The Enchanted Wine Bar Where Regulars Dance and Break Plates
It’s hidden in a Miami strip mall next to a hair salon and a low-budget hotel
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The postcard version of Miami features palm trees bathed in a pink neon glow and hotel lounges where you can drink a perfect $20 mojito as white curtains billow in a tropical breeze while Gloria Estefan serenades from the speakers. But, as a transplanted New Yorker, I needed a place to call my home-away-from-home: Someplace that had good food, good wine, and was easier on both my soul and my wallet.
When I first walked into BarMeli69, which locals call Bar Meli, I was enchanted. This hole in the wall in the MiMo District is flanked by a hair salon and a motel that one TripAdvisor reviewer called the “worst motel I have ever stayed at in my life.” The restaurant’s interior does not have a professional decorator’s touch. Instead, wine crates are nailed to the walls to serve as shelves, and bamboo fencing — you know, the kind you get at Home Depot to turn your patio into a Polynesian fantasy on a budget — is stapled to the ceilings. The magic of the place — and there is magic — lies in its proprietress, Liza Meli.
Meli, a native Australian with Greek roots, moves with the grace of a dancer, clad in her signature attire of a strappy maxi dress and bangle bracelets. Tight curls brush her tanned shoulders as she flits from table to table, pouring wine here, kissing a friend there. For 20 years, she was the wife and muse of flamenco guitarist Alex Fox. Now and again, Meli will break into dance, accompanied by a guitarist who plays at her bar on the weekend — wine glass in hand.
Every time I walk into this place, I feel like I’m a character in one of those fabulous movies set in the 1950s where some awkward American woman, possibly traveling through the Mediterranean to mend a broken heart, stumbles into a taverna. There, the owner, looking effortlessly chic in a plain summer frock and locally made sandals, teaches the American how to love and laugh freely. Liza has done that for me.
When my husband walked out on me three years ago, Bar Meli was the first place I ventured to alone. I didn’t tell Liza what happened at first, but she intuitively refilled my glass with a very satisfying Barbera from Italy while I tried to put on a brave face. Fueled by the wine, I finally explained why I was drinking alone.
Later, Bar Meli would be my safe place to try out Tinder dates. Liza would check out my would-be suitor. Without a word, if she found there was a spark, wine glasses would be refreshed and placemats and food menus would materialize. This was her cue for us to linger, have a meal, talk some more.
The food is perfect first-date fodder, by the way. You can determine whether you have a future with someone by the way they eat. If a man refuses a plate of briny olives, lamb sausage, or spicy feta cheese, how could I travel the world with this person?
If, on the other hand, he’s enthralled when the flaming saganaki arrives, there’s promise. And, if the gentleman makes a plate of the molten cheese for me, placing a few pieces of freshly baked pita on the platter, I could find myself instantly smitten.
The wine at Bar Meli has been, and continues to be, a barometer for my feelings. I don’t have to open my mouth, but whatever is poured matches my mood for the day. A good day where I met a deadline is paired with a rosé from Provence. A happy hour with friends goes with a falanghina from Campania. When I’m contemplative, there’s a Spanish rioja waiting for me.
I’m not the only person who feels as if Liza is reading my soul. The entire room is filled with people who gravitate to her. Photos of Liza and various guests line the walls and spill into the bathrooms. I sometimes wonder if Liza opened the place as a haven for her friends, or if anyone who walks into Bar Meli inevitably becomes her friend.
I contemplate how Liza stays in business. For the life of me, I can’t explain how many times I will order a cheese plate and one glass of wine at 7 p.m. to find myself at midnight presented with a check that’s maybe a little too reasonable. My only recourse is to tip generously and give thanks for the extra pour or the sip of limoncello that mysteriously winds up in front of me.
On special evenings when the mood is right and guests have had just enough wine, they coax one more song from the guitarist. Liza will float from the kitchen, a stack of plates in hand. With one gesture, the music starts.
Liza moves to the beat. She urges people to join the Sirtaki, the traditional dance made popular in America in “Zorba the Greek.” As the music gets faster and faster, we traverse the maze of tables and chairs, flying through the eatery. As the dance wraps up, we all break our plates. Opa!
For that moment, I am in Liza’s world. It’s a wine bar on some beautiful island surrounded by azure waters. Fishermen pull their bounties from the sea as Liza pours a ruby red elixir from a pottery jug made by local ladies. The fantasy lasts for a good minute, until the house lights come on. The show is over for now. I pay the check and step out into the humid Miami night. I wait for my Uber or say good evening to my date. I watch the only activity on Biscayne Boulevard — the hookers working the motel next door — as I plan my next visit to Bar Meli and the lovely world Liza Meli has created.
Laine Doss is the food and spirits editor for Miami New Times. She has been featured on Cooking Channel’s Eat Street and Food Network’s Great Food Truck Race.
