A chic Miami Beach vixen, black-eyed and golden-skinned, maybe 20 years old and all of a hundred pounds, sits alone at El Rey Del Chivito. Menu in hand, she says something quick and cool to her waitress. The café is three-quarters empty at noon on a blistering Friday, the kind of day when a brutal sun makes your skin crawl. Latin pop music reverberates against whitewashed walls hung with framed soccer jerseys, sepia-drenched stills of Uruguay in the '40s and '50s, newspaper clippings, an advertisement for ice cream tartufos. In the far corner, the day manager rubs his chin over his accounts. Evidently, it's early for El Rey's South American clientele; they'll start filling up the Formica tables in half an hour, kids feeding nickels into the gumball machines while parents pop the caps... More >>>