Where sexy meets savory: South Beach supper club Rumi combines an alluring interior with deliciously satisfying food—and snappy service

South Florida CEO, May, 2002 by Johanna Marmon

DEPENDING ON WHO YOU ARE, the best -- or worst -- part about the trendy supper club Rumi, tucked away into a narrow space on Lincoln Road across from the Albion, is that you wouldn't know it's a supper club at all. In fact, until 11:30 p.m., Rumi is all restaurant. It's then that the Murphy bed drops down from the wall, the music cranks up and South Beach-ites literally crawl out from the woodwork -- or at least out from behind one of the luxuriously appointed banquettes.

No matter what hour you visit Rumi, however, be sure of one thing: the food served in this sexy space designed by Nancy Mah certainly holds its own. Visit during dinnertime on any day of the week, and Rumi is packed with glossy, preternaturally hip patrons. And while the dishes themselves certainly are pretty, the food is deliciously comforting, filling and subtle -- no weird foams, froths or frizzes on the menu.

Take for example the white bean soup, the special on one of our visits. The nice-sized bowl of velvety liquid had all the essence of the beans, but wasn't thick or pasty, and had just the faintest bacony taste. A swirl of creme fraiche on the top was a sinful luxury. A smatter of crisp, homemade croutons was perfect, as was the basket of -- gasp! -- fresh bread brought promptly to our table by our efficient, friendly waiter.

A starter of jerk-pork tenderloin was actually a couple of mounds of pan-fried shredded pork, crabcake style. The taste, like the appearance, was unlike any jerk pork we've had: the tender shreds of juicy pork combined hints of sctoch bonnet with a whisper of cinnamon. Simply excellent. Or choose, among several other starters, an elegantly simple boniato gnochetti in a cream sauce, the light dumplings giving way to smooth interiors.

As for entrees, we were absolutely taken with the baked salmon with red-onion marmalade, sweet potato cubes, grilled leeks and homemade mustard. The two hefty pieces of fish were stacked atop a mound of tender, almost artichoke-like leeks, with a half-dozen squares of meltingly-soft sweet potatoes scattered around the plate. The fish, just cooked through and served steaming hot -- yet another nod to our waiter -- had just the most subtle crust and fell apart in flakes with the slightest prodding from a fork tine. Whole mustard seeds in a thin, creamy sauce provided periodic bursts of flavor, while the mild sweet potatoes blended nicely with the fish. Red-onion marmalade, resting atop the fish, was rich and delicious. Another fantastic entree was a simple grilled steak with homemade Worsteshire sauce and whipped potatoes in a rich au jus. Sonoma duck with baked beans and grapefruit sections also excels.

Dessert was a chocolate chip banana brownie with vanilla ice cream, ordered because every table around us had a plate of the stuff. We weren't so impressed -- if you're going to serve banana cake, call it banana cake -- but we could only complain so much. The thick wedge was bursting with banana flavor, albeit a little dry. We fared much better with a quivering piece of molten coffee cake (again, paired with a little scoop of vanilla ice cream) and a deftly brewed cappuccino.

As for the poet Rumi himself (the 13th century Persian sensualist for whom the restaurant is named), we're sure that he'd be equally impressed with the food, ambience and service at this little South Beach gem -- so much so that we're guessing he'd call the synergy of the place poetry in motion.

Rumi, 330 Lincoln Road, Miami Beach. Tues.-San., 7 p.m.-11 p.m., Club from midnight until 5 a.m. (305)-672-4353