Eat & Drink

Step away from the whole roast pork! Sure, it’s 7 a.m., you’re at El Palacio de los Jugos, and, as usual, you crave some swine. But lechón asado is no respectable breakfast. So walk past the West Flagler Street cafeteria’s hot food wells — those steel tubs loaded with braised beef, boiled yuca, arroz con gris, and fried grouper. Head to the inner market, a crowded nook where salted cod and ripe avocados are peddled alongside corn pudding and nut butters. There, and only there, can you decently succumb to your morning craving of pig. Order the porker’s finest part: the chicharrón ($9.99 a pound), deep-fried rind served in brown paper bags smeared with fat. Then choose from a selection of fresh juices: guava, mango, pineapple, orange, sapodilla, tamarind, and mora ($2). And there’s also guarapo, a sugarcane variety. Open your pouch of chicharrón. Take a bite. Sip your juice. Wipe your greasy fingers on your jeans. Repeat. Extra breakfast points if you also order a colada to go.

An assortment of cream cheese and smoothie samples sits in front of the cash register by the entrance to New York Bagel Deli. The bagel selection covers all the basics — plain, poppy seed, sesame, onion, cinnamon raisin, and everything — with additional wheat and cheese varieties. But the unique option is the power bagel. It’s a dark wheat thing topped with pumpkin seeds, flaxseeds, and other grains that provides a great blend of fluff and crunch. There are even filled bagels that come with a hearty hunk of Asiago cheese melted right into the center hole. Only a few types of bagels are available at a time, and they range from broccoli and Asiago to bacon and potato. Creative cream cheese flavors might also surprise you. There’s guava, Bombay curry, and pesto. If your favorite isn’t in stock, you can ask for a serving of the spread to be whipped up in a blender right on the spot. Don’t be alarmed if the small place is full of rowers — it has become a post-practice hangout for the young athletes from the nearby Shane Rowing Center. And for mornings when you want bagels in bed to avoid the bustling weekend crowd, New York Bagel Deli delivers. Bagels are generally $1.25 each or $11.99 for a baker’s dozen.

Bunnie Cakes is full of hearts. Some are pink paper cutouts plastered in patterns across the walls. Others are candy — scarlet sugar shapes that dot the bakery’s cute sweets such as the six-inch, double-layered guava cakes with cream cheese frosting ($32) and banana-chocolate chip cupcakes ($3). But at this Wynwood shop, there are no eggs. There isn’t any butter or milk, either. Bunnie Cakes is a vegan bakery. Mariana Cortez, a self-taught baker who delved into dairy- and egg-free sweets to provide more healthful, organic treats for her children, owns the shop. She founded Bunnie Cakes in 2009 and opened her first storefront in February 2013. Her heart-topped desserts are delicious. They are sweetened with agave nectar or evaporated cane sugar. Many of them eschew soy, gluten, and nuts. Most are allergy-free. A bakery that caters to folks with food sensitivities and a sweet tooth? Now that’s something to love.

Just a few steps from the sands of South Pointe is a quaint, charming bakery named Lee & Marie’s Cakery. The café sells fresh almond croissants ($3.75), red velvet cake by the slice ($6), and pecan-caramel sticky buns ($3.95). There are sandwiches, desserts, and salads — all designed by award-winning pastry chef Yannis Janssens. But what sets this cakery apart is its humanitarian ethos. Owned by Andy Travaglia, it supports and employs adults with autism spectrum disorders. Since its debut in 2012, Lee & Marie’s has expanded with an additional location in New York City. It also has a production facility in Wynwood. Not only is this South Beach bakery churning out delectable baked goods across Miami and beyond, it’s also succeeding in a higher cause. Now that’s sweet.

Zak Stern raises Alpine goats in Little Haiti. He wears suspenders, is fond of tweed trousers, and enjoys listening to Taylor Swift. He once apprenticed for five years under bread- and cheese-makers across Europe. Now he runs a closed-door operation that supplies organic sourdoughs to some of the city’s top restaurants, including Michy’s and Oak Tavern. The loaves ($6), offered in varieties such as olive and za’atar or plum, fennel, and rye, have thick, chewy crusts and complex, slightly bitter interiors. So when Zak shows up at a farmers’ market to sell his bread, lines form immediately. Loaves sell out within minutes. Maybe it’s the goat’s milk. Or perhaps it’s all the T-Swift. Whatever the reason, Zak Stern is the best — and perhaps most interesting — baker in town.

It is said that some things improve with age. When it comes to Panther Coffee’s cold brew (12-ounce, $3.50; 16-ounce, $4.50 ), time is certainly a good thing. The coffeehouse’s espresso blend is steeped overnight at room temperature and made with filtered water. After the grounds are removed, the result is a caffeinated drink that is free of fatty acids or bitter oils — you know, those unpleasant flavors released in hot-extraction methods. Since these acids and oils are soluble at high heat, most hot-brewed coffee needs mellowing out with milk or cream. Cold-water brewing, on the other hand, results in a peerless, balanced cup. Panther Coffee’s cold brew is nice and smooth. You won’t even miss the milk.

At the Shell station on South Dixie Highway at SW 27th Avenue, Miamians stream in and out, jockeying for pumps, scoring cigs and lotto tickets, and amping up on Red Bull. But head to the back of the otherwise standard gas station’s store and you’ll find smiling ladies serving breakfast fare, pastelitos, made-to-order sammies, and, most important, Cuban coffee. They’ll make any of the usual suspects, but it’s their painstakingly prepared coladas you’ll really remember. Order your café with a polite por favor and they’ll serve it with a smile. Stack cups for sharing atop your Styrofoam treasure and head out to the parking lot. Drink up. It’s jet black. Piping hot. Heavy con sucre. Blindingly potent. Screw Starbucks — this is how Miami does coffee.

There are four ingredients that go into a great café con leche. First, of course, is the coffee. Second is the water that streams through the grounds. Third is the milk that cuts the bitterness with creamy goodness. The fourth ingredient is harder to define. Call it location, ambiance, or scenery. Whatever the name, a great café con leche requires a place to sit, sip your liquid crack, and gawk at the mélange of humanity around you. By these criteria, the top café con leche in town is served at the counter of La Sandwicherie. There is nothing finer than stumbling over to the sliver of a restaurant at 3 a.m. and ordering the steaming mixture of Medaglia d’Oro espresso and milk you need to drive home. Of course, there are also super rico sandwiches to sop up the booze in your system. While you’re sobering up, feast your other senses on the strange, sexy beasts pouring out of Mac’s Club Deuce next door and prowling 14th Street. This, dear Florida flâneur, is what life — and café con leche — is all about.

Connoisseurs know that a coffeehouse is not a coffeehouse is not a coffeehouse. Alaska Coffee Roasting Company proves this in oh so many ways. Local hangout, gourmet pizza and sandwich spot, bakery, pastry shop — ACRC delivers the goods. Oh, and of course there’s coffee, arriving from around the globe and roasted in-house using a top-of-the-line 15-kilogram-capacity, fluidized-bed Sivitz roaster. ACRC’s Facebook page announces when employees will demonstrate the roaster to the public — a cheap thrill you don’t want to miss. The menu offers vegan options as well; pizzas and sandwiches are made fresh to order, and desserts are divine. Owner Karen Tuvia takes pride in her work and can’t help but grin if you engage her in a conversation about the homemade soups, pastries, and coffees such as Mexican Pluma, Panama Boquete, Nicaragua Manotal, Brazil Cerrado, Ethiopian Yirgacheffe, Tanzania AA, Rwanda, Tmor Lest, and Sumatra Mandheling. There aren’t many places in Miami where you can grab a gourmet lunch and fresh-roasted coffee for ten bucks, so thank your lucky, coffee-loving stars that Alaska is right around the corner.

Dear Miami Beach visitor,

We regret to inform you that your champagne-popping, illicit-substance-chugging, casual-coitus-craving days are over. SoBe now belongs to the vegans, the raw-foodists, the yoga studios, and the many workout gear boutiques. Kindly set down your tequila and proceed to the nearest JugoFresh for additional information.

At the shop for organic, raw, vegan, and cold-pressed juices, you will find nourishing shots made with organic Bulgarian rosewater, cucumber, and deer antler extract. You will find yogis wearing Lululemon. They will be sipping on bottles of healthful things you’ve probably never heard of, such as blue-green algae, dandelion parsley, maca extract, and that green cabbage named kale ($7.50 to $11).

Please note these prices do not include swigs of vodka. Although these salubrious juices might cost as much as a cocktail, remember this: JugoFresh not only tastes delicious but also is good for you.

Sincerely,

Juicing Addicts, Miami Chapter

826, son,

Close to Santa’s Enchanted.

Eat your destiny

Seven days a week.

Dim sum until 3:30.

Cure your hangover.

Little leek dumplings

Start your brunch off the right way.

Dip them in soy sauce.

Barbecue pork buns,

Steamed or baked; best grab them soon!

Elbow past your friends.

Hey! Flag down that cart!

That roast duck is baller, bro.

Might as well get two.

Get there early, lest

You miss out on custard buns.

Lunch seasoned with tears.

You can buy many things with $10.75. You could purchase one-and-a-quarter packages of Marlboro cigarettes or two bottles of Mexican Coca-Cola and a box of cool honey-flavored Altoids. You could get loads of chewing gum, a sandwich, perhaps a Cuban frita or two. But none of these treats would ever outdo the sushi-packed bento box lunch special at Shokudo, the Buena Vista restaurant famous for tasty Asian cuisine. Yes, buckaroos, you can get a steaming bowl of miso soup, half a California roll, salad, slaw, and a choice of two of the following: chicken or steak teriyaki, shrimp or vegetable tempura, gyoza, sushi, sashimi, and momo dumplings. Isn’t that totally worth more than some Mexican Coke?

Call it “bar food” if you like. We call it “delicious.” Sure, Pancho Taco isn’t a full-fledged restaurant; it’s a converted station wagon that serves bites to slightly inebriated Wood Tavern patrons in the gravel-covered, tarp-shaded backyard. But the eats are authentic Mexican street tacos. There are carnitas, chicken, and mushroom tacos to choose from. And they all come topped with onions, tomatillo sauce, and cheese if requested. They’re freshly made, and damned if they don’t hit the spot after a few whiskey and gingers. Each taco is priced at $2, but on Taco Tuesday from 5 to 8 p.m., you can scarf down as many as you like for free. Yeah, you read that right. Free.

Robert Ferrara is an odd bird. There he is, head down, more immersed in the task at hand than in chatting up the pretty girls who sip his drinks at the upstairs bar inside Swine Southern Table & Bar. That is, of course, until they ask him what’s in the rose-hued cocktail they’re savoring. Suddenly, Ferrara’s eyes light up as he describes in loving detail the ingredients in his Mexican State of Mind. “I use fresh-pressed watermelon and some jalapeño for heat,” he beams. “It balances the tequila and mezcal. Do you like the watermelon radish?” Ferrara, you see, is a bar geek — that rare breed of mixologist who exists for the cocktail itself. While some barkeeps are in it for the tips or the broads or the ego trip that slinging drinks can afford, Ferrara is a purist. For him, making the perfect libation is tantamount to climbing Everest — legendary and worthy of the sacrifice. And like a climber prepping for the summit push, Ferrara takes meticulous care in the making of his cocktails: collecting the perfect vintage glassware for each drink, procuring bourbon barrels direct from Kentucky so he can hand-age custom concoctions, making his own tinctures and infusions, and bottling his own sodas. Quiz him about that curious bottle on the second shelf to the far right and you’ll get an education in the history of vermouth. Ask for a drink and he’ll weave a tale about the evolution of the old-fashioned. After all of this bar trivia, you’re thirsty. The wait is worth it, because Ferrara’s cocktails — whether you indulge in one of his unnamed barrel-aged science projects ($13) or a Swine old-fashioned washed with bacon fat and made with Ferrara’s own bitters ($15) — are complex, bold, and surprising. In the end, whether you’re trying to get to the top of the world or the bottom of a barrel, obsession drives success. And geeks always win. Just ask Bill Gates. Or Rob Ferrara.

At first glance, you might think the Latin Macho burger ($8) is a slovenly sandwich. After all, once you unwrap the foil it rests in, you’ll find a jumble of bun-oozing cheese, juice, and caramelized onions. As you try to figure out how to tackle this meat monster without wearing most of it, you flip up the bun and discover a veritable puddle of molten Oaxaca cheese combined with a slightly piquant red-pepper mayo and plenty of onions. This is where the burger gets interesting. You figure, What the hell, and go in for an exploratory bite. The patty, made from hand-ground chuck and chorizo, is meaty, spicy, and multidimensional. You take a larger bite and then another before realizing your burger is all but gone. So is your dignity as you try to lick the remaining juices from the collar of your shirt. But when a burger this juicy and savory comes along, there is no shame in enjoying it. As for your shirt stains? That’s what washing machines are for.

There once was a vegan named Lady McFly,

Who secretly pined for shakes, burgers, and a fry.

She scoured the town

And wore such a frown

That she nearly gave up the try.

One day she entered Green Gables Café,

“Soy-free black-bean burgers? ($15) Oh, goodness! Hooray!”

No gluten, no meat,

Such a tasty treat.

The wee happy shop made her day.

We could debate until we’re blue in the face about who regionally makes the number one empanada. Caribbean countries tend to deep-fry them, while Venezuela and Colombia make them with a thicker flour dough. But if we had to choose based on perfect doughiness and delicious filling, the Argentines win this battle hands down. Always baked, never fried, Argentine empanadas usually have a more robust flavor and texture. For a prime example of the perfect empanada, head to La Estancia Argentina in Aventura. A variety of turnovers are only $1.80 each, from classics such as jamón y queso, carne, and pollo to more unusual flavors like atun, caprese, humita. Or make a party out of it and buy a dozen for $21.38. La Estancia also offers premium empanadas with hand-cut meats and four cheeses for $2.50 apiece or $27.32 a dozen.

Say what you will about Guy Fieri, but when he visited Scully’s Tavern for Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, the dude was onto something. The bar food is excellent, including popular darlings such as escargots and the potato-chip-encrusted dolphin sandwich ($12.25). But the French fries here are stars in their own right. Never soggy or floppy and always delicious, they boast a golden-brown color inviting you to crunch away. There’s no need to toss them in spices or dunk them in aioli or some other sauce. You’ll just require the perfectly salted fry, your mouth, and the interpretive happy dance that’s sure to follow.

Jewish and Hispanic people have so much in common: crazy mothers, wild rants with wilder gesticulating, and lots of good eats. So it makes perfect sense that Pincho Factory owner Nedal Ahmad saw fit to top kosher Hebrew National franks with everything found on the drunkard’s favorite: Colombian hot dogs. There’s the pineapple sauce, the pink sauce, and the crushed potato chips. And how about a sprinkling of crushed bacon? Does it make sense with the kosher dog? Who cares! Get yourself to Pincho Factory and tell your friend, significant other, or hot-dog hostage to claim a seat while you elbow your way to the front of the line to demand your daily dog dose.

There’s something you probably don’t know about Joe’s Take Away, the casual, to-go sibling of South Beach seafood staple Joe’s Stone Crab. Unlike its pricier counterpart, Joe’s Take Away has many, many inexpensive eats. There are mahi-mahi sandwiches ($11.95), fried oysters, and crab rolls. There’s conch salad, fried calamari, and shrimp cocktail ($13.95). Yet none of these is a better deal — or a better bite — than the spot’s golden, crisp fried chicken. At Joe’s Take Away, the half fried chicken has moist flesh that drips with tasty juices and oozes unadulterated yard-bird flavor. Speckled with black pepper, its crust isn’t too thick. Its exterior, rather, bursts into bits of brittle breading with just one bite. Best of all, though, the fried chicken is an unexpected delight. At this prominent fish joint, on a menu laden with sea creatures, Joe’s fried chicken isn’t just good. It’s also only $5.95. Got a hankering when the Take Away is closed in August and September? Head to the restaurant and order the chicken basket. It’s the same bird — with the addition of coleslaw and chips — for four extra bucks.

They’re big, sticky, and fall-off-the-bone. They’re hot and fresh, but not overly spicy. They’re blackened and crunchy, and they’re rubbed down with barbecue sauce. The perfect chicken wings can be hard to find, but those on the grill at Keg South of Kendall come pretty damn close. This family-friendly dive is an offshoot of the real-deal, locals-only Keg South on South Dixie Highway in Pinecrest, but the beloved “wings on the grill” can be found only at this western location. You can get a mouthwatering ten pieces for $9.99 or a gut-busting 20 for $15.99. Like ’em spicy? You’ll have to ask for a bit of hot sauce on the side. But don’t test the ghost chili pepper sauce unless you’re really a hotshot — that stuff is more than muy picante. And the kitchen is open until midnight every day except Sunday, when it closes at 11 p.m., so you can eat these birds’ appendages almost anytime. Score.

Typically, not much can be said of two slices of bread sealed together with a wedge, sliver, or hunk of cheddar. The grilled cheese is the simplest of sandwiches: for college students, a quick fix in a makeshift kitchen; for parents and children, an easy bite on the go. But for Ms. Cheezious founders Brian and Fatima Mullins, it’s a culinary canvas. Their 2-and-a-half-year-old food truck, decked out with a larger-than-life sexy caricature of Ms. Cheezious herself, winds through the streets of South Florida whipping up creative takes on the croque-monsieur. Monday through Saturday, the food truck can be found stationed at different special events and food truck rallies in Miami-Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach. The truck features a special cheesy creation each week, but several bestsellers are constants on the menu. They range from the Crabby Cheese Melt ($8), a creamy crab spread on cheddar-lathered sourdough, to the Grilled Harvest ($7), a sweet-and-sour pairing of Havarti cheese and sliced apple. Patrons can also build their own sandwiches, and once you’ve decided on a cheese style and extra toppings (such as shaved ham, prosciutto, or bacon), the truck’s zesty tomato soup is the perfect accompaniment.

“Bro, are you seriously telling me to get a croque-monsieur at an Italian restaurant? It’s a French dish.”

“First of all, this place is owned by a French couple, and now it’s full-fledged français, but even when Le Gusto Bistro was slinging spaghetti, the croque-monsieur was delish — great for brunch, the perfect blend of gooey cheese with crisp bread.”

“But what about the croque-madame?”

“Oh, it’s actually horrible here.”

“Really?”

“No, it’s the same damn thing with an egg on top. Of course it’s just as delicious.”

Most people go to Mr. Moe’s to drink. “Most people,” of course, refers to UM students looking to chug their weight in rosy-hued Moose Juice or near-gallon jugs of Bud Light. But tucked away on an otherwise standard bar-fare menu is a little $4.95 side of mac and cheese. No description, no fanfare, last on the list, and easy to miss. Served in a five-bite white ramekin, it’s a lovely little heap of tender elbow macaroni topped with a nicely browned, oven-baked crust of cheddar and Swiss. Poke your spoon through the thick outer layer and dig into the creamy, cheesy pasta below. It’s rich, flavorful, and everything you’ve ever wanted in mac and cheese. Plus, the diminutive portion is just enough to soak up the booze you’re about to imbibe — without causing unflattering stomach bloat. Palatable and pragmatic to boot. And at Mr. Moe’s, you get the bonus of stuffed dining companions such as a grizzly bear, a glassy-eyed deer’s head, and various other critters. Beats eating alone any day.

At Toro Toro, the restaurant located off the lobby of the InterContinental Hotel, arepas are served without stuffing. This doesn’t mean the crisp corn cakes are served without fixings. Toro Toro’s arepas, rather, come whole — with rich, shredded short rib right on top. The three mini arepas ($8 lunch, $10 dinner) are dotted with fresh guacamole and finished with a hint of crema. Think of them as the open-faced sandwiches of Venezuela or Colombia — except these come from a restaurant owned by chef Richard Sandoval, a prominent restaurateur and pioneer of pan-Latin cuisine. That might explain why these fancy corn cakes require a knife and fork. Cutlery-required dining is a good thing.

At this Brickell-area surprise, you can get freekeh, rose water, pomegranate molasses, and colossal tubs of strained yogurt like labneh. Past the store’s corridors, which are stacked high with dried herbs and grains, you will also find a petite lunch counter. In the nooks beyond its display case, there are beef-stuffed grape leaves known as dolma, hummus and baba ghannouj, and stewed chickpeas with tomatoes. And there is falafel — mashed chickpea fritters, speckled with sesame seeds and spiced intensely with fresh herbs and cumin. At this mecca for Syrian, Greek, and Armenian foods, the falafel sandwich ($4.50) pairs these fried balls with tahini, cucumbers, and tomatoes. The pita bread is baked fresh daily. And there’s more good news: While you wait for your delectable falafel, there are always complimentary pita chips on the counter for snacking.

In the eerie room

wood-oven burns, candles glow

pizza chefs wear white

green basil bouquetscrown sauce of red tomato

“plain pie” ($24), no menu

blistered Brooklyn crusts

gooey cheese, craft beer, good eats

Lucali South Beach.

Some folks visit Con Sabor a México Carnitas Estilo Michoacán for a chicken or steak taco. Others stop by the tiny Little Havana taquería for tacos de buche, slender corn tortillas stuffed with tender, rich pork stomach ($1.75), or tacos de oreja — with a filling of thinly sliced pig ears — and tacos de lengua, pork tongue. The specialty at this taco joint is carnitas, which are prepared with a process that’s popular in the central Mexican state of Michoacán and resembles the French technique of confit. Pork offal — ham, tongue, stomach, ears, ribs, and rind — is first browned in lard and then layered in a pot according to cooking time. The meats are covered with pork fat and slow-cooked for two hours. Pig part flavors mingle and marry. The result is a delectable taco con mucho sabor.

Pasadita, my dear,

How thou woo me with thy drive-thru

And your inexpensive eats

But I fear

Not one of your qualities, not two

Can in any way beat

Your fresh, tasty, succulent, bean, cheese, tomato, cilantro, and onion-stuffed $5.99 burritos

(with choice of meat and rice)

The end.

Benny’s Mofongo (BEHN-eez moh-FOHN-goh) (n.): A delicious Puerto Rican dish made of deep-fried plantains mashed together with garlic and pork rinds in a mortar with a pestle. (Also see: ¡Ay, m’ija, qué rico!)

The rest of Benny’s menu is a Puerto Rican nostalgia trip, just like our tía abuela from Loiza used to make it, but the mofongo is porkily sublime, earning the place a visit from Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives a few years ago. Served in a small mortar (or a large one for sharing with the rest of the table) with a side of chicken consommé (or caldo), mofongo comes plain or topped with fried pork, shrimp, chicken, steak, or lobster, for the truly indulgent. The mortars are cast with some sort of spell that leaves them incapable of emptying, no matter how much you fanatically shovel into your empanada-hole, but you won’t mind taking your abundant leftovers with you while singing “La Borinqueña” the entire ride home. Get your mofongo on for lunch or dinner till 9 p.m. during the week and 10 p.m. on weekends. The original location is open Tuesday through Sunday, but the newest location, on NW 82nd Ave., is open seven days a week.

A good sandwich is filling and tasty. A great sandwich takes risks, overwhelms with flavor, and is worth every last cent. This is the case at 1909 Café, a quaint but bold shop tucked into a strip mall on Bird Road. It offers patrons a selection of truly inventive combinations, including vegetarian and Paleo (the CrossFit diet) options, all served on white or wheat French baguette, crisped to perfection. A colorful chalkboard menu hangs on one wall of the small dining room and is updated periodically with specials and new creations. But customer favorites such as the French vegetarian ($6.50) are listed on permanent menus that decorate the café’s countertops. For courageous eaters, 1909 specializes in ambitious sandwich-making — that is, you will be posed with the challenge of fitting a bite into your mouth, especially if you opt for a 12-inch “Monster Portion.” The Godfather sandwich, for example, overflows with mozzarella, ham, capicola, salami, tomatoes, onions, pickles, banana peppers, and lettuce — and for $7.25, that’s an offer a hungry customer can’t refuse. The café also serves salads, smoothies, and a good cup o’ joe — all reasonably priced and always served with a smile.

The sashimi dish hamachi jalapeño typically includes slivered strips of fresh yellowtail, which are smothered in yuzu juice, sprinkled with cilantro leaves, and topped with piquant pepper slices. At Pubbelly Sushi, the Japanese-fusion restaurant owned by the Pubbelly boys — José Mendín, Andreas Schreiner, and Sergio Navarro — in Sunset Harbour, the hamachi jalapeño ($13) is slightly different. It combines the peerless white fish with a lemon soy sauce and roasted poblano peppers. Garnished with cilantro and onions, the chilies crown the fillet’s raw flesh. The pub-like joint offers other sushi classics, and they always include some sort of novel touch. For example, signature Pubbelly rolls feature snow crab wrapped in soy paper and are served with a decadent ponzu-clarified butter sauce ($9). Playful with its raw fish, Pubbelly Sushi adds creative touches even to fusion cuisine.

Food ADHD strikes us when we get one large portion. No matter how delicious, experiencing the same taste bite after bite can be cumbersome. That’s why Jaguar Ceviche Spoon Bar & Latam Grill is perfect for mouths with short attention spans. Nine ceviches are offered in several sizes ($2 to $14). But what we love is the spoon sampler. For $14, six ceviches are served in Asian soup spoons. They arrive on a plate, arranged to look like a wheel of fortune — ’round and ’round the spoons go. Maybe they’ll stop on the ceviche Los Cabos, a blend of Pacific swordfish, red onions, and jalapeños. Maybe you’ll be rewarded with a taste of tiradito Lima, a mix of tuna, ají amarillo, and salsa criolla. Or your seafood adventures could take you to the Black Market, a ceviche made with white fish, shrimp, calamari, ají amarillo, red onion, and corn. Whatever ceviches you choose for your spoon game, know this: It’s a sure bet you’ll be rewarded with the freshest, brightest, and least boring meal in a long time.

Good tapas do more than combine the robust Spanish flavors of extra-virgin olive oil and paprika into bite-size dishes. The best ones, like those at Brisa de España, transport you to the streets of Spain. As the name implies, the restaurant brings a little Iberian breeze to Doral. Spanish products — from paella pans to alpargatas (espadrilles) to tabloids — adorn the “tienda: la española.” There’s FC Barcelona and Real Madrid soccer memorabilia, decorative plates with images of Spain, and Spanish flags that separate the store from the restaurant. Although the menu changes daily, the real Spanish vibe lies with the tapas, including roasted red peppers smothered in olive oil, tortilla española, piquillo peppers stuffed with codfish, and chistorras (thinly cut Spanish sausage) cooked in wine sauce. Most of them cost less than $10. A bottle of wine and a tarta turrón (nougat cake) complete your tapas experience.

Welcome to Hialeah. Gus Machado is just down the street, and ¡Ño Que Barato! is a mere stone’s throw away, but you’re not in the mood for car or consignment shopping. You’re in the mood for food. A Cuban sandwich, perhaps? Look no further than Yoyito Restaurant y Café. For the past 12 years, this classically Cuban cafeteria has consistently been filled with good people and delicious eats, making sure every customer experiences what the café’s straightforward slogan is all about: “‘pa comer rico” — a perfectly Cuban saying that simply means “to eat well.” The prices here are low, but don’t be fooled: The sandwiches are immense and made right. The palomilla in the pan con bistec ($4.70) is cooked like an honest steak rather than the leathery strip of overdone flesh you get in all too many cafeterias. The medianoche — a sweeter iteration of the Cuban sandwich served between two halves of a soft egg bun that adds a subtle hint of dulce to your savory meal ($4) — is fresh and sumptuous. And the croqueta preparada is a perfect marriage of ham, Swiss cheese, lechón, croquetas, and the perennial flavor accent of sliced pickles. Pass by any day of the week from 5:30 in the morning to 10 at night ‘pa comer rico.

Miamians know it’s not a party unless there’s some roast pork on a plate somewhere. And everybody knows it’s not an afterparty unless there’s leftover lechón asado the next morning, sitting in the fridge, waiting to be eaten. The pan con lechón at Bread and Butter is not authentic. The shredded pork comes encased in a steamed Chinese bao bun. To someone who loves Latin comfort food, that stuff would be a heresy. Except it totally works, and the reason it’s so great is because we really want to hate it. But we can’t. El sigh. Nestled in the heart of Coral Gables, Bread and Butter boasts a menu of small Latin-style tapas. Think bacon-wrapped plantains and baby-back rib empanadas — eclectic spins on well-known staples in a Latin kitchen. The fist-size bao bun comes stuffed with slow-roasted, marinated pork shoulder. The fluffy, chewy bun is topped with piquant mojo sauce and pickled garlic. The bun is the optimal vessel for sopping up the sauce that comes with this $6 dish. It’s a little oily and plenty sour, and after noticing all of its characteristics, you’ll have to remind yourself this is the most unconventional pan con lechón you’ve ever had — and you’re completely consumed by it. Remember this phrase: “Sorry, I’m not sorry.”

Jamón, pollo o pescado — chicken, ham, or fish: Your waiter wants you to know these are the three choices of croquetas ($1.15) at Islas Canarias restaurant. The decision sounds simple, but it’s also surprisingly difficult. Order the chicken, and nibble on a plump fried croquette filled with flecks of poultry and sprinkled with minced herbs. Order the ham, and crunch on a brown exterior stuffed with smoky specks of pink ham. Order the fish, and savor delectable, briny bits cooked to perfection. Each bite begins crisply, the result of a golden bread-crumb coating. Each morsel ends creamily, the product of an ivory béchamel-like core — tender, smooth, and rich. Jamón, pollo o pescado: At Islas Canarias, really, simply order them all.

When you order a dish of plátanos maduros, you want just the right mix of burnt and sweet. At Las Vegas Cuban Cuisine, the sweet plantains are always at that perfect equilibrium of ripe and substantial. The menu is consistent. Tostones are served fresh every single time — crisp on the edges but soft in the center — with garlic mojo sauce. Boiled yuca is topped with an equally pungent blend of onions and mojo worth every cent of that $3.75. And the entrées are just as savory as the sides. In addition to essentials such as vaca frita and churrasco steak with chimichurri sauce, one of the most original dishes is fillet of grouper encrusted with a breading of crisp plantain bits. At $14.95, camarones enchilados — seven jumbo shrimp sautéed in a creole sauce of olive oil, garlic, wine, green and red bell peppers, and onion — are the best bang for the buck. The red creole sauce also goes well with the accompanying rice and black beans and those sweet plantains. On top of such fair prices, the Spanish-speaking waiters provide exceptional and friendly service.

Haitians have a saying: “Sel pa vante tèt li di li sale,” or “Salt doesn’t boast that it is salted.” In other words, good food doesn’t need advertising. The proverb was practically made for Zila Cafeteria, a tiny but tasty joint that is harder to get hold of than Heat point guard Norris Cole on a fast break. You’ve probably never heard of the Little Haiti eatery. And if you have, chances are you’ve called for delivery, only to get an out-of-service message. The truth is, we have no idea who owns Zila Cafeteria or if the place delivers. But that’s beside the point. Park your car on NW Second Avenue near 59th Street and follow the smell of roast chicken and the sound of Haitian compas to the door. Then sit at the checkered tables, order an absurdly cheap beer or two, and stuff your face with simple but delicious food. This hole in the wall offers Haitian staples such as griot (fried pork chunks) and mais moulu (cornmeal) as well as daily specials like succulent chicken with beans and rice for just $4.99. With beer as cheap as $1 for a Bud Light or $2 for a Prestige, you’ll never want to leave. When you finally do, you’ll agree: Sel pa vante tèt li di li sale.

Panya Thai: Duck so spicy,

Egg rolls, fish cakes, not too pricey.

Steamed whole snapper ($28.95), pork panang curry.

Dancing shrimp ($8.95), eyes get blurry.

North Miami Beach, strip-mall sights.

What an array of Siam’s bites.

Tofu, noodles, salad, soup, rice.

Oh goodness! That poh tak’s got spice!

At Panya Thai, tongues get woozy,

A perfect place to bring your floozy!

Welcome to Rincón Escondido, the teeny, tavern-like Spanish restaurant in Edgewater. To start, would you like some Spanish wine? And then how about a platter of jamón serrano, chorizo de Cantimpalos, lomo de cerdo, or chorizo de Palacios ($15)? No? Perhaps some bread will strike your fancy. The montaditos, with salty anchovies and caramelized onions ($7), or the sliced baguette with liver or salmon pâté ($6), are a fine choice. Not that either? Why not go for the Spanish potato omelet ($10) or pulpo a la gallega — octopus doused in smoky paprika? Stop crying! What do you mean you can’t decide? Please, please. No more tears. At Rincón Escondido, you are supposed to tapear. That’s Spanish for “stop whining and just order the whole menu already.”

If Momi Ramen were a house of worship, its altar would be the slab of pork belly atop the noodle house’s communal wooden table. In this Brickell kitchen, massive kettles of tonkotsu broth — a silky, opaque liquid made with pork bones and gleaming globs of fat — bubble away and simmer for hours. They fill the restaurant with the pungent aroma of garlic and swine. There are noodles too. They are made daily by owner Jeffrey Chen and served smothered in broth. Bowls are in the $14 to $16 range at this late-night noodle house. Before Momi Ramen, Miami had few choices when it came to the Japanese noodle-and-broth soup. Now, this little shop proffers bowls that rival other ramen altars across the land.

If there were a showdown of casual French cuisine, and restaurants around town were assessed according to their French onion soup ($7), Frenchie’s Diner in Coral Gables would win for its perfect broth and bubbling, blistered layers of cheese. If the contest were to measure spots by their croque-monsieur ($10), Frenchie’s would take the prize yet again — this time for its peerless ham sandwich smothered in béchamel and finished with golden, melted Gruyère. Similar outcomes would result from Frenchie’s crème brûlée, steak frites, and duck confit ($26) — and perhaps also with its chocolate mousse, moules frites, and escargots. It might be easier to crown Frenchie’s the most superb source for French cooking in town. But to rob these pretend judges of their glorious research, well, that just seems awfully cruel.

Finding good Chinese food in Miami-Dade is about as easy as finding a good driver. But in the area’s small Chinatown in North Miami Beach, authentic chow can be had. When you enter King Palace Chinese BBQ, you’ll know you’ve stumbled onto something special. You’ll immediately see hanging roasted duck and barbecue roasted pork ($8.95 per pound) — a specialty that every Yelp reviewer and food blogger seems to rave about (and we agree). But the authenticity really seeps in with items such as boneless duck feet ($10.95), frog with garlic ($18.95), and duck tongues with spicy sauce ($14.95). But not to worry. For less adventuresome eaters, there are noodle bowls, stir-fries, fried rice, and other items that won’t look back at you. But where’s the fun in that?

Meat and bread. The simple combination is ubiquitous and delicious. After a step (all you get is one because the place is so small) inside Mary Ann Bakery, you’re confronted by the sights and smells of the delight of dim sum: buns. For more than two decades, Karen and Emily Lim have been turning out sweet, eggy handheld treats filled with anything from barbecued pork to curried beef to bacon, onion, and cheese. None costs more than $1.50. Before you know it, that plan to “get just three” will turn into a dozen. The Lims’ buns aren’t limited to North Miami. If you’re there early enough, you’ll find employees from Asian markets all over town, even as far away as Lucky Oriental Mart in Sweetwater, grabbing their store’s supply. The place is open 8:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday through Saturday and 8:30 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday.

Like so many things in Miami that are 25 or so years old (ancient!), New Chinatown recently underwent a face-lift. In 2007, the place was given a fresh coat of paint and an overhauled menu. To order the standard, run-of-the-mill Chinese take-out from here should be a felony. Go for the live Maine lobster “sun”-style ($45), with dried chilies, garlic, and onion. It’s worth it. There’s lamb in a spicy wine sauce ($19) and even ma po tofu ($12), a nuclear-hot Szechuan specialty with tofu and ground pork stew in a lava-hot sauce. The place is easy to find: It’s the red barn-looking building with the Chinese characters on it.

Call it an overdue win. But can you argue for any other place? At Scarpetta ­— Scott Conant’s Miami Beach outpost at the Fontainebleau helmed by chef de cuisine Nina Compton — indulging in Italian cuisine comes at a steep price, but it’s well worth it. The restaurant simply excels at serving clean flavors that aren’t dumbed down for the American palate. The best example of this is the deceivingly simple spaghetti in a sauce of tomato and basil ($24). How could this be different from the canned stuff? One bite of the freshly made pasta covered in delectable red sauce, and “La Traviata” will echo in your mind. Another favorite is garganelli with English peas, pancetta, and a quail egg for extra richness ($28). But what is most surprising is that even after its 2008 opening and a changing of the kitchen guard in 2012, Scarpetta hasn’t skipped a beat. It continues to serve Conant’s greatest hits cooked to perfection. Charge it to the AmEx, Miami. This meal is worth it.

Salumeria 104 is more than you think. Sure, there’s a selection of cheeses and cured meats, such as prosciutto di Parma and San Daniele, speck, guanciale, and soppressata at this midtown restaurant. And there are delectable antipasti and fresh pastas. There’s vitello tonnato ($12) — thin slices of roast veal smothered in a creamy tuna sauce with fried capers — and homemade gnocchi alla romana ($14), sprinkled with Parmesan cheese and crisp prosciutto. Salumeria 104 has porchetta, roast quail, and grilled cuttlefish. In short, this joint isn’t just salumi. Think of it more as a trattoria — the kind where you can get bread, wine, and cheese, as well as braised rabbit and sirloin steak. When you take a salumeria and add cooking worthy of a trattoria or ristorante, you get this exceptional, inexpensive Italian spot.

Arepas are to Colombian eateries as cubano sandwiches are to La Habana-inspired eateries: important enough that they’d damn well better represent, but far from the highlight of any legit menu. So, by all means, pop in to Restaurant Monserrate for the arepas — stuffed with queso blanco and perfectly tasty — but stay for the real treats: a feast of Colombian eats, from bandeja paisa (a massive plate packed with carne molida, rice, beans, maduros, and, yeah, one of those arepas) to mondongo, a traditional rice-and-tripe soup. Monserrate, which was founded in 1974, claims to be Miami’s oldest Colombian eatery, and it still serves Dade’s best dishes with flavors from Cali to Cartagena.

Cruise south past the traffic-clogged vestiges of suburban sprawl, head west from the waning miles of Florida’s Turnpike, and you’ll cross into another Dade County. Neat rows of emerald tomato plants replace graffiti-tagged concrete. Tractors humming through palms pass by instead of Hummers blazing through stoplights. And filling your plate is home-cooked, underpriced Mexican food rather than canned salsa and overpriced, haute south-of-the-border fusion. No one does it better than Rosita’s, a no-nonsense hole in the wall a few blocks southwest of the Turnpike’s terminus. Everything on the menu costs less than $15, from a grease-free, piquant chile relleno ($9.50) to crisp sopes piled with veggies and chorizo ($1.75 each) to decadent pork ribs in chipotle sauce ($9.50). The map will tell you Rosita’s is in Dade County, but it feels as far from Miami as Michoacán.

The gauchos of southern Brazil were the equivalent of North American cowboys: a nomadic people who resided in the vast plains of Rio Grande do Sol in the country’s southern region. Like their brethren in Argentina and Uruguay, the gauchos would dig pits in the ground and start massive fires. Then they’d roast large pieces of delicious red meat on large wooden skewers. When the meats were ready, the gauchos would carve off thin slices and pass them around, often complementing the moist pieces of beef, pork, lamb, chicken, and sausage with seasonal roasted veggies from a recent harvest. Brazaviva Churrascaria in Doral continues the gaucho tradition seven days a week for Miamians in search of an affordable, mouthwatering Brazilian feast. Brazaviva offers 18 quality meats with an equal array of sides and salads at reasonable prices. Lunch is $22.99 a person, and a full rodizio meal costs $34.99 on weekends. Guests control the flow of their meats with green-red cards placed at their table. Flipping the green side up signals the carvers to begin serving. They bring out a continuous rotation of meats until you are satisfied or need a break. Flip the two-sided card to red to slow things down. To resume service, simply turn the card back to green. Brazaviva is open Monday through Thursday from 11:30 a.m. to 10 p.m. and till 11 p.m. Friday through Sunday. Just look for the burgundy canopy on a white office building.

At Lo de Lea, the husband cooks, the wife hosts, and one or two friendly servers deliver the delicious meats, fine wine, and Italian flourish we’ve come to love from Argentina. The grilled sweetbreads — mollejitas a la provenzal ($12) — are a perfect starter. Vegetarians have plenty of options, such as the provoleta cheese starter ($10) and the Mediterranean-inspired patmos salad with cucumbers and feta ($12). For meat lovers, the mixed grill for two, called the parrillada, includes flank steak, blood sausage, chinchulines, and much more. Five homemade chimichurri sauces ($2 to $3) are the perfect topping for a grilled half-chicken with mash and escarole ($14), or crispy salmon with bok choy ($19). Feel like pasta? Try the orecchiette with broccoli rabe, chili, and Argentine sausage ($16). For dessert, the postre vigilante marries Gouda cheese and sweet quince in a beautiful union ($6). And, oh yeah, there’s also homemade ice cream, tiramisu, and crêpes ($8). Enjoy your feast in the cool enclosed back patio and you’ll feel like you’re in Buenos Aires.

When it comes to duplicating the fine dining that visitors experience in the Nicaraguan tourist resort town of Montilmar, El Madroño has a giant leg up on the competition. For 15 years, this Nica restaurant has been serving a delicious menu of traditional dishes that makes a trip into Sweetwater, AKA Little Nicaragua, well worth the drive. El Madroño holds its own against other established Nica brands, such as Los Ranchos and El Novillo, with no-frills service and great prices. And it doesn’t overwhelm your senses with the vibrant, colorful Nicaraguan tchotchkes that have made places like Yambo in Little Havana stand out in travel guides. El Madroño keeps it simple with stark white walls, modern dining tables and chairs, and a diner-style counter with sleek wooden stools. The only decoration is a lone painting of La Purisima — the Virgin Mary — near the back of the restaurant. If you’re stopping in for lunch, try the salpicón, a cold, tangy chopped beef dish, with a side of rice and fried plantains for $7.50. Or maybe the family wants a nice grilled steak dinner. Order a mouthwatering baby churrasco ($12.99) for the missus. For yourself, go full size for only four dollars more. Junior can have the baby carne asada for $6.95. If you’re in the mood for more adventurous cuisine, try the nacatamal, the tortilla con cuajada, the enchiladas Matagalpa, or the vigorón, all for less than five bucks each. Wash your meal down with cacao, a tasty cold Nica beverage, for $2.75. El Madroño is located in a shopping center on the corner of SW 107th Avenue and Flagler Street. There’s ample parking and a walk-up window for take-out. It’s open seven days a week, except major holidays, from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.

Ethnic cuisine tastes best when it’s prepared island-style — slowly and flavorfully. Island Restaurant, a quaint Jamaican eatery in the Hammocks in West Kendall, does just that. In the nine-table dining room, the walls are painted bright orange and decorated with iconic photos of the island, including a tokin’ Bob Marley. The waitress, Teayanna, is sweet and attentive. She is accommodating and helpful with the menu, which includes many popular Jamaican dishes that might be unfamiliar to mainlanders. There’s oxtail ($11.50) and callaloo with codfish ($8). Some dishes veer from traditional recipes — the red pea soup ($1.75 cup, $3.50 small, $6 large), for example, is chock full of carrots and other veggies, along with the traditional dumplings and hunks of beef. The patty ($2), a Jamaican staple, is baked to perfection — the orange-hued pastry is flaky yet tender, and the meat (either beef or chicken) is spicy but not intolerable. The store attached to the dining room sells Kola Champagne, the citrusy cream soda of the Caribbean. Patrons can also purchase chips, bread, and sauces imported from the island.

It hits as soon as you walk through the door: the mouthwatering smell of spices, curries, and flavors that you can’t find anywhere else. No matter which location you choose, Ayesha’s Fine Dining will take your palate on an exotic journey through the tastiest of traditions. Everything is delectable, from the lamb samosa to the chicken korma, the shrimp apna curry, and the tandoori. Make your taste buds happy with mild, medium, hot, or Indian hot. The naan is out of this world, the perfect mix of fluffy and crunchy, made in a variety of styles from cheesy to garlic and even Kashmiri. This place is no all-you-can-eat, regular old Indian joint. It’s a bit on the pricey side — entrées average about $15 a plate — but it’s well worth it. It’s also an excellent spot for a date you really want to impress. Set the mood by pairing your dinner with a glass of terrific wine for about $8. Even if you’re not trying to impress, Ayesha’s is a must for Indian lovers. Hard-core fans will enjoy it, and novices won’t be intimidated. What more could you ask for?

A restaurant doesn’t often transport you to its food’s point of origin. At Maria’s, the avgolemono soup — made with chicken and orzo in a luscious broth of stock, egg, and lemon — makes you feel like you’re in Greece. Not the Greece of the Travel Channel or travel blogs, but the one of big gatherings and bigger plates. The Coral Way restaurant has been a family-run operation since 1982. Matriarch Maria Sotiriou has passed the reins to her daughter Angela and son-in law Costa Grillas, a co-owner of the Design District’s Egg & Dart. But there’s still the air of home cooking. It’s easy to imagine being served Maria’s souvlaki platter ($12.95) — more than big enough for two — in someone’s home. “Keep eating! You look hungry!” they would say as they piled hunk after hunk of grilled pork and triangles of pita on your plate. “Try the tzatziki!” As if all of that wasn’t enough, Maria’s also delivers. Opa!

“Fore!” After playing 18 holes on the Granada Golf Course in the Gables, there’s no question you’ve worked up an appetite. Hunger takes over, your gut shifts into survival mode, and you frantically search for the nearest food spot. Calm down. Just walk to the course’s clubhouse and into Burger Bob’s. A hidden treasure, the diner run by Bob Maguire has been serving authentic American diner food for 20 years. Enter and you’ll be transported to a real ’50s or ’60s hangout. The place has an endearing comfort because it doesn’t necessarily realize its kitschy charm. It offers a casual, no-pressure, no-BS environment with great service from the moment you take a seat till the time you pay the check. (Cash only. Yeah, America!) The coffee tastes like actual coffee, and the cook knows the difference between over-easy, medium, and well. This is quality diner food that doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. However, the burger is what keeps people coming back to Bob’s. It’s a perfectly sized and filling piece of meat that triggers backyard-barbecue memories for less than $5. Bob’s, by the way, continues to exist even though it was almost closed as part of a large-scale development plan by the city. That would have been a tragedy.

Most people steer clear of Chinese and Japanese buffets, and with good reason. If you’ve visited one of the ubiquitous Asian buffets around the city, you’ve visited them all. Except one. Shinju Japanese Buffet serves a wide variety of fresh food. First there’s the sushi bar, which offers roll after roll. If you don’t see your favorite on display, just request it — it’ll appear within minutes. Then stroll by the hibachi, where you can pick up some of the best grilled chicken wings in town. There’s peel-and-eat shrimp during lunch, and crab legs are up for grabs during dinner. Shinju rounds out its offerings with a full hot bar including common items such as fried rice, spring rolls, dumplings, tempura veggies, and pepper steak. There’s a reason you might have to circle the lot once or twice for a parking spot. Perfect for a weekday lunch, Shinju is the best $11.95 ($6.95 for kids) you’ll ever spend.

We hear all the time that celebrities have it rough. After all, they have to escape paparazzi, endure torturous elective surgeries, and waste time at court-appointed rehab stints. But for all of this, the upside (besides the insane number of zeros on a paycheck for shilling for some car company) is being treated like royalty everywhere you go. If you haven’t experienced what it feels like to be pampered within an inch of your life, book a table at Azul right now. Yeah, yeah, Azul’s food is beautiful. But we’re not talking about that now. We’re talking about a level of service that’s usually reserved for people who have a closetful of trophies. And it’s all for little nobody you. Doors mysteriously open as you glide through them. Fragrant rose petals are scattered at your table for special occasions. A purse hook is placed at the table for the lady’s handbag. Can’t read the menu? Penlights are provided. Soft pashminas are there to shield bare arms from air-conditioning or breezy night air. A server arrives at your table with a device that resembles an iPad and begins a custom slide show complete with wedding photos for your anniversary celebration. A wine captain suggests a few midpriced bottles after gently questioning you about your food choices and your budget. These little perks and others are a good part of why Azul achieved the coveted Forbes Travel Guide five-star designation this year. It’s also a fantastic reason to go. Because, while everyone should be treated like gold at least once in a while, you can do so without the annoying TMZ reporters or Betty Ford clinic stay.

During the Roaring Twenties in Venice, Italy, a bartender named Giuseppe Cipriani loaned a customer 10,000 lire (about $5,000) after hearing that the man, a wealthy Bostonian named Harry Pickering, was cut off from his fortune after his family found out he was drinking much of his money away. Sure, that was generous for a bartender, but the gesture was well rewarded. Two years later, a flush Pickering returned the money with interest, giving the stunned Cipriani 90,000 lire — enough to open a bar of his own. Harry’s Bar quickly became the haunt of authors and celebrities. Orson Welles, Truman Capote, Noel Coward, Janet Leigh, and Ernest Hemingway would come for Cipriani’s signature dry martini, served in a stemless glass, and stay for the night. The bar was declared a landmark in 2001 and is a major “to do” for visitors, along with riding in a gondola. The Cipriani name still embodies elegance, and the brand has expanded with bars and restaurants in New York, Hong Kong, Los Angeles, Monte Carlo, Ibiza, Moscow, and Abu Dhabi. The rich, famous, and beautiful still frequent Cipriani restaurants for beautiful cocktails and an evening of romance and glamour. In the past, Cipriani has alluded to opening in Miami, even planning a resort hotel in Miami Beach. But, sadly, nothing came to fruition — until now. Cipriani recently opened a location at Icon Tower in Brickell. Although Hemingway or Capote or even Giuseppe Cipriani have never set foot in this new location, we’ll still raise a dry martini to the friendly ghosts of Ciprianis past and to the promise of a new crop of beautiful and intelligent people to come.

If you’re a carnivore, steak houses are a necessary evil. Though most turn out a good steak, there are usually only three possible vibes — boardroom-with-the-boss, brothel-with-a kitchen, or unless-you’re-famous-you’ll-be-eating-near-the-bathroom. And then there’s Red the Steakhouse. While it’s true that many power meals are held within its winter-white walls and red banquettes, there are also many, many dates here. And though the restaurant has its share of star power, the hostess and waitstaff will surely not penalize you for being under seven feet tall or not having any reality TV credits under your belt. So, what is Red all about? How about steak? Executive chef Peter Vauthy serves some of the best USDA Prime aged Certified Angus Beef steaks you’ve eaten. A 14-ounce New York strip ($47) is succulent and masterful. Want something more exotic (and costly)? Authentic and rare Kobe beef from Japan runs about $199 for a ten-ounce serving, but it’s an experience you won’t forget. Served slightly seared, it’s velvety, mild, and a little otherworldly. Plus, if you’re not a steak lover (gasp), there’s a place at the table especially for you. Chef Vauthy flies in giant king crab from Alaska, rare Brittany Blue lobster from the North Sea and Atlantic Ocean off the shores of Scotland, and the finest fresh local seafood (market price). In fact, sometimes we wonder if the place should be Red Steak and Seafood. But then again, why pigeonhole when you can just eat without attitude?

We all need a little romance in our increasingly hectic, electronic, and plastic lives. To escape the constant rush of the world, try an evening under the fairy lights of Cecconi’s, located in the enchanting courtyard of the Soho Beach House. It begins at the bar over a champagne cocktail or a barrel-aged rum old-fashioned ($14). There’s no hurry, so linger, laugh, and look into each other’s eyes as the balmy breezes blow in from the ocean so close you can hear the rush of the waves in the distance. When it’s time to move on to dinner, ask for a seat as far back as possible — away from the crowds. Sheltered by a canopy of trees, you toast to love with a glass of prosecco ($62 per bottle) as a light starter of beef tartare ($18) and grilled octopus ($18) arrives. A hint of salt air tickles your nose as your eyes turn to your beloved, softly lit by candles and moonlight. “Will it be the branzino [$36] or the New York strip [$38]?” you ask. “Let’s just order another bottle of prosecco and enjoy the evening before we eat — and maybe see if there are any rooms available upstairs,” is the reply — and the fairy lights in the trees twinkle as if nodding in agreement.

It’s 4 o’clock Sunday morning. You awake on a bench in Liberty City. You are confused, haggard, alone. You smell like booze. In the distance, you spot a restaurant. The light is on. People are inside. You check your watch. It reads 4:05 a.m. Could it be? You move closer and read the sign: “Jumbo’s.” The pinguid aromas of fried conch and shrimp waft from the inside. Your stomach grumbles. You rummage through your pockets. Jackpot! Twenty bucks — just enough for those golden, luscious crustaceans ($9.99 for a half-order of conch or a full order of shrmip) and some fried chicken ($6.99 for two wings, two drumsticks, fries, and coleslaw). The yard bird arrives at the table. It’s served on a Shoney’s plate. It has a thin, brittle crust and juicy, moist flesh. You take a bite. 4:15 a.m. 4:20 a.m. Should you head home? Is the restaurant closing soon? No, Jumbo’s is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. You stay awhile. After all, the time for fluffy buttermilk pancakes ($2.99 for two, $3.50 for three) is approaching.

If you want the best seat in the house at Scotty’s Landing, prepare to hover near a table of folks finishing their dessert. Then pray they don’t want to sit around to take in the view. It’s a good one. This is casual waterfront dining, so there’s no hostess to bribe. If you can’t score an unobstructed front-row view of the bay, fear not — even sitting a few tables in from the boat parking does not disappoint. Though Scotty’s is mainly about the waterfront, the restaurant has provided affordable, no-frills seafood and pub grub for 21 years. The fried stuff, like the grouper sandwich ($13.50) and conch fritters, are the best menu items (the smoked fish ain’t bad either), but the star attraction remains the view across Biscayne Bay to West Islands Park. Bonus waterfront pleasure: If you can make it to Scotty’s July 4, it offers a definitive view of many of Miami’s best fireworks displays, and you’ll have a table, a server, and a hearty chili dog to boot.

Forget those hackneyed airboat tours across the Everglades. Nibbling on the alligator empanadas at Florida Cookery is a truer taste of Florida. At this South Beach restaurant, you won’t find margherita pizzas, niçoise salads, or neon-blue frozen cocktails with too much sugar, too little booze, and one too many paper umbrellas. What you will find are frogs’ legs ($17), wild boar chops ($36), and local quail ($26). There are spicy micheladas and tasty desserts such as dulce de leche rice custard and Puerto Rican pineapple rum cake ($9). The restaurant is inspired by a late-’40s pamphlet about Sunshine State cuisine, which belonged to chef and partner Kris Wessel’s grandmother. Wessel clearly loves Florida’s diverse ethnic and cultural influences: the Caribbean, Latin America, and the American South and Northeast. So when you have visitors, chomp on this!

Chloe Levi is your average Miami Beach resident. She favors coconut milk smoothies, practices Bikram yoga on weekends, and keeps a mostly vegetarian diet. Chloe dislikes chain restaurants, yet she frequents Maoz Vegetarian often. The falafel joint, located just a few steps from Lincoln Road on Washington Avenue, is part of a unique group of eateries. There are franchises in Barcelona, Paris, and New York that are completely vegetarian, kosher, and, in some cases, even vegan and gluten-free. There is a falafel sandwich for $5.95 and a salad option for $7.95. There are vegan soups, juices, and complimentary toppings from a salad bar — including sliced red cabbage, tabouli, and roasted cauliflower and broccoli. Chloe loves Maoz because it’s affordable, healthful, and very unchain-like. Trust Chloe. She knows what’s up.

Few things can trump nibbling on a pan con minuta ($5) while standing at the counter of the West Flagler staple La Camaronera. For 40 years, the cash-only seafood shack has sold delectable fried shrimp, oysters ($8.50), and fish roe ($7). But recently, there have been changes. The restaurant added pan-seared fish fillets and shrimp tacos to its bill of fare. And it took over an adjoining space. Now there are waiters taking orders. There are menus. There are even chairs! Hours were amended too. La Camaronera is open for dinner on weekends. That means those daytime, counter fish-fry lunches have been upgraded to evening, sit-down grouper-soup suppers. Plus, beer and wine will be coming soon. Talk about a fish-fry spruce-up!

Miami’s temperature is approaching 90 degrees. South Beach’s streets are clammy, damp from the midsummer mist. You are hungry, but you don’t want steak frites, lasagna Bolognese, or thick vegetable curries with sticky rice. You want Khong River House’s boat noodles ($18) — a robust, auburn noodle-and-broth soup enriched with fish sauce, beef blood, fried garlic, and chili vinegar. You want Khong’s Vietnamese-style crispy prawns ($31) with spring onions and shallots or Thai tofu salad ($13) with deep-fried bits of soybean curd and vibrant vegetables. Owned by 50 Eggs Inc., the folks behind Yardbird Southern Table & Bar, the restaurant is an oasis of intrepid flavors and startlingly spicy cuisine. Its cooking is based on foods found across the northern Mekong River, particularly in Laos, Burma, Vietnam, and Thailand. Many dishes were previously hard to find around town. Now, when it’s hot out, Khong’s jolts of piquancy and bursts of freshness feel so right.

No name could suit this restaurant better than “the Bazaar.” The mastermind behind the dining spot’s whimsical and delightful cuisine is José Andrés, the James Beard Award-winning restaurateur and culinary icon. At this South Beach eatery situated inside the SLS Hotel, caipirinhas are prepared tableside with liquid nitrogen, Brazilian cachaça, fresh lime, and sugar. The caprese salad ($12) brings cherry tomatoes and spheres of liquid mozzarella that burst and ooze with fresh milk after just one bite. Some dishes offer nods to Miami, such as the Cuban sandwich and the bao con lechón. Others originate in Spain. In the black rossejat ($16), thin, short-cut pasta is tinted with black squid ink and topped with luscious shrimp and garlicky aioli. So what if your teeth turn black after a few bites? The Bazaar is where you go for more than a meal. You visit it for a sublime moment of wonder. Worry about whitening later.

Few would doubt Michael Schwartz’s status as one of Miami’s best-loved chefs. His Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink is known worldwide for serving beautiful food at honest prices in a casual and understated setting. Schwartz followed up his first restaurant with Harry’s Pizzeria, a totally casual and family-friendly place to get a wonderful pizza and a brew. Now, Schwartz has gone to the other end of the spectrum by opening the Cypress Room, a nod to a time when people dressed for dinner and dining out was considered an occasion. A blue neon sign, reminiscent of the Jazz Age, welcomes patrons to the Design District building. Inside, robin’s-egg blue banquettes and white tablecloths whisper understated elegance, while trophies on the wall and floral china give the room the air of a French country manor. But enough about décor, because Schwartz has always been about the food. Before taking its place in the restaurant’s pantry, each vegetable, each piece of meat, each tomato is selected to be the best. That level of quality is reflected in the dishes — and the prices. A marrow bone appetizer with preserved lemon, celery, and garlic toast is delicious, but pricey at $19. Entrées range from $24 for the Cypress burger with Jasper Hill Landaff cheese, onion marmalade, and thrice-cooked fries all the way to a côte de bœuf for two for $129. Or splurge for the five-course wine-pairing dinner at $155 per person. And, of course, you simply must have a sweet ending to your decadent dinner with a dessert by Hedy Goldsmith. Pair your $15 treat with a $5 cup of cold-pressed Panther coffee. When the check comes, don’t look. Just plunk down your card and float on a sea of good food and lovely surroundings this once. You can always brown-bag it for the next month.

Some restaurants garnish plates with minced herbs or segmented citrus. Others, such as Lemoni Café — the tiny, casual Mediterranean restaurant in the Design District — adorn their dishes with something more substantial and much tastier. At the petite restaurant, the food features many vivid vegetables: roasted red bell peppers, black olives, tomatoes, spinach, mushrooms, and red onions. At Lemoni, the cuisine is healthful and simple. There is tabbouleh, served alongside warm pita slices, house-made hummus, feta, and spicy Moroccan eggplant ($13). There are lush chicken salads, prosciutto sandwiches, and turkey wraps, all priced around $7 to $9. Sometimes the fare is dotted with bits of parsley or vibrant pesto. But that’s only embellishment to what is already good-looking: Lemoni Café’s resoundingly natural and fresh fare.

What follows are the requirements for the perfect barbecue restaurant. To start, the locale must be family-owned — preferably by kin who’ve been running the joint for 20 years or more. Smoke from burning hickory must waft through the air. If possible, its blazing aroma should reach beyond the parking lot and into the street. There must be peerless pulled pork, beef ribs, pork ribs, and brisket. Side orders should include collard greens, beans, and cornbread. The only permissible salad is coleslaw. All other greenery must be paired with fried chicken. It is preferable if paper towel rolls and squeeze bottles, holding house-made sauces, are the only furnishings atop the picnic tables. Last, and perhaps most important, the restaurant must be located in an off-center, peripheral spot that, ideally, requires a lengthy drive. The best barbecue is always worth driving for, and no place merits the travel more than Shiver’s BBQ in Homestead — an old-school shrine to smoke and hogs that fulfills all of those requirements and so much more.

When New York got too expensive, the great delis moved to Pittsburgh. But Pittsburgh sucks, and Roasters’ n Toasters is smart. The proprietors have been serving heaping helpings of goodness in Miami since 1984. A fresh bagel loaded with a large scoop of chopped liver, tuna, egg, or chicken salad is a beautiful tradition ($9.95). So are the smoked fish platters with nova, sable, and whitefish ($16.50). The brisket sandwich, Danny’s Special, comes with coleslaw, horseradish, sweet roasted peppers, and Russian dressing — all on garlic bread — and it’s unbelievable ($12.95). The beauty of a great deli is that it usually charges a bit more than you want to spend, but by the end of your meal, you feel like you got off cheap. For instance, the Carnegie Style sandwich costs $16.95 but offers more than a pound of perfectly hand-sliced, melt-in-your-mouth meat delivered New York-style. Breakfast, served all day, includes thick-cut challah French toast ($8.25) and a bagel with cream cheese ($2.95). There are deals too: Chicken soup with half of a hot pastrami sandwich is only $9.95. Wanna add a matzo ball? Only 95 cents. Top it all off with an éclair ($4.95) and you won’t need to eat for a week. Now that’s a deli.

Fish cannot usually fly across the Mediterranean. They can, however, board a plane from Greece to Miami and ride in a car from the airport to a South Beach restaurant. That’s precisely how they arrive at Estiatorio Milos, an haute SoFi dining spot for pristine seafood that has locations in Montreal, Las Vegas, New York, and Athens. At Milos, there are rare species such as fagri, skorpina, and tsipoura — sold for about $50 a pound. There are also sashimis of bigeye tuna and salmon, as well as Maryland blue crab cakes. Savvy seafood lovers know that Milos offers a $24.07 three-course lunch special that includes choices such as diver scallop skewers, grilled Mediterranean bass, shrimp saganaki, and Greek yogurt with thyme honey. So, because most fish don’t have wings for a transatlantic flight, simply head to Estiatorio Milos.

Few things in life are guaranteed. However, choosing Mandolin Aegean Bistro for an intimate dinner almost guarantees you’ll get laid. If you schedule a business lunch, you’ll close that deal or make that big sale. You’ll head to the nearby Louis Vuitton boutique to celebrate because that’s how you roll. The magic happens on a red-and-brown cobblestone patio where sprawling off-white canvas umbrellas cast glorious cool shade during the day. Sandals and mirrored aviator sunglasses are the accessories of choice. White wine is poured happily, and there’s no such thing as a superfast lunch. At night, candles in tall skinny glass jars give off a warm golden glow. Ground lights pointed skyward bring the emerald-green shrubs and flowers that wrap the patio back to daytime vibrancy. No one looks bad in that kind of light.

Water laps softly against bobbing boat hulls. A setting sun turns clouds into wide streaks of orange and red against a purple-blue sky. None of it matters once you hear the sandy, gritty crunch of pale-orange stone crab claws being crushed. The cool evening breeze whooshing in off Biscayne Bay doesn’t matter when you learn that Monty’s Raw Bar in Coconut Grove sells medium Jonah crab claws (or stone crab claws in season) for $4 during a 4 to 8 p.m. happy hour on weeknights. You’d trade the water views for a blighted warehouse as long as the claws remain cheap and the oysters, clams, and peel-and-eat shrimp are still a buck. Yet add the views, the half-priced cocktails and discounted beer, and the din of a hard-drinking happy-hour crowd (many of them UM students), and you’ll swear off those chichi seafood towers forever.

When you tire of lomo saltado, pan con bistec, and ropa vieja; when your digestive system longs for a little roughage and your taste buds for a cleanse; and when your Levi’s are getting tight around the midsection, sniff out the greener pastures of Govinda’s Garden. Hidden behind downtown’s fading flagship Macy’s, it’s too easy to miss. Its forest-colored décor and smattering of chairs and tables are a serene respite from the rest of South Miami Avenue. Order the rainbow-hued quinoa salad ($9.50). You’ll be presented with an artfully overflowing bowl of bright-green spinach leaves, crimson peppers, mint-colored cucumbers, burnished brown raisins, purple cabbage, and taupe cashews topped with a sunny yellow lemon slice. For $2.50, add perfectly browned tofu as a topper. Dressing is optional. Quiet, friendly waitresses will shoot coy smiles your way as you chomp happily on your rabbit food. Your innards (and outards) will thank you.

Afternoon turns to dusk in South Beach. At Juvia, the penthouse restaurant at the Herzog & de Meuron-designed building at 1111 Lincoln Rd., golden rays brush against lush, vertical gardens. The foliage is a creation of French botanist Patrick Blanc. Amethyst-colored elements — cushions, cloth napkins, crystals — dot the glowing 10,000-square-foot eatery, which features a terrace covered by a trackless retractable roof and a rectangular fountain. Designed by Alejandro Barrios-Carrero, the setting fuses nature and open sky with urbanity and concrete. It pairs peerless architecture with landscape and design. The restaurant is a James Beard Award winner for Outstanding Restaurant Design, 76 Seats and Over. It’s also a spectacular spot for cocktails and dinner at sunset.

Oh, hunger, you are an eternal beast. Always on the prowl. Always in search of the next meal. This could be why Palate Party has a giant mouth as its logo — teeth bared in a never-ending quest for interesting edibles. But while some food trucks exist only to feed your hunger, this truck, owned and operated by chef Robyn Almodovar, seeks to entertain the beast through comfort foods made from fresh ingredients such as local produce and sustainable seafood. No frozen Sysco stuff for Almodovar, who, by the way, might look waifish in her tight red pants and chef’s coat but is tough as nails. She had a trial by fire at the hands of Gordon Ramsay himself. This lady can cook, sass, and break into a wild dance that resembles Snoopy’s suppertime freestyle. After a few bites of her food, you and your mouth — finally free from hunger’s shackles — will likely join in the celebration.

If culinary icon José Andrés were an actor in a Hollywood flick, he’d probably be Tom Hanks in Big. Andrés, who’s based in Washington, D.C., is as energetic at cooking as Josh Baskin is at playing “Chopsticks” on the piano at FAO Schwartz — only Andrés plays less with big instruments and a bit more with mozzarella and olives. Andrés would be like Chuck in Castaway — except Spanish tapas-style cuisine would be the unopened FedEx package. (The chef, after all, is credited with bringing Spain’s cuisine to the United States.) Andrés, who owns nearly a dozen restaurants nationwide, is business-savvy like the band manager in That Thing You Do! and he perseveres like the FBI agent in Catch Me If You Can. So when José Andrés debuted the Bazaar at the SLS Hotel in South Beach, the one thought on everybody’s mind was: If I were Rita Wilson, would that mean I’d get Andrés’ bagel and lox — an edible cone filled with salmon roe and dill cream cheese — for breakfast every day? Well, a fan can dream.

— Burt, we never go anywhere nice anymore. Remember when you would woo me with dinners at that great sushi restaurant, the one with eight seats and impeccable fish? Why don’t we go there tonight?

— Martha, there’s no way I can get us a table at Naoe. Chef Kevin Cory is booked weeks in advance.

— I’m tired of excuses. I want uni, and I want it now.

— But it’s just not that simple. Kevin Cory isn’t your run-of-the-mill chef. He’s a five-star sushi master acclaimed by Forbes. The New York Post called Naoe one of the best restaurants in the nation. Folks travel from out of town to go to his omakase-style joint — even though it starts at $160 a person. Imagine that!

— Oh, I get it. You think a night out with me isn’t worth that kind of expense.

— Well, dear, I probably won’t ever win this argument, but I do know one thing for sure: Kevin Cory’s cooking is — and always will be — absolutely priceless.

Vanilla ice cream atop warm apple pie? That’s not Antonio Bachour’s style. The executive pastry chef at St. Regis Bal Harbour Resort pairs perfect quenelles of mango, raspberry, or passionfruit sorbet with treats such as piña colada mousseline and chocolate-hazelnut bars. What about whipped cream atop a chocolate tart? Nope. That’s not his MO either. Bachour pipes precise lines of coconut or milk chocolate cremeux next to tropical fruit foams and yogurt snow. He combines creamy lychee-rose water panna cotta with ephemeral raspberry fizzy. He garnishes desserts with vibrant edible flowers, and his chocolate bonbons are spattered with the textures of a Jackson Pollock painting and the vivacious colors of a Mark Rothko piece. Is Antonio Bachour simply a pastry chef? Uh-uh. He’s more like an artist of all things frozen, beautiful, and sweet.

Ma! Pa! I’ve got some big news. Sit down, sit down. No, Mom, relax. It’s not what you think. Listen, you remember my friend Roger Duarte?

Claro, the one who sells stone crabs?

Yup, that’s the one. Well, I’ve decided to quit my job as executive chef of the Raleigh Hotel in South Beach. Roger and I are going to open a take-away seafood shack next to a hostel in SoFi. Isn’t that an amazing idea?

Papi, you handle this one.

Son, are you saying that after moving to Miami from Colombia, graduating from Johnson & Wales University, working under famous chefs such as Laurent Tourondel in New York and Michael Schwartz in Miami, making Forbes‘ “30 Under 30” list, and receiving a nomination as Rising Star Chef by the James Beard Foundation, you’re going to give it all up to sell ceviche and taquitos next to some hostel?

That’s right, Pop. Forget haute cuisine. I’m almost 30 years old. Now is the time to do what I love: approachable, ultra-fresh seafood at a place we’ll call My Ceviche. Don’t you see? I’m more than just talent. I’m a trailblazer. I’m going to bring delicious and affordable fish to all of Miami.

Ay dios mio. I need to sit down.

Expand your horizons and your definition of “gourmet” at the Homestead staple Robert Is Here. No frills and no fuss, just excellent produce, freshly canned goods, and some of the best flavors South Florida and its farmers can offer. The fruit milkshakes ($5 to $5.50) are legendary, so grab one while you browse the unique sweet and savory dips, salsas, jams, and hot sauces. Oh, and out back there’s a petting zoo and kids’ splash area that transform this market into an attraction worthy of a day trip. The market is open daily except September and October, when the place is refurbished and prepared for winter produce. The motto here is “Come taste the unusual!” It’s highly recommended you taste the unusual, unique, and absolutely delicious.

It’s Friday and you’re in no mood to cook, much less walk the dog. Grab Bruno by the leash and stroll over the causeway to the Crab House’s parking lot — you’ll be glad you did. First make the rounds and sample the goods, everything from pâté to the best homemade pickles you’ve ever wrapped your lips around. After you’ve whetted your appetite, head back to the pickle lady for some garlic pickles, marinated olives, or cucumber salad ($3 to $6); then return to the ceviche guy and hand over the dough for some of his mayo-free (how is it so good?) chicken salad. Check if the produce tent has any brown tomatoes (so good you might dream about them later) and toss a couple in your bag. Next, pick up some fresh pineapple juice for $3, and on your way to one of the plastic tables right by the bay, visit the tent that offers fresh, locally made, to-die-for burrata cheese. Once you and Bruno have finished off your waterfront meal, tie him to a table leg and enjoy a professional massage. How ya feeling now? The market is closed for the summer but reopens in the fall.

Hani Khouri’s name is splashed on menus across town — at Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink, the Forge, Lee & Marie’s Cakery, and other notable eateries. These restaurants all cook with his farmstead cheeses, which are made with goat’s milk and prepared at his farm in the Redland. Khouri’s most popular product is Hani’s cheese, a fromage blanc-like goat’s milk creation. But the goat herder also makes labneh by mixing milk with bacteria and then hanging it to drain. He prepares halloumi, feta, and goat’s milk cheddar too. His cheeses, priced $22 to $24 a pound, can be purchased at farmers’ markets and shops around the Magic City. Khouri, on the other hand, can be found on his farm, where he tends to his 17 goats.

Pattypan squash looks like a small flying saucer, has scalloped edges, and grows in colors such as white, green, and yellow. It’s not the kind of squash you find in supermarkets, which is why the community supported agriculture (CSA) program at Redland Organics is much better than shopping in stores. Margie Pikarsky, the farmer behind Bee Heaven Farm, coordinates this CSA. It works a little like this: In the summer, you sign up for five months of produce ($33.50 a week for family shares, $20 for small shares). The season runs from mid-November through mid-April. Each week, you pick up a box full of farm-fresh fruits and vegetables, such as caimitos, red mizuna, romanesco, watermelon radishes, beets, and strawberries. Everything is organic. Choices are determined entirely by nature, which means pattypan squash is only the start.

Your Spanish is weak, but your desire for fresh fish is strong. Worry not, seafood addict. You must learn only the following terms to shop at Casablanca Seafood, the family-owned fish market located on the Miami River:

“¿Quién sigue?” Fishmongers like to holler. They bellow and often ask who’s next. Raise your hand.

“¿Qué quieres?” Fishmongers are impatient. A crowd is trickling in. A line is forming. Pristine yellowtail snapper, Spanish mackerel, and shell-on Gulf Coast shrimp can be distracting. What do you want? Make your decisions quickly.

“En filete?” Fishmongers weigh whole fish and then offer to fillet them. Unless you’re better with a knife than you are with español, say sí. Or nod.

“Propina buena!” Fishmongers love good tips. Always provide them.

In a city where the catch of the day might mean fish netted in China or Maine, you now hold the power to walk out of Casablanca Seafood with two things: Miami fish linguistics and a baggie full of the freshest catch in town.

A freestanding wine cooler looms over the dining room at the Design District’s Oak Tavern. But it holds no bottles. The refrigerator shelters “forcemeats” — minced meat emulsified with fatback and aged for weeks. There is Tuscan fennel salami, Calabrese salami, and soppressata. There is bresaola, made of beef, and even duck prosciutto. But these cured meats aren’t imported or shipped from out of state. While some chefs in town are taking more and more shortcuts, David Bracha keeps one of the world’s oldest crafts alive: the art of charcuterie. His meats are priced at $15 for lunch and $22 for dinner and come served atop a wooden plank alongside accompaniments, including sliced artisan bread, whole-grain mustard, pickled carrots, cucumber, green beans, mustard fruit, and marinated Cerignola olives. So his charcuterie is not only a good deal but also proof that some things — such as ground, salted pork — still improve with time.

When three fellows named Andreas Schreiner, José Mendín, and Sergio Navarro launched a restaurant group in 2010, they named it Pubbelly. When the trio partnered with Michael Pirolo, the former chef of Scott Conant’s Scarpetta at the Fontainebleau, they named their restaurant Macchialina. The four-person team debuted this Pubbelly Italian restaurant with the team’s signature touches: laid-back vibe, reasonable prices, and tasty cuisine. At Macchialina, Pirolo’s cooking includes homespun fresh pastas such as spaghetti con vongole ($18). There’s a short yet well-curated beer and wine list. There’s also a unique tiramisu ($9): a jar layered with chocolate crumbles and espresso granita — quite the cool touch. But the coolest thing here isn’t dessert. It’s Macchialina’s sheer wonderfulness.

If you were to stumble upon MC Kitchen, maybe after a stroll through the Design District’s shops or perhaps drawn by the wafting aromas of Italian fare, you would probably end up sipping a cocktail made with Dogfish Head beer. (Three of six drinks are, in fact, prepared with suds.) You will enjoy the sleek dining room and then ingest Niman Ranch meats, succulent fish, and fresh pastas such as cavatelli, fiocchi, and trofie. You will sample the excellent charred octopus ($18) and delectable tiramisu ($10). Yet you won’t be most impressed by the peerless cuisine or tasteful setting. You’ll be positively awed by the restaurant’s chef, Dena Marino, who will likely be working in the open kitchen — baking pizettes, plating crudos, and searing fillets. She’ll be smiling, probably. And after dining at MC Kitchen, you will be too.

Ostrich carpaccio crowned with foccacia croutons and drizzled with rooibos-tea-smoked tomato oil. Chamomile-horseradish-glazed salmon coupled with cold quinoa salad and grilled green apple rings. Pot stickers plumped with pulled duck meat braised with figs and leeks ($8). These dishes might sound like the capricious ideas of a quixotic cook, but that could not be further from the truth. Micah Edelstein — South African native, Top Chef season three contestant, and chef of eclectic and imaginative eats — proffers these creations at her downtown restaurant, Nemesis Urban Bistro. Here, Edelstein experiments with a myriad of flavors from across the globe. The restaurant forgoes convention, which is why dining here is like a voyage. It’s a globetrotting dinner, the kind where you sample smoked veal bobotie, Egyptian dukkah, and bison steaks with huckleberry/dark-chocolate chili sauce in just one seating.

“Run, pig, run” is the motto of this pork-centric restaurant from 50 Eggs Inc. Though the opening of Swine Southern Table & Bar might be extremely bad news for the oinkers of the world, it’s cause for celebration in the City Beautiful. After all, in a town once known for having more bridal shops than brides per capita, it’s nice to know you can walk into a place and get a heaping portion of fall-off-the-bone pig flesh and a good, stiff drink. Swine is bathed in warm amber lighting — the kind that makes everything sepia-toned, like an old postcard. Try dining on the second floor, overlooking the communal table. The decibel level is high on a Friday evening, when every seat is filled with petite women in designer finery tearing into dry-rubbed and smoked Memphis-style ribs ($32) and devouring hunks of bovine goodness in the form of Black Angus burnt ends ($16) served on butcher paper to sop up the juices. The accompanying men gladly pick up the tab to watch their dates lose themselves in a feeding frenzy filled with such raw carnal pleasure. To wash down all of this meaty goodness, the bar program features plenty of good Kentucky bourbon, including the cultish Pappy Van Winkle collection. Don’t think Swine is inelegant, however. Everything in this room has a pedigree — from the shelves, made of reclaimed barn wood, to the photographs depicting Mississippi blues culture by photojournalist Bill Steber, to the iron machinery parts hanging on the wall. Swine may be rough around the edges, but there’s a diamond hiding inside — and it’s made of bacon.

There are two ways to open a restaurant in Miami. The first is to invest a boatload of money (hopefully not yours); hire a team of decorators, consultants, artists, musicians, and public relations people; and then make the glitziest place in town. The other way is to build all the tables and the bar from scratch and stick to a simple menu based on a no-nonsense theme of serving people tasty food procured from local sources that customers can feel good about. If you’re a douchebag, you’ll flock to restaurant number one for expensive grub with lots of foam and edible flowers and pyrotechnics. However, if you just want a really good burger and a brew, you’ll head to LoKal. Owner Matt Kuscher has done everything by hand in this small, friendly locals respite from nearby CocoWalk. He’s even glued several hundred cassette tapes onto the bar for decoration, put out doggie biscuits for local pups, and picked fresh gator for the menu. The menu, by the way, comprises mostly burgers and beer. But the burgers are made from local hormone-free, grass-fed cattle. And the beer is carefully selected to be local and delicious. And did we mention that LoKal’s burgers and beer were reviewed on LeBron James’ personal website? It could be because there’s a burger here named after the Miami Heat, made with spicy jack, jalapeños, and sriracha ($11) — or it could simply be because it’s one damn fine sandwich. Not into burgers? There are “pink tacos” made with shrimp freshly harvested from the Gulf of Mexico ($11), chicken and waffles that would make your mom tear up in jealousy ($14), and fresh local gator strips ($12). If that’s not enough for ya, maybe you’ll be convinced by the complete doggie menu that features Bowser Beer.

Even though Miami is considered the “sixth borough” of New York City, it has a dearth of real, honest-to-goodness restaurants serving authentic Italian-American cuisine. We’re talking red sauce, fresh clams, spicy sausage, and homemade pasta served by sassy guys who look like they could moonlight as Tony Soprano’s foot soldiers. Alba’s chef Ralph Pagano looks (and cooks) the part of a New York restaurateur, and the food — from the clams oreganata “Sheepshead Bay style” ($12) to the lobster francese ($34), taken from Pagano’s grandfather Vinny D’s recipe — makes you pine for the old country (the old country being, of course, Coney Island). Pagano also loves a party, so visit on WTF (Wine, Travel, Food) Thursday, when the affable toque will stuff you with whatever he’s cooking and drinking for only $35. If you’re feeling lucky, go for the Vinny D split, which gives you a chance to win your meal for free. As you dive into your bucatini carbonara, whose poached egg commingles with the pancetta and fresh pasta ($21), take a whiff of fresh sea air and close your eyes. Are you back in Sheepshead Bay or at a tony Sunny Isles Beach resort? As Pagano himself would probably say: “Just shut the f–k up and eat.” So we do.

Kendall may be a lovely place to raise a family, but when it comes to dining, it can be a suburban wasteland. If you live there, you probably find yourself dining at big chain restaurants that “treat you like family” and whose waitstaff wears “flair” and suspenders. But, as if dropped from the sky by a benevolent race of space gourmands, Devon Seafood & Steak suddenly appeared at, of all places, the Palms at the Town & Country. Executive chef Scott Barrow serves a 16-ounce USDA Prime Kansas City strip ($45) worthy of any fine establishment in Chicago, New York, or… Miami! The seafood section sounds like a travel guide: barramundi from New Zealand, mahi-mahi from Costa Rica, rainbow trout from Idaho — all flown in daily. Devon uses the best purveyors for its proteins and produce — going so far as to thank them right on the menu. You might even recognize the names of some fine-dining establishments in the Design District or Brickell: Creekstone Farms, Jackman Ranch Farm, Lynn Bros. Seafood. Go ahead. Take the money you saved in gas and order dessert. After all, you’re only a few minutes from home.

Ni.Do. Caffè’s bentwood chairs and wooden tables are very charming. So are the restaurant’s artichoke soufflé ($14), delectable pumpkin soup, and ample meat lasagna ($16) — thick layers of pasta smothered in Bolognese sauce, mozzarella, and Parmesan. Sure, at this Italian joint, there is wine, tiramisu, and fun. But stay focused, because these things are even more delightful with a side of Ni.Do.’s house-made cheeses: ricotta, mozzarella fior di latte, and burrata. The last ($10.50), made with cow’s milk, is a wonderful knotted pouch of mozzarella with an oozing center full of fresh curds and cream. Add salty prosciutto, some marinated cherry tomatoes, and mixed olives. Italo-overload? No, no. A platter laden with fresh cheeses, vegetables, and charcuterie is as charming as dinner can get.

Everything about 2B Asian Bistro is bold. But first and foremost is its founder, Bond Trisransri, whose Mohawk is as tall as a top hat. There was his decision to open not one but two sushi restaurants in Little Havana (Trisransri also launched Mr. Yum at Calle Ocho and 20th Avenue). And then, of course, there is the food: colorful, intricate, and spicy offerings such as wahoo carpaccio ($13.95), sexy dynamite rolls ($16.95), and fried duck in cinnamon plum sauce ($24.95). That might be de rigueur downtown, but in a neighborhood where the average meal is a cafecito and pastelito, 2B Asian is downright different. That’s a good thing. Although the bistro might be a bit expensive, most meals are worth it. The sushi is fresh and succulent, from the simple salmon yuzu roll to the luxurious lobster tempura roll. The renegade restaurant also offers steaming curries, chef’s specials like the flaming fish — a slice of halibut engulfed in rum-fueled flames — and Thai doughnuts for dessert. Be bold. Indulge. You can always walk next door for a cheap cigar and a cortadito afterward.

For some of us, the other six days of the week pass in a gray streak as we await Sunday. It is then that our otherwise colorless week is turned tomato red as we sit down to that most wonderful of libations — the bloody mary. After all, how many other cocktails can boast they are as fulfilling as a meal? A bloody can disappoint by being unoriginal, but the version at 660 at the Angler’s Resort is fresh and vibrant. It begins with a house-made mix consisting of fresh tomato juice, a squeeze of lime, a touch of Tabasco, and a wisp of Worcestershire. From there, Finlandia vodka is added, black pepper is sprinkled, and the rim is kissed with a blend of spices. The first sip is soul-satisfying as the subtle spice provides an endorphin rush before the vodka works its mellowing magic. One bloody is $9, but why would you stop there when three are such a bahgain, dahling, at $14? Though available every day, the 660 bloody mary is best reserved for Sunday, if only to give us a reason to live through the workweek.

It’s Friday evening on South Beach and you’ve just finished a stressful workweek. Everyone walking along Lincoln Road seems to be on vacation except you. As you watch tanned (or sunburned) bodies in bejeweled flip-flops stroll the pedestrian mall, you have a sudden urge to duck into a café and sit with a cool drink. The festive citrus colors of SushiSamba catch your eye, and you choose a prime spot under an oversize orange umbrella. You don’t even need to peruse the menu. You want a mojito supremo ($14). Though many mojitos are mixed with whatever rum comes in a plastic gallon container, this beauty comes with Zafra, a rare 21-year-old Panamanian elixir filled with tropical fruit and spice notes. The rum is mixed with fresh mint leaves and lime juice before being topped with Zonin prosecco. As samba music plays in the background, you take a long sip, allowing the cold liquid to hit between your eyes in an exquisite brain freeze that blocks out the interior noises of your boss screaming, the bills mounting, and the world. Then you melt into the melody and enjoy your own South Beach vacation — if only for an hour.

Fendi purses, Gucci heels, and Ferraris. That’s how we roll in the 305, where excess is everything and more is, well, more. You can say a lot about our piece of the world, but you simply cannot say we are subtle. So when you’re out on the town, will a simple $18 martini do? Not for a playah like you. You need the DiVine martini at Haven gastro-lounge. As you walk into the room, the bar is packed, but the crowd parts like the Red Sea for you, oh, master (or mistress) of the universe. You take the last available seat at the bar and ask mixologist extraordinaire Isaac Grillo for something special. What you receive is the DiVine martini, an ice-cold luxury libation that starts with a liberal pour of Stoli Elit (you know, the vodka that consistently achieves platinum status from the Beverage Testing Institute) and adds a touch of Filthy olive brine before being stirred gently but firmly. Prior to being presented to you, caviar-stuffed olives are added as a garnish. This is a cocktail worthy of your status in life. At $40, it’s a far cry from happy hour in the suburbs — but then again, so are you.

Of course we flock to Lime Fresh Mexican Grill for those fresh tacos and that queso dip, but a meal here just doesn’t feel right without one of those bright-green frozen margaritas. They taste like candy and go down even quicker. It’s nearly impossible not to consider ordering another. Oh, what the heck. But let’s be careful — too many could get us drumk. Ha, did we write “drumk”? We totally meant “drumk.” Whoops, wrote it again. No, we’re fine. Hey. Hey, reader. Did we ever tell you how awesome you are? No, we really, really mean it. You’re always there for us. Reading us. Are you still seeing that guy? ‘Cuz we always thought maybe, you know, maybe we could have had something. Oh, you’re still together with him? That’s cool. Don’t worry. Don’t even worrby abot it. Do you wanna dance right now? Ohmygawd, we love this songggg! Don’tyouloveit? It’s soooooofjsdfjdkslfjsdkf. [Editor’s note: These margaritas are delicious, but please drink responsibly.]

At most restaurants, the chef is in the back working on ambitious or classic flavor profiles for his food, leaving the bar manager to use the same recipes and possibly make a signature drink or two. Rarely does the chef leave his domain to venture out behind the bar and create a “chef-driven” cocktail program. But that’s exactly what Tongue & Cheek’s chef/partner Jamie DeRosa has done. Instead of hiring a beverage director, DeRosa created a collection of whimsical and classic cocktails for his restaurant. From the Bourbon for Apples, made with Buffalo Trace, green apples, and fresh thyme (with little red ice “apples” floating in the drink, $14), to the Walking Dead, a potent mixture of Death’s Door gin and fresh muddled strawberries ($14), each cocktail was created to be appealing to the palate and eye. If you’re looking for some razzle-dazzle (and an instant buzz), try the blackberry molecular margarita. For $22, you get a show, complete with smoky liquid nitrogen and strange glassware, that you can drink. Containing four ounces of Milagro Silver tequila, this is one potent potable that could do double duty as a dessert sorbet/nightcap or just an über-refreshing drink after the beach. Bonus: Get to the bar between 5 and 7 p.m. any day, and cocktails (except the molecular) are only $8. Good drinks, good deal.

Lagniappe, the Big Easy-style beer-and-wine bar in midtown, has more than 100 vintages for sale. There are small-name vintners, such as Garage Wine Co.’s Chilean Cabernet Franc ($47), and more affordable selections, such as the Wishing Tree’s Australian Shiraz ($25). Lagniappe does not charge a corkage fee. It does, however, include a $2 music surcharge on the bill — but that’s only because this hip venue features live entertainment every night. So choose a bottle from the racks, pay at the counter, grab a few glasses, and saunter over to Lagniappe’s tea-light-studded terrace. Listen to the fellow playing the cello while you swirl and sip. Lagniappe has a great wine selection. It’s also a lovely spot to enjoy it all.

The story behind Michael’s Genuine Home Brew (22-ounce bottle, $12) does not begin with Cicerones sniffing pours and pinpointing the optimal colors for a brew. It starts, rather, with local ingredients, crop rotations, and farmers. In his first homebrew, James Beard Award-winning chef and restaurateur Michael Schwartz uses Seminole Chief (Sem-Chi) brown rice — a crop that Florida Crystals uses to replenish soil after cane fields are harvested. The locally grown rice is shipped to Gadsden, Alabama. There, craft brewery Back Forty Beer Co. produces a light-bodied American ale with hints of floral hops and sweet citrus. It’s among the first time Sunshine State ingredients have been used for the grain bill of a beer. That explains why it pairs so wonderfully with Schwartz’s farm-fresh fare. Find Michael’s Genuine Home Brew at all of Schwartz’s restaurants — Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink, Harry’s Pizzeria, the Cypress Room, and Restaurant Michael Schwartz — plus World of Beer, Total Wine, Shake Shack, the Room, Pubbelly, the Broken Shaker, Wood Tavern, and a ton of other places.

Somewhere, in an alternate universe, there’s a land called Beeradise. There, IPAs flow from golden taps. Rivers run with red-hued ales. Skies rain refreshing lagers. And everyone is happily buzzed, from sunup to sundown. Sadly, we don’t live there. But in our own little piece of creation, World of Beer Dadeland is as close as it comes to a brew-based Shangri-la. This shiny, laid-back beer-only bar stocks a whopping 500-plus brews. From Blue Point Toasted Lager to Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA, and from Woodchuck Raspberry Cider to Delirium Tremens, it’s all there — cold, delicious, and awaiting your thirsty tongue. Plus, WOB now carries its own draft, C’est la Vie!, a Belgian tripel brewed exclusively for WOB by Belgium’s Bavik Brewing Company. And if you’re into sampling new brews (who isn’t?), for $15 you can join WOB’s loyalty club, score a sweet T-shirt, and earn points for every different beer you consume. A place where being a boozer finally pays off.

Barton G. is to desserts what Dolly Parton is to country music. Dolly is big, fabulous, and over-the-top — and so are the Miami Beach restaurant’s golden funnel cakes ($36). To make this carnival treat, eight enormous pieces of crisp, deep-fried swirls are paired with rich chocolate, caramel, and strawberry dipping sauces. Barton G. also offers a sweet named the Sabrina sundae ($43) — which, by the way, is served in a colossal martini glass that’s practically the size of Parton’s hair. The bowl is filled to the brim with Valrhona chocolate brownies and more than two and a half pints of house-made ice cream. The whole thing is crowned with Chantilly cream, sprinkles, sculpted chocolate, and maraschino cherries. Some evenings, Barton G.’s dessert service even involves props, gizmos, and sparklers. Sounds like the perfect treat to eat after workin’ 9 to 5.

Cue the swaying palm trees, cafecitos, and intro beats to Joe Arroyo’s “Rebelión,” because Azucar Ice Cream Company embodies Calle Ocho in sugar, cream, and waffle cones. Staffers wear shirts stamped with Cuban sayings: “Que arroz con mango,” “¡El golpe avisa!” and “¡Dale!” Outside, a live band plays salsa and son directly below a huge sculpture of a loaded ice-cream cone. The shop proffers flavors such as mamey, passionfruit, plátano maduro (sweet plantain), and a trademarked Abuela María — delicious, sweet vanilla ice cream with ripe guava, chunks of cream cheese, and crushed Maria cookies ($3.50 small, $4.50 large). Azucar satisfies cravings for dancing, desserts, and ice cream varieties such as double turrón. So next time you’re in Little Havana, ya tu sabes exactly where to go.

Got a fever? Traditional remedies may include ibuprofen and ice baths, but there’s certainly something better (and sweeter) out there. Feverish Pops, a brand of vegan-friendly frozen treats owned by ice-cream enthusiast Felecia Hatcher, began as a small-batch pops operation selling from the back of a neon-green Scion xB. Soon, vintage carts started shooting up around town. Now, Hatcher owns a boutique in midtown, where pops are sweetened with organic evaporated cane juice or agave nectar and are prepared with organic fruits. Flavors are fun: There’s orange-cilantro, peanut butter and jelly, and chocolate-banana-sea salt ($3). Some are spiked with beer or booze ($4). Fighting a high body temperature? Take a bite outta Hatcher’s blueberry and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer pop. That’ll make the pain go away any day.

There are many ways to eat a cupcake from Buttercream Cupcakes & Coffee in Coral Gables. You can peel away the chocolate Oreo’s baking cup ($2.75 each, $33 per baker’s dozen) and then devour its butter-filled frosting one nibble at a time. You can tear off the top of an orange cupcake and then lick the orange-zest-speckled buttercream bit by bit. You could try a myriad of methods with the shop’s 18 other flavors, which include chocolate-peanut butter, lime, mocha, and red velvet. Those are all very good trials. But after sampling all of Buttercream’s moist, fluffy cakes, you should really try this: Remove the cupcake’s wrapping, pull off its spongy bottom, plop it atop the frosting, and eat. Enjoy the beauty of a self-made, sweet Buttercream cupcake sandwich.

There’s a warm feeling you get when something reaches your palate and nostalgia strikes. Sometimes it makes you smirk about your childhood or laugh about all the mischief you got into. Like a familiar smell, memories come flooding in from the past. Suddenly, you’re 9 years old again, sitting on your grandma’s counter, salivating over a bowl of fresh peach slices dusted with brown sugar and cinnamon. The homemade crumble nearby just came out of the oven, and now it and the peaches will go back into the oven until Grandma can spoon it steaming-hot into a bowl with a cold scoop of ice cream. That’s the feeling — the memory — evoked by Pride & Joy’s cobbler. A piping-hot peach cobbler arrives in the bowl it was baked in — fresh from the oven — with a creamy scoop of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream ($6.95). This sweet treat almost seems like trickery. Who at this Wynwood barbecue joint stole Gram’s recipe book? But after about a half-dozen visits (just for the cobbler), you begin to accept that it’s simply a coincidence. And a damn great one.

El Tío Loco walks around aimlessly during family gatherings. He’s always mumbling something about the old days in Havana, taking deep drags off his “legal” cigarros, and carrying that aluminum flask of amazing mystery rum in his pocket. See, El Tío Loco might stumble when he walks and slur his speech when he talks, but the man knows what he’s slurring about. Tío Loco takes us to only one place in Miami-Dade for flan. It’s the only place he says makes a better flan than he. It’s not anywhere on Calle Ocho or in Little Havana. It’s not in Hialeah or in Westchester (pronounced WEH-cheh-tehr). The original Cuban Guys location stands adjacent to a Sedano’s Supermarket and a Payless Shoesource in a Hialeah Gardens shopping center. “M’ija,” Tío Loco says, “Los Cuban Guys tienen el mejor flan. ¿Oiste? ¡El mejor!” Consider the velvety-smooth Cuban custard a French crème caramel with an identity crisis — a damn good identity crisis. It’s the creamiest flan in town, and its almíbar — dark caramel syrup — makes you wish you grew up with Tío Loco taking you on flan runs every Saturday. At $2.99 a pop, the price is unbeatable. And because this is Miami, where one option is simply unthinkable, there are also other varieties: cappuccino, guava with cheese, and dulce de leche. But nothing beats the original. Unlike wobbly Tío Loco — who probably loves it so much because it embodies everything he aspires to be — Cuban Guys’ flan is smooth, creamy, and supple. Go see what you’ve been missing.

Antonio Arminio barely speaks English. Growing up in a town near Naples, Italy, there really wasn’t a need to learn it. But now he’s in Miami, and along with two buddies, Alessandro Alvino and Domenico D’Addio, he’s opened a gelateria on Ocean Drive. Gee, that’s exciting: a gelateria. Miami has only a thousand of them. Perhaps that’s the case, but Gelato-Go implores you to understand how Italians enjoy gelato — the way it’s meant to be enjoyed. None of that powdered product and franchise crap. Small business. Small batches. Big difference. Because Arminio has an actual degree from a gelato-making school in Italy (yes, those exist), you can be sure he knows what he’s doing. The gelato machine in the backroom is tiny, which can mean only one thing: Everything must be made in small batches. The brains behind the South Beach establishment are not trying to be trendy by saying their stuff is “artisanal” or “handcrafted.” Arminio argues that French is the best kind of vanilla to use for gelato, and that’s why he doesn’t employ the Mexican or Madagascan stuff. Don’t argue. Pistachio gelato here is made with pistachios from a specific farm in Sicily — because those are the best and purest and certified by Italy. It’s safest not to argue about that either. A small cup with two flavors costs $4.40. Medium and large increase by just a buck per size (but you can fit more flavors in). Ultimately, the quality of Gelato-Go’s flavors are topnotch, but there are also funky twists on the menu, including strawberry spaghetti (spaghetti-shaped vanilla gelato served with fresh strawberries). That’s unlike anything Miami has ever seen. Go get acquainted.

Icebox Café, which recently relocated a short distance from its space off Lincoln Road to the new restaurant mecca of Sunset Harbour, offers a creamy, tart, deep-dish beauty of a key lime pie. Made with a robust and sturdy graham-cracker crust, this Conch Republic treat is made with a rich custard-like filling that strikes the right balance between sweet and tart. The bakers at Icebox also put in a considerable amount of time to get this key lime pie right: 40 minutes of prep, 12 to 14 minutes in the oven, followed by three hours in the fridge. To make this delicious confection, Icebox uses eight whole graham crackers, two tablespoons of sugar, five tablespoons of melted unsalted butter, a half cup of sugar, one tablespoon of grated lime zest, eight ounces of softened cream cheese, a 14-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk, a third cup of vanilla instant pudding mix, one and a quarter teaspoons of unflavored gelatin, one cup of fresh lime juice from six to eight limes, and one teaspoon of vanilla extract. At $7.50 a slice, it’s a sinful steal.