Doug Rodriguez Is Back

What they are not, fortunately, are filling, as appetizers aptly showcase Rodriguez's predilection for pickling, peppering, smoking, and sugaring ingredients and then playing the flavors off one another like a conductor orchestrating woodwinds, strings, and horns. (Or maybe Rodriguez is the composer and the man at OLA's podium is executive chef José Luis Flores.) A pair of octopus popsicles, officially called "anticuchos," brought thick, darkly charred, sweetly glazed tentacles, each skewered on a spear of sugar cane and accompanied by a sprightly salad of watercress, Belgian endive, and assertively smoked tomatoes. Nubs of avocado tempura were also included, which didn't make much sense — but they were nonetheless satisfying. So was a threesome of soft, doughy empanadas filled with short rib meat braised in black beer. Although appetizing alone, the empanadas really take off on a strip of creamy white habañero sauce streaked with smoky orange-rosemary marmalade.

Entrées are a little less brashly inventive. Raspado de pato — featuring lean slices of the teeniest, most tender duck breast imaginable — is served with a hefty hot pot of rice stir-fried with raisins, pine nuts, edamame, and confit shreds of nonbreast meat. A potently marinated tenderloin of beef, cut and grilled churrasco-style with a thin spread of tangy, parsley-based chimichurri, is sumptuously smothered in creamy chipotle sauce plumped with pearly lumps of crab meat. There was nothing crisp about "crispy pork," but the soft, slow-cooked meat was tastefully spiked with culantro mojo.

Some combos work better than others. The main components of a deconstructed causa — seared slabs of dark-purplish tuna crusted with adobo spicing, a smooth purée of blue potatoes, and a row of green conch escabeche — were plated like stripes on the flag of a color-blind nation, probably just moments before serving. This robs the traditional Peruvian dish of its greatest virtue: the overnight melding of flavors. The acidic escabeche also overwhelmed the mild potato and fish.

I thought differently about the dessert menu's "deconstructed key lime pie" when I last tried it at The Savoy; the whole was as good as the sum of its parts — in this case key lime custard, toasted meringue, walnut tuile, and a graham-cracker-coated quenelle of vanilla ice cream. This time, though, I went with yet another Rodriguez signature, a "cigar" made with almond chocolate cake encased in semisweet chocolate mousse and rolled in cocoa and cinnamon. Looks just like a stogie, label and all, served on a plate that mimics an ashtray — along with a dab of coffee ice cream and a matchbox made of candy. Take away the clever presentation and you're left with a devilishly rich treat.

Take away the novelty and newness from Rodriguez's now not-so-Nuevo Latino fare and you are still left with a singular updating of Hispanic cuisine — which means OLA remains as relevant as any restaurant in South Florida.