Otto’s High Dive splashes into the Milk District
Six months after opening, this hip Orlando haunt is Michelin-selected and set to soar
Life has been good of late for the folks behind Otto’s High Dive, which found its way into Orlando’s second round of Michelin Guide draft picks barely six months after opening its doors in the Milk District.
It was hot beforehand, to be sure. All my visits necessitated reservations, even back in March. And not surprisingly, they were even harder to come by post-selection. On my last visit, when I did manage to find an open table online, it was a choice of 4:15 or 11 p.m.
So we opted for an Early Bird Special at the hippest haunt in the ‘hood.
It was a good call. Fifteen minutes after opening, there wasn’t a first-come seat left in the house and just a few minutes later, every table — quarters are close in what the Michelin inspector called a “tiny but oh-so-sweet space” — was full.
It’s enviable, really. Considering the place wasn’t even supposed to be a restaurant.
Co-owner Justin Levaughn, whose bar cred runs the gamut from the white-tablecloth institutions of Sand Lake Road to the original Ravenous Pig to helping open The Courtesy downtown, had long dreamt of a bar to call his own.
And at first, it was going to be in Seminole County, where, unlike Orange County, liquor licenses don’t quite require the promise of a kidney and your firstborn child.
“When I came across this location, I was at a crossroads,” says Levaughn, who pitched his “High Dive” rum bar idea to the property’s owner, Giovanni Fernandez. Fernandez, he says, was planning on a complete demolition. But Levaughn’s dream struck a chord with the developer.
“It was almost like fate because his grandfather owned a rum bar in the ’50s and ’60s back in Manzanillo, Cuba. It was almost identical to what I was hoping to open.”
Levaughn vibed on the story of La Barra Polar, and even spent time with Fernandez’s grandpa, whose nickname, by the way, was Otto.
The plan for a bar morphed into a restaurant/ bar and the brick shell on Robinson — before the eyes of locals — morphed into a stunning little boîte evocative of a nation and era that launched a fleet of classic cocktails. One that since December has housed some of the hottest seats in town.
Back in the hoodless,
30×30 box of a kitchen that would eventually sling Michelin-rated food, Levaughn’s fellow Ravenous Pig alum chef Jake Ettison proffers both Cuban classics and Florida-centric seafood items. And for now, obviously, nothing fried.
“We’ve probably got one of the healthiest menus in town,” Levaughn chuckles.
The kitchen is set to double in size — and add a deep-fryer — within the month, but it hasn’t held him back.
On a first visit, the unique hearts of palm salad ($15) caught my eye and came to the table generously sized (look for a side salad-sized version to hit the menu soon). That’s by design, says Levaughn, who adopted Fernandez’s gramps’ motto of “Abandancia!” for this namesake, as well.
Manzanillo, he tells me, was split down the middle back in the day, with half the people well off and the other half not so much. La Barra Polar would always have an abundance of food to ensure that even those who could not pay could eat.
You’re going to have to pay here, but it speaks to a “sharing is caring “philosophy.
“Most of the things we offer are designed to share.”
It’s definitely true of the short rib ropa vieja ($22) which comes with rice, black beans and a side of aromatic oil they call “Otto’s Sauce,” a savory and simple elixir of salt, pepper, adobo that you can use on any or all of it to amp the flavor.
“Dip chicken in it. Put it on your bread,” says Levaughn.
Bread would be a stellar add, in fact, to the baked oysters, topped with a chicharrón crumble and steeped in an ancho chili lime butter. We were slurping the stuff off the shell. Raw’s an option here, too, and with growth — a new walk-in to be precise — storage will soon allow for an expanded menu that features east and west coast offerings, plus Florida-local bivalves, on the reg.
A kingfish collar special on my second visit was standout-exceptional, charred and lovely atop a mango and apple slaw and beautifully spiced coconut crema. Kingfish figures elsewhere on the menu and an interest in both sustainability and seriously tasty fare means once they amass about 40 of them (roughly once a month) you’ll see it pop back up. When it does, get it.
A relatively new Sunday brunch features a whole roasted pig, as graphic as it is inviting. Levaughn says it, too, has been a hit. “We start on the pigs at 5 a.m. People have been enjoying watching the process of seeing it go from spit to plate.”
Not surprisingly, Otto’s cocktail options are hot. Like “if Imbibe had a centerfold” hot. Choice libations include the pretty-in-pink Floridian Slip with its headdress of herbs, a tequila-based take on a Margarita but a roster of daiquiris may prove too alluring to pass up.
The heady Arturo Fuente ($14) tugged at my heartstrings, evoking humid late nights in Key West (not to mention Tampa’s Grand Cathedral Cigars) with its smoky mezcal and tobacco notes. Amaro lends a coffee-like sensibility. The sugary crunch of a brûléed orange is dessert. (If you need more, a fruity-creamy Florida orange tres leches, $15 and ample, is an excellent choice.)
“The Fuente essentially offers all the after-dinner rituals in one cocktail,” says Levaughn, who designed the current cocktail menu. But it’s about to expand, as well.
“There was always a way for the bartenders to make their mark on the menu at the kinds of bars I came from and I want to do the same for mine,” he says. Look for six new libations to hit soon. The roster, he says, will grow from there.
So, too, will outside accommodations. Once the kitchen’s done, an outside bar and overhang will offer stunning cocktails and shelter from sun and rain to those who choose to wait for inside seats.
And based on the reservationless masses willing to do so at 4:15 on a sprinkly Saturday afternoon, I speculate that number won’t be dwindling anytime soon. 2304 E. Robinson St. in Orlando, 321-231-7902; ottoshd.com