Eat & Drink

The American South has given us Hee Haw, boll weevils, Dollywood, and 92 percent of all mosquitoes in the United States. But it has also bestowed upon us Ray Hicks of West Virginia. It was he who brought Miami locals the First & First Southern Baking Company. When it comes to breakfast, Hicks’s hot licks include cornmeal/blueberry pancakes; potato pancakes; blackberry waffles; chicken and waffles (with real maple syrup); a “lumberjack” breakfast of eggs, fried potatoes, two pancakes, two bacon strips, two sausage links, and a fruit cup; oatmeal; and, of course, grits. Most breakfasts run $5 to $9 and are served from 8 to 11 a.m. It’s almost enough to make you want to put on a Lynyrd Skynyrd CD. Almost.

Almost as famous as this local chain’s coal-oven pizza are its chicken wings. Spared from goopy sauces, Anthony’s are seasoned with flavorful herbs and roasted at high heat in the oven. They arrive at the table in orders of ten ($8.95) or 20 ($14.95) with sweet caramelized onions and focaccia on the side. Their skin sports a nice char, and the flesh is moist inside. They are to the palate a coal-fired delight.

We all love Lulu — at least those of us old enough to remember her tearfully singing, “How do you thank someone who has taken you from crayons to perfume?” to Sidney Poitier in To Sir With Love. Huh? Oh. Yes, of course. It goes without saying that we also all love Lulu the restaurant — operated by the team behind the Grove’s number one meeting spot, GreenStreet. In fact, it is located right across the street from that landmark eatery and is something of a smaller, cozier version with the same mission: to provide a sidewalk café environment where locals can gather for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and weekend brunch — and lollygag over cocktails, wine (all bottles $25, all glasses $8), and value-driven cuisine. They call it “neighborfood,” which means sandwiches of fried green tomatoes and apple-wood-smoked bacon ($11); shrimp tacos ($15); hamburgers, and patties culled from turkey, pork, and brown rice/black beans too ($12 to $15). Entrées likewise lean toward popular American classics: rotisserie chicken with French fries ($18); truffled mac and cheese ($13); and chimichurri churrasco ($20). We all love Lulu, which is why its tables have been packed since opening day. Wonder what became of that other Lulu?

It is a labor of love born from a love story: Jeremy and Paola Goldberg met while they were students at the Culinary Institute of America in New York. After years of earning their stripes in other people’s restaurants, the couple serendipitously ended up in Miami and opened a place of their own — located in Coral Gables and named for the highway that swoops by their alma mater. Jeremy helms the dining room, Paola is the chef, and the restaurant serves fresh, home-cooked fare. The concise menu includes charcuterie and cheese plates ($13), soups and salads ($6 to $9), small plates ($6 to $13), main plates ($14 to $23), and sides ($6). There are sticky chicken wings, burrata cheese with fig preserves, and entrées such as prosciutto-wrapped pork loin, and flank steak with grilled romaine hearts and blue cheese vinaigrette. Each plate, of course, is likewise loaded with love. The waitstaff here is excellent, and service is about as good as it gets: personable, knowledgeable, efficient, and professionally trained. Those years spent managing restaurants evidently served the Goldbergs well.

Gustavo Ribero came to Miami from Bolivia when he was 14 years old. That is also the age when he began working in the restaurant industry. When Gustavo reached college age, he headed off with dreams of becoming… a doctor. Then, somehow, he came to his senses and realized that cooking was more fun. Plus he decided it was his calling, so Ribero attended Johnson & Wales University and grabbed a gig at Marriott. He followed that by helping to open Bizcaya at the Ritz-Carlton in Coconut Grove. A few years later, his brother-in-law Giuseppe, the proprietor of Anacapri in Coral Gables, hired Gustavo as chef. Two more Anacapri restaurants would follow, including our favorite Pinecrest venue — and the rest, as they say, is pasta e fagioli ($5.99)… and linguine carbonara ($14.99), chicken cacciatore ($18.99), veal piccata ($22.99), and shrimp alla francese ($24.99). Plus there’s a wide array of other pastas, meats, soups, salads, and appetizers in large family portions and at eminently affordable prices. Adjacent to the handsome and casual restaurant is an Italian market where you can load up on imported meats, cheeses, pastas, and other Italian delicacies.

Sparky’s should really be called “Sparky’s & Sparky’s,” because the two chef/owners gave each other the nickname while cooking together years ago. “Slow down, take your time. You’re probably only going back to work,” goes their motto, and if you’re beginning to get the idea that these guys are characters, let’s make it clear they are characters with enviable barbecue skills (one Sparky went to the Culinary Institute of America). “Low and slow” cooking over hickory and apple wood brings out the best in baby-back pork, beef brisket, chicken thighs, and pulled pork shoulder. Sandwiches are stuffed with the aforementioned meats ($6.95 to $8.50), on grilled rolls with coleslaw and waffle fries. The same choices arrive on platters ($8.95 to $12.95) with pick of two sides (slaw, fries, mac and cheese, stewed collard greens, and baked beans). Spark your thirst with any of a dozen microbrews ($3 to $4.50) from Maryland (Flying Dog’s In-Heat Wheat) to Minnesota (Horizon Red Ale) to home (Florida’s own Native Lager). If you crave great barbecue and come here to eat, know that Sparky’s will deliver. And if you work in the downtown area but can’t make it out of the office, know that Sparky’s will deliver.

“No shirt, no shoes, no problem,” reads one sign in this open-air fish shack. The lack of strict dress code might have to do with B.O. having started out as a wagon on Duval Street some 25 years ago. “Cold beer sold here,” reads another, and it’s true — the bottles are kept in ice-filled coolers. Right there you’ve got two-thirds of B.O.’s allure. The final and most definitive reason for heading here is the food: fresh, simple, delicious, and relatively cheap, as a fish wagon should be. The house signature is the cracked conch sandwich: thin strips fried and, like all sandwiches here, dressed in key lime dressing and slipped into soft Cuban bread with lettuce, tomato, and sliced onion ($12.50). Fried grouper, shrimp, and fish du jour sandwiches are equally satisfying ($9.50 to $12.50, a dollar extra if grilled). Dinners, served 4 to 9 p.m., showcase same seafood selections but with choice of two sides; select the fresh-cut fries, which just might be worth the drive alone. Although we recommend the fish here, many fans swear by BOMF’s half-pound burger ($9) — BOMF standing for “Buddy Owen’s Mother’s Finest.” Buddy is the owner. Next time you’re in Key West, head to the corner of Caroline and William streets and say hello to him at his very excellent little restaurant.

In 1915, the year Miami Beach became a city, the Browns Hotel was the number one hot spot — the only place to be. In fact, excepting a nearby bungalow (since demolished) called Joe’s Stone Crab, it was literally the only place to be, hot or otherwise. A “modernization” in the ’30s buried the Browns under yucky stucco, but the original pine was still sturdy. A challenging restoration by architect Allan Shulman (the house was moved back 13 feet from the sidewalk so the original porch could be returned) was followed by a gorgeous, contemporary saloon-like renovation by interior designer Alison Antrobus — and the Browns reopened in January 2004 as Prime One Twelve, a modern, upscale steak house by Myles Chefetz. The restaurant’s lush steaks and flush financial stakes have since become stuff of legend. But part of the success no doubt lies in the warm, intimate, yet invigorating ambiance. Wooden plank floors, exposed brick columns, and champagne leather-upholstered chairs add charm to the two-story, multiroom dining house. And nearly a century after the debut of the Browns, D-Wade chose Prime One Twelve as the place to watch LeBron’s nationally televised “Decision.” This is still the number one hot spot.

“It sells pretty good,” says Todd Webster, the man who butchers much of the meat at Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink. “We braise them for about four to six hours, cut them into thin pieces, and fry them until they’re nice and crispy on the outside.” “They’re a pretty popular bar snack,” echoes Travis Starwalt, sous chef at Sugarcane Raw Bar Grill. We braise them… slice them thin, dust them in flour, fry them, and toss them in our house-made barbecue spice.” Michael’s began serving them about a year ago, offering the crunchy bites as a snack seasoned with spice mix ($6) or atop an arugula salad with shaved radish and red onion, dressed in sweet lime vinaigrette ($8). Sugarcane offers them with a wedge of lemon ($4). “People will order one, and then they’ll order another one. It’s perfect for people hanging out at the bar and having a beer or cocktail,” Travis concludes, and at this point we’re all ears.

It was August 2006 when chefs Nicola and Fabrizio Carro, identical twins from the Piedmont region, introduced their exquisite Northern Italian fare at Quattro in Miami Beach. One can never have too many chefs imported from Italy. On the other hand, a saturation point exists for restaurants imported from New York — especially when said restaurant’s big-name chef lets his name do more work here than his body. More to the point: The Manhattan-to-Miami restaurant exchange has been one-sided for too long. So when our own hometown Quattro opened a sister establishment in New York (in the Trump SoHo no less!), it made a statement of sorts: Miami’s dining scene is growing up fast, and it might not be fitting into the Big Apple’s hand-me-downs for long.

Dolci Peccati bills itself as the “sweetest truck on the road,” and that’s true in every sense of the word. Not only was it one of the first all-dessert trucks to hit the road in Miami, but also its 20-something twin co-owners are among the friendliest mobile proprietors around. The Yepes sisters are all smiles in Hello Kitty aprons as they serve small but satisfying portions of the creamy gelato they make in modest batches every day. Every flavor is creamy and dense, as gelato should be, with the underlying boldness of component ingredients. Mint-chocolate chip, for instance, explodes with spearmint flavor, while cookies and cream melts with a rich vanilla finish. Of course, there are all the usual gelato flavors, such as pistachio and hazelnut, but the sisters whip up new combinations, like chocolate-blood orange, to mark special occasions or simple changes in whimsy. Meanwhile, their signature garnish is a special sweet-savory balsamic sauce most popular over strawberry and other fruit flavors.A small, approximately three-quarter-cup serving ($3) packs a lot of flavor, so it’s almost guilt-free, although a large ($4.50) won’t set you up to go for caloric broke either. Larger take-out containers are available for $8 and up, but you’ll want to hurry home with those — the frozen goodness, like so many other amazing things in life, doesn’t hold up well over time.

Inside a cozy storefront on NW Seventh Avenue in North Miami, the fryers are snapping, crackling, and popping Monday through Saturday from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. The family-owned Haitian restaurant serves deliciously sinful wings, drumsticks, and breasts that are fried to crisp perfection. The meat is juicy and tender every time, whether you request a $2.49 two-piece meal or a ten-piece family feast for $7.99. Every meal comes with sides of small rice, acras — fritters — and sweet plantains or fries. Fritay has been providing dine-in and take-out to North Miami’s Haitian community since 2008. The restaurant is also big on community service, awarding a $6,000 scholarship to a minority student from the community every year. Fritay is conveniently located off I-95, just a few blocks from the NW 125th Street exit.

When he’s not cooking meals for the guys at Miami Fire-Rescue Station 1, Derek Kaplan is baking pies: apple, coconut cream, peach, banana cream, pecan, chocolate pecan, and his signature key lime. It all started as an experiment to perfect his recipe, but friends liked what they tasted, and Fireman Derek’s Key Lime Pies was born in 2008. The citrusy dessert has just the right balance of tartness and sweetness. Its filling, prepared with fresh-squeezed key lime juice, is creamy and delicious, and the graham cracker crust is homemade. Pies are available whole ($15) or in single-serving cups ($3 each or ten for $25), which are the perfect size to indulge with less guilt. Find them around town at places such as La Camaronera, Slice-N-Ice, and Bon Appétit Walk-A-Way Café (2600 NE Second Ave., Miami), where Kaplan bakes his wonders. Or simply call or email him to order.

Got a secret fetish for sugar porn? There’s no shame in getting off on sweet, moist treats. And 2 Girls and a Cupcake knows how to bring orgasmic bliss with aphrodisiacs such as Kiss Me I’m Cuban, a tropical coconut cupcake topped with mango buttercream and toasted coconut. Then there’s the Ocean Drive, a blue vanilla cupcake topped with yellow buttercream and dusted with brown sugar. The 20-something-year-old bakers behind 2 Girls — Evelyn Dieppa and Lorena Castro — are always adding a sexy Miami swagger to their fluffy, sinful treasures. When the sisters competed on Food Network’s Cupcake Wars earlier this year, they paid tribute to local hip-hop luminaries such as Pitbull and Mayday by creating Mr. 305 — a vanilla cupcake with mango filling and vanilla buttercream — as well as Stuck on a Cupcake, a vanilla-peanut butter chip version with grape jelly that’s topped with peanut buttercream. Dieppa and Castro didn’t win the show’s $10,000 prize, but their cupcake operation, which launched on Valentine’s Day 2008, is flourishing. The pair’s online bakery features every single flavor available, including a special menu of alcohol-infused cupcakes for kiddie-themed adult parties. Prices range from $1 to $3 per cupcake.

Dessert menus at pizzerias are usually predictable and snore-worthy, so the folks at Sosta are probably damn happy that award-winning pastry chef Antonio Bachour is in charge of theirs. Let the competition serve stale cannoli from the neighborhood bakery, slightly defrosted cheesecake from a big-box store, and icky spumoni with candied cherry chunks. We’ll be digging into Bachour’s creamy vanilla panna cotta, decadent torta di cioccolato with pistachio gelato, and tiramisu made with Gianduja, sweet chocolate with hazelnut paste. Speaking of which, don’t even get us started on the eight-inch Nutella pizza pie. Pizza dough spread with chocolate and dusted with powdered sugar? OMG. Bachour can always be counted on to come up with confection wizardry, wowing with prismatic color combinations and meal-enders that are never too sweet or too savory. La dolce vita, indeed.

The first restaurant of Manuel Benito and his family debuted in Burgos, Spain, in 1930. The clan immigrated to Uruguay during the Franco days, and Manolo became their trademark name for eateries in Costa Rica, Peru, Panama, Argentina, and the good old USA. Churros have a longer history than that. The fried, fluted, sugar-sprinkled sticks are said to be named after the churro, a breed of Spanish sheep, and first made by shepherds centuries ago. Then again, Sephardic Jews and Arab Moors each arrived in Spain with sweet, fried-batter treats, so it’s possible one of those groups can take credit (let them fight it out). We do know that churros spread from Spain to Central and South America, and that Manolo serves them the same way as churrerías in those places: either plain (55 cents each) or churros rellenos, meaning filled with chocolate, vanilla custard, or dulce de leche (75 cents). It’s a cheap thrill.

The history of the crêpe is fodder for debate. Some contend the name is French for “pancake” and thus conclude the person who prepared the first flapjack in France simply forgot to add baking powder. This theory is vigorously disputed by the Crespelle Conspiracists, who believe the crêpe recipe was stolen from Italy by French nationalists in retaliation for Pope Clement VII’s actions against Charles V in 1526. Who knew? One thing not debatable is that the owners of Otentic Restaurant prepare the sort of authentically delectable dessert crêpes one might find proffered by a Parisian street vendor. For $6.50 each, the ethereal circles are delicately filled with choice of ice cream, banana, strawberries, chocolate mousse, honey, sugar, jam, Chantilly cream, or, our favorite, the classic Nutella chocolate-hazelnut spread. The French chef pours the batter on a specialized turntable-shaped griddle, waits for those caramel-colored dots to appear, flips the crêpe, slathers on the sweetness, folds it, and delivers it still steaming to the table. Otentic likewise spins savory crêpes ($7 to $8) for patrons with less of a sweet outlook on life.

Forget checking Yelp to find the latest fancy, overpriced yogurt shop. Sure, that spot has a cutesy name, Ikea décor, UM girls who think your facial scruff is way cool, and other temptations such as 1,000 self-serve toppings charged by weight. Keep it simple and opt for ice cream. Todo Frio does it old-school with good, traditional, calorie-laden, scooped-up, no-soy-substitutes frosty stuff. The sweetest part: old-timey prices. An ice-cream cone will set you back $1.50. Flavors include tropical mango, coconut, pineapple, conventional vanilla and chocolate, and even hyperactive-kindergartener-tamer Spider-Man, AKA vanilla with food coloring. Mostly, though, it’s a nice throwback to yesteryear — neither too shiny nor too perfect. You can stop here when you’re not in the mood for the barely legal set swooning about the latest RPattz movie and his Us Weekly cover.

America might run on Dunkin’ Donuts, but Miami sprints on café con leche. Basically, as soon as you’re weaned off the bottle, you’re given this stuff — one part superstrong coffee, 20 parts warm, sweet, comforting milk — thus conditioning an addiction that eventually becomes a dietary staple for most of the 305. Serving it dulce y clarito is Coffee Zone in Brickell. The secret to its café con leche‘s beautiful flavor and wonderfully creamy, frothy texture might be the fact that the restaurant is hidden inside the same building that houses the Venezuelan and Colombian embassies. You have your choice of three sizes, with prices that range from $1.87 to $3.27.

Nube, a quaint shop near Coral Gables City Hall, serves coffee hailing from small farms in places such as Brazil and Ethiopia, and roasted by Panther Coffee, a local independent. There are no venti white chocolate lattes or any drinks of that sort here. Nube’s menu offers straightforward drinks — espresso, American, cappuccino, latte, frappe, and mocha — in eight-ounce and 12-ounce servings. All go for under $5. Nube also offers breakfast and lunch, supports local artists by featuring their work and hosting gallery night events, and has free Wi-Fi.

We love Miami, we really do. This world of pastel concrete and banal vanity rooted in artistic expression warms our hearts like year-round sunshine. But some days, when we’re sunburned and hung over and can’t locate a baby-pink house with baby-blue shutters because all the houses are baby pink with baby-blue shutters, we crave a respite. Maybe a little café with the worn, grandfatherly feel of an older city like New York or Seattle… a place full of dark wood shelves displaying obscure books and children’s board games… a joint owned by a young couple that wears earth-friendly T-shirts and brings a big, sloppy dog to work… a teahouse where college kids pen bad novels on their laptops while taking advantage of free Wi-Fi and sipping organic, fair-trade loose-leaf teas with pretentious names like shade-grown African honeybush tisane. Those days, we don’t head to busy downtown corridors, historic Gables alleyways, or funky Design District paths. We look to the belly of the pastel, suburban beast — West Dade — a couple of blocks from Florida International University. We tuck into a storefront humbly announcing “Miami’s only tea lounge” and order a panini and small pot of one of the more than 60 teas offered. We sit back on a comfy couch, catch a poetry performance or two, and ponder all that Miami might become in time.

Many Americans have smoked hookahs yet have never used tobacco in one. But Sawa Restaurant & Lounge is the spot to go if you wish to inhale any number of flavored tobaccos. Patrons puff while seated on soft leather sofas amid white curtains billowing under royal palms in the outdoor center of the Village of Merrick Park. The al fakher hookah selections ($20) include about a dozen fruit-based smokes, from strawberry to watermelon to double apple. But Sawa is also “home to the hookah on steroids!” ($33), which means the base of the water pipe is filled with choice of cocktail: cosmopolitan, mojito, strawberry margarita, and so forth. No, you definitely do not drink said cocktail after smoking, but it adds flavor and a slightly intoxicating inhalation. Before flaunting contemporary society’s anti-smoking conventions, you might strongly consider partaking of chef Jovens Jean’s modern Mediterranean small plates or creative sushi rolls in the same oasis-like outdoor setting.

Considering the name, it’s surprising we haven’t given this shoebox-size grilled-sub shack a Best of Miami award before. This seems especially true when you find out it’s been operating in the same location — on a quiet, hidden avenue that snakes along East Kendall’s Greenery Mall and curves to the rear of Pinecrest’s Tattoos by Lou — for 32 years, especially when you notice the one wall that faces the place’s sole grill and sub-slinging counter is completely plastered in pictures of loyal customers, and especially-especially when you notice a sign that reads, “Prices Subject to Change According to _____’s Mood.” (The blank is filled in with a piece of masking tape scribbled with the name of whoever mans the grill that day.) Sink your teeth into foot-longs like the hot pastrami and corned beef sub ($8.49), a gluttonous and Swiss-cheesy nod to an already ample deli standard. Or try the tasty honey mustard chicken, a Miami sub shop staple done right for $7.49; and the juicy bacon cheeseburger sub, which is equivalent in size to at least three Whoppers, two Quarter Pounders, and half a cow. Maybe that’s hyperbole, but it’s a lot of meat for just $7.49. Best Sub & Sandwich Shop, it might be three decades overdue, but welcome to the Best of Miami Club.

Ghirardelli chocolate squares are tasty suckers. Individually wrapped in gold foil, they are culled from either white, milk, or dark cocoa and come filled with gooey additions such as caramel, raspberry, peanut butter, and mint. Best part: You get a free sample upon entering Ghirardelli Chocolate Company on Lincoln Road (bonus: the heavily air-conditioned ice cream/chocolate shop provides a restorative blast of chill for overheated Lincoln Road stragglers). Just seek out the worker with a tray of the sweet treats, and she or he will surely ask if you’d like one. They’re so good you might consider sneaking back a short while later in a makeshift disguise, or perhaps you’ll want to purchase some (that’s sort of the idea). A 15-pack costs $7.95, so math whizzes can figure out the monetary value of this freebie.

The po’ boys and girls of Miami-Dade don’t have access to many real po’boy sandwiches. You can’t blame Larry and Elena Robinson for this, because the husband/wife owners of the Rumcake Factory get their authentic version out to as many people who stop by their cozy café/take-out shop in North Miami Beach. The soft French bread that frames the po’boy is the official loaf that gets shipped fresh from New Orleans. Between the halves is your choice of cleanly fried shrimp ($8.50) or catfish ($7.75), with lettuce, tomatoes, pickle slices, and homemade rémoulade dressing. Sweet potato chips come along for the ride. Other po’boys here pooh-pooh the notion that fried fish has to be the filler: Fried turkey and pulled pork po’boys redefine the genre. Dessert is the namesake rum cake — a best in its own right.

Food inspires passion. Just look at what happened to that Marie Antoinette lady when she got all creative with her cake. But few forms of grub inspire as much as the hamburger. She is, after all, a fickle mistress. Handled carelessly, the burger can be disastrous. But crafted by careful and practiced hands, it can be a downright transcendental experience.Junior knows this. And it’s with equal respect for the art form and childlike curiosity that he toils away in the kitchen — aptly labeled “the lab” — of this Miami Springs upstart. He conjures Angus perfection one-third pound ($6.99), a half-pound ($7.99), or one pound ($10.99) at a time, and all on your choice of toasted whole-wheat or cornmeal-dusted white bun. Peruse the menu and try culinary concoctions such as “the outside is in,” a juicy patty stuffed with bacon and cheddar. Or check out the mouthwatering Acosta, topped with black pepper aioli, Swiss cheese, and French onions, and accurately deemed a “foodgasm.” Or there’s the one-pound Fat Albert, topped with Swiss and cheddar, French onions, bacon, and barbecue sauce. We won’t go into detail about exotic burgers such as the “hail Caesar,” Tex-Mex, beef Stroganoff, and “Mexi-can” burgers — you’ll have to find out for yourself. And you’ll need to check back frequently, because Junior is always in the lab, working on his next delectable creation.

Few foods are as ubiquitous as pizza. And most people will agree that even a bad piece of pie is better than most foods done right. Yet the search for truly great ‘za is a lifelong journey, and anyone with taste buds has an opinion on the best. Our pick for that hallowed title: Steve’s Pizza. The cozy North Miami counter serves delectable tomato sauce and gooey-cheesy goodness on long slices of fresh-baked dough in the tradition of New York-style pizza. And at the risk of invoking cliché, the secret is in that sauce. At once scrumptiously sweet and savory, it elevates Steve’s pie, which comes by the slice and in sizes ranging from small to Steve’s Famous XL. You can add toppings or go with specialty pies that’ll run you anywhere from $11.75 to $21.22. Try the “special,” loaded with pepperoni, sausage, meatballs, green peppers, onions, mushrooms, and anchovies (if you want them). Steve’s also has hoagies, pasta, and calzones. But frankly, it’s damn near impossible to skip the pie, and even the plain cheese pizza is so good it’s earned a following all its own.

Colombians excel at making a food item considered all-American: the hot dog. La Moon’s downtown location is a neighborhood place open till the wee hours. It has quite a following of partygoers, hungry people, and others who swear by the specialty. These powerful dogs regularly turn vegetarians into ravenous, flesh-eating beasts. Sure, Nathan’s are delicious, but these guys come topped with love (or so it seems when you’re wolfing them down at 3 a.m.). There are a few kinds available for sale, including the “Supermoon,” which is garnished with a quail egg, chorizo, bacon, cheese, sauces, and potato chips. The simpler “perro Colombiano” takes the dog cake. This taut sausage is smothered in the most delightful sauces — five to be exact — that crisscross carefully over the chow. You probably won’t need more than one, because each is a solid meal unto itself.

A thunderstorm rages outside the Original Ranch House when a vintage Chevy truck pulls into the parking lot. A man clad in a poncho, plaid shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots climbs out of the driver’s side. He high-steps to the front door and swings it open. The joint still has the charm of a ’70s truck stop in the Appalachian Mountains despite its location in Miami-Dade’s most Cuban-American city. He takes off the wet poncho and hangs it on the dry rack near the cash register. A waitress offers him a seat at one of the red leather booths. He respectfully declines, telling her that he prefers to sit at the Formica counter. He straddles a red swivel stool, reading the burger and sandwich options on the menu. He orders a patty melt on sourdough bread. The $8.55 plate comes with steak fries, his favorite kind. Some folks like their spuds crinkly or thin or cut into waffles. Not this fry guy. From his seat at the counter, he can see the cook methodically peel and slice a potato into thick white sticks. The dude’s mouth curls into a smile when the fries are dropped into a scalding fryer. The waitress brings him his order. He picks up one of the golden treats. He caresses the crisp exterior and snaps the fry in half. Steam rises from the severed ends. He blows on the fry to cool it and pops it into his mouth. Outside, the downpour ceases. The Original Ranch House is open seven days a week.

Although falafel has evolved into a classic and often-craved street food — much like hot dogs or pizza —the chickpea fritters are traditionally served as part of the meze or small plates in Mediterranean cuisine. But we’re guessing your latest exposure to the Hellenic Republic was watching Russell Brand and Jonah Hill binge-drink and vomit their way through Get Him to the Greek. We place no blame. Miami isn’t exactly overflowing with Greek culture (except maybe the country’s licorice-flavored boozahol, ouzo). That why it’s surprising to find that one of the town’s best-kept foodie secrets is an unassuming taverna on the Little River called Anise. Nestled between a gas station and a rundown apartment complex, and across the street from a Wendy’s (are we selling it yet?), this Greek taverna produces our city’s tastiest falafel. You get five of these morsels for $8. Instead of being wrapped in flatbread and piled with pickled veggies and hot sauce, Anise’s falafels are delicately plated with a yogurt-tahini sauce — in other words, you actually get to taste the Greek croquettes and not just the spicy fixings. Although you might be tempted to order multiple servings, save room for the taverna’s larger plates such as moussaka ($18) and lamb shank ($19). Almost every dish here is delicious, but we’ll always remember our first mouthful at Anise: the supple, fried goodness of its falafel.

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

The 1st Avenue Bistro is a charming spot owned by a French couple and located by the downtown Miami courthouse. You can enjoy lunch and dinner here, but we like the peaceful vibe and delectable fare served in the mornings from 7:30 to 11:30. You can go the continental route and have a freshly baked croissant with an espresso for $3.75. Or try a pair of homemade crêpes with sugar and lemon, or chocolate ganache, or crème anglaise for $6.95. Savory crêpes filled with ham, bacon, chicken, or turkey in creamy béchamel sauce get topped with a sunnyside-up egg and a side of field greens for $8.95. What’s more of a French breakfast than French toast? Here it is made with French bread and accompanied by fruit salad for $6.95. A breakfast sandwich on croissant or baguette — with scrambled eggs, cheese, and choice of ham, sausage, or bacon — is also $6.95. But our favorite breakfast here is the Gallic take on an all-American classic: two eggs any style (sprinkled with herbs), creamy potato gratin, a zestily dressed salad, baguette, and coffee, tea, or small orange juice — for just $5.95. Très soigné! And très cheap!

A “flop” is a Southern drink that mixes lemonade and iced tea. At Miracle’s, an extra-large cup is as big as a bucket, costs $1.75, and offers a sweet, ice-cold counterpoint to the item for which the place is most famous. Almost 40 years ago, Thomas Carr opened what has become a historical landmark in the heart of Liberty City and began selling conch fritters fried to order. They are crisp, disc-shaped, and — at just $1 — arguably the most affordable freshly cooked food we’ve ever met. Place your order at an outdoor counter on vibrant 15th Avenue. Then wait for your steaming-hot fritter alongside city workers, lawyers, cops, school kids, mamas, rappers, dancers, tourists, and the many other fans of this establishment. Whether you eat it straight or sauce it up, you’ll likely order a second fritter before you finish the first.

Ceviche, once a fabled dish of raw fish macerated in juices from an exotic, foreign land known as Peru, is now almost as common in Miami as chicken fingers. But only a few restaurants make it well, and few do it better than CVI.CHE 105 in downtown Miami. The moment you step in, you understand this place is meant to be a bright, boisterous destination. It buzzes with energy, and on any given night, you’ll find a packed house with servers whizzing from corner to corner. Take a seat and grab a handful of corn kernels; then decide on one of the namesake dishes. The “red and white” ceviche ($12.95) is an homage to the Peruvian flag and chef Juan Chipoco’s father, who hails from that country. The creamy pisco ceviche (12.95) adds the popular South American spirit to the mix, and after that boozy treat, you might end up diving into the “seafood orgy” ceviche ($13.95). Swimming in leche de tigre, or tiger’s milk, it is known for being extra-spicy, creamy, and empowering Charlie Sheen to warlock status.

Tarpon Bend’s raw bar menu might not be the longest in Miami, but what it lacks in variety it makes up for with consistent quality, cheap drinks, and fun personality. The oyster shots, tuna sashimi, and various chilled seafood platters are among the simple raw favorites. The Mexican shrimp “margarita,” though not raw, draws raves for its exciting flavor combination: shrimp, spicy tomato tequila-chili sauce, black beans, avocados, and warm tortilla chips. But most appealing about Tarpon Bend is its bustling, convivial atmosphere. Mojito Madness Thursdays mean all-day $3.50 mojitos, with flavors like watermelon, grapefruit, and pineapple. There’s also 3 to 9 p.m. happy hour Monday through Thursday, till 10 p.m. Friday, and even till 7 p.m. Saturday. Word has gotten ’round and the crowds have swooped in, but the service hasn’t skipped a beat. All of this makes Tarpon Bend hands down the best place to slurp an oyster, sip a cocktail, and scope a date almost any night of the week.

Sometimes you have to ask yourself the important questions, like “Sauce or no sauce?” and “Ribs or chicken?” Your answer will likely depend on several factors, including ethnicity, geographic location, and your BBQ: bare-fisted barbecue quotient. Those who tip the scale at barbecue genius have been frequenting the Pit on Calle Ocho for eons. Whether you make a scheduled stop on your way to the Shark Valley entrance to Everglades National Park or just drive there on a whim, you won’t be disappointed. Aside from standard American barbecue fare, you can also sate your inner carnivore by feasting on tender, perfectly cooked churrasco. Prices are reasonable too. Less than $10 will buy you a fine meal. Driving out to the Pit is a bit of a trek even for those who live in the southwest corner of Miami, but you and your loved ones will be treated to some of the meatiest sauceless barbecue ribs anyone has seen since The Flintstones. Even Fred would be jealous.

What characteristics make a salad great? A refreshing taste. A bit of a kick, usually from the acid in the dressing. Contrasting textures. Crunch. Sass. Wetness. Freshness. A solid salad is salubrious — it sates the appetite, awakens a tired soul, and braces the spirit like a breeze of fresh air on a plate. Pega Grill’s Greek salad is all that — and more, if you get it with a chicken gyro add-on. The tomato wedges are ripe and red as fire engines; cucumbers, green peppers, and red onions add crispness and color; tart, soft feta cheese is crumbled on top, and the olive oil/red wine vinegar/oregano dressing binds it. Morsels of moist, well-seasoned gyro chicken pump protein and a whole lot of taste into the medley. Wedges of baguette come on the side. A small salad, which really is regular size, is $5.95; the large, which really is large, is $9.95. Chicken gyro meat is $2.95 extra.

Bruschetta originated as a way of salvaging bread that was going stale. Americans have come to think of this central Italian snack as toast topped with tomato salad, but at its very heart, the stuff is simply grilled or roasted bread rubbed with garlic and sprinkled with extra-virgin olive oil, salt, and pepper. At Trattoria Rosalia (sister to Carpaccio in Bal Harbour and other Italian restaurants around South Florida), slices of the toasted Tuscan bread are capped with chopped ripe tomatoes dressed with garlic, basil, olive oil, and a splash of balsamic vinegar — plus lush additions of mozzarella cheese and razor-thin prosciutto. It’s all piled high and makes a great appetizer ($9.25). Let’s be real: When it comes to using old bread, Rosalia’s bruschetta kicks any crouton’s ass.

The duet of fried tetrahedrons plated at Thali Indian & Thai is only one reason to visit this South Beach newcomer. Owner Denis Nazareth of Mumbai offers a menu filled with a plethora of cuisine from the headlining countries, including the namesake thali plates: a traditional Hindu compilation of small bowls filled with vegetables, dal, chutney, and other bites served with rice or bread ($10.99 to $14.99). But the samosas are emblematic of the exuberant freshness of fare here. Plus they are more than generous. The $4.99 pair is packed with mashed, spiced potato and flecked with onions, peas, coriander, and tidbits of boiled potato. Tamarind and mint dips add to the joy, as do the Asian music and ambiance — a real Thali high!

Four things you might not know about curry: (1) The origin of the word is traced to the Tamil term kari. (2) The first commercial curry powder appeared around 1780. (3) There are more Indian restaurants in London than in Mumbai and Delhi combined. (4) Massaman curry at Soi Asian Bistro has no equal in Miami. The meltingly soft beef sops up the rich, mildly spicy, coconut-based curry sauce and absorbs the aromatics of cardamom, cinnamon, and cloves. Cashews and luscious lumps of potato add texture, steamed rice comes on the side, and slices of ripe avocado fan across the top. There are plenty of other winsome dishes at this spry little 30-seater, but none will curry your favor like the Massaman ($10.75 ).

Let’s talk alchemy. For centuries, wizened scholars — toiling in dark cellars, their wispy gray beards flirting with flames as they cooked cauldrons of metals and spices — searched endlessly for the secret to transmuting basic elements into something new, something otherworldly. Everyone from Isaac Newton to Tycho Brahe grew obsessed with finding the key. Honestly, they should have just ordered some pho at Miss Saigon. How else to explain what happens inside the massive, steaming bowl delivered to your table at the small Vietnamese eatery on Washington Avenue (or inside its larger sister restaurants in Coral Gables and Pinecrest)? In go a few basics: unctuous broth, thick rice noodles, and chunks of raw beef or chicken, topped off at the table with a plate of basil and sprouts and squirted with bottles of fiery red hot sauce and deep-black plum sauce. Yet into your mouth goes a magically complex meal, infinitely better than the sum of its humble parts. (And a steal at $10.95 for a bowl easily big enough for two). If that’s not alchemy, our name is Ptolemy.

Yuga, which debuted in Coral Gables in 2006, translates to “elegance” — a perfect word to describe the food and décor. Owned and operated by the same family behind the wonderful Lan Pan Asian Café in Kendall’s Dadeland Station, it specializes in East and Southeast Asian cuisine. Specifically, Japan, China, Korea, Thailand, Vietnam, and an occasional traipse into the Philippines. More specifically, pristine sushi/sashimi selections; potstickers and spring rolls ($5.50 each); kimchi ($3.75); spicy tom yum goong soup with shrimp and lemongrass ($4.95); crispy lamb ribs ($10.95); and smoky octopus salad ($10.95). Plus noodles, rice dishes, curries, and a compact selection of California wines, Japanese beers, and premium sakes from microbreweries. Yuga, along with its talented chef/partner Johnson Teh, is one of Miami’s best-kept secrets. So how come you haven’t eaten here yet?

According to some expert, somewhere, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. According to us, it’s the cheapest. Because this is Miami, you might or might not have a Cuban abuela, but in this town you can always enjoy a full Cuban breakfast for a few bucks. At Exquisito you’ll get it for $3.75 before 10:30 a.m. And that includes pan tostada, café, dos huevos, y jamón o croquetas. Or splurge and pay a buck more for an extra side dish. Or plunk down $6.75 for eggs, steak, fries, tostadas, and café con leche. It’s just like eating with abuela except without all the questions and the guilt that come from not visiting often enough.

Looking for good Thai food in Coral Gables on Friday night? Expect a wait. The Gables has a glut of Thai restaurants, and they get crowded, especially on weekends. But Lotus Garden, on the northwest end of Miracle Mile, is the exception. There’s hardly ever a wait, even during the busiest dining hours. And if you’re looking for some new-fangled fusion Thai dish, try another spot. But if you want classic Thai cuisine, you won’t find better this side of Bangkok. The owners abide by Thai sensibilities, both in presentation and preparation. They eschew the ostentation and concentrate on quality ingredients and family tradition. What you’re eating was either prepared by owner Cathy Nguyen or her mother — no exceptions. That means you won’t find a fresher pad thai or chicken curry (red, green, panang, or massaman) — notice the crispness of the bamboo shoots in the curry, never a soggy bite and crunchy till the end. Same goes for the duck and fish dishes. Unlike other Thai restaurants that are beholden to Sysco or other suppliers, Lotus Garden buys its ingredients locally. They skin, debone, and steam the duck themselves. The décor is quaint and elegant, like the Mile used to be. It’s not a place to be seen. In fact, it’s where you go when you want to avoid much of what Miami has become. Just make sure you’re hungry — the portions are large enough to give you a Buddha belly.

Not all of us are lucky enough to have a good Chinese take-out restaurant near home. This is probably why West Kendall residents thank the goddess Fortuna that Jin-Jin is in their hood. The place isn’t gourmet or trendy. It simply offers the best Chinese take-out in South Miami-Dade. In fact, there is no means of dining in — Jin-Jin consists entirely of a take-out counter and a magical kitchen. To-die-for pork dumplings ($4.75), crisp vegetable spring rolls ($1.75 to $2.50), and incredibly tasty fried rice ($3.45 to $12.55) set Jin-Jin apart from the competition. Plus the people who run the place are such generous spirits that you’ll often find a bonus goody in your take-out box — expect anything from an egg roll to an order of crab Rangoon — and that trumps a Happy Meal toy anytime.

Jerry Seinfeld once said, “Where there’s Chinese food, there’s leftovers.” That’s not necessarily true with all such restaurants around town, but it’s exactly what you get with Susie Lai when you’re hankering for some Chinese take-out. This place serves enough Szechuan to keep you fat and giggly for at least half a week. Tucked in the corner of a tiny strip mall in North Miami Beach, the quaint restaurant has been a well-kept secret among the loyal patrons who have frequented it for years. Many Chinese restaurants offer overpriced, cold, minute portions of shriveled pork and chicken that look and eat like cardboard. Susie Lai’s food is not only affordable but also piping-hot, delicious, and plentiful. Take-out combo dinners, which include an egg roll and a box of pork-fried rice or natural brown rice, start at $7.95. Try the sweet-and-sour pork or chicken combo ($8.75) or the hardy honey-garlic chicken combo ($9.25). The pepper steak has a mildly spicy kick, and the fried rice is never too oily or undercooked. And unlike other places, Susie Lai has prompt service and a friendly staff. Call to order, and your food will be steaming and waiting for you when you walk through the door. Good food. Large portions. Real cheap. That’s the staple of any good Chinese restaurant, and Susie Lai has gobs of it. Hours are Monday through Friday 11 a.m. to 10 p.m., Saturday noon to 10 p.m., and Sunday 3 to 9:30 p.m.

Fans of burn-your-face-off Indian cuisine might not head to Bombay Darbar first, but the average connoisseur of Indian food in Florida knows there are good eats at this relatively new eatery, which took over the site where Anokha, another Indian restaurant, was located. Those who appreciate freedom of choice will be thankful the menu includes everything from savory lamb biryani (a rice dish, $16.95) to scorching vindaloos ($14.95 to $17.95), moist and vibrant tandoori meats, popular butter chicken ($16.95), and more vegetarian dishes than you can shake a papadam at. Spice profiles range from tame to smack-my-ass-and-call-me-Sally! Then there’s nothing like an order of Darbar’s gulab jamun — doughnuts drenched in sweet rose syrup — which is worth every cavity. We also love the restaurant’s petite size, the bejeweled wall décor, and the coveted outdoor tables. All around, Bombay Darbar is a sweet and spicy addition to Miami’s ethnic food scene.

Listen, we Miami gals aren’t interested in your dumb let’s-hit-a-pizza-stand-and-eat-dinner-on-the-curb idea. We didn’t spend a few thou on these Cavalli dresses and snakeskin Louboutins to be dining like the help. Take us to Cioppino if you really want to impress us. How ’bout we start with the burrata ($20) and then maybe a calamari steak ($36)? Or maybe the organic chicken entrée ($40) will be easier for you to digest. Craving some pasta? Us too. The foiade, pappardelle, and gnocchi are only $24, but let’s go for the risotto with shrimp and saffron ($28). You do know quality saffron can cost about $80 an ounce, right? But that’s not enough food for us, honey, so let’s keep ordering. Hmm. How about the signature dish ($38) or the osso buco? It’s only $45. Wine? Of course! And we’ll have to celebrate our union with some champagne. Shall we have them pop a cork of Dom rosé, or do we go for the Krug? All of these decisions are making us dizzy, darling. Perhaps you should get that AmEx Centurion card out, ’cause this meal is gonna cost you, and we have to go powder my nose. Don’t balk at the bill, Daddy. We’ll make it up to you after dessert.

Your knowledge of Italian-American culture is way extensive thanks to Jersey Shore, The Godfather, and The Sopranos, but do you really know good food of this persuasion? Prepare to bow down and scream, “We’re not worthy!” as soon as you taste the food at downtown’s Fratelli Milano. This small bistro is simply decorated with classic dark wood styling and banquettes. Milano serves fresh, homemade pastas such as fiocchi di pera e taleggio ($16) — pear-and-taleggio-cheese-stuffed pasta that is creamy with a hint of soft sweetness and panna cotta good enough to make you fist-pump. If you’re watching carb intake, opt for the soup of the day ($6) or signature salad ($8), which is the only salad on the menu. But you won’t be complaining once you’ve tasted the balsamic dressing. You can also opt to add prosciutto because, like its American cousin bacon, pig meat makes everything better. The most expensive dish on the menu, filetto con speck — pan-roasted filet mignon wrapped in speck and pooled in wine sauce — comes in at just $20. After your pilgrimage to this minor Miami mecca of Italian cuisine, you will be one step closer to becoming as authentically Italian as Snooki herself.

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that the bistro fare at Daniel Boulud’s Miami restaurant is exquisitely delicious. After all, Mr. Boulud is acknowledged as one of the finest — if not the finest — French chefs working in America today. Still, without an executive chef like Jarrod Verbiak to translate Boulud’s culinary magic, all we’d be talking about is an eatery with a famous name on the sign. Dining here is a class act from start to finish. The décor is sophisticated in an understated manner. Service is smooth, polished, and professional. The sommelier is one of Miami’s most knowledgeable — which helps when diners have to deal with a 30-plus page wine list. And the cuisine is flawlessly French: towering displays of shellfish; charcuterie platters themed on Lyon; a peerless pâté de campagne; and soigné entrées such as duck confit and the famous $32 DB burger of sirloin beef, short ribs, and foie gras. Desserts range from cheese plates to madeleines to delicate treats composed of petite components. Prices are high for a “bistro” but reasonable for the dining experience proffered.

It’s Spanish time at the former Pacific Time space in the Design District. The arrival of Andalus means the clock moves slower and the wines are perhaps imbibed a tad faster. It means small plates of food and big doses of flavor. It means dining with no fuss and much fun. It means a host of hot and cold tapas (most $7 to $15). In the former category are prawns gilded with garlic and Spanish chili, and white herrings (chanquetes) finessed with fried eggs; the latter includes all manner of regional cheeses and renowned hams at surprisingly fair prices ($15 excepting the pata negra offerings). Soups are also ladled hot or cold ($6 to $8) — from an ideal Andalusian gazpacho to a hearty sopa de mariscos stocked with five types of shellfish. Another specialty of the namesake region is hake andaluza, which comes fried, salted, and peppered. Hake is likewise plated in other classic ways, as is bacalao and sole ($18 to $23). Steaks, lamb or veal chops, and other meaty main courses run $16 to $28; a grand paella based on Calasparra rice is $40 for two. The prices are right; the ambiance is energetic. Andalus is on Spanish time, all right — and it’s time you checked it out.

This Hialeah-Miami Lakes hole-in-the-wall is hard to find but well worth the mission if only to try the enchiladas poblanas, which include exotic, spicy mole slathered onto three corn tortillas stuffed with chicken and crowned with Mexican cheese ($12.99). Vegetarians can substitute spinach for the chicken and top the whole thing off with sliced avocados. If there were a category for best quesadillas, the undisputed king would be Los Magueyes’ quesadilla Michoacan ($7.95): a pan-seared flour tortilla stuffed with sautéed peppers, onions, and mushrooms swimming in a bubbling pool of jack and mozzarella cheeses. Hello, (gastronomical) orgasm.

In the chain-restaurant-friendly, culinarily shy zone that is Kendall, there’s a party going on near the parking lot of a Publix. Inside a nondescript, squat building, guitar music wafts, political debates sound in Kreyol, and the clink of silverware delving into platters of rich goat and fish stews fills the air. It’s the area’s only Haitian restaurant and a community hub, a ten-seater family joint where patrons usually know each other by name and have no qualms about entering the kitchen to greet staff or obtain extra sauce. The homemade dishes that make the rounds courtesy of owner Carine Baez, her husband, and sons: fresh lambí en sauce, conch stewed until soft and melded with spicy peppers, onions, and tomato; riz et pois, savory rice and beans cooked with diri ak djon-djon, imported Caribbean black mushrooms; and street food platters with neat arrangements of fried goat, pork chunks, and malanga fritters waiting to be dipped into searingly spicy sauces. Outside, it’s strip-mall hell. But if you stay long enough in Le Lambí’s warm embrace, you almost forget it.

No one has to tell Middle East Best’s owner, Aziz Ali, that he makes the top pita bread in the region. He already knows. Actually, he’ll tell anyone who’s willing to listen that he makes the best pita in the whole damn nation. And if no one thinks to ask, it doesn’t matter. He has signs hanging behind the register and near the front door announcing his claim. Ali won’t tell his secrets, but we know he makes the dough by hand and bakes it on the premises. He claims to sell about 250 big-as-your-head pitas on an average day. So stop in and hand the man $2 for a bag of five pouches of joy and let him know your opinion. If you pick up a tub of Ali’s hummus too, consider this your warning: You might not surface for days.

Real Japanese food aficionados stuck in the United States live for the moment they find a local restaurant so good and so authentic that they can just hand the menu back to their server and exclaim, “Let the chef bring me whatever he’d like.” Maido is that kind of place, except for one little detail: The extensive specials are written on marker boards so there’s no need to do the paper swap. Bonus: Each time you dine here, the experience is entirely unique. Make a habit of surrendering to the chef/owners at Maido and you won’t be let down, especially if words such as fermented, bitter, paste, roe, and pickled aren’t offensive. Even the timid can find pleasure in items as basic as deep-fried rice cakes, while the entirely adventuresome may go hog wild for squid sashimi, silverfish tempura, and chicken gizzards with yuzu. Maido isn’t big on atmosphere, but it more than makes up for it in flavor.

Just off Miami Gardens Drive, inside a generic shopping center anchored by a Publix, you will find a golden opportunity to savor deliciously prepared Nicaraguan cuisine. A typical fritanga, La Hormiga de Oro offers cantina-style Nica dishes at moderate prices for dining in or taking out. Six dollars and 50 cents brings charbroiled steak and a choice of three sides that include gallo pinto (rice and beans), grilled corn on the cob, fried sweet plantains, tostones, fried yuca, fried cheese, and tortillas. Wash it down with a $3 glass of Nica fruit juice such as maracuya, cacao, or cebada. Folks looking for a twist on traditional breakfast fare can choose dishes such as huevos rancheros with white cheese, gallo pinto, and tortilla; or scrambled eggs with Spanish sausage, fried cheese, gallo pinto, and fried green plantains. Cost: $4.50 each. Family dinners are also available for $24 and $45. La Hormiga opens at 8 a.m. six days a week and 7 a.m. Saturdays, and closes at 10 p.m. daily.

It’s true that if you’re not familiar with this place, you might miss it. It’s also true that you are the last priority for the servers — you will wait for drinks, napkins, and food. Oh, and the parking sucks. But as soon as you set eyes on the flying-saucer-size pan de bonos, all of those details fade away. You’ll be tempted to fill up on said pan de bonos or Rincón’s perfectly crisp meat and potato empanadas, but resist at all costs. If you fall to temptation, your stomach will never have room to experience Rincón Antioqueño’s Holy Grail — the bandeja paisa — a platter of steak or ground beef, fried bananas, fried pork belly, and a fried egg presented on a mound of white rice and served with an endless bowl of red beans. Your heart, your waistline, and your doctor might curse you — but your belly will thank you.

It can be difficult deciding what to do if you find yourself on Hammocks Boulevard in West Kendall. What, you didn’t know there was anything to do out there? It’s home to Kendall Ice Arena, the funniest place to watch people bust their asses while wearing down-feather parkas in the middle of July. It’s also home to a giant restaurant designed to look like an old house, where patrons perform vallenatos at weekly karaoke, and politicians such as Joe Garcia attempt to woo West Dade’s Colombian community. But even better, you don’t have to choose between watching hilarious ice sports and singing your heart out on a huge stage beneath a replica colonial window balcony. Casa Vieja’s back wall is made of glass and overlooks the skating rink. So cozy up in a booth, order a platter of churrasco asado ($16.99) with some tostones and rice, and try to distract hockey players by dangling juicy meat behind the goal post. We told you the Hammocks are fun.

Brazil, in almost every conceivable way, is the opposite of little. The largest country in South America has an exploding economy and an oversize world presence set to get bigger with the World Cup and the Olympics heading there in the next few years. The excellent Brasileño cuisine at Miami’s Little Brazil restaurant isn’t exactly minuscule either. The kitchen pumps out heaping plates of authentic specialties, including picanha, thinly sliced steak topped with slivers of roasted garlic and farofa, a vinegary salad; camarao com Catupiry, jumbo baked shrimp stuffed with Catupiry, a creamy cheese beloved in the land of samba; even a crazy steak Cavalo, a thick strip topped with fried eggs. On the weekends, stop by to try Brazil’s national dish done right: Little Brazil’s feijoada — a stew of black beans, beef, bacon, pork, and ribs — is rich, decadent, and unctuous. The only thing little about the place is its cozy space, whose walls hold rows of plates painted with scenes from around Brazil. It’s the perfect spot for a big night of Brazilian.

Argentines are known for their arrogance and red meat. At Patagonia, you get plenty of the latter without much of the former. Miami has a glut of Argentine meat factories/steak houses, and most are pricey. But this place in Coral Gables seems to dispense with presentation in favor of substance. Sure, there’s no waiter service — you order at the counter — and there’s little similarity between this eatery and other Gables fine-dining restaurants, but we view that as a positive. Patagonia has street cred to go along with its sidewalk seating and an enviable mastery of the famous gaucho parrilla (Argentine barbecue). A wide variety of meat cuts are available for dine-in or take-home, including entraña (skirt), vacio (flank), and bife de chorizo (sirloin). And don’t forget the chorizo (sausage). Additionally, the shop boasts an extensive wine selection and a long pastry counter featuring masas finas, facturas, and other baked goods. Looking for a quick bite before you take in a show at the nearby Actors’ Playhouse? Then order an empanada and sandwich de miga.

Benevolent dictator. Cheap Lamborghini. Hilarious Pauly Shore film. Some adjectives simply don’t belong next to some nouns. The combination jars the eyes and sets the brain aflame: Something is wrong here! In Miami, the proximity of organic to Latin American cuisine has exactly that effect on far too many diners inured for years to greasy arepas and questionably sourced ropa vieja. Those diners have never been to Bernie’s L.A. Café, a tiny, hiply appointed eatery with 30 seats and a countertop in an Alton Road storefront. Chef Bernie Matz — known for his stint at the Café at Books & Books — marries Miami’s sultry mix of Latin American cuisines with the freshest organic ingredients. And guess what? It’s delicious. From a traditional picadillo made with 100 percent hormone-free sirloin to similarly sourced fricase de pollo (half a tender chicken in spicy tomato-creole sauce) to a mouthwatering fish pan-fried in a simple coconut sauce, Bernie’s never sacrifices taste for organic cachet. Say it with us: organic Latin American cuisine. At Bernie’s, that’s no oxymoron.

Sure, you can get a sandwich de medianoche and a giant plate of vaca frita anywhere in this town. But what if you’re craving harder-to-find Cuban specialties such as tasajo con boniato, cured, salted beef boiled soft with vegetables and spices and served with sweet potato; or pechuga con quimbobo, chicken slowly stewed with potatoes and okra? At those times, you’ll want to head to Islas Canarias, a spot curiously named for a region of Spain. It has been a Miami Cuban food institution for more than 30 years. The ambiance is Scarface-chintzy: neon lights, strip mall surroundings, and old-timers and huge familias packed into tight seating. But the locally famous croquetas ($1.15 each) — wrapped in a thin layer of batter, cleanly fried, and stuffed with creamy, cumin-seasoned pork — are alone worth the venture.

When the nostalgia thermometer of a Cuban exile registers a dangerously high level, it usually signifies the person is in a state of hallucinatory shock known as “acaba de llegar.” Symptoms include calling all friends socios, having a packed bag that weighs exactly 44 pounds sitting next to the door, and frequently waving a ration book at the man behind the counter at Los Pinareños Frutería. This last behavior is understandable — after all, the open-air fruit stand housing mangos, mameys, guanabanas, nisperos, and coconuts neatly arranged in cardboard boxes held up by long sticks of sugarcane can be easily confused for any Pinar del Río timbiriche. The occasional wandering roosters also don’t help. The smartest thing to do if you spot someone in this state of mind is let them be. Order a sapodilla shake, which you won’t find anywhere else. Light up a self-rolled cigar. And watch the 90-mile divide wither away.

Like sugar melted into caramel, flan in Miami constantly burns a hole through our hearts. It’s so easy to make: eggs, milk, and sugar — maybe a little vanilla or cinnamon — whisked into a custard. And every Latin American country has its own perfected rendition. So why are we constantly subjected to overly creamy masses of what basically amounts to pudding violently infused with corn syrup at even the fanciest restaurants? We expect our flan to jiggle, the loving result of a traditional bain-marie cooking method. And we want it imbued with real sugar, but not such massive amounts that we must schedule several root canals in anticipation. Enter Rio Cristal, an unfancy, greasy-plate Cuban joint whose flan ($3.90) wiggles like a stripper at a Lil Wayne party, sits in a pool of syrup so shimmery it blinds us, and melds into creamy goodness as it restores our faith in “Spanish cheesecake.”

When in search of French boulangeries where you can twirl your mustache, ponder life’s intricacies over a cup of café au lait, and enjoy romantic accordion music in your head, you probably head for Miami Beach. But the French twins who own Le Royal, a tiny café tucked into a strip mall, know better. They had the foresight to predict hungry University of Miami scholars would need butter to function; antsy Sunset Place shoppers would delight in more than six types of croissants; and stressed-out commuters stuck in traffic on South Dixie Highway would require pit stops to refuel on flaky carbs. So the brothers rolled out the pastry dough, kneaded in copious amounts of beurre, and delicately folded glorious petite crescents to create the only pastries in South Miami that sell out by midafternoon. Choose from plain, apple, or almond. Stuff with ham and cheese, guava and cheese, or simply enjoy as light-as-a-feather, billowy bread without garnish. Either way, you’ll merci beaucoup us during your next trip to mall hell.

Argentines are recognized for their meat. In fact, you can find a parrillada serving loads of churrasco, sausage, and ribs in almost any Miami neighborhood. Argentine bakeries are not as ubiquitous, although they should be. Somehow, while the rest of the Hispanic world never thought to venture past chicken and beef empanada fillings, Argentines boldly went where no Latino had gone before. Che Tano celebrates this diversity by offering about 18 kinds of empanadas — double that if you count the fact that you can choose either baked or fried. Think of all the wonderful options: corn, cheese and onions, tuna, and ham, cheese, and hardboiled egg — the list seems endless. While variety might be the spice of life, let’s not forget there is still value in tradition. After all is said and done, the beef empanadas (baked and fried) at Che Tano are the stuff that dreams are made of.

In the mainland United States, we have baseball, apple pie, and mom. Substitute mofongo for apple pie and you have a fairly good working list of priorities in Puerto Rico. The Boricua specialty — a heaping mound of mashed fried green plantains studded with crisp pork cracklings — has many incarnations across the island: drenched in tomato sauce, loaded with garlic and onions, or topped with chicken or beef, lobster, or shrimp. Luckily for Miami, mainstay Puerto Rican eatery Old San Juan has just about every variation on the menu. The mofongo con pollo brings a garlicky grilled strip of chicken topped with caramelized onions next to the soft mound of mofongo; order the pulpo and you’ll get tender tendrils of octopus with your fried plantains, or the shrimp for a pile of buttery crustaceans on the side. Old San Juan serves its mofongo with a traditional cup of chicken broth for sipping and dipping. Bring a friend — the portions are huge, so even though you’re sampling mofongo in the States, there’s no way you’ll have room for apple pie afterward.

A Cuban sandwich — that majestic combination of ham, roast pork, Swiss cheese, yellow mustard, and pickles — is supposed to be so massive that you can’t finish the whole thing. Most restaurants today offer a smaller, contemporary version, but for those of you with a hankering for an old-school sandwich, fear not. Mario’s Latin Café on South Dixie Highway in Homestead still serves a heart-attack stack of deli meats and cheese on some of the freshest, softest Cuban bread in town, all for less than $6, 24 hours a day (closed Sunday). Go on — feast like a beast. Your ancestors will be proud.

Do not confuse croqueta with croque monsieur — the French grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich — although two traditional fillings of croquetas are indeed ham and cheese. A croqueta likewise has little to do with croquant, which is French for “crunchy,” or with croquembouche, a dessert named for the translation “crisp in mouth.” Yet the croquetas at Ricky Bakery are very much crisp in the mouth, owing to the breaded, cleanly fried cylindrical casings. Or maybe it is more accurate to say they have some crunch upon first bite, but then the creaminess of the filling takes over. This is true of whatever flavor you choose, be it bacalao (not too fishy), spinach (a unique croqueta filling, and one you shouldn’t miss), chicken, cheese, or ham. You can grab them hot from the fryer at opening time (6 in the morning) or at various hours during the day; the cook will also fry ’em to order if you ask. Do not confuse Ricky’s croquetas with any others around town. These are better.

The term tapas derives from the Spanish verb tapar, “to cover.” This jibes with at least one history of tapas, which has it that the snack originated as pieces of bread that Andalusians placed atop their sherry glasses to prevent fruit flies from diving in. Sometimes meat, such as ham or chorizo, were used as well; the saltiness increased beverage sales. Another version claims King Alfonso X of Castille, after recuperating from illness via a diet of wine with small dishes of food, decreed that all taverns must serve small bites with drinks. A third rendition of the word’s origin is that the owner of El Bocaito, which took over the former Xixón space on Coral Way, invented them last year. Granted, this last theory hasn’t gained much traction among historians, but head to this cozy Spanish taverna and sample the chorizo al infierno (with red wine), pulpo vinaretta (marinated octopus), bolaitos de cangrejo (crab fritters), salmorejo Cordobés (cold soup with egg and Serrano ham); almejas a la marinera (baby clams in white wine sauce), or any of the extensive selections ($5 to $12 each), and you’re liable to forget about prior versions. This is especially true if you have a few glasses of wine with your meal.

If tacos — somewhat shaped like mouths — could talk, there would be an argument of such epic proportions that every Mexican restaurant would be forced to give out free earplugs. The (marinated) beef would be between the Tex-Mex version of fast-food chains and the simple, authentic, ungarnished magic offered at a place such as El Carnal. The first, drowning in a sea of sour cream and iceberg lettuce, would be screaming for help, unsure of its identity as it resembles only a shell (a hard, fried one at that) of what it was in Mexico. The second would brag about its slow-marinated carne asada; pineapple-grilled pork al pastor; and seasoned cuts of tongue served in corn tortillas with an assortment of simple sauces from which to choose ($2). It would have all the reason to be smug, self-righteous, and pretentious in its defense of all that is authentic, but — served at a hole-in-the-wall street-food joint with space for only a handful of customers — it would choose instead to be simply welcoming.

She stared dejectedly at the empty basket in front of her. “It’s gone. It’s really gone.” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fathom how she had fit that entire burrito — almost the size of an infant — inside her petite frame. “I just couldn’t stop eating. I tried, but I just couldn’t stop.” We know, honey. All day long, stupefied customers sit in similar states of awe. The prices at Cantina are cheap (burritos range from $5 to about $8), but the ingredients are almost farm-fresh, the large pizza-size tortillas are made in front of you, and there’s a plethora of burrito stuffers. Ingredients include spinach leaves, jalapeños, three kinds of beans, melted cheese sauce or fresh cheese, tomatoes, pico de gallo, guacamole, sour cream, banana peppers, red onions, and on and on. Cantina even offers brown rice and wheat tortillas for those so inclined. Douse your burrito with a half-dozen sauces from the delightful salsa bar. Most important, try the salsa verde, which might be the top tomatillo sauce in town.

Like Valentine’s Day mystery chocolates or great novels, it’s what’s on the inside that counts when it comes to arepas. Sure, a good one calls for a perfectly charred and crunchy corn shell. But any half-decent cook who has wandered through Caracas or Bogotá can get that right. No, it’s the fillings that really make the arepa. And Doña Arepa, as her name suggests, knows how to stuff ’em. A storefront in a bustling strip mall just west of the Palmetto Expressway on Flagler Street, Don Toston y Doña Arepa is a cute little eatery with rubber banana leaves for napkin holders and tropically painted walls. The arepas, which cost less than $5 (except a $5.95 shrimp version), come with the usual cheese, chicken, and shredded beef, but there’s also reina pepiada (chicken salad with avocado), perico (eggs, tomatoes, and onions), and the sinful huevo frito con jamón (yup, fried egg and ham). But beyond compare might be the simple lechón — the succulent pork juices soak perfectly into the arepa dough.

In the land of the food truck court, Dim Ssäm à GoGo is king. It also rules over the court of public opinion, as measured by the most scientific means possible: Lines are longer than those at any other truck. This speaks to the good taste of the masses. Peasants, royalty, serfs, and surfers alike queue up for Kurobuta pork belly bao buns with chili sauce; spicy tater tots; Korean fried chicken; kimchi egg rolls; and gingered Brussels sprouts. All items cost $8 or less.”Munch and move on!” is the motto, and we dutifully do so. Richard Hales is the driving force behind Dim Ssäm. He also owns the restaurant Sakaya Kitchen and a second, monster Sakaya Kitchen food truck. We, the hungry masses, are grateful.

Dear Ms. Cheezious:

We’re a little embarrassed. It’s been a really long time since we were crushing bad enough to write an anonymous love letter. But we just needed to tell you: You are freakin’ sexy! And, like back in the day, when we were just a young teen trying to conceal ill-timed wood in math class, we can hardly (see what we did there?) conceal our true feelings. Sure, you roll around town, day after day, clad in your polka-dot bikini and heels, a tatted-up, blond bombshell on wheels. And that’s hot. But that’s not even it. It’s the way you play with our emotions that really turns us on. Flaunting your crabby cheese melt on sourdough, with its freshly made crab salad and oozing sharp cheddar, for only $8. Teasing us with cheesy delights such as that grilled harvest with spiced apples and Havarti on multigrain ($7) or the grilled blue and bacon ($7). On top of all that, you let us have our way with you too. You give us our choice of bread and cheeses including cheddar, Swiss, Gruyère, Brie, or provolone, plus add-ons like prosciutto, tomato, and tavern ham. Oh, you saucy minx, you! You’ve been a very, very naughty girl.

With cheese wood, BOM

Einstein’s makes a tasty roll with a hole in the center. New York Bagels and Brooklyn Bagels (no relation) are OK in a pinch. But the Original Brooklyn Water Co. bagels ($1.29 each) are the real deal: soft, malty, and yeasty inside, with a crisp, bronzed crust that comes from being preboiled. An in-house filtering system “Brooklynizes” the water — which as most folks from Brooklyn know, is kissed by angels (or is it rabbis?). The only part of the bagel that isn’t a whole lot better than others is the hole. This new South Beach branch, the first in Miami-Dade, is open 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. on weekends (24 hours beginning this fall), makes all manner of bagel sandwiches, and like all OBWBCs, uses iced coffee cubes in its iced coffee. That’s a Brooklyn thing.

Evolution (if you believe in it, and we’ll pretend you do, because otherwise we’ll point and laugh at you) is a beautiful thing. You might have heard of Garcia’s on the River, but did you know that the Garcia family also owns La Camaronera? And last year La Camaronera gave birth to the latest Garcia baby, the Fish Box. Yes, just like mammals made the leap from sea to land, this family-owned business has spawned wheels. The Fish Box is part of the mega Miami food truck takeover covering the county in meetups from corner to corner and serving fantastic fried fish sandwiches. The $5 “minuta,” as it is known by locals and other Fish Box devotees, is a traditional Cuban fried fish sandwich with the tail intact. A mere dollop of tartar sauce, ketchup, and onions add a subtle flavor to the butterflied bundle of fish fantastic-ness sitting atop a soft bun. Stay tuned for the next Garcia offspring.

Restaurants and kids don’t always go together. True, there are kid-friendly eateries, but they tend to have clowns walking around or pizza that tastes like it’s made from cardboard and Silly Putty. If you’re not into eating the concoctions most restaurant chains disguise as “kiddie meals,” pack the little darlings into the car and head to the Biscayne Triangle Truck Roundup. Each Tuesday from 5:30 to 10 p.m., more than two dozen food trucks serve cheap and good family-worthy fare on the grounds of Johnson & Wales University. There are so many choices that both child and adult can find something they like. Junior gets his burger, little Starfire gets her grilled cheese, and Mom and Dad get peace for a change. Of course, there are also trucks that offer tacos, exotic Asian food, and sometimes gourmet cheese sandwiches. The selection changes every week. Added benefits: No glass to break, plenty of grass for spreading a blanket, and family-friendly pricing make BTTR the most kidtastic spot in Miami.

If we’re going to croak anyhow, we might as well eat the most fattening, sweet, savory, artery-clogging, gut-busting, sensory-overloading, greasy meal available at a place where we don’t have to get dressed up, wait for a seat, or deal with a snotty server. Yep, we’re hunting down Michell Sanchez in the Latin House Grill food truck for an embarrassment of riches. We’ll sit cross-legged on the ground in our jeans and start with the “sneaky nachos,” a meaty, cheesy taste-bud tantalizer decorated with crema. Then we’ll move on to the coconut shrimp “flatton,” perhaps the only coconut-encrusted shellfish we’ve tried that tastes more like fruit than a fryer. Next we’ll scarf a chimi burrito with zesty carne asada, yellow “chuchi” rice, cheese, fried plantains, and a fried egg in a deep-fried tortilla. Finally, we’ll wash it all down with a few bottles of Mexican Coca-Cola — you know, the kind with real sugar and not high-fructose corn syrup. For dessert, we’ll savor the “teasers,” fried tortillas with cinnamon sugar and a thick drizzle of sweetened, condensed milk. That and a few slices of guava-ricotta cake oughta seal the deal. Forget the Pepto — we’re going down in a blaze of gluttonous glory.

The Design District is not exactly bargain central, unless you consider a $500 Y3 cardigan or a futuristic $2,000 two-legged chair to be a steal. The same goes for the up-and-coming area’s culinary scene: Restaurants like Michael’s Genuine and Sra. Martinez offer great food, but at significant prices. For those working in the neighborhood, finding an affordable meal means praying to the Twitter gods for a food truck to stop. But there is new hope hidden in the heart of the Design District. Step into the soaring atrium at 3930 NE Second Ave. and the first thing you notice is the sunlight. The second thing you sense is the smell of delicious baked goods. The source: Crumb on Parchment, the latest project by Sra. Martinez chef Michelle Bernstein. Crumb on Parchment, or COP for short, opened only in April, but it has already developed a steady following thanks to its tasty café cuisine and cheap prices. Modestly sized sandwiches ($5 to $10), soups ($4.50), and salads ($5 to $10) compose the bulk of the menu, but their low cost makes mixing and matching affordable. The homemade roast beef sandwich with creamy horseradish, sweet onions, and greens is light and delicious, as is the Southern tomato salad with arugula, blue cheese, and rare seared tuna. COP’s real treat, however, is the chocolate brownies. According to the menu, they are made with “100 percent butter and lots of love.” They sure taste like it.

There’s an ancient Thai proverb that says those who serve noodles earliest stay around longest. OK, that’s made up. But if it wasn’t, Chopsticks House Thai & Chinese Restaurant in the Old Cutler Towne Center would be the proof. The restaurant opened in 1994 and was named Best Thai Restaurant by this publication in 1996. It continues to stand out from its nondescript surroundings by serving quality dishes at reasonable prices. But it’s what Chopsticks does for early-birders that is a proverb waiting to be written. You’re started with won ton or egg drop soup and the springiest spring roll in town. No need to grasp for napkins — these rolls are greaseless. In different hands, such an opening act could be heavy, but owners Noi and Sonny Pleesonti know how to prepare their dishes without weighing on the palate. You’ll have plenty of room to choose among a dozen or so entrées from the Thai or Chinese menus (and each is true to the ethnicity; there’s not much intermingling). The pad king (ginger chicken) or gai ma muong (cashew chicken), as well as the pad thai chicken are favorites from the Thai side, while honey-garlic and sweet-and-sour chicken and pepper steak are most popular on the Chinese end. The early-bird special finishes off with a choice of Thai doughnuts or Thai bananas. And don’t forget the hot tea, included in the $10.95 price. The special is in effect every day from 4:30 to 6:30 p.m., which, by the way, is when healthy diners know to eat dinner. Fifteen years after its first “Best of Miami” win, Chopsticks House still knows what it’s doing.

South Beach is known for tanned, perfect bodies and overpriced restaurants serving tiny portions (which is fine because who needs to eat a lot when you’re trying to fit into your Brazilian bikini year-round). But what, pray tell, do tourists and regular people do for food? The portions at Nexxt are so large that a family of four could eat for almost a week on a single oversize meal. Salads look like the contents of an entire season’s harvest, while the burgers and fries are super-duper-size. The menu is gigantic too — with pages upon pages of choices. Sandwiches. Check! Chocolate chip shake. Yup! Lobster dinner. That too at $25.95. If you’re into consuming mass quantities, you’ve got yourself a pigfest right on Lincoln Road. Indulge — you can always buy a coverup for the beach.

A down-home place located in South Miami-Dade, Ruby’s is a spot where customers can forget their wallets and the owners won’t have to worry about them not coming back. And even though Ruby’s doesn’t offer a sit-in dining room, the kitchen window is always packed with people waiting for orders of oxtails, collard greens, and yams, or pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green peas and rice for $13 — no more, no less. The homemade rice pudding is out of this world. Turkey wings and chitterlings are on the menu for $10. Owner Ruby Mosley prepared her first meal at the age of 9 and took over the joint in 2004 from previous owner Jackie Pruitt-Parker, who left all the cooking equipment inside the restaurant so Mosley wouldn’t have to start from scratch. That generosity rubbed off on Ruby, who has no problem feeding customers short on money.

American Noodle Bar’s Big Mama’s pork egg rolls: $3

Bottle of water from hotel mini bar: $10

ANB’s fried cheeseburger dumplings: $5

Leopard-print Snuggie: $14.99

ANB’S Pabst Blue Ribbon: $3

Samuel Adams’ Utopias beer: $100 (24 oz.)

ANB’s barbecue pork roll with zesty slaw: $6

Chinchilla fur-lined gloves: $280

ANB’s noodle bowl with smoked lobster sauce and deep-fried egg: $7

Dolce & Gabbana limited-edition City of

Angels T-shirt: $1,495

ANB’s noodle bowl with bacon sauce, pork shoulder, and barbecued tofu: $8

PetSafe diamond-studded dog collar: $5,200

ANB’s noodle bowl with basil butter, smoked duck, pulled chicken, and Chinese sausage: $9

Eighteenth-century slippers worn by India’s Prince Nizam Sikandar Jah of Hyderabad: $160,000

Everything served at American Noodle Bar — Michael Bloise’s little-in-size, big-in-fulfillment restaurant in MiMo — is $10 or less. Taking someone out? Take them here. Taking yourself out? Take yourself here. It’s an über-affordable oasis away from a world of leopard-print Snuggies and diamond dog collars.

And the envelope please — a wax-sealed envelope that is, containing the menu of the Villa by Barton G. The waiter who delivers the envelope is dressed in jacket and tie. The restaurant, located in the Versace mansion, includes an opulent lobby, a stunning and intimate 30-seat dining room with pebble-patterned walls and royal-blue tablecloths, and a patio overlooking the dramatically lighted mosaic pool. Show plates are Versace-designed Rosenthal china. The cuisine upon those plates, composed by chef Jeff O’Neill, includes a salad with frozen caesar dressing, terrine of foie gras with carbonated grapes, and Colorado rack of lamb with Greek yogurt jelly cubes. The wine list encompasses about a hundred labels from distinctive vintners. If all of this sounds like a dining experience you can’t afford, you’re probably right (desserts, for instance, are $14-$17). But that doesn’t mean you can’t dine here; it simply means you must concoct a scheme to persuade your favorite moneyed relative to take you to the Villa as a guest. This person will end up being as happy as you about the grub.

For the past dozen years, Romeo Majano has been serving lunch and dinner in his cozy café. There is no set menu here. Romeo visits each table and quizzes customers about their tastes and preferences; then he composes a six-course dinner (or three-course lunch) accordingly. The charming Majano never fails to whip up delectable Northern Italian fare, whether it be cheese-stuffed agnolotti as light as angel wings or a seafood risotto made sultry with smoked mozzarella. The European-style room is dimly lighted, service is quietly professional, and the ambiance is as romantic as it gets. There is nothing here to interfere with the most intimate of talks, and the meal generally takes about two and a half hours — plenty of time to tackle any subject. Lunch is $45 per person, and dinner is $90 per person, a small price to pay for great food, wine, service, and an evening of unbridled whispering.

Latin bakeries have their country-specific pastries. Cupcake shops have icing-topped sweets. Lunch cafés have sandwiches, and couture cake shops have custom fondant creations. Each has its specialty, but what if you can’t decide where to go? Hit up Sweetness Bakeshop & Café in West Kendall. It’s a coffee and pastry joint in the morning, a savory lunch fix in the afternoon, and a place for a sweet sugar rush anytime. The year-old, family-run operation is probably best known for its cupcakes, which come in a vast array of flavors — from red velvet to cookies and cream to guava. They satisfy any number of regional tastes in sizes from mini to jumbo ($1 to $3). But unlike many of the other businesses trailing in the minicakes trend, Sweetness offers plenty of other munchies. Dessert-wise, that includes other delectable noncake concoctions, which are available full-size and in smaller form. With shot-glass-size portions of key lime pie, tres leches, Oreo fudge cheesecake, and tiramisu ($1), you can have your tart and a few more too. If you need a minute to feel virtuous before hitting the dessert, there’s also a range of hearty sandwiches ($4.95 to $5.95) and salads ($5.95). And should you need an extra-special something for a celebration, the shop also churns out some of the brightest, most colorful, quirky custom fondant cakes (prices on request) — edible Guitar Hero controller, anyone?

7:43 p.m.: @lonelygal Chowing down on beef/porcini dumplings at Chowdown Grill in Surfside.

7:44 p.m.: @lonelygal At counter as usual, just a loner I guess.

7:48 p.m.: @lonelygal Lo mein or chow fun. Anyone have a suggestion?

7:55 p.m.: @lonelygal G, thx for nothing. I’m going with lo mein, chewy noodles with Oriental kale and choice of protein. Price is just $11.

8:07 p.m.: @lonelygal Seems like so long since I’ve tweeted. Chef Marcus is behind counter. Offered me sample of steak in green curry sauce.

8:09 p.m.: @lonelygal Just ordered steak in green curry sauce ($15). Brown or white rice?

8:11 p.m.: @lonelygal I’m drinking Victory Golden Monkey (a beer) ($7)!

8:17 p.m.: @lonelygal Chef says I’m starting 2 look familiar. G, after only 14 visits!

8:22 p.m.: @lonelygal Organic chix in orange chili sauce ($15). I’m in HEAVEN!!!

8:31 p.m.: @lonelygal Dessert? Well, I’ve already had dumplings & 2 mains.

8:32 p.m.: @lonelygal Come 2 think of it, maybe shoulda had ramen soup instead of lo mein. I’m getting full.

8:35 p.m.: @lonelygal Hell, bring on the blueberry-white chocolate bread pudding! And another Winning Yellow Monkey!

8:36 p.m.: @lonelygal I may b dining alone, but CD Grill’s food & Twitterverse make gr8 friends.

8:39 p.m.: @lonelygal Tab is reasonable. I’d make a cheap date! LOL!

8:43 p.m.: @lonelygal Something may b wrong w/Twitter, am not getting responses.

8:45 p.m.: @lonelygal Can’t wait 2 tell friends bout this place.

8:46 p.m.: @lonelygal Guess I just did!

Some of the best chefs in America call Miami home, but they’re not entirely responsible for the quality of dining here. Mother Nature blessed this region with paradisiacal weather. And because the beauty of our shoreline is an economic engine, we have plenty of choices when it comes to waterfront dining. But that doesn’t always add up to a great meal. For a well-delivered balance of epic seaside view, attentive service, sexy atmosphere, and creative cuisine, chef Mark Zeitouni has the goods. This popular spa’s nutritional philosophy is built on fresh, humane, organic, unprocessed, Mediterranean grill cooking. It also offers fine raw and vegan fare. From breakfast till the sun goes down, bikini girls and Speedo dudes lounge at the infinity pool mere feet from Biscayne Bay. An adjacent array of tables beneath designer umbrellas offers welcoming respite from the Miami heat. And for dinner service, slinky casualwear abounds. Feast on small plates, grilled steak, or a mahi-mahi sandwich, and watch the dolphins swim past in the omnipresent glow of the good life.

Sung to the tune of “My Way”:

Martinis, I have a few
After work at dear Cecconi’s
I meet some friends, have dinner too
Italian fare, it’s all so tony.

The outdoor patio, so lush and green
An open sky, a lively scene
Fresh pastas too, divine cuisine
I love Cecconi’s.

Tuscan bean soup and beef tartare
A thin-crust pie, a roast branzino,
I hope the waiter doesn’t go far
We need more grated pecorino.

I finish off with tiramisu
Too bad there’s no spumoni
One can’t deny the price is high,
But I love Cecconi’s.

The recent annual meeting in Copenhagen of the Committee to Study Things That Nobody Cares About yielded surprising yet, as always, unimportant news: Salads, smoothies, and other healthful foods are perceived by our taste buds to be more flavorful and satisfying when eaten in natural surroundings. The folks who funded these fictitious findings were fans of T.H.R.I.V.E., a raw/vegan restaurant located in the midst of the Garden Center in South Beach. There are a handful of lunches offered each day, including a daily bowl of cooked food and raw dishes. But one of three good reasons to eat here are the salads, with red, ripe tomatoes and other fresh produce — deliriously delicious when drizzled with tahini dressing. Smoothies ($6 to $7), whipped up with luscious local fruit, compose the second. Number three is the spacious and secluded dining patio, a green oasis in sync with the green food. And you don’t need a committee to know that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Florida International University has really given its Modesto A. Maidique Campus a beefy, chickeny, and smoothie-y makeover. When it was University Park, there were just blue tables. Hungry, broke, and with limited options, everyone ate Pizza Hut bread sticks and smoked pack after pack of cigarettes. Now FIU has perfected the art of food-courtism, and by perfected we mean Chick-fil-A. Obviously, this delightful eatery is a place for which we pigs would drive many miles out of our way, even if to obtain only a single waffle fry. Opened last August, the new PG5 (as in parking garage) Market Station on the north side of campus is home to other food spots as well. There’s Moe’s Southwest Grill, where you can chomp on a burrito; Papa John’s, with its artery-clogging-but-worth-it garlic sauce; Dunkin’ Donuts for a caffeine kick; Salad Creations for a deep inner cleansing; and Freshens for some smoothie vitamins. This garage food court boasts seating for 300 people, parking for visitors, and Wi-Fi and television, perfect for zoning out over your spicy chicken biscuit.

Tucked away in the shadows of the Miami Tower building is a quaint, colorful, brick-walked area that can be entered via four separate alleyways. In the center is a circle of some half-dozen eateries whose cuisines span the globe: Thai Angel, Habibi Mediterranean Grill, Pistou Bistro (casual French), Giovana Caffe (home-style Italian), Martini 28 (Asian/fusion), and Caprichos (Peruvian café/bakery). Outdoor tables at each place overlap a bit, and there are seats that run along the alleys. The court has a unique ambiance that can’t be found anywhere else downtown — a cool, alternate oasis apart from the food chains that wrap up much of the lunchtime crowd.

Rain hits the windows at a staccato beat, like the trailing shots from a dying man’s gun. At least this place should offer some shelter from the weather. I just hope they serve a good cup of joe. Looking at the menu makes me dizzy. Am I dreaming? While I was trying to shake those guys, did I somehow cross into Broward County? The busty Cubanita sitting in the booth across from me says otherwise: “No, papi. You esteel in Mi-yami.” She looks away as if I’m nuts, and maybe I am. Meat loaf, collard greens, corn bread, mac and cheese, gravy — all for the crumpled face of Alexander Hamilton in my pocket, plus the quarter I found in the parking lot. I look around at the other booths. This reminds me of when I was just a freckle-faced punk back East, before I knew that women would do more damage than cigarettes and whiskey. After pouring a little something extra from the flask in my jacket pocket, I chug down the coffee the waitress with the mile-long stems brought. Mmmm, that’s good. I start to feel alive again, and I order my dinner. The gringa waitress and the stacked Cubanita are exchanging looks. Let them — I’m gonna enjoy this.

“I do not like green eggs and ham.” What about raw eggs and “ham”? How about a shot of green, green, grass? Would you like that? Would you, I ask? How about some nacho “cheese”? What if I asked you, please? It’s just so good for you, you see. When you eat straight from the tree. Pictures on the menu show which foods help your body glow. I saw what fed my brain and spine, and now I eat there all the time. Now for 20 bucks or less ,I don’t feel like such a mess.

Zuma roared into downtown Miami last year like some flashy Japanese Harley (zuma-zuma!). Everyone looked. First they saw the stunning Tokyo-inspired room, with soaring ceilings and a sleek merging of natural textures — granite, rice paper, Indonesian wood. Then they took in an open sushi counter that dishes market-fresh sashimi, nigiri, and maki. There was an open robata grill turning out pristine cuts of charcoal-licked meats, poultry, seafood, and vegetables. And how about the open kitchen, orchestrated by chef Bjoern Weissgerber, expertly cooking rice hotpots, rib eye steaks with wafu sauce, spicy lobster miso soup, and scallop tartare with fresh wasabi ponzu? Food was plated in a breathtakingly delicate and artistic fashion, and it tasted almost shockingly delectable. There was a sake bar that served some 60 varieties of the elixir (including the luscious biwa no choju, brewed exclusively for Zuma) and an outdoor terrace overlooking the Miami River. All in all, they saw one of the most exciting new restaurants to pull onto our streets in years. They came, they saw, and they could only sigh in admiration.

The original Jimmy’z Kitchen has long provided freshly cooked meals from its tiny, weathered location in a little, rickety strip mall on Alton Road in Miami Beach. The venue is easy to pass without noticing, which is probably why lots of SoBe natives don’t even know it exists. But the new Jimmy’z, on the ground floor of the Cynergi Building in Wynwood, is different. It’s hard to believe it’s a spinoff of the Alton Road classic. The place is so bright, shiny, and colorful that it looks a bit like a fast-food chain, but this fare is cooked slowly, with care, and is packed with enormous flavor. The much-expanded menu includes panini, salads (the jerk chicken and mango ensemble is peerless), and amazingly gratifying main courses that run the global gamut from shrimp creole to steak frites to seared ahi tuna to country beef stew. Mofongo, the Puerto Rican ode to plantains, protein, and garlic, is among the best in town. Beverage selections are extensive as well — there’s a wide array of soft drinks and craft beers, along with wines by the bottle and glass. Prices are more than fair – just about everything is under $20, and there are plenty of good eats for less than $10. About the only thing that isn’t different about this new place is chef/owner Jimmy Carey, who earned his chops at Miami’s great and long-departed Brasserie Le Coze (itself a spinoff of NYC’s legendary Le Bernardin). His gastronomic savvy has gone about as unnoticed as the original Jimmy’z, but that won’t be the case for long.

When Goldstein & Sons opened at Collins Avenue and 74th Street 30 years ago, there was no shortage of competition with three other kosher butcher shops and deli markets in the surrounding North Beach neighborhood. Today, rechristened with a slightly different name, the mom-and-pop store is the last one standing. Jews and gentiles from all over Miami-Dade’s northeastern communities trek here for a truly authentic deli experience that has become a part of Miami Beach’s rich Jewish roots. Goldstein’s significance was recently documented in a short film by a young Jewish auteur named Aaron Davidson, titled A Slice of Life. In the minidoc, family patriarch Joe and his customers share recollections as the butcher, his son, and his grandchildren prepare orders. The images convey the pride and hard work the Goldsteins put in six days a week. At the deli counter you will find homemade gravlax for $6.25 per quarter-pound. Salads range from $4.99 (potato or cucumber) to $9.98 a pound (all-white tuna). Deli sandwiches overloaded with corned beef, pastrami, bologna, salami, turkey, roast beef, brisket, or tongue are available for $7.95 or $9.95. You can also purchase deli meats to take home. For holiday dinners and special occasions, Goldstein’s offers a 12-person food platter for $189 that includes five rotisserie chickens or a 14-pound turkey, four quarts of homemade chicken soup with matzo balls, 12 pieces of gefilte fish, a potato kugel, two pounds of carrot tzimes, and four pounds of hot or cold side salads. But if you have a few more shekels, go with the $249 brisket platter. Goldstein’s opens at 8 a.m. five days a week. Friday it’s open from 7 in the morning until 4 in the afternoon. On Sundays, closing is 2 p.m., and Thursday it’s 7 p.m. Monday through Wednesday, Goldstein’s shuts at 6 p.m.

Food blogger Veggie Alice here. A bit about myself: I am a dental assistant by trade, so I can’t say I have much in the way of culinary background — unless you count the time I served hors d’oeuvres at a party that Demi Moore attended! And I’m usually not big on steak houses; they’re so dark and scary! But I make it a point to help my readers select the best places to dine, and my favorite steak house is 1500 Degrees. The steaks (some under $25, most under $34) are cooked at that temperature, which lends an ideally charred crust — that’s neat and also hot! “Farm-to-table eating with a steakhouse sensibility” is the motto here, and vegetables culled locally are fantastic: fresh chickpeas; shisito peppers; charred Brussels sprouts; roasted beets; braised mustard greens smoked with Benton’s bacon; duck-fat steak fries. Plus the earth-toned room doesn’t look all dim and foreboding. Chef Paula DaSilva showed her chops on Hell’s Kitchen, and at 3030 Ocean for many years before that. Veggie Alice likes female chefs. And, as I say, I really like 1500. It’s a place for people like me who enjoy steaks but not necessarily steak houses. But those who like steak houses will like it too, mainly because of the steaks. Next week: Burger joints that sell smoothies!

Five things the Restaurant at the Setai offers that your favorite hotel restaurant might not: (1) An executive chef who, like the Setai’s David Werly, trained under the incomparable Alain Ducasse. (2) A series of distinct kitchen stations — grill, tandoori, wok, Peking duck, and so forth — where chefs work in fully open view of the diners. That’s entertainment! (3) Upscale, family-style renditions of multiple Asian cuisines, with menu items culled from China, Thailand, Singapore, India, Indonesia, and Malaysia. (4) Outdoor seating in a gorgeous Zen-like garden of ponds, lily pads, and promising beams of moonlight. (5) Puffy white barbecued pork buns, just like in Chinatown only a bit more delicate ($13). God, we love those.

It wasn’t that long ago when Miami postclub dining implied a meal at Denny’s or some regrettable late-night pizza joint lighted like a neon carnival. But now that we have Gigi, which stays open until 2 a.m. on weeknights and until 5 a.m. on weekends, that middle-of-the-night Grand Slam looks more and more like a Grand Whiff. Gigi is a brilliantly conceived restaurant — fun, delicious, Asian-accented food freshly prepared and sold at eminently affordable prices. Take the “Southern boy” barbecue ribs, or a delicious Gigi bun filled with anything from beef brisket to tandoor chicken. Or try a fantastic BLT with brown-sugar-cured pork belly and house-pickled vegetables on the side, or various noodle bowls, grilled items, and raw dishes. Homemade desserts are just $5, a 16-ounce can of Pabst Blue Ribbon just $2. The end of a long night of partying doesn’t have to be a letdown anymore; with Gigi, it can become the best part of the evening — or morning, as the case may be.

Two old married folks reminisce:

— Remember Talula?

— Oh, yes. And Joan Crawford too. They were my favorites.

— No, you old fool, I mean the restaurant on 23rd Street that we used to go to.

— Oh, of course. Those Italian kids.

— Frank and Andrea Curto-Randazzo. She was some chef! Wonder what happened to her?

— She went on TV, that’s what happened to her.

— No, I mean after that, and after Talula closed.

— That dry-aged rib eye was the best!

— And the local grouper with lemon preserve and gnocchi…

— That was when I still had my teeth.

— Yes, those were the days.

— Remember Sunday brunches on that patio?

— And how the Randazzos brought us a bottle of our favorite wine during our 50th wedding anniversary dinner?

— I’ll never forget the time I accidentally dropped that mass of hot mung bean noodles in my lap.

— It was a lovely restaurant, with fine cuisine, but it felt like a neighborhood Italian joint as well.

— I forget: When did Talula close?

— About a year ago.

Tucked away on Purdy Avenue, Joe Allen served a solid menu of upscale American bar classics (think burgers, salads, fish, steaks). This New York restaurant’s Miami Beach outpost catered to Big Apple expatriates who wanted more than a meal — they wanted excellent service. From the moment you were greeted at the door by Mario, the jovial owner/manager who seemed to be on-duty 24 hours a day (when did he sleep?), you knew your experience would be topnotch. No reservation? Mario would escort you to a nice spot at the bar, where knowledgeable bartenders crafted a beautifully made cocktail. If you needed a wine recommendation, barkeeps and waitstaff were happy to describe each wine from an ever-updated list. They even poured a taste to try before you bought. No water glass went unfilled, nor did any bread baskets stay empty. This was the place to go until it closed in May.

Qualifications for this annual lifetime achievement type of award include talent, passion, creativity, and most important, a track record of having produced fantastic food for a long time. Past winners are Norman Van Aken, Mark Militello, Allen Susser, Pascal Oudin, Philippe Ruiz, Michelle Bernstein, Michael Schwartz, Doug Rodriguez, Cindy Hutson, Jonathan Eismann, and Dewey LoSasso. This year’s inductees have been working their culinary magic for as long as anyone. Kris Wessel worked under Militello in the mid-’90s, and in 1999 opened his own Liaison restaurant to critical and popular acclaim. Alas, it was conceptually ahead of its time and physically behind construction barricades. Almost a decade later, the James Beard-nominated chef returned and hit big with Red Light Little River. It took awhile, but the public has caught up with Wessel’s simple, home-style, regional American fare. Jorgensen found success with South Miami diners almost immediately upon opening his Two Chefs restaurant in 1994 — and it is still going strong. Although he comes from a stricter European culinary background than Wessel, Jorgensen shares a cooking style that comes down to using fresh ingredients and doing the basics right: no frills, no hype, no tricks up their sleeves — just food that is undeniably good.

First he opened the eclectic Nemo at Collins Avenue and First Street in South Beach. Then came the hip Big Pink diner across the street and up the block. Both were huge hits, but Myles Chefetz was just getting started. Next was Shoji Sushi, next door to Nemo, and then, just more than a dozen years ago, he hit the gastronomic grand slam with Prime One Twelve on Ocean Drive, which not only redefined the modern steak house but also has been one of the top-grossing restaurants in the nation for years. To keep the good times flowing, Myles moseyed across the street and premiered Prime Italian — another big, crowded, exciting, expensive restaurant, and another huge success. This year, the restaurant mogul will convert Nemo into Prime Fish, which figures to keep the winning streak going. All of these restaurants are within a block of each other, and all are south of Fifth Street. Chefetz reigns over this neighborhood, but his influence stretches across the entire city. That’s likely why he was nominated last year for James Beard Foundation’s Outstanding Restaurateur Award. He didn’t win, but he gets this Best of Miami award as consolation.

America is an amazing place. In what other country can you enjoy an organic arugula and goat cheese croquette salad while you watch your car get washed next door? Yes, Metro Organic Bistro’s location is remarkable, but that little quirk does nothing to diminish its status as the best example of a natural foods restaurant our sunny city has to offer (the car wash, by the way, is fittingly eco-friendly and called Karma). The sprouted chickpea cakes, layered with organic butter beans, avocado, and tomato, are perfectly flavorful and hearty; the seasonal vegetable ratatouille and organic couscous are rich in color and nutrients while pleasantly light in the belly. But there’s plenty here for lovers of high-quality meats as well. Grass-fed filet mignon, free-range chicken, and sashimi-grade tuna are just a few of the choices for the discerning omnivore. The building has a sleek, clean, modern look, with lots of glass, steel, and wood; outdoor seating is plentiful; and on occasion you’ll find live entertainment to serenade you while you marvel at the fresh creations on your plate.

If you’re looking for scantily clad dancers wearing high vinyl boots and white lipstick, you’ve come to the wrong place. If, however, you’re in search of fresh, healthful, and delicious food on the “go-go,” you have arrived. Wedged between a laundromat and a gym, Go-Go Fresh Food Café isn’t supereasy to find, but what good things are? Baked-to-order Go-Go pies (AKA empanadas) come in 18 varieties, including spicy Thai peanut chicken, spinach and feta, eggplant parmigiana, and dulce de leche and blackberries — and each costs a measly $2.25. Different homemade soups du jour — such as red potato and broccoli — and “mini” or “big” salads are available to fit your appetite. The “superfoods max” consists of baby spinach, a scoop of quinoa, tomatoes, broccoli, toasted pumpkin seeds, edamame, carrots, chickpeas, and golden raisins, all for less than $9. Go-Go also proffers a reasonable “build your own” salad option if the ten-plus house salads don’t light your lettuce leaf. As if all of that weren’t enough, there’s a full coffee bar as well as a selection of beer and wine. One more perk: Parking is free in the neighboring lot, or you can call ahead for fast pick-up. One of the few SoBe spots where you can score a nutritious, delicious meal for around $10, Go-Go is much cheaper and more nourishing than shoving dollar bills in a mod dancer’s geometric-patterned underwear.

The choices here are overwhelming, the possibilities endless. You could spend days crafting a perfect smoothie — creamy, fruity, low-cal, herbally enhanced, or protein-boosted. Or you could start with a house specialty, such as the Yan & Jan (passion fruit, banana, strawberry, and raspberry) and build whatever elixir you crave. Need a little immune boost? Toss some echinacea into your drink. Are you a scrawny guy trying to tack on a few pounds of muscle? The creatine, weight gainer, and protein powders are for you. Need a natural multivitamin straight from the hive? Order a scoop of royal jelly, a honey bee secretion. Each addition costs about a dollar, so your health-enhancing cocktail shouldn’t break the bank. Natural juices such as beet, carrot, celery, and apple are also available, as are wraps, sandwiches, and salads for those who like to chew. Bonus: You can order online or over the phone and have the stuff delivered right to your door. We suspect that service might be especially handy for the “hangover recover super smoothie,” featuring blueberry, pineapple, strawberry, orange, gingko biloba, and royal jelly.

Being a chicken head in a place called Doggi Style might make you feel like a slut. Especially when Doggi Style is a sweet, little Venezuelan hot dog stand that makes a chicken sandwich good enough to accept as payment for turning a trick. Tasty and tremendous enough to tame the taste buds of the freakiest of fowl fiends, this beast of a burger is a grilled chicken breast topped with ham, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, corn, and potato sticks ($5.50). Get it loaded (an additional $2) and add on a fried egg, strips of bacon, avocado, and possibly coronary arrest. And sure, it’s a killer in calories, but it hurts so good.

Look for the green tent. That’s where every week a selection of produce grown in what market organizers refer to as the Greater Everglades Foodshed is on display and for sale. Finds include oyster mushrooms, herbs, vegetables, honey, and eggs from small Florida farmers. So who cares if there aren’t rows and rows of booths selling produce? All you need is one well-stocked tent. Outside the green shade provider, other local vendors sell pastries, juices, and candles. An added perk is that the market, which is organized by Earth Learning and has operated in front of South Miami City Hall since December, is slated to operate year-round. That might be tough when Miami enters summertime — one can’t live on mangos and tropical fruit alone — but the organizers are up for the challenge, and for that they deserve praise. The market is open every Saturday from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m.

Some people need special lighting, kitschy artwork, stuffy classical music, and sky-high prices to feel like they’re buying gourmet. If that’s you, skip Laurenzo’s, where the focus is on awesome food at reasonable prices. The family has been in the food biz in South Florida since 1951, and many locals have been customers for decades. The store is huge, offering hard-to-find high-end and/or imported grocery products, gorgeous produce (from the farmers’ market across the street), luscious seafood and meats, and what is most often described as an “interesting” wine selection — not immense, but inventive. There’s an amazing collection of fresh pasta for just a few bucks a pound, along with more feta cheese than you can shake a Greek walking stick at. Olives, fresh fish, butchers who listen — this place is just short of perfect. The family recipes behind the prepared foods have gained fame far beyond Miami. In fact, the Food Network’s Road Tasted recently popped by to sample Laurenzo’s stone crab bisque, one of the family’s best-loved, buttery, spicy delicacies. Like a good Italian son, though, David Laurenzo declined to reveal a few key ingredients on national television.

Dear Blue Piano:To the naked eye, you look like any other modest neighborhood place: small with simple wood tables, some art on the walls, and a bar. Yet you’re more than meets the eye. You’re down-to-earth, and your staff has a way with guests, welcoming them into your cozy space and guiding them through your unique selection of wines. It’s OK that you stay away from Cabernets and Chardonnays. Your selection of some 20 wines by the glass and 60 by the bottle aims to highlight other grapes like Sylvaner and Grüner Veltliner. A glass may be paired with one of your small bites. The boquerones with pickled shallots are most delicious. The cheese and charcuterie plates are good too. And you have that lovely piano, almost hidden from view in the back of the room, but played each evening by a local musician. All of this makes you special, Blue Piano. Cheers to that.

We live in a city that regularly sees temperatures above 90 degrees. Fortunately, Miami’s climate is also ripe for growing awesome produce of all kinds. That means there is no reason to settle for a made-from-concentrate, prepackaged juice box when you can have the real thing. Futuro Supermarket is like a blast from the past with its antiquated cash register and small aisles. But way at the back of the store sits the perfect oasis. Mango, pineapple, orange, carrot — the list of fresh juices goes on and on. They’re served in a 16-ounce Styrofoam cup ($2) or sold by the half-gallon ($6). Either way, they taste like you just bit into the fruit itself.

When your wallet is dwindling toward empty, the most luxurious spots start to feel like deserts full of shimmering, inviting oases that evaporate the second you try to parch your thirst. Take Lincoln Road: You can spend all day staring into hip restaurants packed with beautiful people scarfing sumptuous dinners, but if you have only 20 bucks to drop, you might as well be stranded in the Sahara. Until you stumble into Doraku. Happen into the sushi joint between 5 and 7 p.m. seven days a week, and even your meager cash will buy enough to stuff the hungriest Bedouin. Doraku, the brainchild of Kevin Aoki — son of legendary Benihana founder Rocky Aoki — already serves the best sushi in South Beach in one of the most chill settings, a sumptuously lit maze of birdcages and deeply recessed booths. So it’s music to a broke diner’s ears that Doraku also boasts the best sushi happy hour in the Magic City. Check it: Four bucks buys you a generously portioned crunchy crab or tuna avocado roll, and $3 brings a Doraku California. Wash everything down with $3 drafts of Kirin, Sapporo, or Shock Top and $4 specialty martinis, and before you know it, you’re fed and tipsy for a crazy-cheap check. And don’t worry: It’s no mirage.

You can afford to visit Shibui whenever the raw-fish fancy strikes. The family-owned restaurant, which opened in 1981 just north of Sunset Drive in Kendall, serves teriyaki, tempura, katsu, sukiyaki, and stir-fry dinners along with sushi (and some in tandem with it via combo plates). More than three dozen rolls are offered, many of which are now-familiar American fusions such as the volcano (salmon, cream cheese, avocado, and cucumber topped with cooked conch, mayo, and masago) and the dragon (shrimp tempura, crabmeat, mayo, and cucumber with avocado on top). They run $3.75 to $10.95; sushi dinners, served with soup, are $9.95 to $15.95. Sashimi (six to eight pieces) goes for $10.95; sashimi dinners (15 to 18 pieces), served with rice and soup, are $19.95 (or up to $25.95 for select fish such as hamachi). The fish is fresh, the service is friendly, and the prices are eminently affordable.

Blue Door at the Delano changed to Blue Door Fish this past year. The indoor portion of the restaurant, especially the lobby seating, is still defined by lofty white drapes. And the crowd is still trendy. Now, however, the executive chef is Sean Bernal, former top toque of the Oceanaire Seafood Room. And the focus is seafood-centric, the regional influence is more Mediterranean and less French/Brazilian, and the cuisine is better than ever. Diners can start with pristine raw bar selections such as Kumamoto oysters ($3 each) or jumbo shrimp ($4 per). Some eight types of fish or shellfish are offered simply grilled with choice of sauce, or plated with creative, preset accompaniments. Whether it be fresh local grouper gently caressed with lemon preserve and olive oil ($35), Alaskan wild salmon with classic French white wine/sorrel sauce, or Dover sole filleted tableside and served with almond brown butter and truffled potato foam ($66), the fish here gets dressed in style and consistently exhibits good taste.

Living in a coastal town such as Miami, where shores line a large portion of the topography, you expect good seafood to be readily available. But there’s good, and then there’s great. For the latter, look no further than Casablanca. When a place boasts its own market, fishermen in its employ, and more than 20 years in the biz, you can bet it serves the freshest seafood. And Casablanca’s chefs know just what to do with the bounty delivered daily to their dock. Finding that fine balance between flair and finesse, they offer delicious preparations that respect the seafood as the star of the show. Try the crab-stuffed shrimp in garlic sauce ($23.95), which highlights the crustaceans’ natural sweetness, or the famous zarzuela de mariscos ($28.95), with generous portions of shrimp, mussels, scallops, and lobster in a delicate tomato broth with a cognac flambé. Let’s not forget the unbeatable weekday specials, such as all-you-can-eat free shrimp on Mondays and oysters on Wednesdays — which means you can munch for the sole price of libations. Then there are buy-one-get-one-free deals on the catch of the day Tuesdays, lobster Thursdays, and stone crab Fridays. Plus the market always has a variety of fresh fare, from snapper to grouper to claws of all sizes. And the prices: some of the most competitive in town.

— I’m not sure I like the name Pubbelly. What’s that supposed to mean? — Ya see, it’s like a pub: a bar serving loads of craft beers, boutique wines, and sakes. A bit dark, a hangout for locals. — And the belly? — Mostly of the pig, and all for the human. — Huh? — Pork belly. In a McBelly sandwich with kimchi ($6). On a plate bathed in butterscotch ($15). In dumplings with onion marmalade ($9). In a bowl of lemongrass broth with ramen noodles and poached egg ($16). With pineapple in fried rice ($17). Plus they serve imported hams and plenty of nonpork small-plate menu items as well. All plated for the lucky locals who arrive early enough to nab one of the seats in the cozy, brick-walled dining room. — I think Brewbelly has a nicer ring. Or maybe Beerbelly! — Look, we can spend hours coming up with clever names for this groovy gastropub. What say we do so over some cold beers at whatever you want to call it? — Pig & Brew, here we come!

“Our menus change with the seasons. It is our mission to provide customers with the purest and finest local ingredients and to support farmers who take great pride and passion in their work.” Yeah, yeah, right. Heard that one before — like every single time a restaurant opens these days. But the owners of Sustain, which began operating this past year alongside Mercadito and Sugarcane Raw Bar Grill on a suddenly hot stretch of midtown, are actually keeping their word. Most emblematic of Sustain’s honest approach to American cooking is the signature “50 mile salad,” composed of seasonal products such as Borek Farms beets roasted in a wood-burning oven, Teena’s Pride heirloom tomatoes, pickled onions, spicy brassica greens from Paradise Farms, and fromage blanc from Hani’s Farm ($9 small/$16 large). The named farms are in or near Homestead, and every ingredient in the medley is plucked from within a 50-mile range. The rest of the menu likewise pays homage to sustainable foods, which would amount to squat if the stuff didn’t taste outrageously good. But here it does.

At the intersection of LeJeune Road and SE Eighth Street a week before the March 15 recall election, Robert Gewanter’s storefront sign captured the electorate’s mood concerning a certain county commissioner facing imminent ouster: “Sweep Natacha Seijas out of office with the same broom she flew in on.” For the past 18 years, Gewanter has been Miami-Dade’s de facto town crier, issuing biting decrees about county politics and current events via laminated bold, black block letters. It began as a marketing gimmick to grab the attention of passing motorists. “The liquor business is very competitive,” Gewanter explains. “It would be hard to put competitive prices up there, but people see a funny comment and remember the store.” No one has been safe from Gewanter’s sarcastic signage. Some of his regular foils have included former Hialeah Mayor Raul Martinez and President George W. Bush. Following Dubya’s controversial victory in 2000, Gewanter declared, “He trusts people, what mumbo jumbo. If morons flew, the GOP logo would be Dumbo.”