Reviewing Miami and then some. Gratuitous vulgarity included.


30 Rock assured me my girlfriend and I would break up if we went to IKEA together. I was getting ready to pack all her shit up for her and help her book a flight from Sunrise back to Miami. Well, we’re still together, which leads me to believe that either our relationship is strong or 30 Rock is a sitcom.

Before picking her up on an early Saturday afternoon, I pulled a Female Behavior™ on her by telling her I’ll be there in “about 20 minutes.” The idea was neither of us would eat and instead feast on the IKEA meatballs everyone raves about. To the general populace, IKEA meatballs are made from the flesh of the villagers conquered by vikings and gravied by Thor’s thundercock secretions itself. I’ve never, ever heard anyone say a bad thing about IKEA meatballs. With this knowledge, we assumed they would be a phenomenal Saturday lunch. 20 minutes turned into 40 minutes, then an hour. She wasn’t pissed because I’m just so fucking charming, but this is not a good start.

We make our way through I-75’s alleyway, past the magical faeries, slaying the dragon, answering the troll’s riddle, through the forest of shattered dreams and immigrants, defeating the wicked witch of the Weston, and finally all the way to Sunrise. We park and start walking through the magical IKEA gates. She was dead-set on getting a couch and there just happened to be one at the entrance which was pretty sweet, so we sat there for a few minutes while I embarrassed her by loudly greeting everyone who walked in. “Welcome to IKEA, I hope you enjoy your shopping experience! Welcome to IKEA, where all your dreams come true!” It was time to try the meatballs.

…I pulled a Female Behavior™ on her by telling her I’ll be there in “about 20 minutes.”

The cafeteria is upstairs and it’s huge. They’ll sell you a couple of entrees: meatballs, ribs, or chicken. You can get a meal with meatballs, mashed potatoes, gravy, some jam made from assholishly tarty Swedish berries called lingonberries, a drink, and a soup or a salad. Like everything IKEA, it’s pretty cheap, and I was surprised they didn’t make you assemble it yourself. Well, they kinda do. They also make you clear your own table. In real Swedish tradition they should’ve had some underpaid Turks do it for you, but whatever, we’re still in America.

The meatballs are shit. Not “the shit”, just shit. The meat tastes like pre-chewed foreskin, they’re too dry, and the color is just off-putting. The gravy is OK at best, and the lingonberry jam isn’t designed to be put on anything other than the tombstone of your enemies. If you have ever in your life told me you thought the IKEA meatballs were delicious and that I should try them, congratufuckinglations, I’m never taking your culinary suggestions under advisement again. The chipotle sweet potato soup was another ghastly creation. Those are two things which should never be paired up, like Bobby Brown and any other female recording artist.

What do the meatballs look like?

Artist’s rendering.

As for the store itself — if you’ve never been, you need to. It’s magical in its thoroughness. On the second floor you walk around with your little sheet and pencil marking down the name of the object with way too many consecutive vowels along with the warehouse location information for your particular Maålålåam. If you’re not really there for the big things (bed, armoire, couch, table, etc.) then you won’t be swayed by their super low prices on their low-quality compressed sawdust wares. However, if you’re in particular need for a pack of 60 wine glasses for $2.99 which will completely shatter as you and your spouse try fitting $983.47-worth of first floor IKEA bullshit into your Volkswagen Jetta, then there’s no better place on Earth to get it.

I’m happy to say we didn’t fight. Maybe it was the beautiful day, or our mutual hatred of their meatballs, but everything went better than expected.

So where the hell is it?
  • 151 NW 136th Ave
  • Sunrise, FL 33325
  • (954) 838-9292
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