Eat & Drink

Burgers stuffed with foie gras; burgers made from ground Kobe beef (destroying the whole point of this already butter-tender meat); burgers made from, and topped with, all manner of horrifyingly healthy stuff; burgers like the $99 double-truffle creation at DB’s Bistro in Manhattan…. The chichi burger thing is one of today’s hottest food trends. And we’re so, so over it. For a taste that’ll take you back to simpler, greasier times, hit this burger joint for a six-pack of old-fashioned sliders. Royal Castle’s burgers are two-bite burgers — like the Northeast’s White Castles, or the Deep South’s Krystals, but homegrown. In 1965 there were 287 shops in the chain, founded by Miami’s “Hamburger King” William Singer; they were found throughout Florida, Georgia, Lousiana, and Tennessee. The chain no longer exists, but there is still this one independently run survivor in town that serves up classic thin patties sandwiched in comforting cottony-soft buns. The burgers’ protein component is, admittedly, minimal. The beef patties are mostly just little edible coasters to hold the fried onions, full of good griddle grease, that are the main flavor component of all sliders. And an honest all-American junk food flavor it is. The price: 80 cents (90 cents for a cheeseburger), a bargain even when you eat a half-dozen.

It seems appropriate to defer to an expert here. There is little disparity between wings — the best aren’t all that much better than the worst. And we happen to prefer Hooters’ plump cuts, which are dusted with flour and deep-fried, soaked with a sharp sauce, nothing more. Yes, keep it simple, stupid. Problem is, to enjoy those pieces you have to go to Hooters. Our expert: actor John Travolta, whose puffy gut suggests he knows how to handle a knife and fork. Or, in this case, his fingers. The Scientologist/pilot/dancer always pops into Tom’s when he visits Miami. He doesn’t do so for the many high-def TV sets, or the noisy ambiance, or the bar-food menu. He does so for the chicken wings, which come by the dozen ($7.95), “special grilled” or with a traditional but zingy sauce in hot, medium, or mild. Turns out ol’ John is a pretty nice guy, down to earth and something of an aviation groupie. He hangs out with members of the airline trade, and he packs away the tasty wings at this airport-adjacent institution. These tidbits meet all the qualifications of winning wings — meaty pieces, perfectly dusted, nice and juicy — and ascend on the strength of that homemade sauce, which sends Mr. Travolta, and everyone else, right to the cooling celery and bleu cheese dressing. As well as a couple of ice-cold brews — unless you’re scheduled to fly.

The Oxford English Dictionary traces “French-fried potatoes” back to 1894, and suggests that the usage is American in origin. “French-frieds” were first mentioned in print in 1915. The term “French fries” dates to the Thirties. “French 75” is a cocktail made from gin, Cointreau, champagne, and lemon juice, and has nothing whatsoever to do with potatoes. French fries cut thinly, fried crisply, entwined in a nest of fried fresh herbs, and piled high upon a platter are informally known as “patate frite alla Toscana.” You can get them only at Il Migliore, the ultimate neighborhood Tuscan-style trattoria that is also known for perfectly cooked pastas; scrumptious meat, poultry, and seafood dishes; reasonable prices; and a can’t-be-beat 28-wines-for-$28 program. The French fries at Il Migliore were first mentioned in print as the best in town in 2007 by Miami New Times, which traces the origin of the recipe to chef/owner Neal Cooper, credits the fries’ fulsome flavor to Mr. Cooper’s relentless quest for quality, and notes that the price for a table-sharing platter’s worth is $6.95.

Francisco Cabrera came to Miami from Havana in 1980. “I am a licensed food vendor, living the American dream!” he proclaims, smiling. You might see Francisco speeding up and down Biscayne Boulevard in his bright-orange mobile hot dog stand. It looks like a large golf cart with a small cooking grill on the back. “I like to call it the snow cone mobile,” he says. A jumbo hot dog with French fries and a snow cone goes for $3.50. Free condiments include sauerkraut, sweet onions, relish, and of course ketchup, mayo, and mustard. Super Franizado is the antithesis of a drive-through, since cars can wave him down to pull over. Which he always does.

When prehistoric man cooked the first piece of chicken, he dreamed of a succulent piece of meat encased by a jacket of crispy, perfectly seasoned skin. And that hunch-backed, big-foreheaded man dreamed of said chicken being juicy, and with a hint of thyme and rosemary that would dance on his tongue. And he thought, “Maybe it would be good propped up on a pillow of horseradish mashed potatoes!” Sadly, bro-Magnon’s chicken probably didn’t come out the way he imagined it back then, but thanks to his reincarnation as a Geico spokesperson he does have another chance to fulfill his dream with the “Crispy Chicken Madison” at 510 Ocean. For $22 you get a hunka-hunka chicken and a mound of perfectly spicy mashed potatoes. The words to describe this dish go something like mouthwatering, scrumptious, divine, et cetera, et cetera. It’s so delicious, even a caveman can tell.

This hole-in-the-wall Haitian joint pretends to be a store, but the people lined up at the window and two-deep at the counter just want one thing: fried chicken. Or, as the Haitian cooks and customers say, poulet frite. The batter is crispy and delightful, not too oily. You could belly up to the counter in the somewhat dingy “supermarket” (basically a few aisles of moldering produce and dry goods) or you could do takeout. A recent trip to the sidewalk window netted three fat drumsticks, a heaving helping of rice and beans, fried plantains, and an iceberg lettuce salad with tomato and pepper. All that for $7, no tax, no fuss.

(Sung to the tune of “Me & Julio Down by the Schoolyard”)

Mama Pajama roll out of work and she run to the Sky Lakes Mall, man
I say, “Oy, if she beats us there, boy
There’ll be no more wraps or sandwiches left there.
“So I’m on my way
I’m thirsting for a smoothie
Maybe one of 100-plus juices,
Or a salubrious protein shake
Goodbye, Mickey-Dee
The scourge of America
Me at Julio’s Natural Food Store
I say me at Julio’s Natural Food Store.

Damn — too short a song to get all the details in (knew we should have gone with “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”!): the clean, white walls with green leaf motif. The complimentary tray of cucumber wedges and carrot sticks. The assortment of soups, the steamed veggie plate, the grilled tofu with nutty brown rice, tuna fish salad heated with Serrano chiles, fish dishes, and a flock of chicken dishes too. Huevos rancheros is one of a number of breakfast treats — and good coffee drinks! Julio’s stays open for dinner as well. Juices and smoothies are $3 to $9, breakfast $6 to $9, and all entrees are less than $10 ($12 for fish). Come to think of it, with prices this low, we should have chosen a 50 Cent tune.

Sally seeks Doraku for the sake of the sake, or sometimes simply to sip saketinis. She salivates over the sensational sushi, sashimi, and seafood specialties — salmon, scallops, snapper, shrimp, sea bass, surf clams, smelt fish roe, and so on. She sighs when skimming over the salad section — should she snare the seared salmon salad soaked with yuzu, seaweed salad with sesame vinaigrette, seasoned squid and spring greens squired with spicy peanut sauce, or seafood salad with salmon, snapper, whitefish, mango, and miso dressingç The price for the spectrum of salads is sort of the same: $6 to $13. Such scrumptious selections!

A great caesar salad is a dish of rare beauty. A great free caesar salad is so rare and beauteous you want to fall to your knees and thank Goddess (or Caesar Cardini, who invented the thing). Actually the caesar salad at this old-timey Coral Gables steakhouse isn’t exactly free; it comes with the price of your entrée (which will range from $20 to $36), preferably a thick, juicy, blood-rare slab of aged Midwestern beef, as tender as a lover’s caress and tasty as a lover’s … well, you get the idea. But back to the caesar. The lettuce is the requisite pale and crunchy inner leaves of romaine, the dressing creamy but not overly so, achieving the perfect tart-pungent balance that makes the caesar the emperor of salads.

If you’re traveling through South Florida, Homestead is a good place to stop to refuel your internally combusted steed. And Mario’s classy, comfortable restaurant next to the Inn at Homestead is a fine place to refuel yourself as well, by sucking down a perfectly made café cubano, a.k.a. Cuban nitroglycerin. Whether in the good-looking, tile-floored dining room or outdoors on the expansive, awning-covered patio, your cubano comes with a properly foamy head atop a sweet, syrupy, wickedly caffeinated coffee. It’s cheaper than unleaded regular and a lot better for you. For 55 cents, you can get it 24 hours a day at Mario’s takeout window.

The container is always the same: a small styrofoam cup with tight-fitting white plastic lid. The recipe doesn’t vary much either: generally Bustelo-brand espresso in a 50/50 mix with steamed milk. Plus lots of sugar. It will come as sweet as candy unless you plead, over and over again, for no sugar. And then it will still come sweetened. Try saying it in Spanish: café con leche SIN AZUCAR, por favor. Three or four times. That usually works. But we digress. Point is, once you’ve seen and tasted one café con leche in Miami, it seems as though you have seen and tasted them all. So in attempting to discern the best, other circumstantial factors must be weighed. Can you get the coffee at a ventanita without having to enter the restaurant? At El Pub you sure can, and the window here opens onto Calle Ocho and all the color that entails. Not only can you lean nonchalantly at the outdoor counter and take part in the cafecito ritual with other casual locals, but you can also get a glass of fresh sugar cane juice, or order some solid Cuban fare. Just want a little cup of ice water with your coffeeç A thermos of it, with paper cones, is in its traditional spot at the corner of the counter. So you can nab a similar café con leche around town, at about the same price ($1.50). You just won’t find a better spot in which to drink it.

The American butcher is dead. He was flattened by a cross-country truck packed with Boar’s Head lunchmeat and buried under a pile of supermarket killhouse fare. And while you can brave the obnoxious foodie crowd at Whole Foods for a $9 organic porkchop, that’s not what red meat is about. At Che, Tano, they know this. Swim through the sea of hard-to-find Italian coffees, fresh bread, empanadas, cheeses, pastries, and sandwiches to get to the monolithic meat section. There you’ll find spirals of fresh salchicha, whole sides of prime churrasco, and piles of blood sausage. A friendly staff will assist you with gauging your needs (“Twelve peopleç” “Eight-and-a-half pounds.”). They’ll give you tips on preparation too. Grab a bag of hardwood charcoal and you’re ready to mess with Texas.The Argentine carniceria has been in business for more than ten years, hidden in a little West Kendall shopping mall behind a Dunkin’ Donuts. Prices are reasonable, if not cheap, with sausage and beef usually costing between $5 and $6 per pound.

Your average Yucatecan wouldn’t know a taco from a meatball parmigiana sandwich, but don’t tell that to the owners of this neat and petite 40-seat restaurant, which specializes in cuisine from the Mayan peninsula. After all, if they want to sneak some fetching Mexican and Tex-Mex items onto their menu, it would be wrong of us to spoil things with regional quibbling — especially when among the non-Yucatecan delights are the most kickass tacos al pastor in town.The trio of corn tortillas come sumptuously plumped with nothing but pork, the smoky nubs of meat softly grilled and subtly sweetened with pineapples and onions. Refried beans, salsa verde, and guacamole are served on the side, which is downright generous for a plate costing just $8.49. Plus it leaves plenty of pesos for glasses of Dos XX on tap.

It might seem off the wall to say that the place to get great fajitas is an upscale, healthy-fast-food eatery in a traffic-choked Kendall shopping mall. Not if you’ve eaten at Off the Grille Bistro, though. This sleek little place proves that good-tasting and good-for-you are not morons of the oxy variety, whether you’re grabbing a daily lunch or dinner of hearty salads, burgers, or juicy marinated pork. Or fajitas, which at Off the Grille are presented already packaged as wraps, but still deliver all the flavor of the more traditional version without adding a spare tire to your waistline. A whole wheat tortilla gets stuffed with tender chunks of smoky grilled sirloin and bulked up with sautéed onions, roasted peppers, cheese, and salsa. Like virtually everything else on the menu, it’s less than $10. Now, that is really on the mark.

Native to Venezuela and Colombia, the arepa is a corn pone split in half and then stuffed with goodness, resulting in a stomach-expanding cornmeal sandwich. At this small Venezuelan strip mall cafe, they have every variety, each less than $5: There’s the basic cheese-and-butter filling with traditional Venezuelan queso de año — a salty cheese that’s white and crumbly. There’s the arepa de perico, full of eggs scrambled with peppers and tomatoes. The reina pepeada has a filling of chicken salad mixed with potatoes, carrots, and avocado. And the best is the arepa de carne mechada, where the corn cake is stuffed with a juicy beef that’s been stewed with tomatoes and onions — not unlike ropa vieja. All are served greasy and hot with a plastic bottle of garlic mayonnaise to squirt on top.

One would not ordinarily expect the top tapas in town to be tendered from the interior of a Citgo gas station. Or any gas station, for that matter. Yet enter the convenience store in the Citgo just off U.S. 1 and SW Seventeenth Avenue, mosey on by the motor oil and potato chips and stuff, and you will surely come across this quaintest of tiny tapas bars, designed like a faux courtyard. And just as thoroughly unexpected as the location is exactly how high Argentine-born, Italian-trained chef Luis Javier Cano raises the tapas bar with finger-licking finger foods such as garlicky gambas a la plancha (griddled shrimp); corvina ceviche; grilled sardines; and a must-order, show-stopping rendition of picadillo pepper puffed with bacalao. Tons of choices, all blessedly cheap ($5 to $18). There are also approximately 1500 bottles of wine on the shelves, many from Spain, any gladly opened and poured by an amiable waiter for a $10 corkage fee. The price on Halvoline Motor Oil isn’t bad, either.

Mofongo is urban street lingo for bold and sassy in demeanor; a sultry or delicious presence; an attitude. As in: I mean like, damn son, dat bitch gots crazy mofongo, word up, all sorts of wanting to tap dat, for real … mmm…. This colorful slang derives from the traditional Puerto Rican specialty of mashed plantains mixed with garlic and other flavorings and fried up in a pan. It can be served plain, as a side dish, but when it’s stuffed with chicken, beef, or some other meat, mofongo becomes an entrée — bold, sassy, sultry, etc. In the center of the island it’s often made with pork. On the coast, it is almost always stuffed with fresh fish or shellfish. At the informal, inexpensive Papa Rudy’s, they serve it plain, stuffed with shrimp, stuffed with churrasco steak, stuffed with pork chicharrones, stuffed with fried chicken chops, and stuffed with grilled chicken breast ($7.25 to $19.95). For the past nine years, nobody has been making a better version of this starchy mash than Papa Rudy. Mmm … dass nice, kid.

While patrons at Garcia’s and Casablanca’s fawn over the Miami River, residents of the landlocked north swear by Captain Jim’s. While it may lack the waterfront vista that inspires seafood lovers with the morbid satisfaction of eating something just killed, don’t be fooled by the fish emporium’s out-of-the-way location. Captain Jim Hanson maintains a fleet in Key Largo that guarantees fresh fish every day, much of it finding its way to high-end restaurants around town. His island know-how comes through in the conch — as fritters ($5.99), in a salad ($3.95), or cracked ($6.95 for a starter, $10.95 for a main-course portion).What’s more, the adjoining market offers an ample selection of fish that can be fileted to your liking at no extra cost. The selection, though not always the most abundant in town, proves consistently cheap and choice. If you’re tired from the drive, pick a fish out of the market, take a seat in the restaurant, and have the friendly staff prepare it however you choose.

Madonna once ate here. Best fresh seafood. Case closed. What — the material girl’s endorsement isn’t good enough for you? You’re demanding more evidence before agreeing with us that Matsuri makes other seafood restaurants seem a little fishy by comparison? Well, all right, but if you don’t mind our saying so, you’re acting a little divalike. Opened in 1988, this suburban strip-mall sushi spot sports an extensive selection of raw seafood specialties as fresh as those found in a fish market. All the familiar rolls are available, along with specialties like otoro, the Kobe beef of the sea (a steal at $4 per piece). Sushi quality is high high high, prices low low low. Matsuri tosses together topnotch tempura and teriyaki, too, as well as some traditional Japanese seafood dishes that you can’t find anywhere else — from shisamo (salt-broiled freshwater smelts) to nama uni (custardy sea urchin) to ankimo ponzu ae (monkfish liver, or “Japanese foie gras”). Best fresh seafood. Case closed. Plus, Madonna once ate here.

The ramifications of a perfect crabcake were, admittedly, underestimated by all to a vast degree. Who could have foreseen that when chef Roly Cruz-Taura first unveiled his masterpiece at Fifty Restaurant, a progressive American newcomer to South Beach’s Ocean Drive, it would be so creamy and juicy, and crammed with peeky toe crab sealed tightly in paper-thin, phyllolike, fried green plantain skin, for $12ç Who would prophesy that the entire population of the state of Maryland would swoon in envyç Or that the citizenry of Baltimore would take it especially hard, and contemplate a class action suicideç And it is still difficult to believe those rumors about the soft shell crabs threatening to boycott our waters — something about there not being enough room in this town for two sensationally unique crustaceansç Why, that just sounds crazy! Maybe it’s the dab of avocado aioli atop the crabcake that puts everyone over the edge, or the smooth beurre blanc pooled below. One can only shudder to think of the chaos that will ensue if the perfect slice of pizza is ever created.

For some reason there’s an unspoken rule among many Miami restaurant owners to include some variation of conch fritters on their menus. Most of them possess the requisite crunchy exterior and soft interior; but few compare to the fritters that fly out of Chef Creole. The size and shape of a smashed tennis ball, peppery and delicious, these deep-fried delicacies represent fritters at their finest. For $4 you get four, and though they’re scrumptious and spicy on their own, for extra zing, try them with Chef Creole’s homemade pikliz sauce — made of hot peppers, vinegar, cabbage, and other secret ingredients. A tip: Follow the fritters with an order of sweet plantains, and your tongue will thank you.

It’s standing room only come lunchtime at this long-time Flagler fish market, not only because locals flock here in abundant numbers, but also because there are no chairs. There is a counter to lean on, however, and all the makings of a real Cuban fish fry — including, most important, a steady supply of fresh seafood. Like the yellowtail snapper that gets breaded, fried, and plunked into a semolina bun. For $3. That’s all there is to it. Sure you can find places to get pish-poshier fish sandwiches, maybe on focaccia with mango mayonnaise, but it won’t taste as good as this one. La Camaronera also makes incredible fried shrimp (as the name would imply), but that’s a “Best of” category for another year.

Anyone who’s been in South Florida long enough to know that the summer heat and humidity can suck the blood right out of your veins also knows that some of the best Mexican food around can be had in Homestead and nearby Florida City. El Nachito is a bit off the beaten Krome Avenue path, but it’s worth the short journey to just past Homestead Air Force Base for reliable, well-prepared versions of traditional Mexican favorites, as well as first-rate ceviche. It’s not fancy — a precise dice of fresh-tasting tilapia, gently “cooked” in lime juice, tossed with thin-sliced mild white onion, tomatoes, and cilantro, and served on a bed of shredded lettuce — but is that much better for its very simplicity. Sometimes less really is more.

This Greek/Middle Eastern newcomer draws FIU students from across the street for solid shawarma and falafel, but the star is the baklava. Flecked with pistachio or walnuts, for a mere buck and a quarter, the flaky delicacy is a godsend in Greek-poor Miami. Have yours with a cup of super-aromatic espresso and, perhaps, an academic conversation with a stranger.

One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that he had changed overnight into a giant falafel ball. There was something fishy going on. Soon enough Gregor would figure things out: He was indeed a falafel ball, and a nice plump one at that — although “giant” is probably stretching things. He was at the new, bigger, brighter, improved Pita Hut on Arthur Godfrey Road. And what was fishy is that Pita Hut is now also a kosher sushi restaurant (who would make a better bagel rollç). The full-service Japanese menu includes miso soup, basic rolls, specialty rolls, tempura rolls, and riceless rolls. But Mr. Samsa couldn’t care less about the raw fish. He had other things on his mind, as you may well imagine. Besides, he was away from the sushi, in the next-door portion of the restaurant where shawarma, shish kebabs, and hummus get prepared. And where finished falafel sandwiches are, quite honestly, things of beauty — cleanly fried, simply and faultlessly dressed in freshly diced cucumber and tomato salad, splashed with tahini, and fluffed into a soft, always warmed pita. At $5.99 each, the sandwiches remain less expensive than lesser attempts around town. Needless to say, Gregor was not thrilled to have metamorphosized into a falafel ball, but he always prided himself on being eternally optimistic. The silver lining in this case: He was not just any falafel, but the very finest.

Fiending for some Finnish Lappi? Craving Cambazola? Got a boner for some Bonne Bouche? Look no further, friend. Marky’s has all of your bases covered — in cheese. Prices aren’t much different than the usual supermarket fare (a ten-ounce hunk of Pecorino goes for $9.81), but the quality and the selection will make you do a backflip. Take in the classy ambiance of this high-end Russian joint. If you’ve got the dough, take home a pricey tin of their fine caviar — straight outta the Volga, baby. While you’re there, don’t forget to pick up a copy of the Cheese Review, a monthly newsletter devoted to what’s just in. The prices may seem high, but a good chunk of cheese and a pair of decent baguettes can last you for days. Just ask a Frenchman.

It’s a fledgling operation run by a 27-year-old Johnson & Wales grad without a storefront, but Coliene Belle’s cupcakes taste delicious — and are brilliantly marketed. Each is named for a song; Belle seems to favor pop music from the Eighties: “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” is a vanilla cupcake with sprinkles; “Raspberry Beret” is chocolate with raspberry; and “La Isla Bonita” is coconut. There’s also “Margaritaville” (key lime), “Bittersweet Symphony” (chocolate with orange icing), and “So Fresh and So Clean” (chocolate with mint) among the seventeen flavors available. Ordering is done online, via MySpace message or e-mail. For $30, customers get 24 mini cupcakes, twelve regular cupcakes, or six jumbo cupcakes. The prices may seem high, but these cupcakes differ from Publix’s in that their ingredients include nothing artificial — just real butter, fresh fruit, and high-quality chocolate. The chef charges a $5 delivery fee or will arrange to meet somewhere for a cupcake handoff. And not only are they tasty, but they’re pretty as well.

Key lime pie is one of those quintessential South Florida dishes attempted by every professional and amateur in kitchens from the ocean to the bay to the river. But like fellow local staples Cuban sandwiches and conch fritters, not all pies are created equal. Quinn’s, a restaurant perched on Ocean Drive, has beat the odds and created one boss key lime pie. Consider the qualifications: The perfect balance between acid and sweetç Check. A buttery graham cracker crustç Check. Most important of all, is the filling velvetyç Does it melt on the tongueç Check and check. At $7 a slice and served with raspberry coulis and fresh chantilly cream, the pie at Quinn’s is a culinary hole-in-one. People flock to Quinn’s for the Ocean Drive ambiance, but they stay for the wedges of key lime ecstasy.

The cover of Swensen’s menu is enough to send a diabetic into shock. Layers of ice cream covered in caramel, fudge, whipped cream, and peanuts, plus a cherry on top, will have you salivating simply from staring at the photo. Swensen’s does have another menu, one filled with hamburgers and chicken wraps, but it’s the dessert that will hypnotize you. The old-fashioned lamps and glass dishes remind you that this restaurant’s been a South Dixie Highway institution since 1971. The ice cream counter spans the entire north wall of the dining room and boasts more than 40 flavors, ranging from the brightly colored “Superhero” to the traditional rocky road. Although the prices have increased over the years — a double scoop will cost you $4.60 — the atmosphere has remained relatively unchanged. You can still get a root beer float ($4.05) or a cherry cola ($1.90). For an over-the-top treat ask for the Earthquake ($17.45) — eight scoops of ice cream covered with eight toppings — but make sure to invite some spoon-wielding reinforcements, unless you don’t mind rolling home.

As you pass the bistro-style tables outside of this bakery you’ll see why it’s worth the drive south. Upon entering — past the sign that states that all baking is done on premises, using only natural ingredients — an assortment of pastries and breads will leave you clueless as to what to buy. Because you won’t want to pick just one thing from among the rich chocolate mousse cake, fruit tarts of several varieties, cream-filled doughnuts, cheese-filled breads, and more.If you’ve come craving sweets, try an eclair ($2.75). The puff pastry keeps its air and doesn’t feel mushy, the way it can at some bakeries. It’s topped by a line of chocolate that won’t overwhelm the flavor of the thick filling. The mixed-fruit tart ($3.95) is another great choice, its crust buttery and crisp yet still soft. The cream is not overly sweet, and the arrangement of strawberries, blueberries, kiwi, peaches, and raspberries paint it beautifully.In the bread section you’ll find croissants and baguettes with a variety of stuffings. Though the French might take offense, Miami natives will appreciate the blend of cultures that is the guava croissant ($1.95). If you prefer to feel like you’re wandering through the streets of Paris, sample the pain au chocolat, a croissant bursting with chocolate, or just grab a mini baguette (50 cents) with your cafe au lait, and imagine away.

Gustavo Sidelnik was a young man in love when he first started making gelato. He had caught sight of a beautiful Italian maiden, Rosa, sitting at the counter of her father’s gelateria. Sidelnik strolled in and begged the owner, Don Giuseppe, for a job. The old gelato-maker agreed. Sidelnik worked hard, learning the art of churning deliciously creamy confections in all sorts of flavors, while secretly yearning for the lovely Rosa … until she ran off with some scoundrel named Bruno! Years later, in 1993 to be exact, Sidelnick came to Miami, where he opened the first Coco Gelato inside the CocoWalk mall. Everyone fell for Sidelnik’s gelato. In addition to traditional flavors, he produced magnificent new ones that reflect Miami’s Latin American and Caribbean influences. On the menu you will find tamarindo and guava right alongside bubblegum and dark mousse. (A small — two scoops — sells for $5.25.) Sidelnik has expanded his operations to include Miami International Airport, Bayside Marketplace, and South Beach. All four locations are open seven days a week from 10:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m., except for the Washington Avenue location, which closes at midnight.

Considering how few truly good authentic Chinese restaurants there are in Miami-Dade County, it is astonishing how many excellent Asian markets there are. And while a few, like Japanese Market on the 79th Street Causeway, specialize in the ingredients of a single country, most carry packaged products from a full range of eastern nations: China, Japan, Thailand, Vietnam, Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines. At least a couple of these pan-Asian markets (notably Lucky, in Westchester, and Chung Hing, on NE 163rd Street) also carry an assortment of oriental veggies and fruits that matches PK’s impressive produce department for variety, freshness, and display. What makes PK special is the small but scrumptious-looking glass counter on the far left side of the store, displaying the market’s housemade Chinatown-style barbecue. Among the items hanging are glistening whole roast ducks and soy-marinated chickens, their skins dark and crispy, the meat within bursting with succulent juices. There are regulation reddish strips of regular roast pork, but also crispy pork — wonderfully moist meat capped with light, crunchy panko breading. And on Saturdays and Sundays only, you’ll find barbecue spareribs, plus pei pa duck. (The latter bird is flattened, deep-fried crisp, and hung, a laborious process that renders out nearly all subcutaneous fat, while crisping the skin and concentrating the meat’s flavor.) The ‘cue runs $14 per large piece, which includes hoisin or soy dipping sauces, plus custom butchery by a tiny woman with a terrifying cleaver.

You wouldn’t think there’s much special about Peking One if you just pass by. It’s a three-table takeout space with pink Formica walls, white tile, and a counter. Above the counter, the menu is a series of photographs of typical dishes, each on a flowered white plate surrounded by baby’s breath and roses. You can see the boxes of Asian ingredients in the kitchen behind the register and hear the grill sizzle as a cook yells something in Chinese. Yet this dull exterior well conceals the tasty food that’s being created inside.Among the chef’s specials is General Tso’s chicken, a staple at most Chinese restaurants. But Peking One makes it better. The chicken is as moist as can be and swims in a sweet-yet-spicy sauce garnished with crisp broccoli. Orange chicken is similar, but the subtle citrus flavors are perfectly balanced. Pepper steak, just like Peking One’s other beef dishes, is tender and divinely spiced. And the good news goes beyond the flavors: Peking One is also pretty cheap. A “jumbo” portion of pork fried rice — three quarts — goes for $12.50. If you have a really large party, ask for the “mega” size ($30). If it’s just you, lunch can cost under $5, and that includes a main dish, fried rice, and a soda.

Little Garden secret: If you eat in, you get scrumptious ice cream for dessert. You also get brilliant service, bright surroundings, and damn good Chinese-American food. But the Garden’s also the place for takeout — right on Biscayne, plenty of parking, and damn good Chinese-American food. The wonton noodles are tight and layered, the primo pork plentiful in dishes such as lo mein, the honey-garlic chicken battered better than any you’ll find. The chef here clearly has confidence, and rightfully so. For example, unlike at most such places, the pork-fried rice is fried rice with pork rather than the typical toss-in-anything mélange/mess. Be sure to ask them to pack in some of the house mustard — it’s tears-of-joy material. There are many reasons B.G. II is a repeat winner. The main one: damn good Chinese-American food.

Put together two of the tastiest food items on the planet — freshly made pasta and lobster — and you have one reason why this tres French Coconut Grove cafe is a bright new addition to our local dining scene. Take a creamy-dreamy force of Maine lobster; pipe it into pillowy half-moon ravioli; then sauce a bunch of them with a silken, bisquelike sauce redolent of everyone’s favorite crustacean — what’s not to likeç Equally likable is that a portion large enough to stuff one or (with an additional small salad or appetizer) satisfy two costs all of $13.95 ($11.50 for lunch). And you have the pleasure of dining in an utterly charming, thoroughly unpretentious restaurant where the food is as good as it is a good value.

An Italian rice specialty made by stirring hot stock into rice, half a cup at a time, until all the liquid is absorbed. Carol, for $100….What is risottoçThat is correct. Okay, Alex. I’ll stay with Holy Arborio for $200.He said, “People really know me in Coral Gables for my risotto. We make the best.”Who is chef Willy Hernandez of Caramelo RestaurantçRight again. You know, this Dominican-born chef was heralded for his culinary skills at other Gables establishments such as Giacosa, Casa Rolandi and Café Vialetto before he started working at Caramelo. Sticking with Holy ArborioçYou bet.Goat cheese, shredded apple, and salmon carpaccio.What makes up one of Caramelo’s most popular risotto specials du jourçGee, Carol, you really know your risotti! Last selection in this category: Earthy porcini mushrooms, meltingly rich foie gras, a salty peck of Parmigiano-Reggiano. For $500….What is the one heavenly risotto that is always on the menu at CarameloçCould you be more specificçWhat costs $32 and is the single most delicious risotto prepared in MiamiçCorrect! Time is up, and Caramelo — er, I mean Carol is on top. We’ll be right back….

You feel like jumping off the roof of your downtown office. No, you feel like jumping off the roof wearing a vest made of spikes, so you can take out as many people on impact as possible. The thought occurs to you only in passing. You doodle a basic outline of the spike vest on a blank memo sheet, ball it up and throw it away. Spiking people to death is wrong. Another thought soon pops into your head: pear milk shake. So delicate and syrupy sweet. Once you put that sweet creamy potion to your lips, you’ll be in love with the world again. So you duck out of the office. You dash up NE Second Avenue as fast as your legs will carry you. You burst into this odd, out-of-the-way little joint you’ve passed a million times, hand over a couple of bucks ($2.50, actually), and ascend to a wonderful, peary cloud of sweetness. Ahhhh….

This charming roadside stand has fresh fruit and gourmet snacks, but its most faithful customers — kids and parents from Pinecrest Elementary next door, tourists on their way to Fairchild Tropical Garden, commuters from Old Cutler Road — come for the smoothies and shakes. For less than $4 they refresh themselves with icy concoctions in flavors like key lime pie, mango coconut banana, or banana honey. They sit at the plastic tables outside, relaxing in the shade and watching the cars go by. For a brief moment, heat and hassle are eliminated by merely sucking on a straw.

We love Dragon, the sushi den set off to the side of, but within, China Grill — which we also love. Grab a seat at one of the hammered iridescent stained copper tabletops, or at the giant communal table that sits in the center of the space and seats fourteen, and get set for some very fine sushi. We love the sushi here, and we love China Grill Management, and we love Jeffrey Chodorow, too. But most of all we love the saketinis. The signature spirit, aptly named the Dragon saketini, is made from high quality sake, premium vodka, and freshly brewed green tea ($13). Drinking anything with green tea flavor has the sort of taste that makes you think you are going to live longer, but we would love it even if that wasn’t the case. A lemongrass saketini is great, too, sweetened just a trifle with pineapple juice. We love pineapple juice, and the watermelon lychee saketini, and the Sobe saketini, which kicks in with pear liqueur, apple, and watermelon pucker. Not sure what pucker is, but we love watermelon, and did we mention we love Jeffrey Chodorowç We really really do, and we are hoping he loves us as well. Even if he doesn’t love us we’re hoping he doesn’t say bad things about our very nice restaurant reviewer. But we’re giving this best of because, in all seriousness, Dragon serves the sassiest saketinis in town. It has nothing to do with fear. Honestly.

Miami is not a beer town. There are a few good brewpubs (the Abbey, Titanic) but generally, it’s all Corona, pricey Italian piss-water, and domestic swill. As a result, the 50 paunchy members of the town’s most beer-hungry citizenry have taken to brewing in their homes. On the third Monday of every month, they hunker down at a long table at the far end of the Titanic to compare brews. Of late, the pub’s kindly owner has allowed them access to his equipment for custom batches. Their creations are then proudly poured for just a few days from the bar’s hand-pulled cask. Every year hundreds of gallons of Miami-Dade County water are converted to Cuban coffee stouts, coconut wheats, avocado meads, and more. While you choke down $8 Heinekens on the beach, this intrepid band of cranks, weirdoes, and alcoholics of discriminating taste pump rivers of delicious drink out of their garages, closets, and tool sheds. Join them, or be doomed to drink what your distributor wants you to!

In New York, a bagel is a bagel. Everywhere else, a bagel is bread. Some say New York City’s unique way with bagels has something to do with the water, but if you know where to look you can actually find a decent specimen in the sixth borough, too. Harriet and Bob, a pair of transplanted New Yorkers (go figure), know it’s only a bagel if it has the right blend of hardness on the outside and chewiness within. Just follow the flocks of white-haired snowbirds and Q-tip-headed locals who jam the entrance of Harriet & Bob’s on the weekends. Grab a table or stand in the to-go line, and order up a toasted sesame with butter ($1.89), an everything with cream cheese ($2.90), or onion with vegetable cream cheese ($4.99). The bustling Bagel Cove, opened by Harriet in 1988 (Bob is her third business partner), also offers everything under the Jewish-delicatessen-style sun — from challah french toast and blintzes to matzoh ball soup and smoked fish — but it’s the bagels that’ll keep you rolling back. If you’re lucky a member of Bob’s crew will be toting out a plastic laundry basket filled with a warm, fresh batch. You might even think you’re in New York — except you can drink the water.

Uva makes its croissants on-site and uses real butter. The result is flaky and airy, best enjoyed with a cafe au lait, while seated in the shade of the outdoor restaurant. Varieties abound: plain ($1.88), chocolate ($2.68), and ham and cheese, spinach and cheese, or almond (also $2.68). If you’re not feeling French, they also have guava pastries and apple turnovers ($2.15).

It’s all about the pastrami. In Miami, the word “deli” is used to refer to almost any eatery that has any kind of food behind glass counters. But New Yorkers know that “deli” doesn’t merely mean a place. Deli is also a food group. And the assumed word preceding it is “Jewish.” When you eat deli, you’re talking pastrami, corned beef, brisket, all-beef franks with sauerkraut, odorous housemade sour and half-sour pickles, “salads” (like potato and macaroni, not mesclun; cole slaw is as green as it gets with deli), and a belly-busting assortment of the tasty carbs that nineteenth-century Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe brought to America: potato pancakes, knishes, kasha, crusty caraway-seeded rye bread, and so on. The almost-two-year-old kosher deli Sam’s has all these items, and the meats are especially terrific. Corned beef and brisket are both homemade. And while the pastrami isn’t (because it requires a special smoker), it’s prepared according to the deli’s own recipe, resulting in a product that, like good Cuban food, is beautifully spiced but not at all spicy. Both corned beef and pastrami come either lean or regular — the latter meaning properly fatty (the extra flavor is well worth the cholesterol, though pricey: $21.95 per pound versus $17.95 for regular meat). What Sam’s hasn’t got is smoked fish. But since Arnie & Richie’s, just a block away, has fabulous nova, pickled herring, and so on, the absence is not annoying. After one of Sam’s mega-size sandwiches ($11.99 for pastrami or corned beef, $.99 more for lean; $12.99 for brisket), diners could use the walk.

Actually this is the best place to pick a peck of all sorts of specialties from Mother Russia, which is why immigrants from the Old World flock to this deli/grocery from several counties away. They come for the herring, halvah, kasha, caviar, candies, kefir, smoked fish, sundry sausages, Georgian wines, and Baltika beer. And they are also drawn here for various home-style lunches, which are heated up and served at a smattering of tables in the front of the market (there is additional seating outside). These are big, hearty foods such as stuffed cabbage, stuffed peppers, pork steak in brown sauce, fish croquettes, blintzes, a divine beef stroganoff, and the drool-inducing duet of Russian dumplings — vareniki and pelmeni. Pass the sour cream, loosen the borscht belt, and save some appetite (ha!) for pan-fried, puck-shaped, sweetened cottage cheese cakes called sirniki. Many items are under $10, which makes this Little Kiev’s biggest bargain.

There are two types of health food stores in this world: Giant chains with lots and lots and lots of goods, and small, privately owned places with much less stuff. So why choose the latter? For the personal touch. For the laser-beam focus on truly nutritional foods, not hamburgers and Häagen-Dazs masquerading as such. For integrity, goddammit. Apple-a-Day Natural Food Market has been serving the South Beach community for fifteen years. Their soups, salads, smoothies, and vegetable juices can go mano a mano with those of the big guys, and nobody can top the signature marinated tofu sandwich with hummus and vegetables — $6.95 with a cup of soup. But it takes more than an apple a day to keep the doctor away — the aisles of vitamin and supplement products here comprise the most extensive selection in town. So raise a glass of soy milk to the little health food store that could.

This is the prettiest food market at which to shop — like an old-time general store, but bigger and with better lighting. Serene classical music and dazzling produce grab attention as you first enter, but the island in the center of the store is where the finest array of prepared foods is displayed and dispersed to grateful patrons. The extensive collection includes quiches, meat loaves, pulled pork barbecue, stuffed cabbage, carrot soufflé, sushi (rolled before your eyes), salads, and sandwiches (reubens to Cubans to Mediterranean-style panini piled up as if auditioning for some food shop in Milan). But what puts the Fresh Market into a league of its own is the stunning lineup of peerless roasted meats: glazed crown ribs of pork roast; plump rolls of herbed turkey breast; chipotle barbecue baby-back ribs so succulent that Shorty’s is shaking in its cowboy boots; and five types of darkly bronzed rotisserie chicken — our faves being honey bourbon and whiskey sage. This is by no means an inexpensive shop, but many of the prepared foods are less extravagantly priced than you might think — chickens are $3.69 per pound, the aforementioned roasts $4.99 to $8.99 per pound. If all this isn’t enough to put some pep in your step, grab a cup of some freshly roasted coffee at the complimentary dispenser up front.

Norman Brothers Produce is like a candy store for gourmands. Oh, you can actually get candy here too — the display cases along the store’s left wall are filled with fancy chocolates, cookies, and jimmy-covered pretzels in all shades of brown and cream. But for people who love to cook and eat quality, beautifully presented fruits, veggies, meats, and baked goods, Norman’s can’t be beat. The store adheres to the textbook definition of a gourmet grocery — high-end products, a range of precooked dishes, and a well-earned rep for quality. Near the cash registers at the front, a cooler is filled with prepackaged dips that sound delicious — creamy sundried tomato, guacamole, and Mexican caviar made with olives, tomatoes, onions, garlic, red wine vinegar, and pepper. Yum. The produce is photo shoot quality. The fruit selection includes everything from Thai guava and tangelos to Homestead’s first mameys of the season. Eggplants range from deepest purple-black to translucent white. Potatoes, too, come in all shapes and colors, including red creamers and purple taters. Sunchokes (Jerusalem artichokes) will cost ya $4.99 a pound, while loose kohlrabi costs 99 cents. The bakery sells incredible-looking cakes (we’d get the “mudd cake” for $19.99), alongside bagels and muffins and rugelach and breakfast pastries. If you’re looking for dinner to go, Norman’s is the place for healthy choices like apple-stuffed acorn squash ($5.99 a pound) and stuffed cabbage with picadillo — a healthy and filling delight at $11.29 a pound. Grab some lunch — there are excellent sandwiches, and you can get a small cup of the most amazing mushroom and brie bisque for $1.79. Venture over to the meat aisle, past enough spices, pastes, sprouts, and exotic herbs to rival an Asian mart. The meat looks fresh and is expensive for a reason — but even though those gorgeous veal cutlets cost $23.99 a pound, you know they’re worth it.

Farm-fresh sno cones, anybodyç Not really, but at most of South Florida’s so-called farmers markets, even imported South American produce generally takes a back seat to booths offering processed fast foods, incense, jewelry, sunglasses, even massages. Where to go if you are seeking locally grown fresh produce that’s never seen the inside of a cross-country refrigerated truckç When pioneering regional foods booster Alice Waters flew in to be honored at the South Beach Wine & Food Festival several years ago, she went straight from the airport to the South Florida Farmers Market, which takes over the Gardner’s Market parking lot (off US 1) on Sunday mornings from 8:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. And the sparkling, watermelon-size head of local frisée that she displayed at a seminar that afternoon was alone ample proof that at least one farmers market here is, if not Union Square, more than a flea market. Booths sell a full range of just-picked seasonal fruits and veggies — corn so sweet and tender you’ll think you’re in New Jersey on the Fourth of July; tomatoes that are genuinely vine-ripe rather than supermarket-ripe; exotica like mini veggies and edible flowers— plus local wildflower honey ($3 for eight ounces) and other farm products from Homestead/Redlands growers. Prices vary (three ears of corn for $1 at one booth, five ears for $3 at another), but there are some real bargains, like a four-pound basket of falling-off-the-vine-ripe tomatoes for $2.50. While the market runs only from January through April, one of its objectives is “creating a dialogue between consumers and growers.” So dialogue, already, about where your favorite growers’ goodies are available during the rest of the year.

“Strawberry fields are not forever, at least not in Kendall, anyway,” chuckles Bill Taylor, as he points to the Publix across the street with his large, calloused hand. “Those chain stores pick the tomatoes when they’re green, and they sit in a cooler somewhere to ripen. If you pick them out here they’re juicier, they taste fresher, sweeter; and it’s fun to pick your own.”Behind Bill and his little white shed is a large green field with rows of sweet luscious strawberries, big red juicy tomatoes, plump green peppers, and tall yellow sunflowers waiting to be picked. The scene resembles a Van Gogh painting.Bill has been working at U-pick stands in Kendall for more than fifteen years now. “The last U-pick where I worked was 42 acres,” he says, “and now it is another Costco shopping center.” He takes a handful of delicious-looking red tomatoes from the scale. “Kids do not even know what a tomato plant looks like anymore.” Carol, who has been working at this stand with Bill for more than five years, adds, “People need to come out and pick their own flowers and vegetables at least once in their life.”There is no electricity or telephone at this U-pick stand. The cash register runs on 4C batteries. Sweet peppers and tomatoes are 65 cents a pound and strawberries are $2.50 a pound. Sunflowers are $1 each, and snap dragons are $3 a dozen to pick. There is also cilantro, basil, dill, and flat-leaf parsley, all $1 a bundle. The stand is open every day from December through May, 9:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m

That’s right, it’s a church. As a way to raise money for the small congregation, St. City has been selling barbecue chicken and pork out of a little street-side stand for years. You can probably smell the parking lot-hogging barbecues (old steel barrels) from heaven. People line up just to buy the signature not-too-sweet tangy sauce. Jesus would get the rib sandwich (basically a hill of ribs with bones in and two slices of white bread)— $5.50 and worth every penny. Sides of okra and tomatoes, collard greens, pigeon peas, or potato salad will set you back $2 each (they’re only available on Fridays and Saturdays). A portion of banana pudding, sweet potato pie, or bread pudding goes for about the same.

A great number of great restaurants debuted this past year, but we’re talking about flippin’ David Bouley here, one of the three or four most talented chefs working in America today. Evolution, his first foray outside of New York, instantly magnifies South Florida’s blip on the national culinary radar. It’s also a great place to have dinner (it’s not open for lunch), starting with raisin-and-apple rolls, salt-sprinkled brioche, and other Old World breads baked on premises. An herb broth brimming with pristine shellfish; Long Island duckling breast laced with honey, butter, and fresh lavender flowers; and scallop-crusted black sea bass in an intensely flavored bouillabaisse foam constitute another three mouth-watering reasons why Evolution is more evolved than its high-priced haute competition. (How expensiveç If you have to ask, you probably can’t afford to eat here.) Then there are the cheeses by Terrance Brennan Artisanal Connoisseurs, the nearly infinite wine list, smoothly professional service, and a stylish Art Deco decor. Need further convincingç A complimentary intermezzo of electrically fresh strawberry soup with fromage blanc sorbet is so brilliant it will make you cry.

Famous not only for his cooking but also his gigantic handlebar mustache, owner Gil Capa walks in and out of the kitchen, greeting his customers with jokes in Italian. You can almost hear the Godfather theme as you enter this small Italian bistro tucked away in a tiny strip mall. Patrons receive warm greetings as they are seated. “It is like a big family here; most of our customers are the children of our customers,” says Gil’s wife, Carmen. The only employees here are Gil, Carmen, and Carmen’s two older sisters, Olga and Teresa. They’ve all been with the restaurant since it opened in a previous location in 1976.They serve food in the traditional Italian way. “We bring the pasta out first,” says Carmen, smiling, as she sets down a small bowl of thin linguine with delicious homemade tomato sauce. For the main course, try the chicken marsala ($14), which is sautéed with (also homemade) wine sauce and fresh mushrooms over a tender filet of chicken. And don’t even think about leaving without trying the tiramisu ($5). “I have to go to confession every time I eat one. It is sinful,” says Gil. “Pure gluttony.”

This Design District spot is so tiny you can easily miss it. That would be a shame, because for $2.65 you can get a more-than-adequate breakfast complete with three eggs any style, toast, grits or potatoes, and coffee. In other words, a refreshingly simple and filling meal for the price of a cup of joe at Starbucks. Sit under an umbrella at one of the two rickety tables outside and revel in your frugality.

All-you-can-eat Sunday brunch buffets aren’t about precision-cooked food; they’re about luxuriating in horn of plenty-type decadence for a few hours before the weekly grind begins again. And Nikki Beach — with its bed tables and private dining (or whatever) teepees in the oceanfront dunes, not to mention its famously hard-partying patrons and equally famous mojitos — so defines decadence that it’s hard to believe the word existed before the place did. So it’s good to know that after about a year’s experiment with a normal, choose-one brunch menu, the more fitting too-much-ain’t-enough beachfront buffet is back. You’ve got your sweets: mini croissants, Danish, muffins, bagels, and so on, plus a full array of desserts, including lovely fruit tarts, flan, and cr?me brûlée. You’ve got your salad station, featuring fruit and Caprese salads (both the fruit and the mozzarella fresh), several prepared mixed salads, crudités or greens with a choice of dressings, and a selection of cold cuts and cheeses. There’s sushi — tuna, salmon, and vegetable makis, and good seaweed salad and edamame to go with it. There’s even breakfast food — scrambled eggs, French toast, and omelettes that are custom-prepared, with diners’ choice of smoked salmon, cheese, ham, mushrooms, and much more. There are bigger brunch buffets in town, but at $29.95, this one’s less than half the price of the biggest … and, considering the setting, more than twice as suitable for a self-indulgent Sunday.

This little downtown spot is a favorite of lawyers and bankers in the know — leave it to affluent powerbrokers to find the best deals. For $9.95, you get a beautiful feast of chicken, beef, and lamb vindaloos and tandoris, piles of flaky samosas, pools of creamy dal, and addictive vegetable dishes such as aloo gobi, an aromatic blend of cauliflower, potatoes and green peas. Okay, you’re thinking, but I don’t want to eat in some grungy joint. Far from it: linen table cloths, nice silver, and prompt service make Taste of Bombay an all-around sensory treat. If for some reason one of your party can’t handle the Indian delicacies, they can check out the smaller Chinese buffet and pizza selection at Taste of Bombay’s next-door annex.

There can be no more charming a setting for an informal alfresco lunch than smack dab in the middle of Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden. Right by the conservatory, to be precise. A stone’s throw from the rare plant section, but remember: People who dine by glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. There is seating for 150 to 200 people, and a concise selection of soups, salads, and sandwiches to soothe nature lovers of all stripes. We like the feature sandwiches (each $7.95), especially panini Caprese, a baguette rife with ripe Redland tomatoes (seasonal), fresh mozzarella, and basil aioli. We are also partial to black forest ham wrapped in a pesto tortilla with dilled havarti cheese, cucumbers, and tomato. Another favorite is mango chicken salad, which lends itself to the environment in a very natural manner. So do cool “hand-crafted” tropical sodas in flavors such as tangerine, watermelon, and kiwi. These are made on-premises using real fruit concentrates and pure cane sugar, and provide a kick as effervescent as any Chihuly sculpture.

Tower of Power refers to:A. A Seventies funk bandB. A massive solar energy collector in the Australian outbackC. The floor-to-ceiling wine racks at Duo, currently housing more than 1300 vintagesD. Duo’s stacked mozzarella and tomato salad, with olive and sun-dried tomato vinaigrette ($11)The answer is all of the above, but it’s the food and wine at Duo that make the Brickell-area spot perfect for power lunching. No need to try to discreetly discover your clients’ or colleagues’ food preferences. The menu of creative but unfussy contemporary American fare covers all bases, from elegant (the Duo tartare — diced tuna plus thin-sliced salmon, with wasabi ponzu sauce, $14) to meat-and-potatoes (a churrasco with chimichurri rivaling that of any Argentine steakhouse, $19). For the price of the latter entrée, there’s also a full three-course business lunch that changes daily. And light eaters are also accommodated with imaginative salads and sandwiches, or a protein diet-friendly broiled whitefish that’s basic but perfectly done. Whatever one eats, there’s a wine to match (at prices ranging from $25 to $1400), from a list eclectic enough to impress even the most jaded aficionado — and the place’s knowledgeable but unstuffy servers will make you look good making the choice. It’s possible to eat outside, at sidewalk café tables raised several steps above street level, but the high-ceilinged, sleek yet comfortably informal interior space is a more relaxing retreat from business hustle and bustle.

Just because you’re operating your business on a pauper’s budget is no reason you can’t be a power player in the business lunch game. It’s all about one-upmanship. A 24-ounce porterhouse at an expensive steakhouse may be the obvious way to impress, but you can win points on insider info if you take your opponent — that is, your business colleague — to this new (and as yet largely undiscovered) European-style market/bistro. The decor, a mix of contemporary industrial (loftlike high ceilings, exposed pipes, concrete) and warm Old World (wine barrel tables), makes it clear that what you lack in big bucks you make up in cosmopolitan cool. The menu may seem like your basic food categories that begin with an “s” stuff— soups, sandwiches, salads, small plates, sides. But your colleague will notice that dishes like a crabcake with Dijon mustard cream and smoked cole slaw ($12), or an evocative Amalfi coast salad (with imported Italian tuna, olive tapenade, white boqueron anchovies, hard-boiled egg, cannelini beans, and fresh herbs; $12) are made with astonishingly high-quality ingredients and far more imagination than usual. Make sure to let it slip that chef/owner Alfredo Patino was formerly chef de cuisine at the Ritz-Carlton Coconut Grove’s Bizcaya (and, before that, at the Shore Club’s Ago) before giving up all that luxe vulgarity to be his own boss. Admittedly the location, in the ground floor of a Biscayne Boulevard condo just north of the Performing Arts Center, is hardly business central. But driving from Brickell or the beach is easy when you know that the place has a hidden parking lot (in back of the building and across the street, on Northeast Second Avenue) that’s fenced — and free, so it doesn’t cut into your lunch budget.

Most of the 120 seats in this Todd Oldham-designed restaurant are outdoors, amid lush foliage and shaded by oversize umbrellas. Chairs are swathed in vibrantly colored prints, and candlelights flicker upon each linen-draped table in this romantic, tropical garden setting. Ice cubes likewise flicker in the special electric cocktails. The cuisine produced by just about any chef in South Florida would have trouble competing with so scene-stealingly stunning an ambiance, but luckily for Wish, Michael Bloise is not just any chef. He is much, much better. There is, in fact, no restaurant terrace, patio, porch, or outdoor area of any sort in this county where finer food sits under starry skies. Tuna tartare with pickled ginger sorbet. Sesame-battered shrimp atop watermelon-tomato “kimchee.” Strawberry shortcake in warm strawberry-vanilla soup with mascarpone cannoli and balsamic ice cream. Creative and exquisite American/haute Asian cuisine so blindingly scrumptious that you would be happy as hell eating it while seated in a cardboard box. But, of course, you are not. For lovers of fine dining and open air, Wish is a wish come true. Readers’ Choice: Café Sambal

Hofbräu M¨nchen beer on draft (lager, wheat, and dark). Eminently engaging Lincoln Road people-watching. Bavarian pretzels ($2.95), pork schnitzel ($16.95), the best w¨rst plates in town ($10-$15). Open until 1:00 a.m. Hofbräu M¨nchen beer on draft ($6.95 for 17 ounces; $11.95 for the 34-ounce mug).Who needs, or even wants, a dinner companionçReaders’ Choice: Pizza Rustica

The outdoor patio is where you want to sit — it’s so sexy and serene, and has those tiny twinkling lights strung through the air like on some Venetian veranda. Warm your mate up with some small talk while perusing chef Kira Volz’s Mediterranean menu. Make yourself appear hip to gastronomic goings-on by commenting on how much you enjoyed Ms. Volz’s cuisine at the late great Abbey Dining Room (lamenting its demise will help you look sensitive). Inhale the aromas of the Spanish, Greek, and Moroccan-influenced foods while silently dreaming of walking through these places, hand in hand, with the person across the table. Confess your admiration over hominy-pooled chicken posole ($18). Regain your cool via scallops grilled Sicilian style, with saffron tomato sauce ($15). Be daring, and don’t even think about the cost of intimacy — entrees run a reasonable $15 to $25. For heaven’s sake, don’t forget the wine — something bold and spicy perhapsç A Rozaleme Tempranillo from Spain (just $29) should suffice, though if you really want intimate conversation, it might be worthwhile to spring for a more complex Napa Valley Syrah ($65). Whisper sweet nothings over warm baklava with poached apricots and honeyed yogurt. Mmmmmm…

We could mention the huge mondo-condo skyscraping towers across the street from Timo, and how, if the hurricane cooperated and blew its gales from east to west, they would buffet the friendly neighborhood restaurant in highly effective fashion. Or we could point to the brick wall in the back of the 120-seat eatery, by the open hearth that shoots out the crispest of wood-fired pizzas, and say “Solid as a rock — let’s see a storm try to blow this baby down.” But we know better than that. The real reason we’d like to dine at Timo during a hurricane is that we’d like to dine here any time. Plus if you’re gonna get stuck someplace, why not in a cozy room with chef/partner Tim Andriola’s comforting Italian-Mediterranean cuisineç Let the winds howl as you indulge in crisp oyster salad with white beans and pancetta, or confit of duck with roasted pear, red wine, and goat cheese. Laugh at the sheets of rain while filling your gullet with pappardelle, chicken livers, wild mushrooms, pancetta, and rosemary. Mock the cruelty of Mother Nature while munching on rustic meat dishes and grilled seafoods, and thank the lord for your good fortune while joyously clicking together glasses of Rustenberg Chardonnay, or any of the wondrously eclectic wines overseen by partner Rodrigo Martinez. Such scrumptious meals, with shelter included, won’t cost much, either — small plates are all under $20, bigger main courses under $30. The cheese selection here is unusually extensive, desserts are peerless, and, for once, waiting around fifteen minutes for your soufflé shouldn’t be a problem.

Oleta River State Park, the largest urban park in the state of Florida, offers the most picturesque of settings for lunch. The informal Blue Marlin Fish House is located where the original Blue Marlin Smoke House stood in 1938. It was a trading post back then, a place where people could anchor their boats and barter their catch. Now the grounds boast a nature center that details this history, a smoke house, and a breezy eating area with a view of the Oleta River rolling by. The menu is mostly composed, perhaps to no great surprise, of smoked fish specialties straight from that smoke house. Blue marlin, salmon, and mahi-mahi are the primary smokees, and can be sampled together in a tasting plate ($8.95); as sandwiches or wraps ($7.45 to $7.95); atop salad with walnuts, grapes, and creamy tarragon dressing ($10.95); or as entrées with rice or pasta ($12.95). Burgers, hot dogs, pizza, and other nonsmoked kiddie-fare is available, too. After lunch, you can walk a few yards, rent a kayak, and float away.

There’s a miniature soccer team running toward your car and it looks like you’re the one who’s expected to feed them. Don’t panic. Get all their seat belts tight and drive over to Bellante’s. Kids age ten and under can eat all they want at this buffet for only $2.99, and adults pay just $4.89. Bellante’s offers a pizza for every finicky eater. There’s pepperoni, sausage, traditional cheese, chicken alfredo, ham and pineapple, barbecue chicken, and Mexican. They have cheese bread and pepperoni bites, breadsticks and cheese rolls. You couldn’t find more cheese if you took the kids to a dairy farm. Pastas are good too. You have your choice of spaghetti aglio olio, pomodoro, or alfredo. Soup and salad are also included in the all-you-can-eat price, as are the desserts, like an apple pizza sprinkled with granola or a chocolate velvet cake. For those who can’t sit still, a game room awaits in the back corner. Better yet, parents don’t have to go running after their joystick happy kids — each corner of the dining room has a video monitor where you can see all the angles of the game room. So the kids will be full and entertained, and parents can relax and enjoy an adult conversation, if only for a brief time.

Diamond Jim Brady is often referred to as the greatest glutton in American history, but iconic food writer M.F.K. Fisher disagrees with this assessment: “That he ate nine portions of sole Marguéry the night George Rector brought the recipe back to New York from Paris … does not mean that he gorged himself upon it, but simply had room for it.” Which is what we remind those sitting to dine with us at the redundantly named New York’s Big Apple Deli as we mull over the almost infinite menu. Excepting some desserts, all the food here is made on the premises, and there is simply so much one needs to try. Like the “world famous” matzoh ball soup. Stuffed cabbage, cheese blintzes, knockwurst (kosher, of course). Smoked whitefish. “Lower East Sides” like potato salad, cole slaw, and kasha (roasted buckwheat) knish. Mile-high sandwiches, including our favorite, the Rachel (pastrami reuben). Rugelach or rice puddingç Both! Sandwiches start at $6.95, a bowl of soup is $3.50, desserts are all under $4. With such reasonable prices, you will be amazed at how much room you have. So go for the New York cheesecake, too.

A nattily dressed postchurch crowd packs the Mahogany Grille (owned by Marlins player Andre Dawson) each Sunday, beginning at 11:30 a.m. The Sunday Supper menu contains the same Southern soul food favorites as that of the regular menu — oxtail stew, shrimp with grits, fried chicken and waffles, need we say moreç — plus a few low country and Caribbean dishes. But a few specialties tacked on, like baked, glazed ham, and braised turkey wings in giblet gravy, are tantalizing tasty, and the sumptuous banana pudding with crushed Nilla Wafers is reason enough to mark Sunday on your calendar. Prices are great — hearty main courses, with two sides of your choosing, are less than $20. The Mahogany Grille, for that matter, is a praiseworthy restaurant every day, too (although it’s closed Mondays and Tuesdays). It’s just got a little bit more soul on Sundays.

Most late-night spots stay open to serve revelers who just don’t want to go home, and the menus reflect this purpose — burgers, burritos, pizza, and Denny’s-diner-type crap. Fuck that. Some of us who dine past midnight aren’t drunk or drugged when doing so. In other words, we can taste the food. This holds especially true for those sushi chefs from South Miami to Broward County who take the late-night drive to Yakko-San after they pack their knife kits up at their respective Japanese restaurants. It is in order to accommodate these chefs that Hiro’s stays open until 3:30 a.m. on the weekends (2:00 during the week), and it is something of a gift that the rest of us are invited to take advantage as well. You’d be surprised how many people do. Since opening in 2000, Yakko has become an enormously popular destination, the sparse, 60-seat room filled at all hours with folks enjoying traditional Japanese food freshly cooked and presented in no-frills, small-plate servings (and eminently affordable, with hardly an item over $10). Instead of the burger: crystalline chrysanthemum leaf tempura. In place of the burrito: piquant kimchee hot pot with pork, tofu, and baby clams. And as a pizza substitute: okonomiyaki, described as “Japanese pizza, veggies, egg on brown sauce, mayo” (really more of a fried pancake/omelet, but it will do the trick). Late-night revelers needn’t miss a beat either — two dozen sake selections should help keep the party going. Speaking of which — Hiro’s Yakko-San sleeps in, opening for dinner at 6:00 p.m. Readers’ Choice: Denny’s

Named after a New York City subway line, and no larger than a subway car, counterculturish couple Blue and Marc Solomon’s A is a convivial neighborhood café steeped in young, bohemian flavor. The “organic French-Carribean” cuisine is hippie-dippie tasty, beginning with appetizers such as d’anjou pear baked with roquefort and honey, and vegetable terrine layered with spinach and red pepper mousse. Entrées like ratatouille-tofu crpe with papaya provenal, and a robust ragoût of forest mushrooms, seitan, and white beans will heartily sate any vegetarian’s appetite, while lamb merguez sausages with couscous will keep the carnivore in the corner quiet. No dish exceeds $12 at this funky, dinner-only locale, and the BYOB wine policy courteously comes sans corkage fee — so dinner with wine comes on the cheap. Naturally.

The national buzzword among health-conscious diners used to be organic. It still is, to some extent, but as large corporations and supermarket chains increasingly dominate the organic food market, local has become the focus. It’s the closest we, as urban dwellers, can come to eating fruits and vegetables grown in our back yards — and in a way, the Redland and farmlands of Homestead are our collective back yard. That Miami chefs have so enthusiastically embraced this trend is encouraging for numerous reasons. First, buying food directly from local family farms puts fresher, less processed products on our restaurant plates, and promotes sustainable and humane practices — while nonlocal food is often linked with heavy subsidies, poor animal welfare, lack of care for the environment, and poor working conditions. Second, we are blessed to be living so near to fertile farmlands that produce not only fine tomatoes, strawberries, and such, but an array of tropical fruits few other American cities can come close to — being the operational word here. And finally, it’s a sign of Miami’s maturity into a relevant American food city that our chefs are so in sync with what is going on gastronomically elsewhere in the country. Even just a couple of years ago, this wasn’t the case. Think globally. Buy locally. Can ya digç

An utter lack of decent vegetarian restaurants in our area dictates that noncarnivores must compromise and seek the next best thing: nonvegetarian dining establishments that respect and cater to those who don’t eat meat. Problem is, there aren’t too many of these, either, and even fewer that go beyond good intentions to actually create great meatless meals. Luckily we have Lido, located in the splendidly sun-kissed Standard Hotel and Spa. Superstar chef Eric Ripert was originally paid big bucks to draw up the menu here, but the results proved surprisingly small. Enter Lido’s nonsuperstar chef Mark Zeitoni, who wisely trashed Ripert’s ripoff and replaced it with a selection of light, luscious, spa-worthy creations. We assure you: No animals are harmed during the preparation of puréed pumpkin soup with nutmeg-flecked cauliflower flan ($7) or beet carpaccio with watercress and aged sherry vinaigrette ($11). And that’s just for starters. For main course, diners can choose a threesome from a list of greens and grains, then mix and match them with any of a half-dozen sauces ($18). For instance, the Italian grain farro comes tossed with rosemary and parmesan, and can then be sprinkled with some truffle vinaigrette — or you may opt to splash it with sundried tomato and citrus sauce instead. Perhaps you’ll select grilled haricots verts with lemon and sea salt to go along, and top it with a dab of yellow tomato béarnaise sauce, and finish the plate with quinoa and dried fruit — not sure what sauce you’d choose with that one, but to have to grapple with such a dilemma is a vegetarian’s delight. So are salubrious salads and other lunch options served alfresco by the picturesque bay.

No seats, no atmosphere, no booze. A menu shorter than Paris Hilton’s attention span. A location only a strip mall developer could love. No amenities or accoutrements, no bells, whistles, or dancing bears. Only the best goddamn pizza on the planet. For 52 years, six days a week (Mondays off), Frankie’s has been dishing up pies that are as elemental in their construction as they are satisfying. Nothing fancy here; you won’t find smoked salmon pizzas or Thai chicken pizzas. Frankie’s toppings are simple and offer few choices —tomato sauce, meats, veggies, cheese. They’re all good enough. But what makes Frankie’s pizzas the best on the goddamn planet is the crust—a little crunchy, a little chewy, remarkably light, with a faint char from the oven, and tasting of fresh-baked bread. Better still, a large deluxe tops out at $20. Who needs atmosphereç

The barbecue at Uncle Tom’s is so good that when you get home, expect Fido to jump on you for scraps of leftover ribs. Chances are there won’t be much left for your four-legged companion. The place looks like it’s stuck in time circa 1948, when it first opened. Walls are adorned with old photographs of Rita Hayworth, Mae West, and Liberace. Tom’s is best known for its ribs, hot dogs, pork sandwiches, and corn on the cob, but a new sheriff is giving this place a fresh twist. The new Cuban owner, Alfredo Rosales, is bringing some additional flavor to the menu by adding Latin favorites such as palomilla steak, vaca frita, ropa vieja, tostones, and also seafood. Prices range from $5 to $14. Uncle Tom’s still has entertainment, but no longer plays old movies. “We play a lot of music videos from the Seventies, Eighties, and Nineties,” says William Marcano, manager. You know, sounds to lick your fingers to.

Oceanaire has it all. Some 300 seats set like a luxury cruise liner, all sleek curves and warm woods. A bustling service staff and buzzing clientele, a serious wine list, and patrons lined up at a glistening oyster bar bedecked with shellfish from both coasts. Fish are brought in from all over the world, as well as from local waters, and include species you don’t see elsewhere: Carolina striped bass. Hawaiian wahoo. Arctic char. About fifteen fresh catches are featured each day, either grilled, broiled, sautéed, steamed, fried, or gussied up in Latin-Caribbean manner, like seafood stew a la Cubana, or spear-caught hogfish “a la Chorillana.” Chef Sean Bernal formerly steered ship at Tambo Restaurant in South Beach, and brings his bright ceviches and tiraditos to Oceanaire as well. Steakhouse sides such as hash browns and creamed corn, and steakhouse desserts such as baked Alaska and a banana split round out the extensive, crowd-pleasing bill of fare. Prices sail high, with entrées between $20 and $35 for lunch and $25 to $60 for dinner, but dinner includes warm boules of sourdough bread with softened butter, and a crudité tray perked with pickled herring. Finally: a classic American seafood house in Miami. Readers’ Choice: Joe’s Stone Crab

If you somehow miss the point of this cult favorite on a charmless stretch of Bird Road, well … you’re either unconscious or already dead. The huge grill and giant flaming asador (a sort of industrial-size rotisserie), displayed like fine china behind a wall of glass at the entrance, say with authority that Graziano’s is all about the rustic, primal glories of meat. Sizzling over a pile of quebracho colorado wood at lunch and dinner daily are skewers holding everything from whole chickens to suckling pig, as well as especially luscious short ribs, big and meaty and imbued with smoke ($27.95). From the parilla comes perhaps Miami’s definitive mixed grill, an enormous serving (for a piddling $17.95) of house-made blood and chorizo sausages, along with sweetbreads, more of those short ribs, and a big slab of skirt steak. You get the point.

If you’re looking for just any sandwich, head over to one of the fast food sandwich spots. If you want an amazing sandwich, go to 1909 Café. The contents of their delicious creations are just as original as their quirky names: Italian Stallion, with prosciutto ham, mozzarella, and tomatoes seasoned with vinaigrette; Piggy Back, featuring slow-roasted pork blended with sweet barbecue sauce, melted Swiss cheese, banana peppers, and red onions; and the French Kiss, made with imported salami slices, melted goat cheese, and a sun-dried tomato spread. To accompany these mouthwatering babies, they’ve concocted some of the best sides you’ll ever taste. Forget potato chips. Try the potato salad. Their bean salad is super tasty as well. The sandwiches are huge, so come hungry or save the other half for dinner. You won’t be bored by the selection: turkey, chicken, pork, ham, vegetarian, seafood, and beef options abound. You choose the bread: French, whole wheat French, tortilla wrap, or croissant. And there are daily specials. Also sold: gourmet soups, salads, and taste bud-kicking desserts like vanilla rum cake, banana bread, carrot cake, and cookies. Sandwiches cost between $6 and $8.

Every now and then you stumble across a restaurant with food so scrumptious that you just want to keep it to yourself. Well, Opa-lockans are keeping a huge secret from the rest of Miami-Dade. Homestyle Restaurant is the champ of Miami soul food. What this gem located off of State Road 9 serves up is authentic, finger-lickin’, and sleep-inducing. The restaurant is open from 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. every day except Sunday, and a steady stream of customers pours in from the street throughout the day. They’re likely yearning for oxtails whose meat just falls off the bone, and yams laced with brown sugar and cinnamon. Daily specials are listed on a board on the wall, but the lengthy menu is located at the front counter. Prices are decent: $15.50 for a seafood combo, a platter of fried and seasoned-just-right shrimp, fish, conch, and two sides; $8 for chicken dinners; $2 for all sides (except mac and cheese, which is $2.50). And of course, Homestyle serves up the soul-food staples: string beans, fried chicken, cornbread, and ribs. A tip from the regulars: Round out your meal with a large “Flop” — a lemonade/sweet tea concoction — and a slice of the most delicious cake you’ll ever have. That cake — whether it’s the red velvet, buttercream, or chocolate — is soul food at its finest. It’ll have you wanting to take two of those and call back in the morning — for some breakfast, of course.

Panera is nothing like Burger King, KFC, Taco Bell, or any of those old-style chains that are ever-so-slowly sliding into obsolescence. This national bakery shares more in common with corporate cafés such as Starbucks and Einsteins, but with a whole lot more than just coffee and bagels to offer. Like for breakfast, a spinach-and-bacon baked egg soufflé (in sweet pastry dough) that tastes better than fast food should. And a kids’ menu with sandwiches accompanied by organic yogurt and a choice of organic milk or organic apple juice. Does Wendy’s prepare an all-natural, citrus-herb chicken salad with pecans, gorgonzola cheese, and white balsamic Fuji apple vinaigretteç Don’t think so. Is Blimpie’s capable of a smoked turkey sandwich slathered with chipotle mayonnaise and stuffed into an Asiago cheese focacciaç Uh-uh. Is the pressed rosemary focaccia panini with cheese oozing out likely to make Quizno’s queasyç Absolutely. Does Mickey D’s do thin-crusted crispanis topped with roasted crimini and shiitake mushrooms, fresh basil, and fontina and mozzarella cheesesç No siree. Does the Olive Garden use organic Muir Glen tomatoesç Ha! Most salads and sandwiches top out at $6.50, yet Panera is, beyond all else, a full-scale bakery pumping out fresh brownies, bundt cakes, cookies, croissants, scones, muffins, cinnamon rolls (!), and an amazing array of artisanal and specialty breads. Good cup of joe, too, but if that’s all you want you can always just go to that specialty chain from Seattle.

If I had a dollar for every Cuban restaurant in Miami, well, I’d have an awful lot of dollars. Though Cuban restaurants are countless in these parts, when it comes to quality, few stand out. Among those that do: Havana Miami Restaurant. They make traditional Cuban dishes, but are best known for their arroz con pollo a la chorrera (a soupier version of the dish). They also make a mean cochinillo (smaller-size pork) and delicious vaca frita (shredded beef) and patas de puerco (pig legs). If you can only have one side, it has to be tostones (fried plantains). They’re huge, and come with a delicious garlic dipping sauce; the generous portion could constitute a meal in itself. Havana also makes great plantain soup and yummy croquetas. The staff is amiable (when you go, ask for Pepe, he’ll take good care of you), and the place is spacious and family-friendly. Lunch prices start at around $6; that jumps to about $10 and up for dinner entrées.

TEN GREAT COUNTRY SONGS WRITTEN ABOUT DON BURRITO:1. “It’s Nobody’s Flauta but My Own (So Keep Your Hands off the Sour Cream)”2. “You Done Took All My Money, But I Can Still Afford a Don Burrito Burrito ($6.95)”3. “Mama Don’t Let Your Sons Grow Up to Be Vegans (Cause They’ll Miss Out on Don Burrito’s Sizzling Al Pastor Fajitas)”4. “Cold Mexican Beers, Hot Miami Nights, and Achey Brakey Tortilla Chips”5. “I Done Somebody Wrong, but After Eating This Chicken Mole Somehow I Feel All Right (extended club version)”6. “A Paycheck, a Party, a Pollo Asado (And on Monday We Start the Whole Enchilada Again)”7. “Taco Bell Blues (Get Going, and Take That Damn Chihuahua With You)”8. “I’m A-Cryin’ Over This Margarita,’Cause There’s No More in My Glass” (also known as the “Can You Loan Me $4.95ç” song)9. “This Queso con Chorizo Is Better to Me than You Ever Were”10. “Baby Come Back, and We Can Split That Juicy Steak Brazada Like We Used to (Before You Stole My Car and Ran Off to Mexico with José)”

Yambo stands out from the rest of the local fritanga pack for two major reasons: One, it’s open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Two, it looks like a Surrealist’s fever-dream vision of a roadside souvenir shack. Yambo is as much, if not more, about the atmosphere as it is about the food. On the roofed terrace, folk art trinkets hang from and cover every possible surface — miniature guitars, hats, porcelain pots, even a mounted boar’s head. An over-life-size knight statue guards the dark brown-tiled dining room. The tinny whine of a coin-operated pony ride sometimes drowns out the polkalike ballads emanating from an encyclopedic jukebox of Latin music.Virtually no English is spoken here, but anyone can order easily enough — customers walk down the length of a cafeteria-style counter, pointing at their selections, which are dutifully scooped onto a Styrofoam tray. Flesh-eaters will want to go for juicy, chewy chunks of skirt steak, or a whole snapper (both under $5), or crispy chicken taquitos ($3 for six). Vegetarians are even decently served — go for red beans and rice, any form of plantain, or repochetas — thin stacks of tortillas and cheese, a little like a quesadilla (most sides are $1.50). At the center of each table is a wooden vat of house-made hot sauce. The red mixture is addictive enough that during a recent visit, we spotted one patron ladling it into a Ziploc bag hidden in her purse. Unescorted females, or those put off by a small police presence, might want to skip visits during the wee hours. But diehard partiers take note: You can get a beer at almost any time here, provided you pour the contents of your bottle into one of the helpfully provided Styrofoam cups.

Peruvian food is not meant to be fancy, yet it seems that a new restaurant offering a frilly version of this cuisine opens every week. They garnish beans as if they were lobster bisque and stick mangoes in your ceviche. Next time you want some real Peruvian food, stop by El Meson del Paraiso. This tiny shop tucked into the side of a strip mall will provide you with an excellent meal; no need for a reservation. Open with the classic ceviche de pescado ($9.95), fresh white pieces of fish buried under a pile of finely sliced red onions and drenched in cilantro-speckled lime juice. It’s served with the traditional sweet potato, cancha, and choclo, just like mom used to make. For the main course try lomo saltado ($10.95). The real potato French fries suck up every bit of expertly seasoned juice from tender chunks of beef. There’s also seco de res ($9.95), which comes perfectly complemented with sides of rice and Peruvian white beans. A large selection of seafood plates highlights Peru’s passion for coastal food ($9.95 to $14.95). Make sure to ask for lucuma ice cream for dessert (described for the rest of us as a “pink vanilla flavor”), or maybe a bavarois de guindones, a dessert made with egg whites and raisins.

When is a South Beach restaurant not a South Beach restaurantç When it’s a modest little Argentine grill just a handful of blocks away from the gold-paved streets of Lincoln Road. Actually to call Parrilla Liberty modest is an understatement. But who caresç The food is good and plentiful, the ambiance is downright neighborly, and prices are low, low, low. Less than ten bucks gets you a hearty churrasco dinner with fries that put those served at the toniest steakhouses to shame. A few bucks more gets you an appetite-busting parrillada — blood sausage, chorizo, sweetbreads, short ribs, flank steak, and a choice of sides. Give me liberty or give me Parrilla Liberty.

Brazil, like the United States, is a big-ass country. When you have a big-ass country, you generally have a cuisine that’s all about the fat of the land. Every animal, plant, fruit, and vegetable should be abundantly heaped upon the plate of a big-ass country’s big-ass meal.When you bring a big-ass country’s cuisine to the U.S. (witness China, Mexico, India) we have the odd tendency of serving it up buffet style — putting no limits on whatever fat-of-the land meal is already being dished out. Nowehere is this truer than at Porcao, where salad, pork, lamb, and beef are boundless. Consider the $43 dinner price a ticket to meat land. The Brazilians know how to do it, after all. And at Porcao they do it right: real classy, with a nice view of the bay. Ah, sí.

It may sound like the name of an Atari videogame hero, but the namesake stew at Mondongo’s is a serious meal. Twelve bucks gets you a massive bowl of pork, potatoes, and peppers, with sides of rice and arepas. With its two Medellin restaurants doing booming business, Mondongo’s has exported its popular paisa cuisine to Doral. Take your pick of typical dishes, including, appropriately enough, the Típico, a heaping platter of rice, beans, meat, eggs, plantains, chicharrones, and all kinds of tasty Ají sauces, for $11.25. It’s a hard-core protein-and-carbs place with good cocktails, reasonable prices, and takeout, if that’s your style.

“Welcome to Kokoriko,” said a smiling young employee in a bright-pink-and-khaki uniform as we entered this brightly lit fast-food restaurant. Just as McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Starbucks, and all of those other multinational fast food chains have invaded the world, KokoRiko has infiltrated America. KokoRiko has been Colombia’s largest fast-food chain since 1969; the first U.S. franchise just opened right here in Miami. “Local Colombians love KokoRiko,” says the employee. “On the weekends we have a line out the door and down the block. It is unbelievable, and the funny thing is they wait for three hours sometimes. “Try special number three, which includes two pieces of rotisserie chicken served with a side of rice and red beans ($5.89). They also serve beer — Heineken and Coors Light only. “Can you guess where we are opening our second U.S. KokoRikoç” asks the employee. “Los Angelesç” She shakes her head. “New Yorkç” “No, Hialeah!” she giggles.

Chef Alvaro Beade hails from the rich culinary region of Castilla y Leon in Spain, and so do many of Ideas’s ingredients (and ideas). The wine list, for instance, is laden with lush Leonese labels from Toro, Rueda, and Ribera del Duero. Mediterranean seafoods are flown in too, like lubina (sea bass), dorada (sea bream), and the calamarilike cuttlefish. Roasted piquillo peppers, courtesy of the Ebro River Valley, get piped with bacalao and drizzled with cognac sauce. We’re not sure where the crackly-skinned suckling pig comes from, but we do know it is sumptuously simmered in its fat for three hours before getting finished in the oven — and that it is unspeakably, lip-smackingly good. So are consommé of Serrano ham, carpaccio of king prawn, veal cheeks braised in red wine, and a 35-ounce, bone-in rib eye steak for two. Yet a finish of saffron-soaked pineapple carpaccio capped with scintillating lime sorbet just might sound the highest note of all. Cuisine this delicious and authentically Spanish doesn’t come cheap (entrées are $28 to $36), but the price includes entertainment by way of a picture window in the elegantly appointed dining room that allows diners to peer into the glistening kitchen and watch the gastronomic goings-on. Does your favorite Spanish restaurant have all thisç We didn’t think so.

If Piedmontese identical twin chefs Nicola and Fabrizio Carro were actually on a stage accepting this honor, one would hope they would display the sort of humility exhibited by classy Oscar winners. Maybe start off by acknowledging their awe at just being up for consideration in the same category as respected Italian restaurants like Escopazzo, Osteria del Teatro, Macaluso’s, and Romeo’s Café — after all, Quattro just opened up this past year. Then they might offer a little backstory about how they just recently arrived in this country, and their struggles with understanding English, dealing with the logistics of importing fresh fish from the Mediterranean, and so forth. Banter is always appreciated. Nicola could call Fabrizio a cheesy guy, and Fabrizio could respond, “Yes, I love taleggio, tome, pecorino sardo, and all the other cheeses culled from our country that we serve at Quattro.” Come to think of it, maybe they’d be better off getting a professional writer to help them with their jokes. Anyway let’s assume that a short film would have been shown as they made their way to the stage, with quick-cut highlights from the Northwestern Italian menu at their hot hot hot Lincoln Road eatery: fontina-fluffed ravioli drizzled with butter and white truffle oil. Veal tenderly braised with cipollini onions and vermouth. A New York strip steak. The gastronomically gifted brothers would be remiss not to mention Monferrato vintner Nicola Schšn, who has assembled Quattro’s expensive, all-Italian, 300-bottle wine list (including vibrant varietals from Molise and other relatively unplumbed regions). No one could blame them if they put in a plug, like pointing out that they are open for both lunch and dinner, and that, although they are in the “expensive” category, most main courses run around $23 to $27 (although they go up to $53). The music is starting to play … time to wrap things up, boys. Hold the trophy in the air, thank Miami New Times, and take your bows.

Inevitabilities of life include war, death, taxes, and the opening of fun, affordable, family-friendly Italian restaurants by the Belante clan. Luna Café is the latest venue from the family responsible for Bella Luna, Trattoria Rosalia, and Carpaccio, among others. Why do they keep starting up dining establishments? Because they’re so damned good at it! Luna Café’s atmosphere is comfortable; the service more professional than at much more expensive places; the menu’s soups, salads, pizzas, pastas, antipasti, carpaccio, risotti, fish, chicken, and meats universally appealing. The Northern Italian fare, including standouts such as pasta e fagioli, lasagna, and a blistering wood-oven roasted chicken, are terrifically tasty, prodigiously portioned, and miraculously priced — pastas top out at $14, entrées at $22. Wait a minute — we have to make an update. Luna Café is not the latest Billante venture. Vivi Ristorante just debuted at First Street and Ocean Drive. Guess a South Beach branch was inevitable.

In France, a bistro is a homey (and often family-run) everyday eating/drinking place, serving down-to-earth fare at prices that match. Unfortunately le bistrot has lost a lot more in translation than the final “t.” Today’s American bistros can be almost anything, including pretentious and pricey. At the three Valderrama sisters’ friendly neighborhood place, however, the “bistro” part of the name is as genuine as Mama Lila (their Peruvian grandmother, and inspiration). In the kitchen, head chef Elisa and sous chef Lili turn out honest, eclectic fare that’s basically contemporary American, with influences from the Mediterranean, Asia, and Mama L. Standout dishes include jalapeño, chicken, and cheddar soup ($3.95/5.95); and Lila’s chicken salad, a succulent, nut-crusted chicken breast sliced on a mix of greens, grapes, and muenster cheese, with a tangy-sweet onion dressing ($9.95). In all dishes, everything is house-made, from the imaginative salad dressings to the luscious mayo on the sandwiches. And you get a lot of food for little money. Out front, sister Rosa’s welcome makes everyone feel like regulars, and something from the small but thoughtfully selected and well-priced wine list induces a similar warm glow. French it’s not, but a real bistro it is.

New Yorkers of all descriptions have been coming to Miami for decades to flee their bitter winters, so why wouldn’t big-time Big Apple chef/restaurateurs do it too too? One of the latest such snowbirds is Christian Delouvrier, who has reprised the upscale bistro formula of the original Large Pippin Goulue, in Manhattan, at this outpost at the tony Bal Harbour Shops. While the new location’s menu is more limited than that of the original, what Delouvrier does here, he does very well indeed. Of course there’s not much a restaurant needs do to oysters on the half-shell, except serve the freshest sweet-briny bivalves possible. Which Goulue does. It also does an elegant foie gras and properly lusty variation on salad Lyonnaise as well as dead-on steak-frites. None of this comes cheap — witness $21 foie and a $32 half-order of risotto — but it’s still reason to send our thanks to Old Man Winter.

The five or so authentic Chinese places in town have been done to death. Just Google “Chinese” and “Miami” and the names come up again and again. Lung Gong is authentic. Kon Chau’s got dim sum on lock. But which restaurant is most Miami? Jamaica Kitchen — no doubt. Enter its nook of the Sunset West Shopping Center and find yourself in a whirl of homemade soups (made daily), patties, and a curry goat that will make you do a backflip. But something odd about the menu draws you to a totally different place: the pork and hamchoy (a preserved mustard green), the suey mein (a noodle soup featuring a crazy egg roll stuffed with pork and shrimp — $10 per quart). Or perhaps you are drawn to the simple delights of the “Chinese roast chicken.” Prices vary from lunch to dinner, fluctuating between about $6 to $9. Sidle up to the long counter; enjoy the friendly banter of the mom and pop owners and the fine island beats playing in the background. Or don’t. They’ve been around for more than 24 years, don’t advertise, and have no interest in being reviewed or winning this award. Jah bless them — they know they’re the bomb.

A ton of perks come with being the official “gateway to the Americas.” Afro-Cuban bands and Brazilian bikinis aside, we are blessed with access to restaurants serving awesome food from exotic locales beyond the home of processed cheese. One such place is the Bahamian Pot, a trip to the Caribbean that doesn’t require a passport — just your hungry belly. The menu is overflowing with island favorites like conch chowder, oxtail, plantains, stewed fish, and Johnny Cake; and as an ode to good ol’ American eatin’, the menu is also home to soul-food staples like fried chicken, pork chop sandwiches, and an awesome lemon cake. The chefs at the Bahamian Pot have perfected the art of just-right spice; never ever bland, yet nothing that will knock your taste buds from your tongue. And since nothing at the Pot is over $15, no matter what you order your wallet will still be as full as your tummy. The entire menu is sublime, but a must-try is the guava duff, a boiled fruit-filled ball of dough, also known as the perfect marriage between Miami and the Caribbean.

Everyone in this neighborhood knows the Jamaican-born Cliff, who has been cooking up a storm in his ramshackle roadside restaurant since 1986. It’s difficult to find anybody around here, in fact, who hasn’t sat down at one of the stools lined along a counter and dug into curried shrimp, stew peas, pork chops, cow feet, or other West Indian specialties that Cliff’s crew does just right. Lunch specials include any of the aforementioned, with pigeon rice, steamed cabbage, fried plantains, and fruit punch or lemonade — for a downright neighborly sum of $5.50. The same price brings a breakfast of yam, banana dumpling, and callaloo, but we haven’t even mentioned the really lip-smacking stuff found at Cliff’s: curried goat with a devilish ginger-masala kick, and barbecued and/or jerked chicken and pork ribs that get slow-cooked in a black barbecue smoker outside. Ask for the hotter barbecue sauce, which is perked with piquant Scotch bonnet chilies, and request a Red Stripe Beer to chug along. You are set. Cliff’s roots, rocks, and reggaes on weekend nights, when giant speakers gush island music until 3:00 a.m

I. sage-tone walls
gray slate floors
a single yellow tulip in a glass vase

II. big-eye tuna with sparkling orange roe
white fish in ume-plum sauce
painting pan-Asian influences
upon white plates

calligraphy on scroll

III. o satoimo roll,
softly fried, golden-brown soybean skin
enveloping
whipped taro and blue crab —
be still, little blossom!

IV. 58 chairs
24 small plates
four nightly specials
between $6 and $14

Yes, there are plenty of swank and sleek sushi joints on the beach, with low lighting and creative hand rolls. But sometimes all you want is sushi, and lots of it. California rolls have become the comfort food of the 21st Century, and at Tokyo Bowl — a small restaurant with big flavor — you can get waaaay comfortable in a roomy booth and order all the rolls you want. For $14. That price also includes soup and salad and a small dessert. All of the staples are here: octopus, eel, tuna, tempura. Service is efficient, competent, and friendly. Ambiance is laid-back, with soft jazz and a wooden Buddha or two smiling down on your tekka roll. If you can’t wait around, there’s takeout and a drive-through window. And a word about the dessert: Try the fried cheesecake roll. We were skeptical, but the oozing, creamy brown-sugar-cheese mixture was almost orgasmic. In a comforting way.

Ten Incredibly Interesting (and of Course Pristinely Fresh and Delicious) Presentations of Raw Fish in Various Guises That Su-Shin Izakaya Serves but the Wimpy Sushi Joint That You Make a Habit of Going to Does Not:1. Maguro Yamakake: Tuna atop sliced mountain potato ($10)2. Roscoe Roll: Eel, cream cheese, and asparagus, wrapped in rice and seaweed and fried ($6.50)3. Blue Island: Crab, avocado, lettuce, and masago splashed with tosazu vinegar and rolled in cucumber ($6.50)4. Kurage Su: Marinated jelly fish and cabbage ($6)5. Karashi Conch: Raw and spicy ($6)6. Uzukuri: A selection of raw, thinly sliced fish with ponzu or cilantro vinaigrette ($10-$18)7. Tako Butsa: Thick cuts of octopus sashimi ($9)8. Myoto Roll: Japanese mint and pickled plum ($3.50)9. Teppo Roll: With a cooked Japnese squash called kampyo ($3)10. China Dog: Hand roll with raw spicy beef, daikon sprouts, and sesame seeds ($3.50 — and yes, we know this doesn’t have raw fish in it, but we like the name)Amazingly the nonsushi Japanese menu here is even more intriguing.

Siam Palace serves wonderful food in an elegant, relaxed setting. The dining room’s rich golden tones and exotic flower arrangements make for a warm and friendly dining experience. Anything off the menu is more than likely to delight.Appetizers like vegetable-filled curry puffs ($5) or Thai spring rolls ($3) are light and aromatic. There’s also the chicken ($7) or beef ($8) satay that you can warm over a small hibachi before enjoying with either a cucumber or peanut dipping sauce. Soups and salads are delicious and bursting with the bold flavors of Thailand — curry, coconut milk, and various spices.For the main course choose from vegetable, seafood, or poultry dishes. Beef panang curry ($15 for dinner) is sweet with coconut milk and ground peanuts, but spicy from its peppery sauce. Siam chicken ($14.50 dinner) is lightly breaded and quickly fried. It burns with chili but you won’t want to stop the heat. Chef’s specials are always a good choice; if you’re lucky they’ll have the shrimp in tamarind sauce ($17.50 for dinner).Don’t get too stuffed, though, because desserts are amazing as well. Various exotic ice cream flavors are available, as are Thai donuts and fried ice cream. If you like fruit after dinner, make sure to sample the fried banana. It’s lightly wrapped like a spring roll and served in small morsels covered in condensed milk with a side of ice cream.Readers’ Choice: Moon Thai

This is a lifetime achievement award that you can win only once: our hall of fame of great local chefs, so to speak. Exclusive membership in this relatively new category is thus far comprised of just Norman, Mark, and Allen, each iconic enough to go by first name only. This year’s inductees, Philippe Ruiz and Pascal Oudin, have been Miami’s two finest French culinarians for many seasons now. Mr. Ruiz, from Saint Julien en Genevois, took over the helm of Palme d’Or in the Biltmore Hotel in 1999. Mr. Oudin, born and raised in Moulin, France, was executive chef at Dominique’s Restaurant at the Alexander Hotel in 1984, served in the same capacity at Grand Café at the Grand Bay Hotel, and cemented his stardom when he started his own Pascal’s on Ponce in 2000. Palme d’Or is the finest high-end French restaurant in town, and Pascal’s on Ponce is the finest neighborhood French restaurant. Both chefs trained under Michelin-star legends in France, and approach their craft in old-world, no-nonsense fashion. Both are highly inventive, but adhere rigorously to classic French technique. Both possess peerless gastronomic knowledge, and a knack for consistently producing fresh, natural, intriguing, intensely flavored, sublimely delicious cuisine … so elegantly! That’s why both of them — Pascal and Philippe — are our two top chefs.

When VIPs such as Tony Blair and his entourage dine at North One 10, chef/proprietor Dewey LoSasso comes out from the kitchen to greet them and accept kudos for his luscious New American cuisine. Sous chefs Christopher Woodard and Paul Malonson will meanwhile be sweating away, keeping the rest of the restaurant’s dinners flowing out as LoSasso takes his bows. It is understood that while the executive chef’s responsibilities require all manner of promotional/managerial work, the sous chef must take command of minute-by-minute food production and supervision of the kitchen staff. Think of it as an executive chef being the coach, a sous chef the quarterback. And think of Dewey LoSasso as one of the bigger pains in the ass to have to serve under as sous chef. One week he’ll put out a Godfather dinner with “Sonny Corleone’s Bullet-Ridden Swordfish” (gremolata and tomato-caper ragout); the next week he’ll have a Passover dinner with chopped liver toast and three colors of potato kugel; the week after that a “Wines from Washington” event. “I change the menu so often, they tell me it’s like Iron Chef when they walk in the kitchen,” says LoSasso. “It is a testament to their talent that they can adapt and collaborate with me on these constantly changing themes.” It helps that Woodard and Malonson have professional schooling behind them (the Culinary Institute of America and Johnson & Wales).”Customers should never know when the chef is off. Rather, the cuisine should even be better. That is the sign of a great sous chef,” LoSasso says. While Dewey was expounding upon this subject with us, no doubt Woodard and Malonson were somewhere in the kitchen, busily chopping away.

He gained fame in the mid-Nineties as a cutting-edge American chef with a fondness for big, bold, barbecue-ish flavors brightened by tropical island accents. Back then Johnny Vinczencz (aka “the Caribbean Cowboy”) ruled the roost at the Hotel Astor. One day the irrepressible chef packed his knife kit, picked up his South Beach stakes, and rode off to Delray Beach and De La Tierra at the Sundy House. Laid low, you might say. After some years he ambled down to Fort Lauderdale and opened a place of his own, Johnny V Las Olas, which was, and still is, successful enough that folks in Miami Beach just assumed that they’d never see V in these parts again. Old cowboys never die, though, they just become a little less Caribbean and a little more Latin as they grow older. Or at least that’s the case with Vinczencz, who after seven years away has come full circle with a return to the Astor, where this time he is proprietor as well as chef — and is calling his cuisine “nuevo American.” Can he reclaim his spot on top from all the new kids in townç Stay tuned.

Gather round, kiddies. Gramps is gonna tell ya a story about the good old days on South Beach. See, there was this place called Colony Hotel on a glorious street called Ocean Drive — what’s thatç Oh, very well, glad to see it’s still around, but back in those days, the Colony was, as we liked to say, “the grooviest spot to be in with the in crowd.” Or something like that. Oh, wait, no, this was the early Nineties, not the Sixties. Anyway, Robbin Haas was the talented young chef there, and it was the hottest restaurant in town, and the weather was hot, too. Which reminds me — it’s a little drafty in here, noç What was I sayingç Oh, yes, thank you. Mr. Haas was a wild one all right — rarely got enough sleep, if you know what I mean. But he was talented, and the flavors of his food jumped off the plate like a frog from a frying pan. I haven’t the foggiest idea what it means, it’s just an old saying, now don’t interrupt me like that. What was — oh, Bang was the next place he worked, and then that was the best restaurant in town. Next came Spleen, which was a great Grove Isle steak and seafood house when it first opened with Haas at the helm. Ehç Baleenç Yes, I suppose it could be — well, either way, Haas made it happen, and after that he put the spark in Chispa, and was consulting with restaurant groups all over the country. Then he went to Costa Rica, on vacation I think, and he came back ranting and raving about all the great foods and beautiful foliage and whatnot and then he moved there and we haven’t really heard from him since. What’s thatç Yes, you can all go now.

Michael Gilligan has been close to kitchens, in one way or another, since being born above one in a family-owned pub in Birmingham, England. Prior to becoming executive chef of Atrio (pronounced Ah-trio) in the summer of 2005, he toiled for eighteen years — in his native country, in France, as sous chef at the Ritz-Carlton in New York, as chef at Candela and Metro 53 in the same city, and at Rumi on South Beach. But it is at Atrio, a gem of a restaurant within the Conrad Miami, that Gilligan’s “Asian-Latin-influenced progressive American cuisine” has matured into something truly special. You can reap the benefits of experience in his avocado soup with lime and jalapeño. In barramundi yakizakana, a whole, grilled organic fish glazed with ponzu. In a grass-fed veal chop with Gulf shrimp mashed potatoes. You needn’t spend a bundle, either, as a three-course prix fixe lunch menu is available for $20. Didn’t know about chef Gilliganç You do now. And once you taste his food, you’ll never forget the name.

It’s not as though nobody knows about this place. In fact the restaurant seems to be doing just fine. But with Bouley, Govind, Johnny V, and a near tidal wave of splashy debuts this past year, chef Jason McClain’s 80-seat charmer (with more outdoor tables in front and back) seems to have been lost in the shuffle. Undeservedly so. The modern, Mediterranean-theme cuisine bristles with boldly assertive flavors, from Moroccan-spiced calamari spiked with Meyer lemon, to lamb carpaccio drizzled with banyuls syrup (a red Pyrenees wine), to entrees such as veal tenderloin rimmed in crisp Serrano ham, and pan-seared grouper pooled in wild mushroom and truffle broth. The amiable atmosphere at 8 1/2 makes dining here a personal and pleasurable experience — though not an inexpensive one. Main courses run from the upper-twenty to mid-thirty-dollar range. Wines are marked up more modestly, and of the 80-plus selections, some thirty are available not just by the glass, but in three- or six-ounce pours. Check it out soon — joints like this are never as good once the radar picks them up.

Berries is the type of restaurant that every neighborhood needs at least one of. Whether for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, when you grab a seat here you know you’ll be getting hefty portions of hearty, well-prepared food at eminently reasonable prices (almost all entrées are under $20). The cuisine is nothing you haven’t seen before, but chances are you haven’t seen it done this consistently well. Fried calamari is greaseless, hummus is creamy with a slight chile piquancy, pastas are garnished with fresh, ripe tomatoes, and there are surprisingly satisfying specials such as mojo-marinated pork loin with pickled red onion, garlic mashed potatoes, and sauteéd spinach — now that’s a square meal, alongside which you can wedge a huge, homemade, heartwarming chunk of milk chocolatey chocolate cake. As the restaurant’s name implies, juices, shakes, and smoothies are house specialties, but at dinner you might want to consider the concise roster of inexpensive wines. A lushly foliated outdoor patio, daily happy hour with drinks 50 percent off, live jazz twice weekly — Jesus, what more could you want from your neighborhood restaurant?

Soya & Pomodoro is a little restaurant that serves a soy burger at lunch ($6) but is otherwise all Italian. It’s tucked away in a tiny spot on a rickety street in downtown Miami. No, sorry — it’s tucked away in two tiny spots, one indoors, with two or three tables and a ventanita; the other an open-ended, kinda outdoor spot under a towering, but again rickety colonnade. Yet it’s all strangely seductive, rustic, and charming, like a trattoria you might stumble into on some side street in Rome. The two spaces are attached to one another, and a kitchen somewhere in between pumps out what they call “simple food made with love,” but what we call damn tasty red-sauce Italian food. Can’t go wrong with ricotta and mushroom ravioli, or spaghetti Bolognese, or handmade gnocchi, or any of the pastas — they’re terrific! And get this: Every menu item, excepting sirloin steak and salmon, is under ten dollars. The fish and steaks top out at $11 ($14 for dinner). Eminently drinkable wines are available at similarly bargain prices. Espressos are topnotch, and so is the homemade tiramisu. Soya & Pomodoro is open for breakfast and lunch daily, but serves dinner only on Thursday evenings, when there is also live music. an We haven’t yet gotten around to tasting the soy burger.

It just appeared, as if out of nowhere — one day there was no Sardinia Enoteca Ristorante in South Beach, the next day there was. And the day after that the 96-seater was packed to the gills, and hasn’t seen an empty chair since. While “party hearty” is the draw for many a SoBe dining establishment, it is Sardi-hearty fare, rustic and robustly flavored, that has lit the fire of the public’s fancy here. Lighting the smoky fire of a roaring open hearth are logs of wood beside which you’ll find roasting baby suckling pigs, pancetta-wrapped quail, baked baby octopus, peasant-style stews, and Black Angus rib eye steaks. Sardinia offers a surplus of enticements unique to South Beach restaurants, among them olives with wild fennel flowers, boar sausage, chestnut honey, Italy’s diverse cheeses, Sardinia’s distinctive wines, professional service, and affordable prices — most pastas are $14 to $24; main courses are in the midtwenties range. There are no reservations accepted, so take advantage of a less-crowded lunch hour, or take your place in line.

Once upon a time, South Miami was a big mall and nothing more. That was, like, a year or two ago. Then something happened, sort of suddenly, and things just started popping up. Things like clubs. And cafés. And restaurants. Even good restaurants, which the former mall-city never had many of. No dining establishment epitomizes the neighborhood’s resurgence so much as Town Kitchen & Bar. Its urban-industrial design, with poured concrete floor and walls, looks more up-to-date than earlier area eateries. The big-city bar scene attracts a young and professional clientele who, cocktails in hand, overflow onto the outdoor patio in a way not before seen in these parts. Food is fun and fulsome, a medley of pizzas, pastas, salads, sandwiches, mussel pots, seafoods, and steaks. The last are especially fetching: grain-fed Angus beef from “Stockyard’s Packing” in Chicago, sliced in-house, massaged with a wet rub of seasonings, and broiled at 1400 degrees. Prices are kept affordable — a twelve-ounce Delmonico steak dinner is just $22. Key lime pie is a product of The Blond Giraffe Key Lime Pie Factory, ice cream is imported from The Frieze, and espresso is courtesy of Illy. Those are quality goods, which with a healthy dose of joviality and cool urban vibe make this our kind of Town — be it lunch or dinnertime.

Three memorable moments in Key Biscayne history:1. In 1513 Juan Ponce de Leon, poking around for the fountain of youth, discovered Key Biscayne instead. Confused, he named the island Santa Marta, filled his ships’ barrels with water, and took off. 2. Some 450 years later Bebe Rebozo moved here. He was pals with Richard Nixon. 3. In 2001, Le Croisic, named after a small town in Brittany, opened its rustic café doors off Crandon Boulevard. It was mostly a crperie back then, and a wispy gold galette, filled with Mediterranean vegetables, is still prepared the Old World way — with sarrasin, a Breton buckwheat that makes for an incomparably nutty batter. Nowadays, though, Croisic’s menu goes way beyond crpes to encompass a wide vista of traditional bistro fare such as French onion soup, homemade foie gras terrine, crab quiche, a bouncy bouillabaise (only on Fridays), and a standout steak-frites — the crisp, succulent, shoestring fries alone qualify Croisic for honors, especially when dunked into a supplemental side of tangy, tarragon-flecked béarnaise sauce. Nothing beats a Molire flambé of cognac and strawberries wrapped in a sweet crpe for dessert — although the tarte tatin is exemplary too. Main courses are all kept below $30, service is friendly, the wine list is serviceable and unpretentious. As Molire would say: Ooh-la-la. Or was it Bebe Rebozo who said thatç

An elderly couple sitting on a bench in Sunny Isles:— Do you remember the pumpernickel rollsç— Do I remember the pumpernickel rollsç What kind of question is thatç Why not ask me if I recall our only daughter’s weddingç Of course I remember the pumpernickel rolls!— Do you remember how big the pastrami sandwiches wereç— Who could finish such a thingç — And the knishes …— Your sister Esther, may she rest in peace, used to schlep shopping bags of them back with her to Michigan.— Do you recall the matzo ball soup —— Don’t get me started with the soups.— And was that chocolate babka not to die forç— I’d sell that ungrateful son of ours to Hamas — God forbid he should ever give us a call — to Hamas I’d sell him for another wedge of that babka!— Do you remember the blintzesç— Okay, enough already with the “do you remembers”! — I’m just saying, they couldn’t let Rascal House stay open a few more yearsç — What, they’re going to keep it going just for old birds like usç Who are we, the prince and princess of Monacoç — So many construction cranes. And such noise!— Oy.

A food court is a food court is a food court. All malls follow the same basic template — cookies, cr?pes, and ice cream at the outskirts; Chinese and Japanese counters serving teriyaki and handing out chicken on toothpicks; some kind of baked potato place; and insert your random ethnic-lite option here. The seating area is guaranteed to be crowded on a weekend afternoon, and the grub is overpriced and served fast. So what makes Aventura’s better than any other blueprint eatery zoneç Variety and beer.In addition to the expected Häagen-Dazs, Cr?pemaker, and Mrs. Fields Cookies at the court’s opening, there’s Teavana. A tea lover encountering it for the first time is likely to weep tears of joy that such a wonderful establishment even exists. Sip a free sample of Jasmine Pearls/Rooibos Tropicos blend and ponder the menu. Dudes with big appetites can nosh on Charlie’s Grilled Subs — a large cheese steak and steak fries will set you back a Hamilton. Little ones intent on “pasghetti” can get lunch at Che Pasta. Pasha’s is coming soon, and it’ll be sandwiched between the sample-happy Asian Chao and Shrimp Market. Healthy options are available at an adorable homestyle Chicken Grill (replete with wood kitchen cupboards), and Paradise Café, where a ginormous salad costs $8.59. But the prize is Tropical Express, a Cuban joint that offers an authentic alternative to the traditional “ethnic lite” option. Besides Cuban sandwiches, churrasco served with maduros, and frijoles negros y arroz blanco, they’ve got coladas and cortaditos for a buck fifty. Plus, miserable shopped-out husbands can drown their sorrows with domestic beers for $3.20 and imports for $3.60.

“God is liberal of color; so should man be.” We have it on good authority that when Herman Melville offered these words on interior decorating, he was not referring to Azul, the acclaimed restaurant in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. For one thing, Melville was long dead when Azul opened. Also, Azul isn’t that colorful. Just gorgeous. A big, bright, slightly elevated open kitchen is clad in white marble and stainless steel, as is the ravishingly sexy raw bar. White linens grace the tables, champagne-color cloth upholsters the chairs, floors are of beautiful buffed rosewood, and a lovely lattice of metal screens the dining area from the bar. Azul is surrounded on three sides by bay, the unparalleled spectrum of which floods into the room via floor-to-ceiling windows. Blue and white do not a rainbow make, but Melville’s advice has certainly been picked up by chef Clay Conley, who spins the whole color wheel onto his elegantly plated (and delectable) cuisine. Azul is a classic: the Moby Dick of Miami restaurant décor.

That restaurants die is a given. Just the same, the number of fatalities this past year seemed especially high, and cut across every ethnicity imaginable. The French bistro L’Entrecôte de Paris. The Italian Parioli Café. The Spanish Mosaico and, months later, its sister tapas bar, Salero. Madiba, the South African shebeen in South Beach. SouthWest NY, the Southwestern spot in the Dolphin Mall. The kosher Restaurant Juliette in Surfside. Even reliable restaurateurs like Dennis Max and Tom Billante experienced failure (Café Max in the Gables, Suga in SoBe). OLA South Beach closed and reopened a few blocks away (where Suga used to be). But nothing disappointed us more than the shuttering of Restaurant Brana after just six months in business. Chef Jeffrey Brana (formerly of Norman’s) and his wife Anna Elena put their heart and soul into this elegant Coral Gables establishment, which boasted indigenous ingredients such as Indian River honey and Loxahatchee frogs’ legs, and fresh produce hauled in from Homestead and nearby organic farms. Everything was homemade, from the whole grain bread to delectably dense Jamaican mint ice cream. Service was exceptional, as were the selections of artisanal cheeses and boutique wines. Gone, gone, gone. But there is a potentially happy ending to this story: The Branas are reputedly shopping around for a new location.

Saddam Hussein’s last meal consisted of boiled chicken and rice. Adolf Eichmann simply swilled half a bottle of Carmel — an Israeli wine. John Wayne Gacy chowed down on fried chicken, fried shrimp, French fries, and strawberries (always healthy to finish with fresh fruit). Fried chicken, in case you were dying to know, is among the most popular last meal requests of the condemned. The most frightening final snack was Timothy McVeigh asking for two pints of Ben & Jerry’s mint chocolate-chip ice cream — scary because it’s so sane! Everyone exhibits their own uniquely personal style when it comes to a last supper choice, and you needn’t be a convicted mass murderer to dwell upon what yours would ideally be. Ours: Well, pretty similar to that of mass murderer McVeigh’s — after all, what could be more immediately refreshing and mind-numbingly satisfying than ice cream to have lingering on your lips as life slips awayç Rocky’s Italian Ices, that’s what. The closet-size takeout shop on Ocean Drive, with photos of Rocky Marciano and Rocky Balboa on its red, white, and green-tile walls, boasts the finest Italian ices south of Mulberry Street. Lemon, watermelon, banana, canteloupe, and a half-dozen or so other scintillating flavors are made from fresh fruit, and run $2.75 for a six-ounce cup, up to $7.95 for the sixteen-ounce size. We’d ask for one of those little plastic spoonfuls of every flavor to taste, and then request one pint of each.

If a cup of lobster bisque with an apple, piece of multigrain baguette, and little ball of Lindt chocolate doesn’t seem like the best deal in town at $8.95 for a cup ($10.95 for a bowl), it’s only because you haven’t tasted the lobster bisque. The velvety, coral-color soup is chockablock with 22 percent shellfish by content — which adds up to what seems like a full, lush lobster in every cup (the cup is supposed to hold eight ounces, but you get more than that). The creator of this classic bisque is Al Yeganeh, immortalized as the “Soup Nazi” in a Seinfeld episode and now franchising his startling talent for making delicious soups nationwide. This Aventura branch is Florida’s first, and, as we say, it is home of the best meal for under ten bucks. Of course some might consider one of the other dozen or so daily soups for this honor, all of which cost less than the bisque. A cup of peerless chicken barley, for instance, with fruit, chocolate, and half a sandwich, can be had for the same price of $8.95. So can New England clam chowder, sausage gumbo, chicken noodle, vichyssoise … but the very very best deal is — and we don’t want to have to say this again — the lobster bisque.

A homey café in the clubhouse of the public Granada Golf Course, Burger Bob’s isn’t known for decor: green formica chairs, white plastic tables. But where in Coral Gables — or anywhere for that matter — can you get a $4 cheeseburger and an amazing view of the beautiful first fairwayç Homemade soups and “Granada Melts” (such as roast beef with onions and melted cheese for $6.25) are par for the course.

Dear Chowdog: Friends are coming to visit. Picky people. Very discerning about their food. From Los Angeles. Always quoting Zagat this, Zagat that. Snobby bastards. They love Asian cuisine, natch, but they insist as much upon scene as sashimi. I mean, God forbid they just sit down and enjoy a meal with a little conversation, but no, these sybarites have to be simultaneously stimulated visually, audibly, orally, and gastronomically. Where can I take them for dinnerç Signed, Anxious in AventuraDear Anxious: Sushisamba Dromo is the only place guaranteed to please pampered voluptuaries such as these. After all, the dynamic fusion of Japanese, Brazilian, and Peruvian cuisine is unique even to the most jaded of Los Angelenos. Let them try to find lobster ceviche with mango and lime, or torched salmon tiraditos, or yellowtail carpaccio with black truffle oil back where they come from. Or a churrasco platter with hangar steak, chorizo, rib eye, pork, linguia, and malagueta pepper oil. Or as scintillating a sake selection, or as colorful a Cosplayer club scene, or as boisterous a party as the one that takes place here nightly. Best part: When you travel west and return the visit, you can comment on how the L.A. dining landscape seems … a little on the dull side.

From the exterior, the new Regent Hotel looks like a luxury cruise ship. Knowing that Govind Armstrong is helming the restaurant within makes you want to get onboard. Badly. But … can you swing a $26 appetizer, even if you know the seared foie gras on brioche French toast, with glazed apples and persimmon reduction, will make you woozy with delightç There isn’t much question whether a main course of Kobe beef is gonna be tasty, especially when richly matched with creamed chard, oven-crisped potatoes, and mushroom ragout — but that’s another $37, my friend. You can’t have cuisine of this level without washing it down with a decent wine, but even a modest selection such as a 2004 Hess Estate Cabernet will tack an additional $65 onto the bill. Desserts start at $9. Oh, sure, you probably can afford to eat here at least once. And it is definitely worthwhile to do so. But why rush out and put a strain on your budget, when you can just be patient and wait for the next time that deep-pocketed friend or relative comes a-callingç Do you know of a good place for dinnerç Why yes, you know the perfect spot!

When you tell your guest that they simply must try the house specialty, rotisserie chicken, there is no need to mention that a quarter bird, con papas y ensalada, is just $5.99. With skin so crisp and meat this juicy, they won’t believe you anyway. In fact be a sport and encourage them to go for the half-chicken, also with potatoes and salad, for $7.99. “The papa rellena is without peer,” you’ll crow, knowing that the potato stuffed with a seasoned sauté of beef, onions, tomatoes, and raisins, although only $6.99, will taste like a million bucks. But don’t stop there. This extensive menu warrants an open mind and adventurous spirit, stocked as it is with all manner of meat, fish, chicken, and vegetarian dishes prepared with Peruvian flair. And with prices under $10 for just about anything, you can act like a big shot. Order one of the ceviches, the lime-infused fish freshly dressed with yam and corn on the cob. Insist on some aji de gallina, moist morsels of chicken in what can only be described as a walnut-garlic gravy. Get some lomo saltado, too — it’s another specialty of the house that reeks of authenticity. A round of pisco soursç Believe us, it won’t break the bank. When you graciously pick up the check at evening’s end, your dinnermates will no doubt have a newfound respect for both your generosity and savvy in selecting special dining spots. That you are a cheapskate at heart won’t even enter their minds.

Barton G’s cuisine has always been about pushing the envelope, and now, thanks to cutting-edge molecular mixology, the cocktails at this crazy popular South Beach restaurant are over the top, too. The Below Zero Nitro Bar utilizes liquid nitrogen to manipulate the temperatures, textures, and tastes of mixed drinks. Our favorites are the Classic Nitro-tini Ciroc Vodka, garnished by a frozen vodka swizzle stick and frozen pearls of olive juice and blue cheese; and the Pink Elephant Nitro-tini, with an Absolut Red Vodka popsicle for swirling through ruby red grapefruit juice and fresh grapefruit segments. All nitro-cocktails have a high potency score, given that frozen alcohol is used for the ice cubes (not frozen water, which dilutes a drink). The future is now, and only available at Barton G.

Tiberio Lobo-Navia is, in fact, the only tequilier in this neck of the woods, and in every other neck of America, too. A tequilier, as some of the more astute among you may have guessed, is just like a sommelier, but recommends tequila instead of wine. That might seem an unexpectedly upscale amenity for an eatery housed in a thatched-roof palapa and illuminated by tiki torches, but this is, after all, the Ritz-Carlton. Tiberio, who trained in the Tequila region of Mexico, will enthusiastically share his expertise and assist you in pairing one of more than 80 premium, 100 percent agave spirits with any of Cantina Beach’s cool, coastal-inspired, Baja menu items — from fish tacos with chipotle peppers to guajillo-infused octopus ceviche. Of course some might want to stop by for Tequila Thursdays or Agave Sundays and just knock down some shots, or any time at all to sip margaritas while soaking in stunning sunsets over the ocean — not a bad idea at all. But if you want to unlock the secrets of this seductive Mexican spirit, Tiberio holds the key.

Okay, there are restaurants with bigger wine lists, more comprehensive wine lists, wine lists that are compendiums of rare and expensive vintages from around the world, an enophile’s wet dream. Trouble is, most of us can’t afford to eat in those restaurants, let alone shell out hundreds (or even thousands) of dollars for a well-aged Chateau Petrus or Haut-Brion. So this classy Middle Eastern/Mediterranean eatery gets the nod because its compact, thoughtfully chosen, admirably multiculti wine list not only complements its hearty, richly seasoned cuisine, but also offers a number of unexpected treats. And it does so at prices ranging from a modest $28 to a not-quite-so-modest (but reasonable for the quality) $60 a bottle (with one outlier costing $180). Want some examplesç Maso Canali Pinot Grigio, Rex Hill Pinot Noir, Edmeades Zinfandel, Pine Ridge Merlot, Stonestreet Cabernet Sauvignon, Batasiolo Barolo. All that wine, plus the food is pretty good, too.

Since becoming executive chef of the Four Seasons Hotel last year, Patrick Duff has taken the haute Asian and Latin-accented fare of its signature restaurant, Acqua, soaring to new heights. Too often desserts can crash land such high-flying meals, but pastry chef Charles Froke keeps diners’ spirits up by way of heavenly treats like Valrhona chocolate-hazelnut dome with caramel-créme brûlée center and dulce de leche gelato; honeybell orange custard; warm banana-bittersweet chocolate tart; and fantastic French macaroons — one of a number of mini desserts offered at lunch for $4 each (dinner desserts are $9). Although any of these pastries will assure a smooth landing from your first-class gastronomic flight, coming down from the sugar rush might take a bit longer. Not to worry — a savory finale is available via an assortment of artisanal cheeses such as Tomme de Boudenne and Mt. Tam. You may now loosen your seat belts.

Fuck Starbucks. Out of the Blue Café is way too good to be true. Great coffee, flaky pastries, tasty sandwiches on fresh baguettes, salads, fruit smoothies, homemade soups, and free wi-fi. Hell, they even have wine. Nestled in a beautifully redone little house, Out of the Blue has a tranquil, art-lined interior and a groovy, SoBe-style outdoor patio often decorated with fresh flowers. The café’s freshly painted pastel exterior sticks out like a delicate bud of gentrification in this somewhat raunchy neighborhood. Owner Carmen Miranda (no fruit headgear) cares a lot. Quick, competent service is sometimes complemented by surprising little touches: Don’t be surprised if free biscotti show up with your café au lait.

— STOP THE PRESSES! We need to get Michael’s new restaurant into this “Best Of” issue.— Too late. We’re ready to ship.— We’ll look out of the loop if we don’t include this season’s hottest ticket, the indoor/outdoor contemporary American bistro run by Michael Schwartz. He is, after all, one of Miami’s most popular and respected chefs. His unpretentious restaurant — with fresh, simple, impeccably executed cuisine (much of which is cooked in a wood-burning hearth), well-priced boutique wines, and friendly neighborhood service —has singlehandedly kick-started Design District café life the way Al Gore revived the global warming debate. — Sorry, wait till next year.— But his slow-roasted Berkshire pork shoulder and cheese grits, and wood-roasted black grouper with brussels spr

The five or so authentic Chinese places in town have been done to death. Just Google “Chinese” and “Miami” and the names come up again and again. Lung Gong is authentic. Kon Chau’s got dim sum on lock. But which restaurant is most Miami? Jamaica Kitchen — no doubt. Enter its nook of the Sunset West Shopping Center and find yourself in a whirl of homemade soups (made daily), patties, and a curry goat that will make you do a backflip. But something odd about the menu draws you to a totally different place: the pork and hamchoy (a preserved mustard green), the suey mein (a noodle soup featuring a crazy egg roll stuffed with pork and shrimp — $10 per quart). Or perhaps you are drawn to the simple delights of the “Chinese roast chicken.” Prices vary from lunch to dinner, fluctuating between about $6 to $9. Sidle up to the long counter; enjoy the friendly banter of the mom and pop owners and the fine island beats playing in the background. Or don’t. They’ve been around for more than 24 years, don’t advertise, and have no interest in being reviewed or winning this award. Jah bless them — they know they’re the bomb.

Most tandoori chickens look and taste the same: bright red and charred. Tikka, too, teases the taste buds similarly just about wherever it is served. Korma, biryani, vegetable samosas — we know them well. Tipu Rahman and his wife, Bithi Begum, both from Bangladesh, put out respectable renditions of all of the above for lunch and dinner at their handsome 45-seater (with just as many seats on an outdoor patio), but the less conventional dishes are what distinguish this North Miami Beach spot from other vindaloo venues. You won’t, for instance, find the Bangladeshi appetizer of fried grouper fritters (mas bhora) on every menu, nor karahi specialties in which meat, poultry, or fish gets quick-cooked in a woklike skillet heated by coals. Heelsha’s lamb karahi is one fired-up stir-fry: succulent pieces of meat melded with tomato, onion, green pepper, and garlic, then kicked up with cumin, coriander, and cardamom. It is worth a trip here just for the restaurant’s namesake fish, a sweet, freshwater, silver-skin shad flown in frozen from India, and roasted with all manner of aromatic spices. Prices, however, are more typical of other Indian restaurants — meaning entrées are under $15 to $25.

Everyone in this neighborhood knows the Jamaican-born Cliff, who has been cooking up a storm in his ramshackle roadside restaurant since 1986. It’s difficult to find anybody around here, in fact, who hasn’t sat down at one of the stools lined along a counter and dug into curried shrimp, stew peas, pork chops, cow feet, or other West Indian specialties that Cliff’s crew does just right. Lunch specials include any of the aforementioned, with pigeon rice, steamed cabbage, fried plantains, and fruit punch or lemonade — for a downright neighborly sum of $5.50. The same price brings a breakfast of yam, banana dumpling, and callaloo, but we haven’t even mentioned the really lip-smacking stuff found at Cliff’s: curried goat with a devilish ginger-masala kick, and barbecued and/or jerked chicken and pork ribs that get slow-cooked in a black barbecue smoker outside. Ask for the hotter barbecue sauce, which is perked with piquant Scotch bonnet chilies, and request a Red Stripe Beer to chug along. You are set. Cliff’s roots, rocks, and reggaes on weekend nights, when giant speakers gush island music until 3:00 a.m

Other dining establishments might pop to mind when dwelling upon Coral Gables’ finest, for the “City Beautiful” boasts an enviable array of worthwhile dinner spots. But this Peruvian gem, tucked away on a quiet, nondescript street, is suffused with the sort of across-the-board excellence and attention to detail that would make a Michelin writer swoon; especially considering that entrées are so very reasonably priced, in the mid-twenty-dollar range (although some go up to $44). The room is warm with woods and wines (an exceptional list, natch). Fresh-cut flowers grace the tables. Service is personable and refined. Owner Franco Danovaro keeps a close eye on the operation, while his father Aldo runs the original Francesco in Peru — one of the most acclaimed restaurants in Lima for two decades now. Aldo brought a few chefs from that city to help him re-create great Peruvian cuisine here, and it is evident from the first bite of bracing ceviche just how fully they have succeeded. Tiraditos are top shelf too, as are the rest of a slew of seafood dishes — none better than stewed octopus on Peruvian white bean risotto (seco de pulpo). Come Tuesday and Wednesday evenings there is even live cello music. Now how are you going to beat that?

A decade ago, New Times‘s “Best of Miami” issue awarded Best Chef to Susan Ferry; we had singled out Scott Howard for that distinction the year before. Who are these people? Exactly. We’ve come a long way baby, and so has Michelle Bernstein. In a town now well illuminated by star chefs, none shines brighter than our local girl made good. And whether we’re talking South Beach or South Florida as a whole, no dining establishment currently carries more cachet than Michy’s. The room is cute and funky, the service supreme. The wine list is creatively categorized and flush with bottles for less than $50. The raw bar sparkles. But the main reason it is near impossible to secure a table for dinner here is that the food is so flippin’ fantastic. The seasonally sensitive menu selections are forged from the finest locally grown comestibles, many organic and all farm-fresh. And Ms. Bernstein remains a hands-on practitioner of her craft who can regularly be found cooking away in the kitchen. Michy’s winning formula isn’t difficult to grasp: Great ingredients plus great chef equals great cuisine. Sharing half-course portions, ranging in price from $6 to $15, is an ideal way to sample the wide spectrum of eclectic fare. There are way too many recommendable dishes to tally here, but we’d be remiss not to mention the jamon croquettes with fig jam; beef short ribs with mashed potatoes; polenta with runny poached egg, bacon, pecorino Romano cheese, and shaved truffles; and baked Alaska with dulce de leche ice cream. Trust us: A decade from now, when you read the name Michelle Bernstein, you won’t be asking who she is. In fact you’ll most likely have a clear recollection of every morsel of food you sampled at the very memorable Michy’s.

Your average Yucatecan wouldn’t know a taco from a meatball parmigiana sandwich, but don’t tell that to the owners of this neat and petite 40-seat restaurant, which specializes in cuisine from the Mayan peninsula. After all, if they want to sneak some fetching Mexican and Tex-Mex items onto their menu, it would be wrong of us to spoil things with regional quibbling — especially when among the non-Yucatecan delights are the most kickass tacos al pastor in town.The trio of corn tortillas come sumptuously plumped with nothing but pork, the smoky nubs of meat softly grilled and subtly sweetened with pineapples and onions. Refried beans, salsa verde, and guacamole are served on the side, which is downright generous for a plate costing just $8.49. Plus it leaves plenty of pesos for glasses of Dos XX on tap.

Carb-cravers, head to Little Havana. That’s where you’ll find Bon-Bon Bakery, which has been cranking out the baked stuff in Miami for 40 years. Here they sell hot Cuban bread straight from the oven. They also sell a variety of other breads with quirky names only Cubans could have come up with. In most cases, the names refer to their shape — patines, for example, which translates to roller skates, and bonetico, which means little bonnet. For bread devotees with a sweet tooth, here’s a real treat: pan de gloria (“glory bread”). They got it right when they named this one: sweet bread made with eggs, milk, and sugar. Another sweet bread for sale is the kind used to make medianoches. Here’s something else that’s sweet: The bread here is dirt-cheap. Dig through your pocket for loose change and you’ll be able to walk out with the goodies, which cost between 25 cents and $1 each.