Call it an extension of Murphy's Law: The last place you'd ever think to look for something is where it usually is. Your car keys? Yup, they're lodged under that unread Dr. Phil book your aunt gave you. That green T-shirt you haven't seen in weeks? Balled up into a tiny space you didn't know existed between your TV set and faux fireplace. The best hummus in Miami? Calle Ocho. No lie. Amid the cafecito-slinging counters and Mexican taquerias, just west of I-95 on SW Eighth Street, there's an out-of-place green awning topped with two marks in flowing Arabic script. Step inside Barbar Grill and it's clear you've found the real deal: Hookahs are on display above counters lined with shisha and imported date cookies and sesame crackers for sale. Order the hummus. At Barbar, the smooth Levantine dip is the picture of flawlessly whipped perfection: a beige mix of chickpeas, nutty tahini, piquant garlic, and crisp olive oil. Served with Barbar's warm, homemade pita bread — a tangy, nearly sourdough take on the staple — and you'll easily mistake the heart of Cuban Miami for Little Beirut. Just don't lose your keys. You'll never guess where they are.