I am always excited to try a new restaurant early before it blows up. Before a cocktail goes viral on Instagram or it starts circulating on the “Top Places to Eat on Miami” lists. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with these; they’re usually great. But before Mother Wolf inevitably made its way to the what’s hot discourse and demanded a reservation, I was able to sneak in a dinner out with friends in late 2024. And am just now looking to discuss it.
The overall theme is West Coast Roman, and the vibe is immaculate. Moody and dark with tons of character in everything from the lighting to the walls. This Forbes article tells the tales of everything from the Roman welcome sign depicting Romulus and Remus to the mosaics surrounding the bar better than I ever could. No detail was spared in bringing this space to life and making sure it lives up to the reputation of the LA restaurant, already an established hotspot. There are not many places with this rich ambiance in the Miami scene and I, for one, prefer it.
But then the food comes, and you realize the real star of the show has arrived. Starting with Polpette Di Brasato crispy short rib meatballs with sugo di arrosto, and pecorino romano.
This is one of the most requested appetizers, and for good reason. The kitchen uses short rib, braised down until its fibers nearly collapse into silk, then rolled into spheres that are seared until the outer layer develops a golden, shattering crust.
The sugo di arrosto, aka a roasting-pan reduction, the kind of sauce that carries both depth and smoke, is ladled generously over the meatballs, clinging to each ridge of the crisp exterior. A snowfall of sharp pecorino Romano cuts through the richness, adding the final punctuation.
This is not the spaghetti-and-meatballs archetype we grew up with. It’s tighter, more disciplined, more Roman in spirit, dare I say! The contrast is the point: the crunch of the exterior against the plush, almost creamy center; the sauce with its savory gravitas countered by pecorino’s brightness. These set the tone for the rest of the dishes- rich but balanced, familiar but elevated. The kind of opening gesture that lets you know you’re in the hands of a kitchen with a point of view.
Up next, potentially the worst photo I have taken. But deserves discussion and highlighting nonetheless, the Battuta Di Manzo:
Hand-cut filet mignon tartare, carciofi fritti, parmigiano reggiano, egg yolk, and lemon. “Battuta” is the Italian way of saying “beaten” or “chopped,” and here it signals a tartare that wears its craftsmanship proudly. Unlike machine-ground preparations, the filet mignon at Mother Wolf is hand-cut into clean, precise cubes, so the meat retains its integrity, almost jewel-like in its texture.
The composition is as much about contrast as it is about purity. There’s the cool, supple richness of the beef, with a touch of lemon’s acidity. Then, the golden yolk binds the elements together with a velvety touch. The sharp, nutty threads of Parmigiano Reggiano lend structure, a kind of savory backbone, while fried artichokes (carciofi fritti) deliver crunch and a faint bitterness, the dish’s much-needed foil.
My impression is that this was the dish that most clearly revealed Mother Wolf’s philosophy. Reverence for tradition, yes, but with a sense of theater, with the fried artichokes almost crackling in contrast to the silken beef. It’s a plate that insists you slow down, pay attention, and savor the craft.
And you gotta add a little green, for which you should absolutely consider the Misticanza Di Campo with market lettuces, shaved vegetables, condimento di lambrusco, herbs, and flowers:
This isn’t your run-of-the-mill “house salad.” The misticanza plays as a palate cleanser, an interlude between heavier antipasti and the main to come. The use of condimento di lambrusco is smart. Lambrusco is a sparkling red wine (or lightly fizzy variant) from Italy, it’s slight bubbles, fruity red-berry notes, and modest tannin structure give the dressing lift. It helps the greens shift from “just fresh” to “bright with character.” The shaved vegetables add crispness; the herbs give aromatic lift; edible flowers are the final flourish.
First bite: clean, crisp, like walking through a greenhouse. The lettuce is tender. The cucumbers snap with a subtle sweetness. The condimento, when it hits your tongue, mingles acidity, soft fruit, and a whisper of steel. It doesn’t masquerade or overpower; it lets the greens speak—just an excellent, bright dish to break up some of the heaviness.
Now, what we are all here for, the pizza! I’ve been told it’s worth your attention here just as much as the pastas, and I was not steered wrong. We tried 2, but I will recommend the Funghi pizza featuring wild and cultivated mushrooms, taleggio, mozzarella fior di latt, and parmigiano reggiano:
Full disclosure: I lean strongly toward white pizzas with no red sauce for the way they let toppings breathe. This one validated my bias. Why does this pie work?
- Wild + cultivated mushrooms: Earthy, umami-forward, and varied in texture. The wild varieties bring perfume and woodsy notes; the cultivated ones lend consistency and chew.
- Taleggio: A creamy, gently pungent cheese that melts into silky, fragrant pools. It carries a little tang, a little funk.
- Mozzarella fior di latte: The familiar milky stretch, binding the mushrooms and the crust with gentleness.
- Parmigiano Reggiano: Sprinkled post-bake or at the edge, giving crystalline saltiness and snap.
There’s no red sauce to compete. This pizza places every element front and center: dough, mushrooms, and cheeses. The crust is thin, crisped at the edges, sturdy enough to support its load yet light. I slice through it and see how the Taleggio has melted into ribbons, mingling with the mushrooms, while the mozzarella holds it together in the soft center.
The mushroom flavor saturates you. The Taleggio gives velvet warmth; the mozzarella slows things down with milk and coherence. Meanwhile, the Parmigiano’s shards crackle as I chew, adding brightness, contrast, and savory punctuation. It’s perfection!
Of all the pizzas I’ve had recently, the Funghi is the one I crave when I want pizza now. In a city of sauce bombs and overloaded combinations, this pie shines through. Excellent food, excellent vibes, and an excellent addition to the Miami food scene!
