Best Of :: Food & Drink
South Beach is known as sushi central, and it is arguably true that a greater concentration of very good Japanese restaurants can be found on any square mile of Beach than anywhere in the U.S.A. Still, visiting Japanese chefs, local Asian foodies, and others in the know head west to this small spot in a fairly downscale shopping mall for Miami's most authentic Japanese fare -- especially Matsuri's daily specials, dishes rarely found elsewhere like foie graslike (and nonfishy) monkfish liver in spicy broth, or shisamo, succulent salt-broiled smelts stuffed with their own "caviar." And well worth the drive by itself is Matsuri's selection of toro, buttery belly tuna often seen on sushi-bar menus but almost never available: silken chutoro (particularly tasty in negitoro, a steak tartare-esque preparation of chopped toro and scallions, topped with a quail egg), and even more marbled otoro, the ultimate in sushi/sashimi decadence.
C'mon, an overpriced sushi joint? We only have about a hundred of those, so why reward a new one? Well, friends, try out Nobuyuki Matsuhisa's dishes and then come back and tell us it wasn't worth every penny. So what if some whine about the décor. People! Style over substance has been Miami's cement shoes for too long. And so what if the super-fresh sashimi melted in your mouth so quickly and deliciously you almost forgot you just ate it. And who cares if chopsticks were used as weapons for the very last crumbs from the black codfish with miso. It doesn't matter. What does matter is this: Miami finally has a Matsuhisa masterhouse to return to over and over again for more of the same. For the first time in a while, a restaurant has opened that can truly contend with the best of the best.
A delicate rose fashioned from slender blush-pink slices of tuna. Carefully carved thin strips of cucumber wrapped around crab stick, avocado, masago, and shrimp. Wooden boats bursting with artfully arranged squares of fish. How fresh is it? Take a glance behind the sushi bar. If the huge white tuna slumped across the sink, ready for carving, is any hint, very.
Chocolate is not a bad or dangerous thing. Chocolate is good medicine for the brain, the blood, the sweet tooth. And the Sweet Tooth's chocolate is very good, made on the premises. From chocolate hearts and cherries to truffles and luscious creams, feast your eyes (did we mention chocolate improves night vision?) on the velvety array of goodies at this well-equipped chocolate clinic. The selection is so stunning, especially on holidays, you may be temporarily paralyzed. The Sweet Tooth people know how you feel and have thoughtfully prepared all kinds of beautiful and therapeutic gift baskets and boxes.
No, it's not really about the drinks. You've had those before. And it's not really about the décor, which is clean and fine but not spectacular. It's also not about the specials, because there aren't really official hours for happiness here. It's about the only reason people seek out happy hours to begin with: the scene. What? On Miracle Mile in the stuffy Gables, you might sneer? Yup. There's a new dawn in that part of town and it's raising a toast at the new Houston's after work. Good mix of cocktails, ages, ethnicities, sexes, economic positions. The men and women behind the bar are friendly, as are the people sitting next to you. Starting late in the afternoon on Friday often you won't find a stool or even standing room, so the party spills out into the street. If you need further proof this isn't the Gables of old, consider: Once you've downed your after-work libations, you can move on to other attractions. Huh? Life after 8:00 p.m. in the City Beautiful? Yes, truly a new dawn.
This is truly the hole-in-the-wall that has it all. Almost indistinguishable from the other storefronts along this part of North Miami Avenue, Clive's makes its mark at the cozy counter set up with great Jamaican favorites like curry goat, oxtail, and cowfoot. With ample food packed on a five-dollar special, this is a can't-miss deal every afternoon. The chicken is cooked to diner perfection and the curry is a smooth blend that avoids the fire-alarm spices of other native cuisines. The mood is laid-back, with a pleasant Mrs. P taking good care of the customers and a small radio pumping out reggae sounds. You just may catch Clive's fan Lenny Kravitz taking in the scene. Clive's is great for take-out but just as nice for a midafternoon stop to take it easy.