table every few minutes to answer questions, entertain us with stories (Janice Dickinson was "a drunk, hot mess" when she hosted an event at the club), or commiserate on how much he hates Ke$ha too. So I was bummed for him that the restaurant was fairly empty, the ratio of patrons to staff approximately two to one. My pal and I were the only women among about a dozen diners. I asked our server/new best friend where everyone was, since by now it was after 10 p.m. on a Thursday — prime time to get your drink on and start the evening's festivities. "Everyone's at Georgie's Alibi," he said. "It's Long Island Iced Tea night."
Ah, Georgie's. So the eaters of Wilton Manors were mostly gathering down the street, in a nondescript shopping plaza, in a jam-packed restaurant famous for its hamburger and booze in a Mason jar. Perhaps that said something about what flies in the city, which is more small-town than South Beach.
Candace West
The seared scallop tapas ($11.95) was large enough to be an entrée.
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The Manor, 2345 Wilton Drive, Wilton Manors. Call 954-626-0082, or
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As for the Manor's entrées, the sugarcane-roasted beef tenderloin ($11.95) arrived with lovely presentation. The beef was displayed on sugarcane skewers and garnished with Asian marinated noodles, a grilled pineapple wedge, and a side of sauce. The beef tasted both sweet and spicy, reminiscent of Korean barbecue, but the meat was tough. Unfortunately, the bed of noodles functioned only as decoration, like parsley or flowers, because they were hard and tasted like overcooked ramen. The dipping sauce tasted like Thai peanut sauce but sweeter, smokier, more... American.
I asked the waiter, "What's in this sauce?"
"It's peanut sauce," he answered.
"Yeah, but there's a hint of something else. Try it." He obliged.
His verdict? Ketchup, barbecue sauce, and peanut butter.
I ordered the meat loaf ($12.95) because, the menu promised, it was just like Mom made. It arrived with a great rich aroma that reminded me of a '50s television household. It took me a full minute (and several bites) to identify where I had tasted this before, and then... it hit me: the Salisbury Steak TV dinner from my childhood. My friend tasted a bite and agreed. Since my mother never cooked, only reheated, I can safely say that, indeed, the meat loaf at the Manor tastes exactly like what Mom "made."
Though there was no scallop entrée per se, the seared scallop tapas ($11.95) was large enough to be an entrée and was presented over a bed of fresh baby spinach, fried leeks, and fresh, light raspberry vinaigrette. The scallops had a beautiful caramel coating on the outside and were perfectly seared on the inside. They were moist and sweet and tasted faintly of anise. One more dish for the "hit" column.
When it was time for dessert, our server again tried to sell us on "trailer park heaven" — the fried Oreo. I really wanted the deconstructed S'mores, but the kitchen had run out of graham crackers, so I grudgingly accepted our server's now-third offer for deep-fried Oreos. While I secretly pondered if the Oreos were sold on a commission basis (although at $5.95, I guess he'd have to sell a lot of deep-fried treats), they arrived and I was proved wrong. These were not the fried Oreos that some carnie would make at the fair. Rolled in a panko bread crumb, they were crunchy on the outside, creamy on the inside. Lest this dessert be complete heaven, it was served with a raspberry dipping sauce that was way too sweet. The vanilla crème brûlée ($5.95) was creamy and just sweet enough, but there was barely a shell to crack into, and the custard was a little runny.
The Manor has tons of potential. But instead of trying to be all things to everybody, it might want to focus on simple, flavorful tapas to accompany its well-made martinis. Keep the whimsical and sensual food like the fried Oreos and beef skewers; hell, add paninis, fondue, even cotton candy. But please lose the fine-dining pretense. Because Jack Sparrow, Miss Noche Latina, and the guys of Wilton Manors seem to have one thing in common: Sometimes boys and girls just wanna have fun — and a good hamburger.
