Given the location of Scott Conant’s latest Scarpetta (the eponymous sister to his Meatpacking District dazzler) in the newly renovated Fontainebleau in Miami Beach, it’s not surprising that you enter the restaurant almost expecting paparazzi. And when, midway through your meal, photog Bruce Weber arrives with an entourage of ten, you could easily be forgiven for indulging your own private celluloid fantasies. Scarpetta is the kind of restaurant that combines the sexiness of LA with the professionalism of New York—and then stirs in a hefty dose of Miami Beach glamour. After all, the Fontainebleau is Morris Lapidus’s once-reviled chef d’oeuvre—now brimming with the confidence of a $1 billion makeover.
Located at the base of Sorrento Tower, the sleek sumptuous restaurant designed by David Collins overlooks the Fontainebleau’s poolscape, with a wraparound veranda for almost-oceanside dining. Exhibiting a kind of restrained nautical design scheme—think Cunard Line with elements of classic waterfront Newport “cottages”—Scarpetta feels like a private yacht sailing through the Mediterranean early in September.
In 2002, Conant made a huge splash with the gorgeous L’Impero in Manhattan’s Tudor City—but Conant left and L’Impero closed—and Tudor City’s loss is Miami Beach’s gain.
A critics’ favorite for his take on southern Italian, Conant continues his masterful touch at Scarpetta—a name which translates to “little shoe” and is an Italian expression for the shape that your bread takes on when you sop up every last bit of a meal. As if to validate the restaurant’s implied challenge, a brimming breadbasket commences the meal, served with a tray of three luscious dipping sauces—one a mascarpone butter that would break the willpower of even the most steadfast dieter. As for the bread itself, you’ll probably have to ask for a second basket before your second course arrives. This is Italian bread that could make a French baker weep with envy.
Some of L’Impero’s most cherished dishes remain on Scarpetta’s menu—such as the creamy polenta with a fricassee of truffled mushrooms. Served in a small silver porringer accompanied by a porcelain bowl, this combination is highly elevated nursery food, hitting all the right comfort notes and designed to leave one smacking one’s lips—and reaching for another scarpetta.
An assagini called tuna “sucsi” arrived plated like a Cy Twombly painting, as did a beautiful scallop tartare served on a landscape of baby greens, avocado, citrus salad and chives. Our fellow diners stared in amazement, uncertain, at first, as to whether it should be valued as art—or eaten. As for the mozzarella in carozza (mozzarella in a “carriage”) served with stewed baby tomatoes, this was Conant’s refined twist on the classic grilled-cheese-and-tomato.
Long celebrated for his ability to extract the most elemental flavors from the purest ingredients, Conant has made his spaghetti with tomato and basil something of a legend. Served in a bowl, the dish is a tangle of pasta and summer’s bounty—and so toothsome and seductive as to make you consider ordering a second.
Hold off, however, and order dessert. There’s deconstructed tiramisu, for example, and also a caramelized apple “pie” with polenta crust, black pepper-caramel sauce, and honey-vanilla gelato.
As for service, expect the kind of polish and professionalism long associated with some of Italy’s finest ristorante. And if at meal’s end, you have to remind yourself you’re not anchored along the Amalfi coast, relax—you’re in Miami Beach, the American Riviera. Avanti!
LINK: Scarpetta
