La Moon serves wieners and taters in the form of salchicriollas.

The beats of vallenato blare from the speaker above the flat screen next to the cash register. Large groups squeeze into tables intended for four — some ladies sitting on their men’s laps — all to get their late-night hunger fix. It’s 2 a.m. Sunday morning and hungry partygoers from the nearby Bricks and Transit Lounge inundate tiny La Moon restaurant; the party continues here as they indulge in Colombian-style food and maybe even a few more beers.

Fried empanadas, chicken burgers, pinchos (meat or chicken kebabs) and Colombian hot dogs are popular on late nights when La Moon’s eight tables become hot commodities. But it’s not just the fast food that has made this family-run restaurant popular. In a nondescript building along Southwest Eighth Street, two brothers, formerly of China Grill’s kitchen, have created a humble spot where anyone from local musicians and artists to Porsche-driving Brickell execs can come for homey Colombian dishes.

Many probably first got to know La Moon for its hot dogs. Up until about a month ago, when the restaurant finally put a sign in the front of the building (they’ve been operating for almost two years), the only visible evidence of a restaurant was a banner on the building’s side that read perros Colombianos (Colombian hot dogs). That perro colombiano ($4.25) — a hot dog topped with five sauces and crushed potato chips — is a popular and strangely satisfying menu item. The typical ketchup and mustard combined with pineapple and garlic sauces and salsa rosada (a mix of ketchup and mayonnaise) give the dog a juicy feel, and the crushed matchstick potato chips a welcome crunch. The larger Superperro La Moon adds chorizo, bacon and a quail egg into the mix. Somehow this works, but eating it is a messy ordeal unless you have a big mouth or you pick up the knife and fork. And who wants to eat a hot dog with cutlery?

The chicken burger sports a generously sized chicken patty topped with your typical cheese, lettuce, tomato and onions, dressed the same as the hot dogs. It’s a welcome alternative for those who prefer to stay away from the beef. The salchicriollas, a bowl of fried papas criollas — small golden yellow potatoes — and sausage cut in pieces, is a fun appetizer or late-night snack. I could do without the sausage, but the salty fried potatoes native to Colombia, a little crisp on the outside, soft and steamy on the inside, are hard to stop eating. The mazorca desgranada, corn kernels served on lettuce topped with potato sticks, a blanket of melted mozzarella and pink sauce, may sound unappealing, but like other dishes at La Moon, it’s oddly delicious. The crunch of the corn and the chips add texture to the melted cheese and sauce, which carry most of the flavor.

Like late nights on weekends, lunch during the week is prime time at La Moon and, thankfully, they don’t blast the music, so you can actually carry on a conversation. The brothers’ wives run the register and the front of the house most days. Service is friendly, though not perfect. The father takes care of deliveries, and although the 15 entrées some offices often order must certainly be good for business, they can slow your service if you’re dining on-site. After repeated visits, that’s only happened a couple of times.

Aside from the fast food, the restaurant serves sandwiches, salads, beef, chicken, seafood and daily specials. And not everything is Colombian style. The menu includes items like a tuna Niçoise salad and run-of-the-mill wraps.

On Wednesdays, try the ajiaco, a typical potato-based soup, which really is a full meal, containing shredded chicken, corn on the cob, peas and carrots. The bowl is good for two, and it’s served with white rice and a house salad. For whatever it’s worth, the ajiaco is as close to my mom’s as I’ve found in Miami, and there’s something to be said for authenticity.

Other typical Colombian dishes include cow’s tongue, arepas — corn cakes filled with cheese, or cheese and shredded chicken or beef — and mojarra frita, a fried Colombian tropical fish served standing up on the plate with rice and fried green plantains.

A grilled chicken entrée — grilled chicken breast, rice, red beans and plantains — served every day for $9.25 is a good value for the Brickell lunch crowd. Accompany it with some refajo (a mix of beer and Colombiana, a Colombian soda) and you’ve got a lunch not much out of the ordinary, but just like something you might cook at home. That is likely a large part of La Moon’s appeal. You don’t go there for the ambience, the service or the creativity in the food; you go there to satisfy cravings for homey food or for the fast food hangover cure.