MIAMI BEACH — The early bird special at Cafe Prima Pasta began last year after the restaurant's owner, Gerardo Cea, lost all his savings in real estate and began seeing his regular customers at the supermarket.
"They weren't coming anymore," Mr. Cea said. "They couldn't afford it."
He expected his offer of a 50 percent discount before 6 p.m. to attract the usual crowd of frugal retirees. But word kept spreading, and on most nights now, at least half the tables are filled with young families, singles or hip couples — women in short skirts and men who prefer "dude" to "sir."
Across Florida in fact, the early-bird special is experiencing a revival. With that label and some newer versions, several restaurants have introduced early dining discounts since the recession started, and younger people are arriving in larger numbers at classic establishments that have been serving up free dessert for decades.
Part of it is purely business — promotions work when people have less money to spend — but restaurant owners, researchers and patrons say it also reflects a changing mood. It is a sign, they say, of shifting priorities, as Americans respond to tighter budgets with a demand for value and a willingness to alter their habits to enjoy a little fun.
Many restaurant owners, on Florida's east and west coasts, now report seeing behavioral changes that remind them of the generation that survived the Depression. In addition to coming in early for specials, they said, more customers have been using coupons, sitting down only after studying the menu and wasting less food.
"The value of money has changed in America," said James Accursio, whose family has owned the Capri, an Italian restaurant in Florida City, since it opened in 1958. "We're not high rollers anymore."
His restaurant is one of many experiencing a moment reminiscent of the movie "Cocoon." As Mr. Accursio scanned his main dining room on a recent Saturday just before the early bird expired at 6:30, he saw more young faces where only old ones used to be. To his left sat the Dawkins family, ages 47, 33, 23, 8 and 3; by the door, a man with a full head of dark hair checked his iPhone across from his date; and near the back were the Slaters, a family of 11 that crossed demographic lines.
Their ages ranged from 80 — for Marty Slater, the matriarch, who said she had been coming to the Capri since she moved to Florida in the '50s — down to 19. Economically, it was a middle-class group. On one side of the table sat an architect, a social worker and a manager in manufacturing. And nearly all said they had been hurt by the recession.
As a result, they said, old-fashioned restaurants like the Capri — think iceberg lettuce, not arugula — had become especially appealing because they offered consistent value, and it was not just the early bird's filet mignon for $12.95. It was also the respectful treatment — the waiters in ties, the greetings of "Mr." and "Mrs.," the effort to remember the orders of regulars, and letting everyone stay as long as they wanted.
"When you go out now, you have to have a plan," said Gary Green, 34, who married into the family after leaving Jamaica. At the Capri, he said, "there's less risk."
Katherine Slater, the restaurant's only diner with a nose stud and dyed red hair, said she had only recently begun to understand what her elders saw in such places. "When I was young, 18, I was like, why would I want to go out to dinner there with my parents and my grandparents?" she said. "Now I'm 21. I appreciate it."
Nearly everyone in the state feels a little poorer these days — with unemployment at its highest rate since 1975 and real estate values continuing to drop. That insecurity has reshaped the local mindset, say many Floridians under 55, and taken the shame out of scrimping.
For instance, Cassandra Eriser, 35, an aesthetician with cover girl looks who works giving facials at a South Beach spa, is not what most people imagine when they think early bird. But there she was at Cafe Prima Pasta on a recent Sunday at 5:30 p.m., finishing up a meal of tilapia with her boyfriend, a musician with a shaved head.
With wine and tip, the couple spent less than $25 each.
"It's a great way to try a new restaurant without forking over a lot of money," Ms. Eriser said.
A few nights later at Cafe Prima Pasta, the urge to splurge brought out a party of 13. Mostly employees of a nonprofit in their 20s and 30s, they laughed as they explained that they were eating early for a simple reason: "Because we're broke."
At the early bird for Tropical Acres Steakhouse in Fort Lauderdale, which opened in 1949, Edward and Denisa Wainwright said they were celebrating their anniversary there because it was affordable and still felt fancy.
"This reminds us of the New England style," said Mr. Wainwright, 55. Even before the dessert cart arrived, he said he was full. A Harvard graduate, he said he taught at Kaplan Test Prep, making half what he used to make at a database company.
"We've had to get used to it," Mrs. Wainwright, 52, said. "We don't go out as much because of the money."
In some circles, of course, the early bird still carries a whiff of mothballs, thus the rebranding. When Benihana tried it last summer in South Florida, they called it "twilight dining." At Café Baci in Sarasota, which has also seen more young people lately, they use "early dining."
Hudson Riehle, a senior vice president for research at the National Restaurant Association, said other restaurants around the country had tried "afternoon dining" or just ditched the label entirely, using "prix fixe" instead.
"The term 'early bird' may be a little dated from a lexicon standpoint, like 'doggy bag,' " Mr. Riehle said. "But the concept has been and will continue to be an extremely effective marketing tool for certain restaurants in certain markets."
At Cafe Prima Pasta, at least, the early bird has already become an institution, and almost too much of a success. Mr. Cea, 43, an immigrant from Argentina who learned the restaurant business in New York, said he recently realized that there were too many people arriving early with a taste for high-end meat and fish, like imported branzino. It was his turn to tighten the belt; a few weeks ago, he introduced a more limited menu.
"It's beautiful, the American dream, it's great," Mr. Cea said. "But if you don't put your feet on the ground, what it's given you will be taken away."
