Chefs of all stripes like to say that with regard to cuisine, quality is in the details. For the Cuban gourmet one measuring stick for refined gastronomy is to be found in the mariquitas (curly, long, plantain chips). Casa Romeu's are el maximo: soft and fluffy, not crispy and burned like at some places. Another culinary barometer is the sopa de pollo (chicken soup), which Romeu's customers wistfully remember for days, sometimes weeks. Somehow they even make people rave about the congrí, a seasoned mixture of rice and beans. Romeu regulars are especially fanatical about the picadillo (a juicy, piquant concoction of ground beef, onion, peppers, and spices) and the bistec empanizado (breaded steak). Located about a mile north of Miami Lakes, the restaurant opens at 7:00 a.m. and closes at midnight. ¿Qué más tu quieres?
Yes, Nuevo Siglo is "decrepit-looking," as noted in the New York Times. In fact it looks pretty much as decrepit as most of Havana, Cuba. Sitting at the counter on a balmy winter afternoon, a coffee-scented breeze wafting in from the window open to the cacophony of Calle Ocho, you feel a little like you're lunching in your tia's funky kitchen in Centro Habana. Your tia who can always comfort you with a bowl of savory chicken soup, who seems to effortlessly produce plate after plate of really good Cuban food, such as roasted pork and chicken, picadillo, oxtail (sometimes goat, lamb, or shrimp) accompanied by perfect yuca or maduros, and of course plenty of rice and the potaje of the day -- black beans, garbanzos. Nothing fancy, just a solid meal a lo cubano. The menu changes daily and the entrées go fast. A big lunch can run you five to seven dollars. There are also some decent breakfast specials.
Proprietors of so-called American steakhouses take note: We're just a wee bit tired of the strip-sirloin-and-creamed-spinach routine. That's why we've turned to the products of the asador, the grill room located between the double dining rooms at Graziano's. Like American steak places, Graziano's serves the bare bones -- beef à la carte -- but the flavor of Argentine hardwood and the juiciness sealed in by a slow-turning rotisserie make the cuts of meat incomparable. Nonbeef main courses include suckling pig and gigantic Patagonian shrimp, also hot off the asador. Add starters like quickly seared blocks of Provolone, homemade sausages, or grilled sweetbreads, and a wine list so comprehensive even enophiles get confused, and what's left to say but grazie?
Many people aren't even aware of the place, which isn't so surprising. This stretch of Collins Avenue, dominated by high-rise condo buildings, hardly seems a likely locale for a classy restaurant. But here is Shula's, tucked away near the back of the Alexander, far from the bustling crowds, the perfect setting for a dining room conducive to privacy. Here there are no clanging plates, noisy diners, or obtrusive music. Here you and your guest can slip into a plush banquette and recede from the world, almost literally invisible. Here the waitstaff is discreet and respectful. Here you won't be thoughtlessly interrupted. Here, as you indulge the decadent menu, you can say what you really think and no one but your intended listener will hear.

True to its origins, this Parisian bistro stocks a healthy number of red wines to counteract all those high-fat cheese and meat offerings. But the so-called French Paradox isn't what Brasserie Les Halles is all about. Indeed the eatery, which highlights different regions of France such as the Loire Valley and Alsace-Lorraine, offers an exceptional number of vins blanc as well. Looking for something appropriately matched to the rabbit roasted in mustard sauce? A cool Chateau de Maimbray Sancerre is a good option. A little bubbly to celebrate a special occasion or maybe just to wash down a bowl of moules marinières? The 1990 Pommery Cuvée Louise is a delicious choice -- and priced at $165 is just a bit less expensive than other lists around town. Of course if you believe nothing fits a French bill like an order of steak frites and a glass of Bordeaux or Burgundy, then at Brasserie Les Halles you'll always be in the money.
When they had their place called Norma's on Miami Beach, partners Delius Shirley and executive chef Cindy Hutson built a reputation as masters of Jamaican cuisine, in part because Delius's mom Norma was their mentor, and the tiny kitchen in the Lincoln Road eatery limited the number of ingredients that could be kept on hand. But when the pair moved their operation to Coral Gables a few seasons ago, the name changed and the menu expanded to reflect the possibilities of a larger work space. Now, says Hutson, liberated from whatever the category of Jamaican bistro might mean, she is giving culinary expression to a wider menu that she thinks of as "cuisine of the sun." That might include dishes with Asian or South American origins. But Hutson's basic culinary education remains Jamaican, the restaurant's coolly elegant décor is still Caribbean, and the food is still divine. Jerked pork and lamb patties are often on the menu, but so too are Thai dishes, or curries, or something from Colombia that calls for coconut milk or ginger. Ortanique, by the way, is a sweet hybrid citrus that comes from crossing an orange and a tangerine, a fitting symbol for a restaurant unlike any other.
We hereby present this new eatery with the ABS Award -- that being Anything But Starbucks. In this coffeehouse-blighted town any signs of new life must be encouraged. So go past the deli counter and up the stairs studded with circles of light. At the top you'll find the bookstore area, featuring regularly scheduled author readings and signings as well as ultrahip black-and-white décor. There are couches and animal-print recliners for lounging, or café-size tables and chairs for lounging and dining. Or sit outside under the umbrellas and watch the world go by. The usual lattes and cappuccinos are offered, and since this place is also a bar, so are Irish coffee and Caribbean Magic (involving light and dark rum). Let the hanging-out commence.
We dare you to call up a restaurant at random and ask how much they'd charge you for bringing in your own bottle of wine. We guarantee you'll be quoted a price of no less than ten dollars and probably at least twenty, all for the hard work the waiter has to do to uncork and pour your chosen label. After all, why should the management let you enjoy a vintage from your private cellar when they can charge you triple the wholesale cost for one you don't really care about? Not Su-Shin. This sushi place simply doesn't care about what you bring in -- Petrus or plonk. They'll still charge two dollars per customer. Let's say for argument's sake you've brought with you a nice Riesling that goes really well with Asian flavors and you spent, oh, $12 on it. For a romantic dinner for two you'll be paying an additional four dollars for the privilege of drinking it with your meal. That's a grand total of $16. (The same bottle, if the restaurant offered it, would probably be listed at $25 or more.) So what does Su-Shin know that its colleagues don't? Only that customers are likely to spend twice that on, say, uncooked tuna.
It's got the casual, been-there-forever feel of a neighborhood hangout. The green-and-brown color scheme is oddly appealing, and the place looks bright and friendly. Diner ambiance minus the dinginess. No need to settle for a table and chairs -- it's all booths. And breakfast, naturally, is served all day, featuring monster omelets and refreshing honesty from the waitstaff: "Have the hash browns. The home fries have been sitting all morning." Hey, if this spot's good enough for the Bee Gees, it's good enough for you.
Once you've tried Fico nothing else is as rico. Even if you're one of those purists who used to have to put up with the total lack of seating at the original location on Flagler, it's worth it! (The patience of so many loyal customers, eating while standing up at those narrow counters, has been rewarded with a new section at the Flagler restaurant where you can actually sit at tables and chairs.) Of course the newer South Beach Fico lacks the quirky character of its predecessor, but the seafood hasn't suffered. Fico's always-perfect broiled fish fillets remain the seafood standard, but every variety of fresh seafood -- fried, grilled, or broiled to order -- is consistently scrumptious. Excellent soups too. A special salute to the tostones de platanos Hawaianos, fried green plantains stuffed with little crawfish. Now they're expanding the menu to include chicken and pasta, but who needs that?

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®