The Pee-wee’s Playhouse of South Beach restaurants, Barton G. The Restaurant offers the same brand of childlike delight that Pee-wee Herman afforded millions of children and adults every Saturday morning. Everything’s hyperbole. “Wow” is the only response. It’s a room full of wide eyes and slack jaws—as the parade continues past your table. It’s a front row seat at a circus—and cotton candy is only one part of it.

Located in the same space that once housed the notorious Gatti’s, back in 1925, and then later Starfish during the years that South Beach was first becoming known for its razzle-dazzle approach to beauty, food, and style, Barton G. perpetuates Oscar Wilde’s maxim that the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about. And everyone talks about Barton G. The Restaurant; everyone has an opinion—and particularly those who have yet to dine there.

The truth is, Barton G. is a lovely room—on an evening when the chattering masses are located elsewhere. And even when the restaurant is crowded, there’s always the romantic outdoor patio, one of the more verdant spaces on the sandbar. As for the staff, they are every bit as friendly and enthusiastic as the playmates who frequented Pee-wee’s playhouse—if somewhat less outrageously costumed.

Even if you arrive at Barton G.’s with a chip on your shoulder or in need of attitude adjustment, there’s something about the general level of fun conveyed by the staff, and the ongoing party around you, that all but coerces you into having a good time—and particularly if you start with a round of cocktails from the Below Zero Nitro Bar. These are cocktails infused with liquid nitrogen, a cryogenic fluid with a temperature of minus-320 degrees Fahrenheit. A shot of nitro and the alcohol freezes, causing the cocktail to fog like dry ice. Warning: don’t drink until the fog clears. According to our waiter, one woman chose not to heed counsel, and instead inhaled her drink, fog and all—only to pass out completely in her plate of mashed potatoes. Something about the nitro briefly clinging to your lungs. Best advice: wait for the fog to lift. Enjoy the spectacle—and then sip.

Second warning: these are pricey elixirs, approaching forty dollars a pop. Chalk the cost up to a lesson in molecular mixology, for these drinks are stunners—and particularly one called Sin-Sation, which is nitrogenized Absolut Vanilla vodka and Rose Petal Nectar, topped with champagne. With the extreme freezing, the Absolut Vanilla vodka becomes a vodka ice pop—on a rosebud stem. Three of these red roses clustered in a drink, fogging like the Lady in the Lake–and you’re ready to play Sir Lancelot, vying for the sword. These are high-octane cocktails, in every sense of the word—for as the alcohol melts, the drink gets stronger. Watch your mashed potatoes.

Better yet, start with the G Fries Quartet, four immense cones of finger food, including kettle chips, shoestring fries, sweet potato fries, and mini hash browns—all served with special sauces. This is the kind of rarefied bar food you won’t find at Hooters.

By now, nearly everyone even vaguely interested in the restaurant world has heard about Barton G.’s over-the-top presentations: a wheelbarrow for garden gnocchi, a mousetrap for mac-n-cheese. Barton G. makes eating fun—and particularly for those who might have been finicky eaters as children. There’s nothing too challenging on Barton G.’s menu, nothing too esoteric or exotic. The Zen Tuna Trio, for example, comprising tuna tataki, tuna carpaccio, tuna tartare taco, with a ponzu sauce might be just the thing for your aunt from Oklahoma, who only ate sushi once before—in Houston.

Given that Barton G. Weiss made his name on events production for high-level corporate clients such as Cartier, Coca-Cola, Van Cleef & Arpels, amongst others, it’s perhaps understandable that flash and sizzle are Barton G.’s modus operandi. Who wants another rubber chicken black-tie banquet—when instead, you can have lobster pop tarts—served with a toaster at table? Lobster and gruyere in a flaky crust with hollandaise, brandy tarragon, and lemon caper sauces: it’s the sort of meal that brings out the inner child and satisfies the indulgent adult.

For those desirous of something more straightforward, there’s a perfectly competent chopped salad, as well as a nice burrata and tomato salad, served with focaccia croutons.

Portions are ample—even without the frou-frou and the gadgetry—so be forewarned. If you want dessert—and what kind of playhouse would this be without dessert?—save room for the beignets. With a choice of chocolate, vanilla, and classic, these are the sort of beignets that return you to Café du Monde in New Orleans—or maybe straight back to the nursery. This is serious comfort food, with a side of sauces (warm fudge and home-made raspberry jam) that beg for finger lickin’. Go ahead, why not—you’re at Barton G., where everyone’s having fun.