Smith & Wollensky is not only a venerated institution for steak, but it also has one of the loveliest views in the nation. The restaurant is located in South Pointe Park, on the southernmost tip of Miami Beach. That piece of real estate happens to overlook Government Cut, the shipping channel that leads to PortMiami. The restaurant recently completed a major renovation, which means more outdoor space and a second-floor alfresco bar. So while you're enjoying your USDA Prime boneless New York strip ($50), you can wave to the happy cruisers setting off for points south. If you're on a budget, try the steak sandwich, made with the same prime beef, for a wallet-friendly $19.

Readers' choice: Rusty Pelican

Ask Tyrone Johnson for one of his sweet-and-sour-glazed racks of ribs ($16 for a half-rack, $23 for a full) that have been sitting in a far corner of his grill for three or more hours. The color has morphed from reddish amber to deep, chocolatey brown. The meat slips off the bone with little more than a hard stare. But before you can make this request, you have to find his family-run barbecue operation, the Mustard Seed. Begin by heading south on SW 107th Avenue toward West Perrine; then turn left on 176th Street and left again on 105th Avenue. Yes, you're in a quiet residential neighborhood, and, yes, you're in the right place. Notice the smell of meat in the air? Keep going, and keep your eyes peeled for a parking spot. They're hard to come by on weekend evenings when Johnson and his extended family roll out the barrel grills, coolers, and noisy fans that help keep the crowd cool. When you spot the floodlight illuminating a bellowing column of smoke, you're in the right place.

Readers' choice: Shorty's Bar-B-Q

Forty-three-year-old Javier Ramirez led a charmed childhood in Caracas. His parents were both physicians, and he earned an economics degree from Universidad Católica Andrés Bello, then took a job in Venezuela's vast, insanely profitable oil industry. He would have stayed in the country if strongman Hugo Chávez hadn't swept into power in 1999. The move pushed Ramirez abroad, first to London and eventually to Miami, where a lifelong obsession with food became more serious. It was so serious, in fact, that he now has a hand in Wynwood's Alter and Cake Thai, as well as Brickell's Bachour Bakery + Bistro. There's little doubt the three restaurants are among the city's most exciting. Alter's Brad Kilgore has claimed armfuls of awards, including Food & Wine magazine's Best New Chef nod in 2016. Cake Thai serves the city's best traditional Thai fare, and Bachour sells a sugary feast for the senses. Ramirez has no plans to slow down.

Not long after opening Michael Schwartz's very first Harry's Pizzeria in 2011, Manny Sulbaran struck out on his own and headed for the glamorous thoroughfares and wide avenues of Doral. To this fair city, now inextricably linked to President Donald Trump thanks to his ownership of its famed golf course, Sulbaran brought a simple, flavorful sensibility founded upon the same ingredient-centric ethos that made Schwartz so successful. Hence, the place brings in whole yellowfin Atlantic grouper, mangrove snapper, yellow jack, or other fresh-caught fish before dishing out perfectly cooked fillets with everything from black bean fried rice ($5.49) to roasted cauliflower, zucchini, and squash doused in pungent salsa verde ($5.49). Those same fish also form the foundation of an ever-rotating list of ceviches ($6 small, $11 large) that you might find topped with watermelon radishes, basil, and ají amarillo. Of course, don't forget the bubble tea flavored with fruits, lychee jelly, and many other ingredients. And while you're deciding, try the tea made with the Asian tuber called taro. It's slightly nutty and sugary like a sweet potato and leaves the drink an alluring lavender.

Readers' choice: Pincho Factory

There are dozens of reasons to visit this cash-only Indonesian spot downtown. There's the barbecued eel dish called belut bumbu kecap ($10.50) that comes over a mound of sticky rice and is topped with a nest of pickled carrots and cucumbers. Had that too many days in a row? Opt for the soto betawi ($8.50), a creamy beef stew fortified with mounds of grated ginger, sweet soy, and a pop of lemon. But the crown jewel of Bali Café is the multicourse tasting menu called rijsttafel ($14.95). It starts with a miso soup and one of the thin fried rollups called lumpia that are ubiquitous in Southeast Asia. At Bali, yours could be filled with anything from beef and vegetables to a briny shrimp paste. Crackers called emping ride alongside supple chunks of fiery beef rendang and chicken legs slowly braised in rich coconut milk. The meal continues with stir-fried vegetables, fried fish, and a white rice side. When it's all over, just be happy you live in Miami, where a colada is never far out of reach. You'll need one to make it through the afternoon.

Zak Stern's deli is what might have happened had Eastern European Jews first arrived in South Florida rather than the concrete jungles of New York City. Chef Melissa Sosa, age 25, has a notebook full of recipes but an empty ingredient checklist. After all, there is no pike, cod, or similar white-fleshed fish that is required for so much of Jewish cuisine in the waters off Miami. But with a little digging, some glimmers of hope have appeared. Sosa uses the little-known species blue runner from purveyor Trigger Seafood to make a fish salad that is just as smoky and salty as anything one might pull from the North Atlantic. And the sandwich ($13) it yields is nothing short of miraculous. Dill fronds and flecks of celery help accentuate the fish and provide crunch alongside a verdant fan of butter lettuce. The kitchen is also toying with Florida grass carp, a native species found in the state's bountiful wetlands that might work to make gefilte fish. For the unadventuresome, the corned beef sandwich ($16), which brings thick slices of cured brisket piled onto slices of horseradish-mustard-slicked corn rye, will never be a bad choice.

You know the evils of red meat and the havoc that cows wreak on the environment, but tonight is a special occasion. It's worth it, because it's Wolfgang's. Here's how it goes down: Take a seat in a dining room with more mahogany than a Southeast Asian jungle. Demand a table by the window. This is Miami, after all, and dining within eyeshot of a few palm trees and the glittering bay is your birthright. Begin with the sizzling Canadian bacon ($4.95). A slab of the cured stuff is cut extrathick, so thick your cardiologist at her Pinecrest home miles away knocks over her Pellegrino because she senses it. If you must have a salad, make it the Wolfgang salad ($13.95). It's loaded with shrimp and bacon batons cooked until crisp. Then comes the main: a porterhouse for two, of course. Even if you're a party of one, you want the porterhouse for two. It's all about the sizzling plate popping and sputtering with melted beef fat. It's the ruby-red slabs of meat, each encased in a rectangular shell of char that can be achieved only with the kitchen's 1,600-degree oven. Creamed spinach is a good accompaniment. The German-style potato ($11.95), cooked with enough clarified butter to grease an airport runway, is better. Whatever dessert you choose, make sure it's topped with a tall mountain of rich whipped cream. That is how you steakhouse.

Readers' choice: Prime 112

What's better than fast food? Colombian fast food on wheels. Specifically, Colombian fast food prepared by Perros Express, the Miami-based food truck specializing in the South American country's colorful, street-food-style hot dogs, burgers, and late-night eats. The dogs and burgers served here are the real deal, genuine delicacies where more toppings equals more hype. It's the type of food you need to chow down when you're starving, stoned, drunk, or hung over. In other words: Colombian fast food at its finest (and most gaudily dressed). At first glance, the menu's biggest, baddest signature hot dog, the Super Paisa Perro, appears garishly overgarnished with an amalgam of ten colorful toppings. So just what is all that stuff? Basically, a steamed dog with melted mozzarella-like white queso and a smorgasbord of toppings. It begins with a heavy drizzling of garlic mayo, pink sauce, a secret "showy" sauce, mustard, and ketchup. All of that dream-cream is followed by a hearty helping of diced bacon and crushed potato chips, then capped off with a final swipe of golden pineapple purée. And watching it being made is almost as much fun as dismantling it.

Readers' choice: Ms. Cheezious

Since 1990, Graziano's has been known as the top spot for Argentine fare in South Florida. Indeed, several other locations, including outposts in Hialeah, Doral, and Weston, have popped up since. They all began with Buenos Aires-born founder and longtime butcher Mario Graziano, who today is proud to have been among the first to bring the cuisine and culture to Miami. The family started off small at the first market off Coral Way and then expanded with a small menu of traditional Argentine grilled meats. Today the largest location, in Coral Gables, has also evolved into a casual eatery serving prepared foods and offering seated dining; it began as an informal parking-lot dining room where soda crates were used as chairs. Open from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. weekdays and midnight on weekends, the market has a dedicated meat counter that offers high-end cuts of Argentina's finest steaks, the aisles are stocked with Argentine-sourced items, and breads and pastries are handmade by bakers who learned the craft in Argentine towns. But the best might be the steaks, prepared in-house over the quebracho-fueled fire; this red wood grows mostly in Argentina and southern Brazil and lends an unmistakable flavor to the meats. There's also an extensive wine selection sourcing small, family-run vineyards. And for a corkage fee, any bottle can be popped and poured on premises to enjoy after shopping, during lunch, or for happy hour from 5 to 9 p.m.

Located in the SLS Brickell Hotel & Residences in downtown Miami, the 210-seat Bazaar Mar specializes in the bounty of the ocean, with a seasonal emphasis on items sourced from Miami and the Caribbean. As its name implies — mar is Spanish for "sea" — the restaurant offers everything from executive chef José Andrés' take on "sea snacks" like ceviche and tiradito to whole fish prepared almost any way you can imagine. But the real gem here is the raw bar, where guests can select from a number of sashimi and crudo selections that vary based on what's in season. It's not uncommon to find offerings such as greater amberjack from the Cantabrian Sea alongside local rainbow runner or yellow jack, and rare finds like ora king salmon belly, Japanese hamachi, and kampachi from Hawaii. A massive mollusk tank allows the chef to keep a variety of exotic live sea creatures, including geoduck (saltwater clams), abalone (large sea snails), and sea urchin (the ocean's hedgehog), sourced from all over the world and kept live only to be split open — the animal still wriggling — and cut sashimi-style just moments before serving. Ask for Andrés' favorite raw bar dish: geoduck served displaying the skirt and the siphon, braised with soy and aromatics to create a briny sauce.