Aside from their glaring deficiencies with the English language judging by their inability to grasp possessiveness rules, Jimmy’z Kitchen knows how to put down an acceptable meal.
It’s kind of like Chat Roulette except not as much penis.
I’m on South Beach with a friend about to do what people do on South Beach on a sexy Friday night. That’s right, bowling at Lucky Strike! She’s all, “did you eat yet?” No, so we go looking for a place. We were on Lincoln so I suggested we play food roulette. It’s kind of like Chat Roulette except not as much penis. I hand her my iPhone, tell her to close her eyes, and randomly scroll then touch. Somehow she managed to text my boss and challenge him to a duel, because the iPhone interface can be tricky at times. Anyway, we ended up selecting some German place called Hofbraü. We go in, sit, get handed a menu, and it’s like 90% demonic-sounding shit full of umlauts and what Google Translate told me seemed like death threats. We get up and leave, agreeing not to play food roulette. So I ask her to just tell me a place. She said Jimmy’z Kitchen. I had never been, so I agreed.
First, it’s not on Lincoln, but it’s close. It’s on the corner of some shopping center. It looks slightly sketchy and my little sister told me one time some dude tried to sell her street pharmaceuticals and then propositioned her for oral sex. Inside it’s not any better. There are, like, 3 tables. You don’t really get a menu, you just get told to look at the board with things written on it. Admittedly, this gave me a very bad impression. The only places which do this tend to have dollar menus. Whatever though, I got over it and ordered a filet mignon. It came with potatoes which is nearly as American as crushing debt. My friend had some salad faggotry.
It came with potatoes which is nearly as American as crushing debt.
Not the best steak I’ve ever had, and they smeared it with goat cheese, but it wildly exceeded my expectations. I did a good job of bringing the place down so it was easy to bring me back up with even mediocre food, but this food was well above mediocre. The potatoes weren’t bad either. It was at around this time where my freeloading little sister pops in and eats half my shit. She was all, “homeboy outside was like, ‘yo girl, you got dat badonk. Lemme holla’ and then tried to sell me some weed.”
We were there until they were closing the place down for the night. What they did is moved the tables and stacked the chairs, but while they were doing so they played some salsa music. When there’s spic music blaring, sometimes I can’t help it, so I grabbed my friend and started dancing with her. The dude at the helm of the place, who I called “Jimmy” and he corrected me to say it was “Yimmy” (and in reality, it was Javier), was cheering us on to keep dancing. Fuckin’ Miami.
I’ve written enough. There’s a Jimmy’s Kitchen in Wynwood too, so if you’re in midtown or on the island maybe go ahead and give the place a shot. Can’t hurt.
People who would enjoy it
People who would not enjoy it
- 1542 Alton Rd
- Miami Beach, FL 33139
- (305) 534-8216