Eat & Drink

Each season yields a fresh crop of new restaurants. Sometimes they are highly anticipated due to a big-name chef. Other times they are preceded by a sizzling sister eatery in New York or L.A. Or maybe they boast a distinctive dining concept. Sugarcane brought none of those attributes to the table yet took this town by storm in a way few dining establishments have. The draw here is a grand, breezy, and urban-chic décor; an electrically charged bar scene pouring distinctive cocktails to a comely clientele; and a diverse menu of fresh, tasty New American cuisine at unexpectedly affordable prices (just about everything is $12 or less). The fare, orchestrated by chef Timon Baloo, is triumvirated into raw bar selections (oysters, crudos, sushi); foods cooked in a robata grill (chicken yakitori, squid, Japanese eggplant); and globally influenced small plates such as pork buns, lobster rolls, crisp sweetbreads, and goat cheese croquettes with membrillo marmalade. We didn’t see Sugarcane coming, but we’re sure glad it arrived.

She: I just adore the décor here — so quaint, dainty, even girly with all the flowers and feminine touches.

He: Yeah.

She: And that bacon-wrapped pheasant terrine with the pear slices cooked in cardamom butter. Wow. Didn’t you love it?

He: Boy, did I.

She: What about that lobster tail poached in brown butter?

He: Huh?

She: The lobster, with the lobster ravioli, in the saffron-spiked broth? You should remember — you ate most of it.

He: Oh, right. Brilliant.

She: You can almost taste chef/owner Elida Villarroel’s Michelin training in the fresh, simple flavors, the lightness, the way she uses herbs.

He: Yes.

She: What about that chocolate soup dessert? I mean, my God!

He: Fantastic.

She: It’s such a friendly place too. And with most entrées in the $20 range, and our bottle of wine being rather affordable, tonight’s dinner isn’t going to cost you that much.

He: Now, really (blushes).

She: Plus it’s romantic, right?

He: Absolutely.

She: You’re like the perfect man.

He: Yup.

You know that feeling of fat-kid disappointment when you’ve hit the midpoint of your frozen-yogurt takedown only to find you’ve run out of toppings? Well, Red Kiwi offers a fix: bottoming, otherwise known as double toppings. Yes, that’s twice the Fruity Pebbles, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, sprinkles, gummy bears, or whatever spoonful you desire in one small $5 cup. The frozen flavors are original, strawberry, and an alternating third one, which, if you’re lucky, is Nutella. They also have fresh-fruit toppings such as kiwi and raspberry for customers who opt to pass on the ode to boxed-cereal thing. And, in true fat-kid fashion, this frozen yogurtery also offers curbside service. Cool, creamy goodness is delivered straight to your car window from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Sunday through Wednesday and 11 a.m. to midnight Thursday through Saturday.

Fill your cup, but leave some space — There’s more than just yogurt to stuff your face.Squishy marshmallows, crunchy nutsSo what if you get fatter than all those sluts?Rainbow sprinkles and the choco ones tooEven Cap’n Crunch. Woohoo!Chewy mochi and cookie dough, so sweetChunks of cheesecake and brownie treats.Tiny M&Ms, mints from AndesJust about every chocolate candy. Fruity Pebbles and loops from Sam (the Toucan)More sugar than you thought you could stand.(Oh, and no copycats here. It’s all name brand!)Oreos, Sno-Caps, E.T.’s favorite snackGummy bears — there’s no turning back.Cups of peanut butter and caramel. I die!Even carob if you’re willing to try.Coconut shreds and granola, seeAnd other things that come from the tree —Like nuts and fruit, some kind of sweet,Pour on the hot fudge. Done real neat!

Watch the tourists: dripping sweat, crisped to crimson by hours in the sand, stumbling like zombies along Lincoln Road. Suddenly, they’re drawn in. Maybe it’s the cool aluminum look of the place, the promise of chill air. Maybe it’s that blue umbrella, beckoning: Gelateria. Life returns to their watery eyes as they scan the tubs of fresh-made, silky-smooth gelato. But wait. Confusion. What in hell is that, sitting in the martini glasses in front of each row of gelato? Guanabana? Tamarind? Rice pudding? Rice pudding gelato? If they’re brave, they order the mysterious milky-white gelato under the rough-barked tamarind root or the off-white guanabana. They glance around, uncertain, wavering before lifting that first spoonful to the tongue. And then the flavor hits. That’s what a happy tourist looks like. That’s the power of excellent gelato, spun into otherworldly flavors and made fresh.

It’s hard not to kiss kiss bang bang an art-house movie theater that avoids 3-D blockbusters, sticky seats, and stale popcorn in favor of Citizen Kane, a comfy chaise lounge, and its own line of baked goods. This is especially true when one of the goodies is the Miami Beach Cinematheque’s triple chocolate brownie. Thick and made with all-natural ingredients, these moist, heavenly creatures cost just four bucks. And chock full of cocoa (before Chanel) and milk and white chocolate chips, they’re truly kick ass. Don’t believe us? One bite has been known to silence the lambs, placate seven angry men, and provide eternal sunshine to many a spotless mind. Or, at the very least, with their Vito Corleone-approved size, they are Titanic enough to get anyone through both acts of Gone With the Wind without going all vertigo from hunger.

It’s after midnight. You’ve just spent the past five hours studying for a big midterm exam or finishing a work project that has an 8 a.m. deadline. You need a sugar fix. Not just your run-of-the-mill Snickers bar high, but the sort of mental state brought on only by flan. The perfect flan. The kind with a smooth, sweet layer on top. You’ll find it at Chico’s, a Hialeah landmark that’s open ’round the clock and serves some of the tastiest Cuban cuisine north of Havana. The chances you run into Mayor Julio Robaina are pretty good. The chances you see a customer savoring the flan are even higher. Chico’s owner, Jesús Ovides, is there 24/7 to make sure the flan and all the other great eats meet his high standards. And don’t let the city’s confusing street names scare you. You can get to Chico’s from NW 103rd Street (West 49th Street in Hialeah). When you reach West 12th Avenue, head south about nine blocks. Chico’s is on the right side, behind a bank.

Miami has never been known for its abundance of good farmers’ markets. You know, ones with real farmers, the ones who sell the food they grow, not stuff imported from somewhere else. Transplants yearn for the markets they so loved in California or New York. Well, guess what? You’re in Miami now, and the Pinecrest Farmers’ Market is worth visiting. Formerly called the South Florida Farmers’ Market, it moved from the parking lot of Gardner’s Market to Pinecrest Gardens in December. You’ll find a few stands selling jewelry and accessories, but produce is extraordinarily abundant here. The Redland Organics booth alone is worth the visit if you don’t mind paying a little more. We’re talking carrots, bok choy, salad mixes, tomatoes, radishes, oyster mushrooms from Paradise Farms, and rare beans harvested the day before. Other items likely to make their way into your reusable, eco-friendly bag: local goose eggs, organic hummus, local honey, zucchini flowers, and artisan breads. The market runs from December through April, which begs the question: Where will we shop until the new season starts?

Gourmet grocery stores are not just for food snobs. In fact, they cater more to the food lazy. We spent years in the kitchen, trying to prove our basting and chopping skills. Now we just want to eat well. So thank God for fine foods purveyor like Gardner’s Market, where we can score delicious, already-prepared food. One of Miami’s oldest grocers, the place has all the traditional fare: well-stocked salumi and cheese kiosks, glistening baked goods, and bright red cuts of meat. But the true treasures of Gardner’s exist in the aisles. There you’ll find rows of every kind of olive oil and vinegar imaginable. Spend a smidge more for one of their specialty items, and you can upgrade an entire meal. Take home some sangria jelly ($2.99) and throw it on some white bread toast and — Bam! — instant gourmet breakfast. The cranberry port sauce ($9.99) can elevate the cheapest cut of pork. Serve the chocolate tortilla chips and French lemonade at your next cookout, and take the culinary experience from back yard to bougie. There’s no need to clock in hours in the kitchen. With Gardner’s fancy fare, you can impress friends with your savvy shopping skills.

Granted, the quality of eats found in food courts is generally not of epicurean note, but the selections at Miami International Airport’s North Terminal (post-security, especially) give travelers a good taste of some pretty recognizable local offerings, so it deserves cred. Tourists who get to the airport late or go straight to South Beach would miss out on Little Havana’s top menu items (AKA some of the finest Cuban eats in the city), if not for Café Versailles and La Carreta representing at MIA. How tragic for those sunburned visitors to not try one little smoky ham croqueta or medianoche before they go back home! Even those who skipped Nobu or SushiSamba can get a bite of fresher fish than they have back in Minnesota, for sure, at Sushi Maki. It’s a decent place for not only a roll or two but also entertainment — check out the “Fun With Chopsticks” illustrations on the utensil packaging. There’s nothing better to keep the kiddies amused while waiting at the gate than showing them how many ways you can shove wooden poles into your nostrils. Traditionalists can also find hot dogs, pizza, Chinese food, and French-style baked goods that seem perfect for breakfast when you have a 6 a.m. flight and nothing but anti-airsickness pills in your stomach. Got a craving for sweets? Down fudge and brownies at Boca Bites and a ring or two of glazed goodness at Dunkin Donuts. If you’re just plain ol’ thirsty, there’s Coffee Beanery, Starbucks, Corona Beach House, and Tradewinds Bar. Try it all, but just remember to throw a few Pepto tablets in your carry-on. And Godspeed, intrepid travelers.

Hakkasan in London is one of the finest Chinese restaurants in the world, which is evidenced by a consistent Michelin-star ranking. Thankfully, the second incarnation, which debuted at the Fontainebleau Hotel in April 2009, has maintained the same standard of excellence in food and service. While the Cantonese cuisine is far more gourmet than your standard lo mein and beef with broccoli fare, fans won’t be disappointed by a lack of Americanized dishes. Chef Wen Sian Tan’s specialties include fall-off-the-bone jasmine tea smoked ribs; fluffy balls of sesame prawn toast; spicy fried soft-shell crab; vegetarian-friendly wild mushroom lettuce wraps; stir-fry lobster with Chinese chives; savory lemon chicken; earthy braised lamb with chestnuts; briny stir-fry green beans with preserved olive oil and dried shrimp; and wild mushroom hand-pulled noodles. Wash it all down with a signature cocktail, the Hakka, which combines vodka, Kubota sake, lychee juice, lime, coconut, and fresh passion fruit. Despite Miami’s dearth of professional waiters and waitresses, the service is always stellar at this stunning spot, which was decorated by French design firm Gilles & Boissier. Although it is a modern space, there’s a traditional Chinese motif including silk lanterns, lattice-work screens, and hand-carved teak panels. A dim sum brunch on weekends is elegant and delicious, although sans the pushcarts one would find in New York’s (or London’s) Chinatown. Nevertheless, you will be satisfied with a plethora of dumplings, buns, and fried rolls. Ultimately, Hakkasan isn’t going to replace your corner Chinese haunt (especially at the high prices). But you will be hard-pressed to find more luscious and authentic Chinese fare in all of South Florida.

For 17 years, Coral Gables residents snacked on lo mein and the like at Gourmet Gourmet. A year ago, the popular Chinese eatery moved to new, cheaper (less glamorous) digs in the heart of Miami. Not that the original location was anything spiffy. Fans of Chinese cuisine went there for the honey-garlic chicken, orange beef, and won ton soup. The new incarnation is sparse, but the fare still ranges from typical Chinese dishes (mu shu pork and spring rolls) to the more exotic (shrimp in Cajun sauce and smoked salmon and spinach won tons). Chef/owner Jose Sang is of Dominican and Chinese descent, which explains the fusion-focused items. Don’t miss his chicken over jade blossom, which combines peppery slivers of white meat with crisp, sweet, fried spinach. For brave diners, there are six stools for eating, three of which overlook the open kitchen. Most patrons take their fare to go, which is well packaged and arrives home piping-hot and intact. We were impressed that the spinach was packed separately from the chicken — it remained crisp on our trek all the way back to Miami Beach.

One thing about Chinese cuisine in the City of Progress: You can always count on dishes with a touch of Latin flavor. Sun Wah knows what we are talking about. The family-owned restaurant serves “sunny fried rice,” the traditional Chinese dish modified with pineapple chunks for a sweet kicker. It is by far the most popular item on the menu of 75 dishes. Of course, Sun Wah is all about home-style Chinese cooking with Mandarin, Hong Kong, and South Asian influences. Your mouth will water at the sight of the “Sun Wah happy family,” a smorgasbord of shrimp, crab meat, chicken, beef, and mixed vegetables sautéed in a brown sauce. The prices are reasonable too. The most expensive item costs $12. Lunch and dinner combo specials are available for $4 to $8. And if you have a hungry brood waiting at home, take advantage of the family combo specials that range from $12.99 to $31.99. They are large enough to feed six to nine people. Sun Wah is conveniently located about a half-mile west of the NW 122nd Street exit off the Palmetto Expressway, just past Palmetto General Hospital, in the Gran Lago Plaza. It is open Monday through Thursday from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.; on Fridays and Saturdays, the joint closes a half-hour later; and on Sundays, it’s open from noon to 9:30 p.m.

Rapper BLT Stake, keepin’ it real:

The popoveralone makes this a worthy stopover.

The size of a baseball mitt

eggy steam escapes from it

when open — no dope’n.

Chef Gorenstein’s a Beard nominee

You don’t like meat, try yuzu with hamachi

but it’s the seared sizzling steaks

like porterhouse and rib eye, for God’s sakes!

Angus or Wagyu, 30 or 40 Georges per slab

Jalapeño mashed potatoes?

I’ll take that jab

Artisanal cheeses, lemon-blueberry pie

Makes drugs seem a dumb-ass way to get high

Seize a seat and take a pause

in beautiful Betsy or the patio outdoors

BLT Steak — it don’t stand for bacon

Bistro Laurent Tourondel ain’t fakin’.

It has become somewhat common for fine-dining restaurants to serve traditionally low-end comfort foods such as pizza and chicken wings — at fine-dining prices. But you won’t find them at Red the Steakhouse. Why wouldn’t chef Peter Vauthy finally quiet the chorus of customers who’ve been requesting burgers? Why wouldn’t owner Brad Friedlander insist the high-profit item be part of the bill of fare (both here and in the original Cleveland branch)? “I have a hard time justifying putting a hamburger on the menu for $30 or whatever the price point might be,” Vauthy explains. Plus he just doesn’t think it belongs in Red’s fine-dining format. Period. In other words, their refusal to join the herd of haute establishments is based on principle. Superior steaks, an award-winning wine list, and a stunning dining room are reasons enough to frequent Red. Still, it’s nice to know there’s integrity behind the stellar dining experience.

The hamburger was named for the German city of Hamburg — although residents of Hamburg, New York, claim it was created in 1885 at the Erie County Fair when vendors Charles and Frank Menches ran out of pork for their sandwiches. It wasn’t until 1912 when ground meat patties were actually called “hamburgers,” and it didn’t occur to folks to throw stuff like lettuce, onions, pickles, and tomatoes on top until the 1930s (1938 is believed to be the year when the first cheeseburgers came about). Nowadays, hamburgers make up about 60 percent of all sandwiches eaten in America — and that doesn’t even include the dozens of tofu patties sold. Hamburger joints also seemingly compose 60 percent of the restaurants that have opened in Miami over the past year. This explosion of chopped-beef consciousness has yielded a Burger Bash, a Burger Beast, and all sorts of people proclaiming that the best hamburger is this or that. But we’re here to dish the truth: Bourbon Steak’s wood-grilled USDA Prime/American Kobe beef hamburger just can’t be beat. The charred beauty gets plunked into a sturdy house-baked bun — with a homemade pickle and Tuscan pepper speared through it — along with either house topping of melted farmhouse Cheddar, shredded lettuce, and balsamic-glazed onions, or your choice among six really cool toppings (such as truffle aioli or poached organic egg). That’s a lot of bang for $14, and complimentary truffled popcorn precedes the meal. Five bucks more will get you Michael Mina’s famous duck-fat fries, and you can wash it all down with a Jim Beam milkshake. Residents of both Hamburgs can eat their hearts out.

Chef Michael Psilakis has put together the lightest, brightest, most brilliant hotel menu in town. Chef de cuisine Jason Hall executes the cooking impeccably: Lobster-and-sea-urchin risotto brings a bowl of yogurt, caviar, fried herbs, and a barely poached egg, and then the lobster and risotto get mixed in. Smoked octopus is shockingly good with diced pineapple, sopressata sticks, and paper-thin ringlets of fennel. Greek “paella” is jammed with clams, mussels, Merguez sausage, and jumbo head-on prawns in a saffron-spiced sauce spiked with Espelette pepper. Restaurateur Donatella Arpaia has trained the waitstaff to be one of Miami’s finest, the room is gorgeous, and the outdoor terrace of the 15th-floor restaurant affords breathtaking views. Yet Eos charges noticeably less for its superior dining experience than every other top-tier hotel in town: Most plates, including that paella, run $10 to $16, and a dessert of two tropical fruit cannoli shells made from dried pineapple and filled with papaya, mango, passion fruit foam, and baby basil sprouts on coconut-vanilla tapioca goes for $6. Then comes the complimentary plate of petite sweet treats. Psilakis has already won a James Beard Award, and Eos was a Beard semifinalist for Best New Restaurant this year. Did we mention $5 valet parking?

According to owner and operator Notorious Nastie (AKA Nassie Shahoulian), Nassie’s Famous Franks were conceived to “end world hunger by putting delish dogs inside the mouths of hungry, hungry hipsters.” Translation: These wieners are drunk food for cool kids. They include footlong, kosher, all-beef, and veggie varieties. And even though you’re free to top your dog with pretty much whatever the hell you want, Nastie suggests you try one of his $6 custom creations. There’s the Maui Wowi, a whacked-out snack swamped in pineapple, cheese, and relish. Then you’ve got the Havanarama, a quintessentially Cuban perro covered in potato sticks, chipotle mayo, and cheese. Or, finally, if you’re an anti-meat freak, there’s the San Frantastic, a hippie-dippie orgy of tofu, spicy mayo, cheese, and cucumber tomato salsa. For the past year, the best place to get your fill of Nassie’s Famous Franks is any number of too-cool-for-school club nights such as Poplife at Grand Central. But soon Nassie’s Famous Franks will get their very own storefront. “Yeah, I’m gonna open a spot,” Nastie croaks. “This is just work experience like they used to have in junior high. Hot dog work experience.”

The white-on-white décor inside this restaurant is reminiscent of fairy tales, while the hotties for which South Beach is famous congregate here for late-night supper and drinks. There are dinner, lunch, and breakfast, brunch, and poolside menus. One favorite option on the lunch and poolside versions: a side of mojito fries. They come with several dishes or à la carte for $7. They’re flavored with lime juice, cilantro, parsley, salt, and garlic, which is actually more mojo than mojito. But if you can get past the name, they are both tangy and delicious.

While bread baskets are de rigueur at almost any restaurant, none are as anticipated as the warm garlic loaf that arrives at the beginning of each Prime Italian meal. The first time we tasted the luxurious slab of bread, we were in love. The tasty, tantalizing stuff is served with a saucer of hot and rich tomato sauce for dipping. The bread is crusty and crunchy on the outside and oozing with garlicky oil and Parmesan cheese on the inside. There’s no mushiness within. Did we mention that in addition to olive oil, there is also butter and Parmesan cheese? There’s no doubting that this is the Italian-American version of garlic bread. No one in Italy would ever serve anything this filling or decadent before dinner. Consider it the Jersey Shore of bread: a high-caloric guilty pleasure. While Atkins devotees and other dieters may frown, your only option is to dive into the garlicky goodness. You might be too full to finish your meal, but hey, Prime Italian packs up leftovers like nobody’s business.

Bay Harbor might not be on your regular destination list. Perhaps you live in Kendall, Hialeah, or Homestead. But there’s one reason you’ll want to cross Broad Causeway to this community that stands on what once was a sandbar. It’s the golden, flaky croissants served at a small French café owned by Argentine Maria Frumkin. Open Monday through Saturday from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. and Sunday 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. for breakfast and lunch, the French Bakery boasts cases filled with delicious pastries and breads. The fruit tarts and the truffles will tempt you, but go for the buttery croissants. We like them plain ($1.95), but there are also almond ($3.25) and chocolate ($2.50) varieties. To get the full effect, order your croissant with a latté and sit outside at one of the sidewalk tables.

Picture it. Cuban women with pens in their hair running back and forth behind windows filled with pastelitos and bocadito party trays that make you salivate. As you attempt to push through the crowd of hungry patrons, you rip a ticket from a number machine on the counter, and then someone shouts, “¡Proximo!” (Next.) Your number is up, and all you can do is smile. Welcome to El Brazo Fuerte. This is the quintessential Cuban bakery. Open for more than 35 years, the place boasts customer service second only to the delicious pastries and always-fresh pan Cubano. There are Cuban pastelitos filled with your choice of guava, cream cheese, guava and cream cheese, beef, ham, tuna, or coconut. Also on deck are locally famous, crisp croquetas filled with ham, chicken, fish, or potato. El Brazo also bakes hourly a variety of fresh desserts, including eclairs, napoleons, key lime tarts, and capuchinos — conical sponge cakes dipped in sweet syrup. A single serving of all of the delectable treats offered at the bakery might put you in orbit. And don’t forget the café con leche, which comes only second to your abuela‘s. Located in Little Havana, El Brazo Fuerte offers great service, a friendly staff, delectable food, and gorgeous cakes that will leave you wondering how other bakeries stay in business. It’s open Monday through Friday 6 a.m. to 7 p.m., Saturday 6 a.m. to 7:30 p.m., and Sunday 6 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.

Miamians love to bemoan the lack of decent bagels here. “New York has the best ones,” they whine. “It’s all about the water.” Well, forget about moving back to Manhattan (or Queens or Brooklyn or Staten Island). Try Bagel Bar East, which is one of the few places in Miami that still hand-rolls, boils, and bakes its dough. These homemade, flavored beauties are so fresh and tasty that no toasting is necessary. In fact, if you hit Bagel Bar East at the right time (6:30 a.m. and 12:30 p.m.), the bagels will be piping-hot. This North Miami spot boasts 17 types including plain, everything, pumpernickel, poppy, onion, cinnamon-raisin, sesame, garlic, oat bran, salt, egg, rye, honey whole wheat, marble, seven-grain, bialy, and blueberry. Eat them plain or with a shmear of cream cheese (smoked salmon, chive, or veggie) or salad (tuna, chicken, egg, white fish, or chopped herring). There’s also freshly cut smoked salmon as well as a litany of cold cuts and fluffy eggs as garnish. These bagels are so in-demand that the place wholesales to hotels such as the W, Ritz-Carlton South Beach, and Setai as well as deli staple Roasters & Toasters in Miami Beach. For quality this superior, the prices are pretty decent: Bagels cost $9.50 for a baker’s dozen or $1 each. Also freshly made on-site are onion pockets, onion flats, rugalach, black-and-white cookies, babka, cheese danishes, and muffins.

We know you need your bacon, eggs, and coffee the morning after a messy bender. But with the way you’ve been hitting the bottle lately, you’ve been ingesting that lard-soaked breakfast of champions every day. We didn’t want to say anything, but you’ve put on some weight. Heck, you even sweat out egg yolk. Flip the switch on your body with repeat visits to Big Squeeze Juice Bar for the artery-friendly breakfast special, the High Energy. For just $9.95, you get egg whites scrambled with spinach, salad, and pita, and a house smoothie (strawberry, banana, and pineapple) with a shot of wheatgrass. Know what that spells? D-E-T-O-X. Your liver thanks you. From the street, the Big Squeeze looks like just another juice bar. But head toward the back and you’ll find the Big Squeeze garden, a covered deck with tables and chairs, built around a big gumbo limbo tree. Take a seat on the porch swing and await your colon cleanse.

When Sunday rolls around, how do you choose where to brunch? There are so many choices. Two words: bottomless mimosas. Three more words: sweaty drag queens. At the Palace, the 20-year-old beachside gay institution, “Brunchic” comes with all the usual makings of a lazy Sunday brunch. For $30, you get unlimited mimosas and a menu that might include rib eye steak or ocean tilapia. But the meal is also served with a couple of Amazonian drag queens performing under the sweltering sun. During 11:30 a.m. and 2:30 p.m. seatings, they interact with the crowd, hit on customers, and even stop traffic. There’s Tiffany Fantasia doing a gospel song under the palm trees, and Noel Leon in a crimson body-hugging gown alarming passing tourists. After a couple of those mimosas, a tired “I Will Survive” will sound uproarious. And by your third drink, gender lines blur. It’s not for nothing the motto of this outdoor Birdcage is “Every Queen Needs a Palace.”

We were going to get all New York Times-y and talk about how a younger, suddenly cash-strapped crowd is discovering the early-bird special, and discounted eats before the traditional dinner rush is no longer just for the blue-haired, Bingo-playing set. We were going to add that more restaurant owners are catering to this demographic by adopting and expanding their early-bird menus. Then we were going to conclude by saying that even though the economy is in recovery, once diners pay half-price for the same plate of food, they’ll most likely stay hooked on the experience. Yep, we were gonna say all of that stuff — but then we decided to simply write the following eight words: Capri’s filet mignon costs $14.95 from 4:30 to 6:30 p.m.

There is more to Miami Lakes, which is squeezed between Hialeah and Miramar, than residential neighborhoods, golf, and a shrine to sports legend Don Shula. Residents have been hiding a shopping-center tapas gem for almost four years. Complete with a Spanish flag, cork-covered tables, and two terra cotta walls decorated with wine bottles for the picking, the quaint locale whisks patrons off to Spain even though it’s located just a few feet from a convenience store. Three employees run the 12-table restaurant most nights; they recommend just the right wine to accompany more than 60 tapas including croquetas de bacalao ($5.95), tortilla española ($5.95), and garbanzo frito ($7.95), in that exact order. For those looking for a fuller meal, the suburban hush-hush also serves larger dishes such as paella valenciana ($26.95). Owner, part-time chef, and Spaniard Mylo Gonzalez remembers every face and makes sure visitors return to his little piece of Andalusia. Hours are 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Monday through Thursday, 11 a.m. to midnight Friday and Saturday; closed Sunday.

All comebacks are impressive by dint of courage to change and the grit to make it work. But not all are alike. Chef Allen revived his long-standing landmark restaurant in brilliant fashion last year via refurbishment and a revamped menu concept. Solea first opened its doors around that time, but the highly anticipated venue in the glittering new W Hotel South Beach was greeted with sparse business and sluggish reviews. The jump-start occurred with the hiring from Por Fin of Marc Vidal, who had been named one of the top young chefs of Spain in 2005. Vidal installed a menu of small bites ($6 to $16) such as Iberico ham and fried egg over crisp potatoes, chanterelle mushrooms, and truffle oil; rice dishes and paellas served in cast-iron pans ($24 to $28); Mediterranean seafoods ($24 to $34) such as branzino with lentils, smoked sweet paprika vinaigrette, and potato purée; and meat dishes ($21 to $34) found nowhere else — like braised veal cheeks with porcini-Idiazabal cheese toast. Critics have loved the changes, and the swank indoor/outdoor space is buzzing. Solea was a James Beard semifinalist for Best New Restaurant this year. That’s what you call a comeback.

Before you even smell the chicken roasting or the souvlaki on the rotisserie, you’ll see Tara Reid’s face. There she is, mugging it up in a red velour tracksuit. And there she is again, next to Mickey Rourke. They’re just two of the celebrities gracing Sultan’s picture wall. This does not bode well — just another couple of emaciated stars’ favorite hangout. But then you taste Sultan’s falafel wrap ($7.75). The reaction can best be summed up in a series of slow-motion shots: Customer grabs fat spliff of a pita, bites crisp falafel inside, slathers tzatziki sauce all over face, head explodes. Cut to customer saying, “Tara Reid was right.” Years of midnight falafel runs in college probably warped a lot of people’s idea of what a good falafel is. That was dry, chewy, sustenance food. But blazed late at night (this place is open till 5 a.m.) or sober during the day, you will still get a head trip from Sultan’s falafel. Tear into it with gusto. It’s worth the mess.

All right, so this place isn’t a Latin American musical mecca in the heart of Havana. Hell, it’s not even in Little Havana. Nor is it a social club. And no, you won’t find Juan de Marcos González shaking maracas while downing a pastrami on rye here either. In fact, if you can find a knish, a Dr. Brown’s soda, or a black-and-white cookie being consumed anywhere inside of this cheery, French-influenced delicatessen, we’ll rewrite the Torah and say that you, not Moses, parted the Red Sea. That’s because you won’t find any New York-style staples in the Buena Vista Deli — from its yellow-umbrellaed porch to its clean, white interior that includes blackboard cabinets scribbled with colorful chalk. But what you will discover is fresh, fragrant slices of goat cheese and mushroom quiche ($4.95), rich duck pâté spread on a French baguette ($6.50), grilled chicken panini overflowing with pesto and sautéed portobello mushrooms ($7.50), and a Niçoise salad packed with ample amounts of hard-boiled eggs, tuna, anchovies, and green beans ($7 for a large). Can’t decide? BVD has great combo options such as any sandwich/panini with any salad or soup du jour for only $10.50 or any quiche and salad for $7.50. Or if you feel like indulging your sweet tooth, tame it with a delicate but piled-high cream puff ($3.50), a chocolate eclair ($3.50), or any of the baked-daily goods displayed by the cash register in a pastel array reminiscent of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette. Plus everything available for purchase at this place, other than the bread, is homemade, which is enough to make any Cuban utter, “Oy vey!”

It’s a two-way tie between Norman Van Aken’s Coral Gables return (with son Justin) via Norman’s 180, and in downtown Miami’s Marriott Marquis Met Two tower, Daniel Boulud’s DB Bistro Moderne (DB Bistro copped this category last year all by itself and let’s hope will not be cited again next year). How often is it that two chefs of this caliber open shop in the same town during the same year? If the name of that town is Miami, never. Just more signs of our rapid ascent as a gastronomic destination and our increasing good fortune.

In France, somehow, there are fresh-baked baguette sandwiches — made with care — at almost every major train station. That such a delicacy is sold alongside pooping pigeons and napping backpackers seems like it should be illegal. At La Provence, you get the authentic European treat without having to, say, step over a hobo or pay a euro to use la toilette. Located a couple of blocks from the Miracle Mile shopping district, this bright and tidy café-style shop sets itself apart by attention to detail. There are not a million options, simply six or seven really great ones. Choose from prosciutto with Brie, chicken with avocado, or mozzarella with ripe tomatoes and basil. They are available at half- or full-size, on paninis or whole-wheat bread, ranging from about $5 to $10. Hours are Monday through Friday 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. Come for the bread, not the pigeons.

Don’t let the old cafeteria look of this eatery dissuade you from walking in for an arepa. After all, you just made the trip to this nondescript strip mall in the heart of Doral. The Venezuelan hangout, where émigrés congregate to play dominoes or discuss big news back home, makes tasty arepas with a slightly golden crust and a steaming-hot, soft interior. The best part is that you can fill your arepa with just about anything you crave. Choose from fresh Venezuelan cheeses — try the guayanés — and meats such as carne mechada (shredded beef) and chorizo. It’s the closest you’ll get to eating at a Caracas-style arepa bar in Miami.

It’s all over you, that great stink of South Beach called pretentiousness. Your only hope is to step into the down-home oasis that is the 11th Street Diner. The tackiness of Ocean Drive hasn’t seeped into this retreat where comfort food with retro flair has been served since 1992. The Airstream-style aluminum façade suggests authenticity, and the diner delivers. Frequent coffee fillups, shiny red booths, all the quintessential diner-ness is in place. What makes the 11th Street Diner exceptional, however, is a menu that retains the unfussiness of the best diners but doesn’t resort to artery-destroying, greasy-spoon tactics. The “farmer’s scrambled” ($9.25) is cheesy, veggie-filled, and satisfying, and even the bacon and sausage staples don’t send you into a food coma. Dig into the “3 pair” ($9.95), which includes two eggs, two pieces of bacon or sausage, and two pancakes or French toast. It’s the Noah’s Ark of breakfast food.

“Cool! You mean we can eat pizza and ice-cream-type stuff and drink chocolate milk and then slide and tumble and climb and watch a puppet show and dress up like a ballerina or a cowboy? Yay! But what are you gonna do while we play, Mom? Dad? Hey, you’re just gonna leave us inside here? You aren’t gonna watch us? You mean, there’s a baby-sitter here? Yay! We’ll go play with her. We like her better than you anyway.” Does that sound better than an average day in your life? The kids are being fed for only $4.95 per plate, plus they are being looked after and are so distracted with games and toys that they don’t even want to be near you for a couple of hours. All the while, you sip Segafredo coffee; munch on fresh empanadas ($2.68 each), sandwiches, and salads; and enjoy some adult conversation without the sounds of Elmo and Big Bird in the background. Bless the folks behind Café Bambini; they made a place that works for hungry kids as well as adults.

Does a Philly cheesesteak sandwich — thinly sliced rib eye, grilled onions, and Cheez Whiz on an Amoroso roll imported from Philadelphia — taste better at 3 in the morning than at any other time? No. It tastes better at 3 in the morning because you are eating it at the Alibi, a food concession within funky SoBe hangout bar Lost Weekend. It tastes better because co-owner Bill Sisca is from Philadelphia and partner John Ross is a CIA-trained chef. Two more reasons: It costs just $8.95, and you are eating it with a side of the freshly made crinkle-cut fries ($4.95) with an available side ($1 extra) such as chipotle or truffle oil or more of that Cheez Whiz (can you really ever have too much?). Plus you are getting a taste of your mate’s shrimp poboy sandwich. It tastes better at 3 in the morning because you are keeping the night alive by ordering drinks from the bar while you goof around at the pool table and you are already thinking of capping off your late-night Dagwood-inspired binge with one of John’s girlfriend Kristie’s now-famous strawberry shortcake cupcakes — another house specialty — and of course you’ll buy a second cupcake because (A) they’re so good and (B) it’s one for $3 but two for $5,and you’ll wonder if it wouldn’t make sense if you took a bacon-chicken Philly or an all-beef hot dog to go (only five bucks!), because at that point, it’ll be around 5 in the morning (closing time at the Alibi), and breakfast will be, let’s face it, just around the corner.

The Forge for decades has had one of the most impressive wine cellars in town. However, with the relaunch of the “new” Forge a few months ago, enophiles on a budget have a reason to celebrate. Along with its revamped menu and décor, the Forge has introduced an enomatic wine system that allows patrons to sample more than 80 wines for a fraction of the cost of buying the whole bottle. The eight stainless-steel-and-glass wine stations are divided up by varietal and taste (think Red Powerful). Patrons simply insert a black Forge card into the machine and choose which size pour they want (from one to five ounces). From there, this upscale vending machine dispenses the wine directly into the glass. Ever wanted to taste a superexpensive wine like Opus One? Well, now you can for $13 for a one-ounce sip. Serious tipplers need not worry, though. There are more than 600 bottles on the main wine list, and owner Shareef Malnik’s renowned cellar is still intact. Despite the economy, customers still pay more than $5,000 for bottles such as the 1975 Château Haut-Brion, Premier Grand Cru Classé. Ask for a consult with executive sommelier Gino Santangelo, who has been with the Forge for 35 years. Not only can he suggest the perfect wine pairing with the bone-in 18-ounce filet mignon, but also he leads private tours of the wine cellar. Regardless of whether you are a wine novice or a snob, spending time at the Forge’s grape-friendly bar will leave you tipsy and well educated.

Today a cell phone can no longer be just a phone. It has to be a camera, a stereo system, a minicomputer, and an all-purpose replacement for human contact all in one. Smoothies have suffered a similar demand for multifunction. You can get ones that promise weight loss, muscle gain, better concentration, cures for minor ailments, even boosts to the libido, all while also being packed full of sweeteners and preservatives to make them taste like candy. It’s gotten so out of hand that you can walk out of a national chain that promotes itself as healthy with 30 ounces of peanut butter-flavored sludge that adds up to 1,170 calories (that’s, like, about two KFC Double Downs). Time to get back to basics, and that’s exactly what Miami Juice does best. The charming juice bar, restaurant, and health food store is located in a strip mall on Sunny Isles Beach. The smoothies are made from basic combinations of mostly organic fruits and ice, nothing more, nothing less, and they taste great. Well, yes, you can get a protein smoothie too (which also tastes delicious), but as life keeps getting more complicated, we prefer to keep things simple.

It’s easy to imagine you’re lounging on the French Riviera as this two-level beach-club-cum-restaurant pulsates with pretty Europeans and presents peerless panoramas of the ocean (Atlantic, not Med) — as well as of the glimmering pool scene right by Côte’s open-air tables. A DJ spins world music, bartenders blend tropical fruit cocktails, palm trees sway in the balmy breeze, and good-looking waiters carry plates of pristine cuisine imbued with the ingredients and flavors of the Mediterranean. The last translates to salad Niçoise (natch) with seared tuna, purple potatoes, and pert sherry vinaigrette; custardy tomato-and-Brie quiche; raw bar selections; jumbo prawns and branzino fish fresh off a sizzling grill; homemade pastas; and a Kumomoto oyster bloody mary shooter topped with celery foam. Prices are nicer than at Nice, with most plates ranging from $15 to $30. Yet while it is easy to imagine you’re on the Riviera, there really is no need to — dining at La Côte, right here on beautiful and sexy Miami Beach, is as good as it gets.

Talk about a great value. For only $12.99, lunchtime diners get their fill of addictive cheese bread and can partake in Grimpa’s whopping 28-item salad bar, comprising 20 types of salad and eight hot dishes. (The cost for this same meal at dinner rises to $26.50 per person, so tell Mr. or Ms. Tummy to get with the afternoon plan.) Grimpa isn’t one of those places that serves canned three-bean stuff or throws together a bowl stuffed with 99 percent iceberg lettuce. This is a choose-it-yourself, all-you-can-eat salad lovers’ orgy, with handmade options that change daily. Even vegetarians can get their fill because choices sometimes include waldorf, tabouli, caesar, and lentil salads, along with starches such as white rice, black beans, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Of course, it’s always tempting to wrangle one of the gauchos for a little taste of some cow flesh, but we say ignore what your mama always taught you and fill up on salad instead.

If you ever find yourself half-naked in a Coral Gables condo at 10 p.m., grinding your teeth and picking your scabs, you have a problem. You need caffeine and you need it badly. But there’s a bigger problem. Your usual supplier, Starbucks, has already closed for the night. Ditto for Barnes & Noble. Even your supersecret, emergency espresso supply has been consumed. Now, where in hell are you gonna get some high-grade java in this neighborhood at this time of night? Hit Pasión del Cielo. Open from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. every day of the week, Pasión has beans from almost every Latin American producer: Brazil, Colombia, Costa Rica, Cuba, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua, and Peru. And like you, this place is dangerously crazy for coffee. Every single dose is custom-ground, using dedicated grinders for each country’s coffee in order to, in the words of the store’s corporate pamphlet, “prevent flavor contamination and to electronically dose the exact amount and coarseness level.” Plus Pasión’s menu offers fixes of almost every kind, including $1.55 espresso shots, $1.75 coladas, and $2.60 large coffees. There’s even a ton of soft-core stuff such as peach-strawberry sparkles, chai tea lattés, and mocha-chip frappés. The craziest part, though: Anytime between 11 a.m. and 6 p.m., this coffeehouse delivers hot black stuff directly to the doors of teeth-grinding, scab-picking, condo-dwelling java junkies all over Coral Gables.

This fritanga is not gonna win any interior design awards. It looks like your abuelita‘s kitchen. But you’re not coming here for a fancy sit-down dinner. This is 24-hour Nicaraguan take-out at its most epic. You get it and go. The first indication Pinolandia is way better than the rest: a never-ending, always-growing line of 30-plus Nicaraguan locals and wandering foodies that winds and twists out the door, spilling into the tiny, street-facing parking lot. The second indication: your $8 Styrofoam container packed with three pounds of carne asada, sweet plantains, deep-fried cheese, salad, and gallo pinto. The third indication: a huge selection of second options, including carne desmenusada, stewed beef tongue, whole fried fish, gooey grilled ribs, and rolled tacos stuffed with shredded meat. And remember to hit the little bodega at the back. It has everything from powdered bleach to Nicaragua’s national soda, Milca, to bootleg DVDs of boxing legend Alexis Argüello’s greatest fights. The essential buys, though, are a 32-ouncer of milky cacao and a hot, fresh batch of deliciously fat Nicaraguan tortillas. So go, loco.

The simple-minded contend that all fajitas are created equal. Take some tortillas, throw on some hot strips of beef or chicken, a green pepper or two, maybe some guacamole, and — boom — ya got a fajita. What’s the difference, right? Anyone silly enough to make that argument hasn’t visited any of El Rancho Grande’s three Miami locations lately. The difference, poor ignorant soul, is in the ingredients. The tortillas are hot, fresh, and bear no resemblance to the crusty white excuse you’ll find at Taco Bell. The garlic-tinged beef is tender and juicy; the strips of pork are succulent and rolled in spices. The peppers and onions crackle and marinate in aromatic juices. Top it all with homemade guacamole, roll it up, and just try to claim that a fajita is a fajita. This, in fact, is a fajita.

Few people would suspect that a piano bar blaring live show tunes is the site of the tastiest, crispiest fried chicken in Miami. Such is the case at Magnum Restaurant and Lounge, a local institution known for its kitschy atmosphere and savory dishes. Of course, anyone who dined at Jeffrey’s on Lincoln Road in the ’90s knows that owner Jeffrey Landsman is a foodie. Although he is long gone from SoBe, another casualty of the chainification of Lincoln Road, his latest spot is also teeming with excellent, simple, well-executed fare. Magnum’s home-style menu evokes a different era, with classics such as French onion soup, chicken potpie and, yes, fried chicken. The recipe comes from Landsman’s mother, who would prepare the fried chicken for Sunday family outings in Baltimore. It is marinated overnight and then coated in flour, salt, garlic, and secret spices. It is fried at 350 degrees for exactly 17 minutes. The resulting bird boasts a thick, well-seasoned crust and tender, steaming-hot meat. Rounding out all of that crunchy goodness is a heap of velvety mashed potatoes with Southern gravy and seasonal vegetables. Although the dish is not cheap at $21.25, the portion is large enough to feed two, but then you’d be missing out on the other house specialties. Undoubtedly, fried-chicken fanatics will be satisfied here.

Pamela Canales sold empanadas from her home for a dozen years before she opened this namesake delicatessen in 1992. It’s actually more of a Chilean market/bakery/café/full-service restaurant than a deli, but call it what you will. We call it our home whenever the craving for an excellent empanada arises. Of the five varieties offered, our favorites are the ones filled, respectively, with a “pino” of chopped beef, lots of onions, black olives, hard-boiled eggs, and raisins, and a strange-sounding but delicious duo of minced razor clams and Parmesan cheese. Dabbing some piquant salsa known as pebre on top makes them that much tastier. Other choices are chicken, cheese, and mixed seafood, each encased and baked in pale, sturdy empanada shells that are twice the size of the daintier, more familiar Argentine types — which makes the $2 to $3.25 price an especially good deal. Order some empanadas to go from the bakery section, or grab an affordable bottle of Chilean wine from one of the market shelves up front, take a seat in the quaint dining room in back, and enjoy an epicurean empanada experience — for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

OK, so it’s not the most creative name for a vegetarian restaurant, and we have no idea who Hakin is. That said, for meatless Miamians, this place is Mecca. The Rastafarian vegan fare served behind a dull façade in a North Miami Beach strip mall is packed with spices and flavors sure to renew taste buds dulled by frozen soy. The Caribbean patties — packed with spinach or fake-meat combinations — fly off the shelf, and with good reason: They’re rich and satisfying, a perfect midafternoon, get-me-to-dinner snack. Entrées change daily: barbecue “ribs” on lemongrass mock-bones, hearty leafy vegetables stewed in delectable sauces, delicious faux Philly cheese steaks, and if you get there in the morning, their popular banana pancakes with tofu scramble. The place shutters at 7 p.m. most days and is closed Saturday in observance of Shabbat — and the service is undeniably slow — but for vegetarian Miamians used to nibbling at the edges of a city known for meat-heavy Cuban joints and Brazilian steak houses, the strange hours and long waits are worth it.

Let’s say, for hypothetical purposes, you’re on a date with Madonna. She’s great at the whole first kiss thing, but the Material Girl is way too picky about her dinner. She won’t eat food that’s been processed or genetically modified. And don’t even think about ordering something that once lived inside a factory farm. So where do you take her? Fortunately, there’s a laid-back — and shockingly unpretentious — natural food restaurant on Washington Avenue. Pura Vida has the vibe of a Costa Rican surf shop (you can even rent a surfboard after your meal). The bright and colorful joint has a selection of specialty smoothies and fresh-squeezed drinks that make Jamba Juice feel more impersonal than a trip to the DMV. Enjoy brown rice and chicken with lentil soup and salad for $9.95. Or try an açaí berry bowl made with a purée of frozen berries, bananas, and apple juice topped with granola for $7.95. The place is also great for take-out, which allows more time for important stuff like, oh, say, kissing.

Chef/owner/Italophile Gaetano Ascione might have intended for his new eponymous restaurant, a replacement for the long-adored St. Michel (a mere memory by January 2010), to be appealing to everyone. But the lawyers, bankers, judges, and suit-and-tie-wearers about town seem to buzz around here at lunchtime like bees. Their honey: Gaetano’s authentic eats, such as his paccheri al pomodoro, large tube pasta with burrata, tomatoes, and basil sauce ($12), along with various paninis, salads, pasta e fagioli ($6), and veal Milanese. This space, occupying the bottom floor of Hotel St. Michel, is a beautiful place to dine, with its yellow walls, light wood floors, mirror mosaics, and large windows that let the sunlight flow throughout. Did we neglect to mention the full bar? Having a few cocktails is harmless when money is no object and time is billable by the hour. Besides, what better way to see what the competition is up to than sitting outside for an afternoon, enjoying a few smokes and a Scotch after your meal?

Dear Cheapskate:These are just a few reasons I am leaving you for good:1. A cubic zirconia engagement ring.2. That used copy of the Sticky Fingers LP, without the zipper, that you gave my parents as a gift for their 50th anniversary.3. Your insistence on taking buses to restaurants in order to save on parking fees. Except when we go to Morgans and you get to park free in the spacious lot outside. Come to think of it, taking me to Morgans is the only smart thing you ever did. I remember seeing your eyes light up as you scanned the menu prices. “We can have panko-crusted tofu ($9), grilled rib lamb chops ($22), and coconut cake for dessert ($6)!” you exclaimed with glee. I was excited too, not realizing you meant we would share those three dishes. I can’t wait to go out with somebody who will buy me my own meal. Chef Cory Smith’s food is always so fresh and homespun, and the wines, as you pointed out more than once, aren’t marked up nearly as high as at most other places. In fact, it was the only restaurant where you ever purchased a bottle. God, I used to die inside every time you would ask a sommelier at some fancy establishment for a taste of a certain wine, and then a taste of another, and another, and then refuse to purchase any on the grounds “it wasn’t good to mix too many grapes.” Morgans’ workers are so nice, and the 1930s home atmosphere and wraparound porch are so, well, comforting and even — dare I say — romantic, or at least they will be when I’m finally sitting there with somebody, anybody, but you.

They arrive on a rough serving plate, five misshapen white lumps gleaming in the soft light of Casale’s warm dining room, ready to challenge everything you think you know about fresh mozzarella. “No, we are not best chopped up with tomatoes in some salad,” says the bufala campana, imported fresh from Italy.”You want to melt us on a pizza?” huffs the burrata pugliese, borne of fresh ingredients in Casale’s kitchen. “You think I was made from scratch to get melted on a goddamn pizza?”Listen to the cheese. This is the good stuff, and you don’t want to do much more than slice it up and eat it fresh. The bufala is a marvel of silky flavor. The burrata is creamy enough to spread on toast. Each of the other options — treccione, stracciatella e sfoglia, and fior di latte — brings a wholly unique texture and flavor to the table.Try all five in a $24 sampler platter, or mix and match from the fresh bar. Just don’t mess with formaggio this fresh.

A real soul food restaurant should be a historical pillar, a sort of time capsule framing a community’s epoch with its endurance and hard-worn antiquity. It should also offer generous helpings of tasty comfort food. Jackson Soul Food is all of that and more. Against the backdrop of 40 years of highs and lows — through riots, political strife, and social upheaval, all the way through the city’s newfound hope in its recent renovation — the place has stood as a beacon of resiliency for an embattled community, serving amazing down-home food for the soul. When most people think of soul food, mainstay dishes immediately come to mind: collard greens, oxtail, macaroni and cheese, candied yams, and the like. But Jackson’s signature meals can be found on the breakfast menu. The pancakes come in big, fluffy stacks served with a generous side of beef sausage. The bacon, eggs, hash browns, and gravy will leave you weak in the knees, while the salmon cakes can be a meal. And no breakfast here is complete without homemade biscuits. Then wash it all down with a refreshing sweetened iced tea. Breakfast with all the fixings starts at $5.50. And though the restaurant hours are a little unorthodox (6 a.m. to 1 p.m. daily), a quick jaunt just for breakfast (or an early lunch) is well worth the effort.

This new entry in the Shops at Midtown features the largest selection of artisanal cheeses in Miami. There are some 150 of them from France, Spain, Italy, Switzerland, the Netherlands, the British Isles, the United States, and other dairy regions around the world. Sources include cow, sheep, goat, and water buffalo milk. There are cheeses with names of indigenous provinces, cheeses with names you can’t pronounce, cheeses with names that sound like drugs: Humboldt Fog, Red Dragon, Purple Haze. So many can get confusing, but the Cheese Course sorts it all out as simply as possible. First, cheeses are categorized into six types: fresh, bloomy rind, washed rind, blue, semihard, and hard. Each one is displayed with a short description, and employees are quick to offer assistance. If words won’t do, there is a tasting station lined with samplings and accouterments such as chutney, fruit slices, tapenades, and so forth. Don’t see a sample of the cheese you’re curious about? Ask for one and they’ll slice you a piece. Savvy customers will turn their trip here into an educational experience. Sit indoors or out and choose from all manner of platters (one cheese with accompaniment is $7.95; two for $10.95; three for $14.45; and a six-category sampler for two is $22.95). Accompaniments are fresh, white or wheat baguettes are crisp, and wines are eminently matchable. The rest of the menu is worth investigating too, especially the applewood-smoked bacon sandwich with avocado and rosemary aioli.

It isn’t as sexy as the slew of new multimillion-dollar establishments nestled in sun-blocking, skyscraping hotels nearby. But since opening their restaurant in spring 2003, Frank Randazzo and wife Andrea Curto-Randazzo have consistently courted locals and tourists alike with creative, well-crafted, contemporary American cuisine. There are also homespun touches thanks to influences from their Old World Italian families. Scrumptious small-plate starters, just $6 to $8, include a skillet of house-smoked tasso ham with quail egg, Manchego cheese, and hot peppers. Cork-braised octopus with Costa Rican hearts of palm salad is a house classic, as are the terrific traditional dishes, such as Frank’s char-grilled spinalis rib steak with tempura-battered onion rings ($42); Andrea’s risotto del giorno (whatever the featured ingredient might be); and homemade cavatelli pasta with just-as-homemade Merlot-braised beef short rib, sautéed carrots, and crumbled chèvre goat cheese ($14 for half-order, $26 for full). Yet the Randazzos also know how to dazzle via modern platings such as lemon/thyme-baked black grouper with black peppercorn gnocchi and house-cured pancetta-tomato jus ($27). The ambiance is as welcoming as the cuisine: Subdued lighting from Moroccan sconces glows upon warm woods, Chicago brick walling, and a copper-clad open kitchen. Brunch in the outdoor garden is a treat too. Tourists and trendoids might be lured by the latest new kid on the block, but locals and food pros know that when it comes to a great South Beach dining experience, Talula is the surest bet going.

Ten reasons why Mai Tardi is the neighborhood’s best bet:1. Ninety-seat outdoor piazza under 150-year-old white oak trees is peerless setting for alfresco dining. 2. Competition is pricier. Starters here run $6 to $12, pastas and entrées $15 to $24 — and even less during the “Beat the Clock” daily special.3. Beat the Clock special: Select pastas and pizzas, normally $9 to $12 apiece, are priced according to the time you order — $5 at 5 o’clock start, $6.20 at 6:20 p.m., $7 when deal stops at 7 p.m.4. Chef Ricardo Tognazzi probably won’t be out of town on a book tour.5. Spinach pappardelle, farro linguine, potato gnocchi, and venison-filled ravioli all are made on the premises (actually, those are four reasons right there).6. You’ll likely be seated next to locals rather than tourists, celebrities, foodies, scenesters, big shots… Shall we just say Mai Tardi is unpretentious?7. Easiest spot to pretend you’re in Italy via affordable dinner of wood-burning-oven pizza, $6.50 house salad, and a glass of reasonably priced Italian wine (bottles start at $20).8. Less national media exposure means less of a wait for tables.9. Enjoy house-made tiramisu without having to know pastry chef’s name and bio.10. Did we mention the orange mojitos?

Host: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another edition of Name That Restaurant. Please give a warm welcome to this week’s celebrity guests, Kim and Khloé Kardashian! (applause). Let’s get going with the first clue:

This teeny, 15-seat eatery in Coral Gables posts its daily-changing menu on a blackboard.

Khloé: The Coral Gables High School cafeteria?

Host: No, sorry, that’s not it.

Kim: Starbucks?

Host: No, sorry. Let’s try another clue:

Brother/sister owners keep this lunch-oriented place open weekdays from 11 in the morning until 7 p.m. and serve home-cooked American favorites such as buttermilk fried chicken, goat cheese fritters, fried green tomatoes, and grilled grouper sandwiches, along with one of the tastiest key lime pies in town.

Kim: Donny and Marie?

Host: I don’t think so.

Khloé: Denny’s?

Host: Moving right along — and girls, really, try to concentrate:

Sandwiches are all under $10, sides and apps less than $6, entrée salads $11 to $14, main course plates $12 to $18; beverages, served in mason jars, include homemade iced tea and fresh-squeezed lemonade.

Khloé: Mansion makes a great Long Island iced tea.

Host: Nope. Kim, last chance…

Kim: Starbucks?

Host: Sorry, but the answer is Whisk Gourmet Food & Catering, so very popular with locals that it will soon move to larger digs. Thanks so much, girls. Be sure to tune in next week when our guests will be Iggy Pop and Pitbull.

We’ve asked Joseph Cataliotti of Jersey Joe’s Used Auto Emporium to help sell the attributes of the elegant Gibraltar restaurant. Take it away, Joe!Hey, yous all out there. This is Jersey Joe telling you to drive to the ritzy Grove Isle Hotel & Spa and fill your tank at the swank Gibraltar restaurant. I ain’t never been to the real Gibraltar — “Travel thousands of miles to visit a fucking rock? No, thanks!” I says to my wife when she mentioned it years ago. Anyways, the food here is cooked up by a talented kid, Jeff O’Neill. He was the Donald’s personal family chef, for chrissakes! He’s also worked at fancy joints with foreign names, like Restaurant Daniel and Le Bernardin. But I’m sayin’ you’ll never taste food like here at Gibraltar — I mean, truthfully, I don’t usually eat things like flash-marinated local snapper with minted mango and pink radish, or sweetwater trout with lemon-pine quinoa. I don’t even like sayin’ it. But the pan-roasted guinea hen with guanciale and raisin sauce, and the farro with olive oil, and the prime strip with buttermilk mashed potatoes — fuhgeddaboutit. Of course, ya gotta rob Peter to pay the bill, but that ain’t no problem. Heh-heh, just kidding. Besides that big, fat steak, all main courses are $30 or under. Hell, ya hafta take the little lady out to a nice joint once in a while, don’t you? The bay view from the outdoor tables here is unbelievable — romantic as hell, nothing like it anywhere in town, period. I mean, if you can’t score after takin’ her out to a freakin’ oasis like this, maybe it’s time you sat on the bench with your bat for a while, if you know what I mean. So come on over to Gibraltar and tell ’em Joe sent you. And check out Jersey Joe’s Used Auto Emporium. Remember: It may rhyme with crematorium, but nobody here gets burned!

RA Sushi is as sleek and stylish as any South Beach establishment. It serves sake, sushi, and Pacific Rim specialties and delivers a scene that’s more stimulating than any other in the hood. The sake list includes a dozen serious imports and saketinis anchored with Ketel One. The 30 types of nigiri sushi ($4 to $5 for two pieces) are seriously good as well, but everything else about RA aims to provide a rah-rah-rah good time. Specialty sushi rolls ($8 to $12), for instance, are probably the wackiest around. Care for a “yellow monkey” with mango, cashews, roasted peppers, artichoke, cream cheese, rice, nori, and kiwi-wasabi sauce? OK, maybe not, but it’s there if you change your mind. So are crisply executed starters ($4 to $10) such as pork gyoza, lobster spring rolls, and grilled short ribs with tangy yakiniku sauce. Teriyaki, katsu, and noodle dinners ($12 to $16) are consistently fresh and zesty, and if you haven’t yet noticed, prices are preciously reasonable — unlike at those sleek and stylish SoBe joints.

Healthful fast food used to be an oxymoron. Nowadays, you would have to be a moron not to have noticed the influx of fresher, more nutritious fare being dished behind counters at a new wave of casual, inexpensive eateries. Sakaya Kitchen, for instance, offers a concise menu of Asian/Southeast Asian goodies such as egg rolls, pork buns, orange/honey-glazed ribs, ginger/scallion noodles, and Korean street foods such as kim chees, Angus beef bulgogi wraps, and spicy chicken wings. Natural meat, poultry, and seafoods are used, as are organic dairy and produce, some culled from local farms. All menu items are made from scratch: meats cured, vegetables pickled, ssamjangs — well, you get the point. Of course, we can’t live on ssam alone, so there are about a half-dozen bottles of premium sake, as well as Japanese beers. Sakaya is healthful for body (food), healthful for mind (sake), and healthful for budget: Almost everything is under ten bucks.

Match the letter with its proper corresponding number and win a better grasp of the great Greek bistro that opened in Miami’s Buena Vista neighborhood this past year:A. What diners are brought before dinner.B. Steamed mussels, fried calamari, flamed cheese saganaki, kefte meatballs, tzatziki, tarama.C. A difference between Mandolin and other Greek joints.D. The dining room.E. Key West Sunset Ale.F. Hand-cut French fries, grilled octopus, classic Greek salad.G. Forty seats, lanterns dangling from leafy trees, the tweets of little birds filling the balmy night air.H. Thinly shredded romaine leaves, feta crumbs, scallions, and fresh dill tossed in light vinaigrette.I. $15 to $19.1. Two of the owners are from Turkey (the other is Greek), so the menu includes Turkish delights such as fava bean purée, tomato-walnut dip, and sucuk (known as Turkish chorizo).2. About 17 seats snuggled together in what might have been used as a walk-in closet in the original 1940s house.3. Maroulosalata.4. One of the beers offered along with well-priced wine.5. Cost of entrées, including a pristinely grilled whole yellowtail with lemon and olive oil.6. Warm, sesame-dotted loaves of pide bread in a paper bag.7. Some of the dozen-plus mezes ($7 to $12).8. Mandolin’s outdoor patio, open for lunch and dinner every day.9. Three of our favorites.

You can start with gumbo of the day ($9), followed by pan-seared free-range chicken over Louisiana oyster-spinach bread pudding ($28), and complete the meal with a trio of sorbets made with fresh, local fruit ($5). That’s a nice dinner conceptualized by America’s most famous chef and brought to consistently fresh fruition by chef de cuisine Brandon Benack. You can enjoy it in the big, easy confines of the elegant dining room, or seated at a food bar that faces the open kitchen, or outdoors overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. But save that experience for when someone else isn’t paying. With Mr. or Ms. Generosity footing the bill, why not begin with crisply fried Louisiana oysters, served with pickled vegetables and horseradish-yuzu tartar sauce ($13)? Oysters, as you know, are not especially filling, so how about a hunk of succulent Maine lobster tossed with gnocchi thermidor-style, meaning with wild mushrooms and Parmesan shavings in sherry-Creole mustard cream ($14). You’ll have to hold off on the hickory-smoked beef short ribs with Louisiana crawfish coleslaw and sweet potato biscuit ($12.50) for another occasion — guests who order three appetizers are looked upon as being boorish. Yellowtail snapper with Creole tomato glaze, crab-mirleton relish, and citrus butter sauce ($38) will obliterate the perception that Emeril’s is just a place for tourists, as will the red onion-smoked bacon marmalade and homemade Worcestershire sauce that elevates a juicy filet mignon ($46). Pile it on with truffled mac and cheese flecked with pancetta ($8.50), and add the pièce de resistance via banana cream pie ($10) or bread pudding three ways — a lavish dessert that involves whiskey sauce, Godiva liqueur, and dulce de leche ($9). At meal’s end, you might casually mention that Emeril’s also serves a damn good brunch, and hope your host picks up on the hint.

Top 10 differences between Naoe and your favorite Japanese restaurant — or, for that matter, any restaurant: 1. Chef/owner Kevin Cory worked in Japan at a traditional kaiseki restaurant, put in a startlingly impressive stint locally at Siam River, and has relatives that own sake and shoyu breweries in Oono and Ishikawa. 2. Live scallops, mirugai, aoyagi, anago, unagi, hamachi, oysters, baigai, tokobushi, and asari.3. Frozen Kaga No Yukizake sake.4. Menu consists of four-item chef’s choice (omakase) bento box plus a bowl of soup on the side. Afterward, the chef prepares nigiri sushi if you’re still hungry.5. Silver-skinned aji glazed with shoyu and plated with pickled wasabi leaves and flowers. 6. Just 17 seats and a five-seat sushi bar — less a restaurant than a dinner party.7. Salmon wrapped in pickled white seaweed with roasted freshwater eel and fried shrimp tamago — like everything else, personally conceptualized and prepared to order by Chef Cory.8. Open Wednesday through Sunday, with three seatings (8 p.m., 9, and midnight); reservations necessary and only through OpenTable.com. 9. Rice molded with shiitake mushrooms and hints of eel, with wisps of pickled daikon on top.10. Price for dinner (bento box and soup): $26.

It’s usually a good rule of thumb that you shouldn’t ingest any food included in a restaurant’s name. If you did, can you imagine how many canton-bamboo-lotus-crane-stars you would have consumed? Think about the heartburn! Yet Sea Siam’s case is different. The fare is pretty oceanorific. Take the pla lad prig: a fresh, whole fried snapper with delicate, crisp skin and moist white meat drenched in a spectacularly tangy, sweet, and spicy chili sauce for $22 (also comes filleted for $19). Then there’s the fabulous crispy duck, ped nam dang, which comes with cashews, sweet peas, black mushrooms, baby corn, pineapple, and a rich sauce that can be spiked to any degree of heat ($18.50). Or check out these sea-crumptious sushi rolls: the shrimp tempura and cream cheese delight, called the “red rose roll” ($13); and the “kissing roll” ($10), a California roll topped with smoked salmon and eel sauce. Still not convinced? The tom kar gai (chicken coconut soup, $6) is tasty enough to make a fowl wish it had flippers.

Neal Cooper doesn’t look, act, or speak like a Frenchman. Fair enough: He isn’t French. His prior restaurant, Il Migliatore, and his eponymous eatery from 1993 were both excellent; neither, however, was French. Mr. Cooper did dabble in Escoffier and the French classics at the Culinary Institute of America, but more important, he knows how to operate a restaurant that regardless of ethnicity, delivers what people want: Delicious food and wine at a good value served efficiently in a pleasing environment. At Petit Rouge, this translates into a charmingly rustic 24-seat bistro and petite eight-seat patio; into some 70 wines starting at $28 a bottle and by-the-glass choices from $8 to $14; into crunchy baguettes, textbook French onion soup, salmon tartare, ris de veau in lemon-caper sauce, rashers of calf’s liver with bronzed onions on top, truite grenobloise, and frisée salad with lardons of bacon and an impeccably poached egg. Entrées run $20 to $24, making the homemade tarte tatin or impossibly smooth pot de crème that much harder to resist. Chef Cooper may not be fluent in French, but Petit Rouge speaks the language like no other place in town.

Step out of Miami and into Port-au-Prince at USA Seafood and Car Wash, a character-driven Little Haiti joint notable for its giant parking lot. This place is popular for its take-out, so don’t let the Styrofoam containers and plasticware put you off. Try the griot. The fried pork chunks are plentiful, have a nice fat-to-meat ratio, and are spiced for a kick. We recommend the side of white rice, bean sauce, and crisp, greaseless fried plantains; it all adds up to a mountain of food that serves two or three at an absurdly economical price of about $6. Other fine options include the tender-boned chicken in sauce, with goat, oxtail, or legume. Make sure to ask for some pikliz, a traditional spicy vinegar coleslaw; grab a cavity-sweet banana soda; and take your to-go order off to the far wall by the car wash. Sit at the concrete table, relax, and enjoy the sights and sounds of one of Miami’s most vibrant neighborhoods.

You have to look pretty darn hard to find chow from the place where Columbus thought he had arrived. Sure, there are plenty of the walk-up cafeterias selling café cubano. And you can find yuca fries. But you could drive for miles and never find any chai lassi, raita, or garlic nan. Luckily, there’s a small Indian restaurant called Imlee in a nowheresville strip mall in Pinecrest with some pretty damn good korma, vindaloo, and koftka curry. We usually start with paneer porka: wonderfully soft cheese that’s been battered, fried, and then steeped in spicy, tomatoey goodness. Depending on our mood, we vacillate between the creamy mixed vegetable korma and the tasty lamb koftka curry. And we always get a side of raita and an order or two of pillowy nan. A frosty Kingfisher brew is required to wash it all down, and if there’s room, we try the falooda ice cream. Made from rose syrup, it’s what luxury would taste like if you could put it on a spoon.

Eat at a Cuban restaurant and expect big portions. It’s never just a palomilla steak; it’s always some kind of gazelle on a plate. In this respect, Las Culebrinas doesn’t disappoint. You’ll get enough to satisfy a recently arrived, starved balsero. But it’s in the execution where you’ll get your money’s worth here. Cuban food is typically pedestrian; there’s only so much you can do with beans and rice. Maybe add some capers to the beans, or get adventuresome with the seasoning; it’ll taste good no matter your skill level in the kitchen. But this locally owned mesón — which has locations on SW 27th Avenue, on West Flagler, in Pinecrest, and in Hialeah — serves a staple like vaca frita ($12.95) over a bed of fufu, AKA mashed plantains. Or try something sticky such as pork chunks ($12.95) on a cool bed of avocado sauce. It’s a mix of flavors that shouldn’t work yet feels as homey as Cuban Spanglish. Las Culebrinas also serves tapas. These aren’t bite-size meals, though. Tread carefully if you’re a light eater, because these aren’t your abuelita‘s tapas. Las Culebrinas is for all those times when you’ve finished your saucer of fried garbanzos (here sautéed over sliced ham) ($7.50) or that queso Manchego (in robust portions here) ($7.95). Leave it to Cubans to do justice to a Spanish tradition.

Cuban or not, if you live in Miami, you have tasted croquetas — those delicious, deep-fried nuggets of meat and béchamel. You know, the ones neatly piled next to the pastelitos de guava at every bakery, gas station, and birthday party. The real quest is to find the diamonds in the Cuban-pastry rough. So it seems only logical for the standout croqueta de jamón to be found at the mecca of Miami’s Cuban community: Versailles. The treats are offered inside and at the adjacent bakery, but hit up the outside restaurant window for the authentic experience. Lean in, ask for dos croquetas de jamón con limón, pay the $1.70, and crack some jokes — chistes — with the window’s regulars. Open since 1971, Versailles has done much more than serve as the Cuban-American epicenter for protests and celebrations; the Calle Ocho staple has pumped out hundreds of Miami’s finest 85-cent fried-meat cylinders daily. Chicken and codfish options are also available. Versailles is open 8 a.m. to midnight Monday through Saturday and 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. Sunday. For the full effect, take one croqueta, squirt with desired amount of lime, place between two crackers, and squish. Stay awhile — salsa music seems to help the croqueta digestive process.

Bueno. Bonito. Barato. Those who don’t speak Spanish, feel free to Google. The three-word alliteration loosely means “pretty darn tasty and cheap.” Any way you put it, when it comes to the best sandwich in the Magic City, nothing comes close to a frita. And who else would make the best but the king? El Rey de las Fritas makes just about the best frita this side of Havana. You might have been thinking that ham concoction called a “Cuban sandwich” when you began reading this item, but we have a surprise for you. The Cuban hamburger here is a spiced, chorizo-infused patty served on a warm Cuban-bread bun with diced onions and piled high with crunchy, golden shoestring potatoes. The meat is tender and juicy, the fries are hot and crisp, and the secret sauce (good luck finding out the ingredients) makes you want to lick your lips, fingers, and anywhere else it might fall. Some tourists mix with the mostly local crowd sitting around a long counter and surrounding booths, having a boisterous, or Cuban, chat over a delicious feast. The cafecito, of course, is a typical after-frita reward. The menu is gringo-friendly, displaying all selections in both Spanish and English with pictures, and almost everything costs less than $4 (a frita goes for $3.25). Open Monday through Saturday 8 a.m. to 10:30 p.m., and with a handful of locations from Doral to Hialeah, plus the flagship on Calle Ocho in Little Havana, there is no excuse not to stop in to try a frita.

If Dr. Victor Frankenstein had been born an unnaturally hungry Uruguayan food fanatic and not an Austrian alchemist hell-bent on cobbling together a humanoid creep show from dead body parts, he might have invented El Rey del Chivito’s trademark creation, the Chivito Rey Emperador. Basically a monstrous mountain of random foodstuffs, the Rey looks like it was dredged from the kitchen’s scrap bin: creamy potato and peas, garden salad, shoestring French fries, blobs of mozzarella cheese, 16 ounces of churrasco beef, bacon strips, ham chunks, and a pair of sunny-side up eggs. To a certain extent, this peculiar platter is a dementedly deconstructed version of the OG chivito steak sandwich minus the soft roll. In another way, however, it’s the wildly outsize offspring of a crazy culinary mind, namely resident Doc Frankenstein and owner Aron Wolfson. Submit to this strangely delicious $18.90 family-style serving. The Rey will feed your entire brood — mom, dad, kiddies, grandma, and nanny, plus dog. But be careful or it just might come alive and consume you.

To think that one year ago, this area had only Subway, Lime Mexican Grill, Five Guys Burgers and Fries, and a Starbucks counter inside a Target. Not only has the number of dining venues more than tripled since then, but also the quality of entries has been impressive. Sakaya Kitchen, Mercadito Mexican, and Sugarcane Raw Bar Grill are three of the most exciting joints to jump onto our scene in some time. Primo Pizza serves fantastic pies, Sweet Times Café is a little gem, and the Cheese Course already boasts the city’s largest selection of curds and whey. With so many condo units in the neighborhood finally filling up, you can bet there’ll be plenty more dining options to come. Plus maybe even a standalone Starbucks.

Why not experience your final round of pampering in heavenly surroundings — with a taste of the very finest on your tongue? Let your palate relish the purity of plant, fish, and flesh forged into unearthly delights such as morel soup with sweetbreads ($14); a napoleon of Dungeness crab layered with smoked salmon and brightened with lemon oil vinaigrette and Osetra caviar ($14); monkfish cheeks with smoked Pinot Noir sauce ($18); and a warm, weightless chocolate soufflé ($15). Allow yourself to linger ever so slowly over a heady dessert wine — say, a 2006 Côteaux du Layon. Chef Philippe Ruiz and sommelier Sebastien Verrier team up to consistently provide a memorable dining experience. Life is memory. Life is pleasure. Life is short. Dinner at Palme d’Or lasts a blessedly long time, another reason it makes sense in the context of a final supper — although our ultimate point is that dining at this celestial level makes sense in any context.

The arrival of gourmet food trucks to Miami made hungry stalkers out of even brown-baggers. Some of them sit by their computers, refreshing Twitter feeds and Facebook pages, waiting for the message that tells them where the truck will pop up. An internal debate follows: Should I go? Do I have time to go there and get back to work? Admit it. You’ve done it. Food on wheels isn’t new, but these trucks sell food such as pork belly burgers and make finding their location part of the dining experience. It all began last December when chef Jeremiah Bullfrog’s GastroPod Miami, Ingrid Hoffman’s Latin Burger & Taco, and Flavio Alarcon’s Yellow Submarine appeared in our dining consciousness. The trucks quickly gained followers and fans. Famous chefs such as Michael Schwartz and later Jonathan Eismann then followed with vending carts. They appeared at the art walk in the Design District. A Miami street food fest is said to be in the works. So what’s next? A truffle truck? A foie gras cart? Who knows? But these mobile eats are likely to be around for some time.

Jeremiah Bullfrog ain’t no Mister Softee. He ain’t no Dairy Queen either. Yet his GastroPod foodmobile, a shiny silver converted ’62 Airstream trailer, attracts streams of enthusiastic followers wherever it goes — as if he’s the Pied Piper of foodies or something. He ain’t that either, but the Miami native is a damn seriously talented chef; locals still talk about his celebrated Bullfrog Eatz in Wynwood. But now you can relish his outrageously tasty fare at single-digit prices. To wit: The “old dirty dog” — a smoked short-rib hot dog plunked into a potato bun and topped with sweet/spicy slaw — costs five bucks. The bánh mì taco — with oxtail, trotters, country pâté, and pickled radishes — is $3. A sloppy José with brisket and “curry in a hurry” (vegan curry with rice) are the high-end items at $7 and $8 apiece. Heck, the GastroPod even has an immersion circulator for sous vide cooking. The silver bullet has been known to park around Biscayne Boulevard and 18th Street, but your best bet is to tune in to Twitter to find out where this roving gourmet kitchen will strike next.

In every Spanish restaurant, there’s one sound that triggers Pavlovian slobbering. It begins faintly, like the flutter of several Spanish fans. Then it ramps up, like castanets. It’s a rapid-fire sizzling: the sound of a hot chorizo. At El Rincón Asturiano, 12 meaty chunks ($6) come in an oil bath that’s still bubbling when served. Some people say chorizo is unhealthy, greasy, artery-clogging. Those people are fools. That small clay bowl is an invitation to pig out. So is the $10 cheese platter (which includes bluish cabrales, buttery Manchego, and Minorcan mahon) or the $30 Iberian ham and sausage tablet. But El Rincón, a comfy jewel box of a restaurant that’s been in Little Havana for two years, is at its most finger-licking when it does traditional plates such as the squid black rice ($16) or the fabada ($14 for the Wednesday-night special). Remember when Hannibal Lecter spoke of ingesting fava beans and a nice chianti? A fabada is made with similarly hearty beans, a shoulder of pork, Spanish bacon (tocino), and chorizo. Have it at lunchtime or at the end of the night: It’s a heavy stew that will slow down even some of the old men at the next table arguing about soccer.

Excuse our stating the obvious, but it’s true: Brazil is hot. The home of caipirinhas will host the World Cup in 2014 and just won rights to the Summer Olympics two years later. It seems everyone wants to be in Rio. But if you’re stuck in humble Miami-Dade, don’t fret: Botequim Carioca exists to satisfy your every Brazilian need. Tucked behind floor-to-ceiling glass windows beneath one of the behemoth condo towers across Biscayne Boulevard from the American Airlines Arena, Botequim Carioca is Miami’s most comfortable joint to nosh on caldinho de feijão, traditional black bean soup with pork ribs; bolinhos de bacalhou, dumplings with cod; or a massive, two-person cozido à portuguesa, a Brazilian boil of pork, steak, vegetables, and pirão, a fish gravy. And those caipirinhas? Nothing is better on a hot day next to Biscayne Bay.

As soon as you hop out of your car in the parking lot next to Las Vacas Gordas (translation: the fat cows), you’ll smell the hot grill. For avid carnivores, the Normandy Isle Argentine parrilla offers one-pound servings of red meat along with chitlins, blood sausage, chorizo, and vegetables cooked on the grill. A huge bowl of spicy chimichurri awaits you at the table. Go on — dip your bread in there; you’ll be a happy fat cow by the time you leave. La enrollada, a one-pound serving of meat served rolled up on a plate, is quite popular, but try the vacio ($22.99 per pound) or bife de chorizo with a glass of Las Vacas Gordas Malbec, the house wine. And to cut through all of that meaty juice, try a flambéed dulce de leche crêpe.

Everyone knows God took a rib from Adam to create Eve. But he must’ve snatched a second one and given it to Mark A. Gibson, a former minister who’s now grillmaster and owner of mobile barbecue business Ribs-2-Go. There’s just no other way to explain his homemade slabs of pure deliciousness. If you frequent midtown or the Design District, chances are you’ve seen Gibson on his turf Tuesdays through Saturdays (he takes off Sundays to give props to Jesus) from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. on a sandy stretch of Second Avenue south of NE 36th Street, grilling away in a cloud of dark smoke. The menu is limited but pumped full of soul. “I love making good food, and the folks around here really seem to appreciate quality,” Gibson says. Available are two chicken leg quarters for $7 and succulent, smoky, fall-off-the-bone tender pork brisket and St. Louis baby-back ribs (a full rack is $20, half rack is $15, and a quarter is $10). Try the tangy honey mustard dubbed “golden sauce.” After one bite, you’ll find yourself hollering, “Hallelujah!”

At celeb chef Howie “Bulldog” Kleinberg’s North Miami barbecue joint, the smokehouse wings are so big they look as though they were ripped from the body of a superchicken bred in a black-market agrarian chem lab. But don’t worry — these wings aren’t the product of bio-engineering, synthetic hormones, or any other brand of black magic. Only the hand of God and the tongs of Mr. Bulldog have touched these deliciously huge bird parts. As for the actual cooking, these all-natural monster wings are given the culinary equivalent of a four-star spa treatment. They’re deep-rubbed with Bulldog’s secret house spice mix, slowly smoked for an hour and 15 minutes until fully cooked, cooled, deep-fried, and bathed in a luxuriously piquant beurre blanc sauce. This simple yet complex ritual yields a wing that’s extra-crispy on the outside, hot and juicy on the inside, and overall spicy, sweet, and creamy. Now, get a $10 plate, grab a fistful, and wonder whether billion-dollar scientists and their microwave beams could do better than God and Mr. Bulldog. Definitely not.

Talavera is newer, prettier, and more refined than the sort of Mexican dives we like to think of as authentic. But partners Eduardo “Lalo” Durazo, Martin Moreno, and chef Oscar Del Rivero (the Jaguar Ceviche Spoon Bar & Latam Grill team) come from Mexico City, and many of the recipes used here derive directly from family and country — though they are a bit more polished in presentation. Like the guacamole: a mash of ripe avocados with cilantro, lime juice, and Serrano chilies, topped with queso fresco crumbles and fried pork rinds (and served with homemade flour tortillas). As we say, a little gussied up, but good. So is the signature huarache grill: sandal-shaped corn masa cakes capped with black beans, goat cheese, salsa verde, and choice of grilled steak, chicken, or fish marinated with guajillo chili rub. There are enchiladas, chiles rellenos, tacos, tortas, ceviches, moles, and more, all defined by fresh, bright flavors; just about everything is under $20. Weekday lunch specials bring a choice of more than a dozen selections for $12. Margaritas are an affordable $8. Other beverages to consider are Mexican beers, lime-spruced michaladas, eclectic wines (most bottles $18 to $34), and a scintillating lemonade sparkling with cilantro. Service sparkles as well. Talavera is an authentically wonderful Mexican restaurant from head to huarache.

If you’re human, you like burritos. It’s impossible not to — you’re genetically programmed to like guacamole, sour cream, refried beans, and shredded, melted cheese wrapped in an easy-to-hold (and devour) tortilla. Unfortunately, you’re a human who lives in Miami, and bikini season (or hot-pink-Speedo-thong season, we don’t judge) is here. So what are you supposed to do when your inner Jabba the Hutt gives the side-eye to your internal, nagging, yoga-devoted Jen Aniston? No, imagining a death match involving lightsabers, flatirons, cantankerous Ewoks, and Angelina Jolie voodoo dolls won’t solve the problem. But Chilorio’s — a fresh, homegrown Mexican chain — has the goods to Jedi mind-trick. Case in point: whole-wheat tortillas; no-fat mashed pinto beans; light proteins such as fish, shrimp, and the highly recommended Chilorio chicken (shredded, slow-cooked, and seasoned with a smoky, flavorful secret recipe); plus sides that include non-fried tortilla chips and a salsa table loaded with cilantro, hot sauce, and a variety of freshly chopped vegetable-heavy dips. Depending on your protein, a burrito costs anywhere from $6.78 to $8.88 (plus tax, duh). Hours are 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday through Thursday and 10 a.m. to 11 p.m. Friday and Saturday.

Every once in a while, we like to round up a few friends and head to Homestead for a little Mexican Sunday. We pack into a booth at El Santo Coyote and indulge in tacos and cervezas for the afternoon. For a buck-80, you can sink your teeth into a taco with one of six meats. El Santo has carnitas, chicken, and steak tacos for the average taco eater. But for the more adventuresome, the place serves tongue and barbacoa, cow’s head slow-cooked over an open fire. Yummy! Each taco is sinfully delicious and comes with heaping toppings of lettuce, jalapeños, carrots, onions, and radishes. If you are really hungry, try the platter of three tacos with rice and beans for $7.95. El Santo Coyote is easily accessible off U.S. 1 and has on-site parking. Hours are 9 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday and noon to 9:30 p.m. Monday through Friday.

Note to all friends, acquaintances, co-workers, and family of Kris Wessel, chef/owner of Red Light Little River: Do not, under any circumstances, allow this newspaper to fall into his hands! If he asks whether anyone has seen the “Best of Miami” issue, tell him it was canceled. Keep him away from the computer too. Better yet, make a suggestion that he’s been working too hard — which he surely has been — and offer to take him out of town for a week. Because the truth is, he’s charging ridiculously low prices for the caliber of food served at his charming, topnotch restaurant. All starters, including a big-flavored Big Easy oyster stew with absinthe cream and crackers, are under $10. Entrées go for less than $20, and that includes mouthwatering mosaics of fresh, honest cuisine: oxtail with white cheddar grits and braised greens; smoked, spice-rubbed ribs with apple slaw; seared yellowtail snapper from the Keys with pea rice and squash; and his signature barbecue shrimp with dip bread. Not only is this food being orchestrated and expedited by a Beard-nominated chef, but also the man is actually behind the line cooking it. Which makes these prices crazy good. But we don’t want Wessel to know how crazy they are, because then he’ll feel compelled to raise them. And there would go the best deal we’ve got. So please, we beg of you, take whatever steps necessary to prevent him from reading this.

Don’t let the live giraffes, cryogenic nitro-martinis, and dumbfounding desserts such as the “chocolate fun-do fountain” gurgling with four pounds of Belgian dark distract you from seeing the serious genius of Mr. Barton G. He was already known as Miami’s most outlandishly creative caterer by the time he opened his namesake South Beach restaurant in 2002. The sophisticated eatery with the whimsical presentation was way ahead of its time back then and continues to keep the new concepts coming. This past year, Weiss showed a peerless ability to provide classy, elegant dining when he opened Prelude in the Adrienne Arsht Center and Villa at the former Versace mansion. Yet what cements Barton’s reputation as being a cut above the rest is his bucking of the common practice of charging exorbitant prices on New Year’s Eve; Prelude served the same pre-theater $39 prix fixe dinner menu as always, refusing to exploit the restaurant patio’s view of the Bayside fireworks. By the way: This is one of the best dinner deals around even when it’s not New Year’s Eve. Vision, value, and damn good food. What more could you want from a restaurateur?

Past winners of our annual lifetime achievement type of award (where seniority counts!): Van Aken, Militello, Susser, Oudin, Ruiz, Bernstein, Schwartz, Rodriguez, and Hutson. It is time to etch Eismann and LoSasso into our Rushmore of pioneering Miami chefs. Jonathan Eismann introduced pan-Asian cooking and spearheaded fine dining on Lincoln Road when he opened Pacific Time in 1993; back then, there was nothing fine about the pedestrian mall. Next, Eismann leapt into the Design District with more globally inspired PT2 — and leapt some more with PizzaVolante, Q American Barbeque, and Fin seafood joint, all in the same neighborhood. The man ain’t slowing down. Nor is Dewey LoSasso, who first impressed at the Foundlings Club during the early ’80s. He was opening executive chef of Tuscan Steak and really hit his stride when he and wife Dale opened North One 10 in 2004. He, as well as Eismann, recognized early the importance of a place-of-your-own to pursue a personal culinary vision — his was the use of quality local ingredients, which he turned into fresh, creative, delectable American fare. After the locally loved but economically unsuccessful establishment closed, LoSasso took a consolation prize and secured one of the most sought-after chef gigs: helming the landmark Forge as it reopened in its gloriously renovated return. The renewed attention these comeback chefs have received is enough to make one believe that dedication, talent, and integrity really do prevail.

Nino Pernetti’s life story includes growing up in postwar Venice, Italy; training at a prestigious hotel school; cooking across four continents; and taking trips to Kabul, Caracas, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur — well, a lot of places. But you needn’t know that, or the fact that he serves on more boards than Dwyane Wade — Make-A-Wish Foundation, Jackson Memorial Foundation, Florida Concert Association, and so forth — to appreciate the skillful orchestration he exhibits at his landmark Coral Gables restaurant, Caffè Abbracci. No doubt the consistently mouthwatering renditions of quintessential Italian cuisine — and the best tiramisu either side of Kalamazoo — have played a big part in Abbracci’s success. But dining isn’t all about what’s on the plate. While overseeing his top-flight professional service staff, Pernetti makes customers feel at home with his effervescent charm and hospitality. Old-timers are treated like family, and new-timers are treated like old-timers — before inevitably becoming such. That’s how Caffè Abbracci has kept its tables filled for more than 20 years.

Located just off the Gansevoort lobby, STK Miami practically glistens with big-city allure. Like the original in Manhattan’s Meatpacking District, this lofty, two-story steak house boasts an industrial-chic warehouse look, but with a dash of decidedly South Beach style. Celebrated design team ICRAVE uses a muted palette of textures such as wood, marble, mirrors, glass, suede, stone, and white brick, each illuminated by a varied, multihued lighting system. The effect is soft and sensual yet dramatic — and a welcome change from the tired white whimsical look that has so long defined hotel restaurant design in these parts. The main floor serves as both dining room for STK and home to Coco De Ville, a 2,000-square-foot lounge streaked with white ottomans. The second floor houses a bar, a private dining area, and restaurant seating that overlooks the action below — as does a staircase/catwalk that customers use to ascend and descend. You won’t find a prettier crowd to peer down upon. Of course, all of ICRAVE’s attention to detail will have been for naught if you don’t lift your eyes from the fat, juicy steak sitting in front of you on the table. Which isn’t so easy to do.

Hey there, Mr. I-Used-to-Have-a-Bottomless-Expense-Account. Back then, you would breeze into Il Mulino like a big shot, thumb through the wine list, and choose one of the vintage reserves. Lucky for you, there are bottles starting a bit below $50. Plus you’ll still have your classic Manhattan cocktail — for chrissakes, a man’s gotta live. And if you’re polite, there’s a good chance you’ll be served a free glass of green apple-infused grappa after your meal. Listen: Sacrifices have to be made, your mindset must be adjusted. (Hint: Take advantage of all the complimentary antipasti, garlic bread, and focaccia piled in front of you before dinner.) But you don’t have to give up the larger-than-life flavors found in Mulino’s jumbo prawns from Sardinia, in the Dijon-crusted rack of lamb, in the homemade cannelloni stuffed with veal, lamb, and beef. You needn’t part with your beloved chicken parmigiana, whose pounded European breast is smothered in Old World marinara sauce, or — God forbid — the signature veal osso buco with porcini mushrooms served over flawless saffron risotto. If anything, dining at Il Mulino and gazing at the stunning ocean vista will keep you from dwelling on pressing problems — like who are those people in the black van parked across from your house anyway? Sure, a tenderloin steak the size of a cattleman’s fist or a whole imported branzino fish might cost more than $50, but there are plenty of choices in the $28 to $38 range. Keep your chin up, Mr. Down-But-Not-Out, and be thankful Il Mulino is a luxury you can still afford. You just have to start living with the idea of not doing so every night.

Italian restaurants come and go. And come and go. And come and go. Some boast prime location; some tout wood-burning ovens, early-bird specials, happy hours, and karaoke nights. Spiga doesn’t go in for a whole lot of razzmatazz. Located in the boutique Hotel Impala, the cozy, romantic restaurant is aglow in low light and awash in rich wood; the porch is one of the most charming spots for alfresco dining the city has to offer. The cuisine is handsome and humble too — fresh ingredients forged into our favorite Northern Italian classics. Grilled calamari with olive oil and lemon, red snapper alla Livornese, a signature seafood soup brimming with shellfish, and veal scaloppine with prosciutto and sage are just a few of the simple and simply delicious dishes. But Spiga especially shines when it comes to homemade pastas. Gnocchi is ethereally light, ravioli is sumptuously soft, and quadretti with portobello mushrooms, truffle oil, and shaved Parmesan exemplifies Italian cooking at its flavor-exploding best. All pastas are under $20, most starters less than $10, and there’s a wide selection of well-priced wines. Desserts — including the finest ricotta cheesecake you’ll encounter south of Mulberry Street — are $8. Perhaps most important, first-timers here are treated like regulars. Maybe that’s why Spiga has been going strong, in fickle South Beach, for 15 years.

Jonathan Eismann evidently took the famous exhortation “Go West, young man!” to mean the west side of Miami’s Design District (plus he waited until he wasn’t all that young). Eismann charged into the fledgling neighborhood with his flagship Pacific Time and has recently added the new duo of Q and Fin. But perhaps his most heralded pioneering effort came when PizzaVolante led the parade of gourmet pizza joints that ended up settling in this town. The look is industrial cool, with marble-topped tables and orange Kartell chairs upon polished concrete floors. The thin-crusted pizzas, fired up fresh-to-order in the wood-burning oven, are topped with a bright, slightly sweet tomato sauce and can be crowned with any number of regional mozzarella cheeses — from Campagna bufala to a local cow’s milk ovaline — or with vegetables grown in our own Redland and roasted in the wood oven. Pies start at a mere $9 for the Margherita and top out at $16. Plus the wine list features 18 selections for $18 — per bottle, not glass. That is how the west is won.

Got a hankering for topnotch seafood and service with a smile while sunning yourself on SoBe’s golden shores or perusing shops along Ocean Drive? There’s only one place to go. With an extensive menu of sumptuous ocean fare and fair prices that get even better during happy hour, CJ’s Crab Shack has something for everyone. Owners Chris and Jori opened the place two years ago on the Fourth of July, and their establishment has maintained that celebratory atmosphere. Good times, good food, and booze abound. Specialty drinks such as “Chris’s famous rum punch” and “Jori’s soon-to-be-famous margarita” run $9 regularly and just $6 from 4 to 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, with domestics and imports, regularly priced at $5 and $6, dropping to $4. Menu highlights include drunken shrimp ($11.95) — one of Chris’s personal faves — steamed in beer and seasoned Cajun-style. The crab dip — with cheese, spinach, and artichoke — overflows with the crustacean for only $11.95 or $6 during happy hour. Or check out the “bucket o’ crab”: five whole blue crabs in Old Bay for $24.95.

Claudio Giordano’s Alta Mar restaurant in South Beach had been an unqualified success since 2002, so it came as a surprise when this past year, he moved the eatery next door, brought in new chef Simon Stojanovic, and even changed the name of the place by adding an e to the end. The current space boasts an open kitchen, chef’s table, intimate bar, and private dining rooms. Stojanovic, who learned a thing or two about cooking while working as Michael Schwartz’s sous chef, boasts a menu of creatively plated, locally snared seafood (along with sustainable meats and pastas made in-house). Starters include grilled octopus with chorizo, grilled lemon, green tomato, and saffron aioli served over warm farro ($15) — that’s a daring juggle of flavors, but Stojanovic keeps them in the air. Entrées are no less captivating: Pan-seared halibut with Swank Farms watercress, Borek Farms heirloom tomatoes, Florida avocados, and arugula vinaigrette not only taste fantastic but also demonstrate an allegiance to local growers. While ingredients are close to home, the culinary style pays homage to the Mediterranean — as in a pan-seared striped sea bass over risotto with sage, pistachios, and Meyer lemon ($29). What was a very good seafood restaurant is now a great one.

El Floridita takes you back to a time when life was simple: Men were men, women were women, fish were fish, and fish houses were made of wood and featured fish tanks, raw bars, saloon-style alcohol, and trophy fish on the wall. El Floridita makes fish sandwiches the old-fashion way too — as in tasty, not fancy. First the folks in the kitchen take fresh menudo, which is not the Mexican soup but the Filipino name for the labahita fish. The mild, white-fleshed saltwater species is plunked into a fryer and then inside a wedge of Cuban bread, topped with lettuce, tomato, and onion; tartar sauce comes on the side. It is an ideal example of less being more. Are you old enough to remember when such a sandwich cost $2.50 (or just $1.95 sans the lettuce and tomato)? Ah, those were the days — and still are at El Floridita.

Why are you dining alone? If it’s because you have a personality most often described as “morose,” the Sports Exchange is just the place to cheer you up. OK, who are we kidding? Let’s just say this is the sort of place that might make you less morose. Maybe you’re dining out by yourself because you meant to have dinner at home while watching the Marlins, but your TV set is on the blink. If that’s the case, there are 27 high-def plasma screens posted around the room, including what is billed as the largest screen in town (there is also a 16-foot ticker with stock updates, but we’re assuming you’re not that much of a geek). Maybe you’re out and about because you were feeling a bit cramped in your apartment. The Exchange touts the longest bar in the Gables — 50 feet, as in plenty of room to stretch out. And yes, there are brews galore — Guinness, Yeungling, and Shock Top on tap for $4 apiece; the same price nets a bottled import. Dining alone because you’re cheap? Then come here from 5 to 8 p.m. and enjoy two-for-one well drinks and half-off appetizers. There are late-night food and drink deals too. Then again, maybe you enjoy the company of countless friends and dine solo because you simply relish doing so — and doing so at the Sports Exchange for all of the aforementioned reasons. Plus there’s one other reason: The fare is finer than typical pub grub, and unless you’re gonna go with the baby-back ribs, just about everything is under $20 — wood-oven pizzas, burgers, sliders, Buffalo wings, and delectable mini hot dogs in brioche buns topped with chili, onions, and cheddar cheese. Of course, if you make a habit of eating those, you’ll probably be dining alone for some time to come.

It is difficult to come across a real conch fritter in Miami — one loaded with the most delectable shellfish in the Caribbean. Rest assured, Snappers has you covered. The mom-and-pop-ish fast-seafood eatery makes Bahamian-style fritter balls loaded with conch and chili pepper pieces that will — to borrow a phrase from another nearby island — make you feel irie all day. For an airy texture, the batter is fried like a Spanish churro or a county-fair elephant ear. The oil is almost as fresh as the fish. And that is saying something. There are jalapeños for heat, as well as sweet green peppers for crunch, but never enough to overwhelm each fritter’s generous haul of big, chewy, yet tender conch chunks. Each order brings eight balls for $5.84, a price that can’t be beat. It’s perfect as a standalone meal or an appetizer. Snappers is open Monday through Thursday 8 a.m. to midnight, Friday and Saturday 8 a.m. to 1 a.m., and Sunday 8 a.m. to 10 p.m.

We’re talking with Bimini Baja Bob, self-proclaimed “fish taco expert extraordinaire.” He is apparently a little upset with us for claiming the finest fish taco can be found at Fish Shack & Market. “They use juicy chunks of fresh-from-the-water mahi-mahi that’s been spiced and grilled to perfection,” he says loudly, his face getting red. “Then they plump the fish into three softly griddled corn tortillas and add thinly sliced cabbage, tomatoes, red onion, cilantro, and jalapeño.” We ask Bob what’s not nice about that, to which the slightly hard-of-hearing expert responds he doesn’t quibble with the price. “Ten ninety-five is more than fair,” he says and adds he adores the red and green (tomatillo) salsas on the side as well. Then he sobs and his body begins to twitch uncontrollably. “But everyone knows that for a great fish taco, you have to use gefilte fish!” he blurts out just as a couple of men in white suits come to escort him away.

Doug Rodriguez isn’t the daddy of ceviche; the practice of macerating seafood in citrus juice precedes him by quite a few years. One can say, however, that the renditions he has created locally first at Yuca, then OLA, and now at D. Rodriguez Cuba are the mother of all ceviches: snapper marinated with sour orange and topped with a dice of conch, tomato, red pepper, crisp onions, and garlic ($15); salmon with lemon, chives, jalapeño, and dill over yogurt and cucumber granita ($15); shrimp, lobster, clams, octopus, and crab with celery, cilantro, tarragon, grapefruit, and lime juice ($18). These kooky, creative, and ultimately delectable concoctions are to lime juice/onion/cilantro ceviche what Lady Gaga is to Joan Baez. Macerate on that for a while.

Once upon a time, a Miami girl with Louisiana ties wanted to make gumbo for her friends. She searched and searched for fresh crawfish to no avail, so she had no choice but to settle for the frozen variety, which she found somewhere in Homestead. If only our girl had known about Golden Rule Seafood Market. Established in 1943 and family-owned since 1969, this place in Palmetto Bay has a large variety at reasonable prices, including live crawfish when available. The seafood here comes from all over. You’ll find local stuff, including stone crab, Key West shrimp, and Florida lobster, but you’ll also discover scrumptious goods from South America, Mexico, Florida’s west coast, and other locales. Shelves are stocked with every imaginable seasoning and sauce. And periodically, you can attend a cooking demo to learn how to prepare your dinner. Call ahead to find out what’s available.

The $38 “lobster bomb” (lobster tail tempura, crab salad, avocado, lettuce, red tobigo, spicy mayo, and eel sauce with a side of sautéed lobster, scallops, and sautéed mushrooms) is simply to die for at this western outpost. There are also specialty rolls such as the “Bonsai G,” with deep-fried salmon, crab, shrimp, and masago. You won’t find rolls with Rice Krispies or gummy bears inside — Bonsai’s chefs tend to stick to traditional ingredients — but you will discover fresh selections with generous protein-to-rice ratios at a cost that won’t break the bank. Unless, of course, your date becomes a lobster bomb buff.

This is our tribute to a toppled threesome: Tuscan Steak, longest-running of the trio (premiered in 1998), became a victim of the economy; it has since donned a sombrero as El Scorpion Mexican Kitchen & Tequila Bar, whose specialties of tacos and tequila are more in line with today’s restrained budgets. Still, we’ll always be grateful for Tuscan’s delectable namesake steak and its white truffle garlic oil — way before the truffle oil deluge that followed. North One 10 fell victim to cruel, thoughtless city construction that put holes in the street and holes in the fledgling restaurant’s bottom line. The streets were eventually repaired, but North One 10 never fully recovered from the financial damage. We’ll always remember Dewey LoSasso’s intensely flavorful, wildly innovative, and thoughtfully sourced New American cuisine; his wacky theme nights; and the stellar service and wine selections orchestrated by wife Dale. Au Pied de Cochon — what can we say except we hardly got to know ye? Turned out this multimillion-dollar newcomer was a victim of not knowing its demographic — South Beach isn’t Paris, it isn’t Mexico City, and it isn’t Atlanta. But that doesn’t mean we won’t miss the succulent pig trotters and classic French pastries. Sadly, this trio with brio is no more. OK — next group, step right up.

They’re just too good not to mention.

Gastronomic pairings that will live on forever: Escoffier and Ritz. Batali and Bourdain. Schwartz and Goldsmith. Finkelstein and Frump. No, wait — sorry, we got confused: Finklestein and Frump is our legal team. But it was Michael Schwartz and Hedy Goldsmith who brought Nemo to everyone’s attention in 1995, and as good as Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink was when it opened, Goldsmith joining the team completed it — just the way one of her dazzling creations completes a meal there. Using local goat’s milk and basil-infused strawberries, along with balsamic gelée and pine nut biscotti on the side, she reinvents the cheesecake. Her chocolate cremosos with sea salt, olive oil, sour dough crostini, and espresso parfait succeeds against all odds. A taste of tangerine pot de crème with orange confit and hot doughnuts would alone be enough to convert to Hedy’s cause. These desserts are visually vivid and delicately constructed without being contrived and are surely Miami’s most iconic postdinner treats — which makes the $9 price very easy to swallow. Schwartz and Goldsmith add up to a sterling dining experience from start to finish.

What’s cuter than a cupcake? A puppy? A kitten? A puppy/kitten hybrid tangled in an adorable knot of yarn? No. The only thing cuter than a cupcake is a tiny cupcake, and InStyle Cupcakes — a local, virtual, cupcake-only bakery — has a fleet of sweet. These two-bite delights come in a handful of flavors: vanilla with gooey vanilla buttercream frosting; chocolate with either vanilla buttercream or rich, fudgy frosting; red velvet, dulce de leche, or our fave, the guava cupcake, topped with smile- (and, on occasion, rainbow-) inducing cream cheese frosting. Other than the single metallic ball (yes, it’s edible) that dons the tippity-top of each lil’ cake’s Madagascar bourbon vanilla-spiked frosting swirl, each treat contains nothing but all-natural ingredients: organic eggs, milk, and butter. Orders come in quantities of 24 minis for $24 (also available are a dozen regular-size cupcakes for $21 and a half-dozen jumbos for $16.50) and are delivered in a box that could be a tad cuter if it were decorated with a pastel blue bunny/baby sea otter/cotton candy/sunflower hybrid atop a unicorn.

Miami Shores has a tradition of dropping marshmallows from the sky into a field for kids to pick up at Easter. What does that have to do with ice cream? Mooie’s owner, Sean Saladino, says he got the idea to open an ice-cream shop after going to the marshmallow drop and realizing how many children live in the area. Open since January, Mooie’s has brightly colored walls, games, sidewalk chalk, and fluffy beanbags. House accounts allow parents to deposit money for their kids to buy ice cream after school without having to bring cash. But the rich, creamy, dreamy Blue Bell ice cream served here knows no age boundaries. Try a large cup of double chocolate ($4) with choice of toppings — M&Ms, gummy bears, graham crackers, Famous Amos cookies, Heath Bar chips, and many others — mixed in on a cold stone. Not indulgent enough? Try the banana split ($5.95) or a milkshake ($4.50). You’ll feel 5 all over again.