Perricones is a little half-restaurant, half-market, half-bar, half-this-is-shitty-math hidden in Mary Brickell Village. I’m serious, dude, it’s hidden behind bushes, trees, and an annoying little valet parking spot. It’s like the Narnia of Brickell, except the only goat-people around are in the kitchen being milked to make goat cheese.
On my walk there I passed by a Burger King and got a craving for a fucking Hershey Sundae Pie.
The first time I came here was, predictably enough, on a date. I didn’t want to drive too far and she wanted to try Perricones since she had heard good things about it. On my walk there I passed by a Burger King and got a craving for a fucking Hershey Sundae Pie. It took a substantial amount of willpower for me to ignore the calling of The King and his terrible desserts over-saturated with high fructose corn syrup and powdered diabetes. There are a lot of theories as to why shit that’s bad for you tastes so good, but I maintain that it must have something to do with republicans. It just has to. Just like the cancellation of Arrested Development and Firefly. Somehow John Boehner (hehe, Boehner) is responsible for that.
When you arrive the first thing you see past the bushes and one lost homeless guy deluded enough to think he’s going to get a dime from Brickell yuppies is an outdoor bar area. Enter and it’s a little marketplace. I’ve gone back and bought desserts there like the goddamn skinny fat-ass I am. I’m 26 and I buy fruit snacks (Gushers are the shit), gummy worms/bears, Twizzlers, Twix, Reese’s Cups, and Airheads so often that I was put on a sex offender registry on the basis of that alone.
Past the market is the restaurant itself. When I arrived she was already seated with a drink, so I felt late and partially assholish. She said she had only been waiting like 5 minutes. Ok people, look, “5 minutes” is always the go-to “I don’t know how fucking long it’s been” marker. It’s always 5 minutes. Are you on your way home to Pinecrest and you’re stuck in traffic on I-95 near MLK boulevard and your girlfriend calls to ask when you’ll be home? 5 minutes. Did your waiter fuck up your order and comes to tell you the chef is a little backed up but it’ll be out real soon? 5 minutes. Did you prematurely ejaculate and when the girl tells everyone you lasted 8 seconds after penetration you lie and say it was much longer than that and then your buddies grill you on how long you claim you lasted? 5 minutes.
Anyway, I had the pan-seared salmon. It was not delicious.
Anyway, I had the pan-seared salmon. It was not delicious. The fish itself was cooked well and it tasted fresh, but that lemon butter sauce tasted like a debt collection agency calling your parents because you’ve been dodging their shit for weeks. By the way, that’s a violation of FDCPA, so you can imagine how terrible that lemon butter sauce was. They could’ve glazed my salmon with the saliva from a kid with Down Syndrome and it probably would have tasted better. Don’t let that throw you off from Perricones though. I had a bit of whatever the fuck pasta it was my date had and it was great. I admit, it may have only been great in relation to my shitty salmon, kind of like if you’re being gang raped by horses for an hour and someone asks if you’d like to be gang raped by ponies instead, you’d look forward to the pony gangbang.
We didn’t have a dessert that time but I have it on good authority (my mouth on another night) that their tiramisu will write you a fucking sonnet and tuck you in for bed.
Check out Perricones, or at the very least buy something in their market.
People who would enjoy it
People who would not enjoy it
- 15 SE 10th St
- Miami, FL 33131
- (305) 374-9449