Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! No, it's a plane! No, wait -- it's a brisket sandwich on rye! Located in the Sky Lobby of the I.M. Pei-designed Bank of America Tower is Sky Grille, a cafeteria mostly inhabited by the building's sizable workforce -- but open to the public. The corporate-handsome dining room follows the famous curve of the building, and a glass wall affords diners a bird's-eye view of downtown. An outdoor terrace with umbrella-shaded tables is even more picturesque, but the most breathtaking sight might very well be that of the food: It is miles above typical cafeteria fare. Grab a tray and mosey along the various stations (all clean and modern) until you find something that strikes your fancy. A salad bar at the front tempts with a wide array of garnishes and greens ($5.60 per pound), but so does the hot food station, which pumps out freshly grilled sandwiches (meaty churrasco, Philadelphia cheese steak) and full, warm meals. On any given day the latter might include paella, chicken Marsala, pork loin with citrus mojo sauce, or seared mahi-mahi -- with roll and two sides or salads it totals $6.99; two dollars more and you are privy to a 22-ounce soda and dessert. There is also a cold-sandwich station, where the breads (five types, including ciabatta) are stuffed with Italian coldcuts, mozzarella, tomatoes, chicken salad, and the like ($5 to $6). A one-third-pound hamburger off the grill is just $3.95. It's a gorgeous place to enjoy breakfast too -- Sky Grille opens for that meal from 7:30 a.m. to 10:00 a.m.; lunch from 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Next time you are trying to think of a new place to eat downtown, look up in the sky.

You can't beat the beat-the-clock deal at this neat Lincoln Road café. Beginning at 5:30 p.m., the price for a half-kilogram casserole of steamy mussels with a side of Belgian fries is $5.30. At 5:47 p.m. the same serving costs $5.47, and as time continues to tick upward, so does price until 7:00 p.m. sharp! Regular price for a mussel pot is $15.50, which makes this the sort of bargain that can morph anyone into an early bird. The lusciously plump mollusks come steamed six wondrous ways, including with beer and smoked bacon; in a curry sauce spiked with lime, coconut, and chilies; and awash in white wine and lobster bisque. The rest of the Belgian-inspired, mostly seafood menu is solid as well, and more than twenty brews are served in their respective brewery-designed glasses. With its alfresco dining on Lincoln Road and incumbent people-watching potential, this mussels-from-Brussels eatery is worthwhile any time. Still, we suggest setting your watches for this deal.

It happens like clockwork the first Wednesday of each month at 11:30 a.m. Sizable flocks of patrons file into Bugatti, settle into seats, take a cursory peek at the menu of Italian fare, perhaps peruse the reasonably priced wine list, dip their rustic breads into a plate of greenish olive oil, turn to the waiters, and say, "We'll have the lasagna." Then when it arrives steaming-hot, they ooh and aah, only to fall silent as they relish the fresh, chewy noodles; mild minced beef and veal; and smooth, white Parmesan-pumped béchamel sauce (note: no gloppy cheese, no overpowering red sauce, no oily sausage). Newcomers are welcome to join this once-a-month cult of lasagna lovers, but those who don't arrive early enough for lunch will most assuredly have to wait some time for a table. And there is one cruel ritual of admission for those who are tardy for dinner: Not only will you wait for a seat, but also you will be burdened with the horrifying knowledge that the lasagna inevitably sells out well before the last diners are seated.

A tip of the toque to Pascal Oudin, who five years ago left the safe and prestigious confines of the Grand Bay Café's grand dining room and set off to open a little French bistro of his own. It was a roll of the dice, a decision to work harder for less security and surety of financial reward. He did it because he wanted to cook his food his way in his restaurant. And it has paid off for him and, more selfishly, for us: There is nothing better than eating in a small, personal dining establishment run by a talented chef/owner. Tim Andriola followed suit by leaving Mark's South Beach for his own Timo; Dewey LoSasso sailed from China Grill Management to open North One 10; and Frank Randazzo and Andrea Curto-Randazzo bid adieu to the Gaucho Room and Wish to form a tasty tandem at Talula -- and we have three more great restaurants because of it. This year Frank Jeannetti jumped from Pearl to his own Ernie's Restaurant, Michelle Bernstein took the big leap from Azul to Michy's, and Norman Van Aken has plans to establish a more intimate eatery of his own in Key West. This all bodes well for those who crave authentic, chef-crafted cuisine served by staff who care -- in other words, a great dining experience. It also provides an optimistic countering force against the worst new local dining trend: upscale-casual restaurants.

Not every kitchen crew breaks down its own chickens, ducks, steaks, and fish; rolls and cuts all the pastas; and prepares molé, mayonnaise, and madeira-laced foie gras torchon from scratch. Not every restaurant rustles up rustic dishes such as polenta with runny poached egg, bacon, Pecorino-Romano cheese, and shaved truffle; Southern-fried quail with honey and peaches; and watercress/tarragon salad with goat cheese, caramelized shallots, and halved green grapes. Nor, for that matter, do many eateries offer all menu items by the half-course (ranging from $6 to $12), which makes sampling multiple plates much more affordable. You will not easily find an in-house pastry department that churns out comfort desserts with contemporary twists -- specifically the baked Alaska with dulce de leche ice cream, though the strawberry shortcake perfumed with orange blossom would fit the bill as well. Admittedly Michy's is not alone in affording patrons a comfortable dining room, amiable service, pristine raw bar, and concise, cutting-edge wine list, but it is unique in having a chef of Michelle Bernstein's caliber working in the kitchen. Her influence alone is enough to make Michy's big news, but it is all of these other distinctive characteristics that make it the best new restaurant in town.

This category was established last year as a sort of hall of fame -- win once, and you're no longer qualified. Because we have a lot of catching up to do in honoring our best chefs, from here on in we will induct two at a time. Last year's inaugural winner was Norman Van Aken, which makes Mark Militello and Allen Susser the obvious choices to follow. These three, after all, are most closely associated with rediscovering the region's bounty of fresh fish and tropical produce and resuscitating them into a vital, nationally recognized New Florida/New World cuisine. Mark has a few more restaurants, Allen a few more cookbooks, but between them they have won so many awards there is probably no room on their walls to display this one. What a slap in the face! Still, we salute the passion, integrity, charitability, and unbridled culinary talent of these two prominent pioneers, who unlike typical hall-of-famers continue to excel in their fields: Chef Allen's (since 1986), Mark's South Beach, and Mark's Las Olas (the original Mark's Place opened in 1988) are still, after all these years, counted among South Florida's elite restaurants.

From the exterior, Cocopelli looks like the sort of bistro where the soupe al'oignon comes crusted with construction dust. Or like a place you can't enter without overcoming great obstacles. Worse, it resembles a restaurant that's closed. That's because this homespun bistro opened on a stretch of Biscayne Boulevard just as renovation on the road was beginning. Jackhammers blasted away. Dust and debris went flying. Frustrated drivers leaned on their horns, and gas fumes plumed from idling cars. Rather than head out on the town for a casual French dinner, the café's customers battled a slow crawl through what to the untrained eye looked like Kabul. Yet through it all, Cocopelli kept cooking up rustic renditions of classic bistro fare. Tender escargots. Foie gras terrine. Steak frites. Grouper en papillote. Homemade fruit tarts. And a funny thing happened: Loyal locals struggled through the hostile territory for the delicious food, affordable prices (most entrées cost less than $20), and accommodating service. Now that the war zone has moved south and the dust has settled, we'll all be able to see more clearly what an exemplary little neighborhood restaurant this is.

In May 2004, Marvin Woods opened his cozy, low-country restaurant at Biscayne Boulevard and 129th Street. In May 2005, M Woods' fried chicken was deemed best in these pages. Now it's May 2006, and Mr. Woods and his award-winning birds have flown the coop. Farewell, lobster dumplings in vanilla-bean lobster broth and coconut-steamed shellfish. See ya, Cajun rib eye and luscious pulled pork. Bye-bye, Caribbean jerk duck cake, braised oxtail, and gumbo with fresh crabmeat and homemade duck sausage. Let's hope Marvin finds another place to roost real soon so we don't have to forever bid adieu to his outrageously scrumptious, seven-layer red velvet cake. Somewhere Elvis must be frowning.

Pacific Time's original pastry chef created what is generally regarded as South Florida's first chocolate bombe. Nowadays every restaurant serves a version of this warm bittersweet chocolate cake with melted bittersweet chocolate center. Some call it "molten chocolate cake" or "chocolate volcano"; more than a few deceptive proprietors refer to it as "soufflé." Regardless of how it reads on the menu, the dome-shape product is usually delivered to the restaurant frozen and then is warmed to its oozy state in the microwave. Pacific Time is one of our finest dining establishments and, as such, does not have a microwave on premises. The flourless bombes are baked in the oven, per order, and make competitors' renditions taste like cupcakes pumped with Hershey's syrup. Other desserts are explosively rewarding as well, and much like the cuisine at this Pan-Asian eatery, they are defined by clean, exquisite flavors. Apple tatin is crisply crusted and drizzled with rosemary-flecked caramel sauce. A pink pepper tuile cuddles fresh strawberry ice cream infused with aged balsamic vinegar. Pot de cr?ème, an ethereally creamy pudding, delves decadently deep in espresso and bitter chocolate. Baked Alaska and key lime are merged into one wondrous delight. Prices for these precious treats run from $7.50 to $11.50. Dessert wines by the glass include popular Bonny Doon Framboise and a riveting 1997 Far Niente Dolce. Choose from excellent coffee drinks too. Go to Pacific Time for one of the finest seafood dinners in town, but linger over dessert. It's the bomb. And more.

Inconspicuously tucked into a nondescript strip mall, Plein Sud defines the term quiet little bistro. No star chef, glossy magazine ads, or featured appearances at the South Beach Wine & Food Festival. No breathless word-of-mouth among the SoBe arbiters of hot spots. No marketing maven marveling at the rustic, flower-dappled décor. No PR machine boasting about the homemade foie gras terrine, blanquette de veau, or beef Bourguignonne -- which, incidentally, bursts with lusty red wine aromatics. Still, the seats are filled at this North Miami restaurant, mostly with locals who luxuriate in the unpretentious ambiance, personalized service, and authentic provincial French fare. Patrons also get a good deal, because just about every entrée costs less than $20. There are bigger and bouncier bistros, to be sure, but Plein Sud is plainly one of the best. Regardless of whether you care or not.