Rocky's Cheesesteak and Cheeseburgers
Pity the hamburger. The poor patty has been subjected to more abuse and gratuitous puffery than any dish deserves. A barely edible version is available at any number of fast-food establishments for as little as 99 cents. Or you can shell out twenty bucks for one at the Park Plaza Hotel in New York. Between these two extremes are the countless $5.99 to $12 models, some better than others but all, at the end of the day, just hamburgers. Which is the whole point: Is there no place left where a person can go for an honest burger at an honest price? Five ounces of cooked ground beef on a fresh bun with lettuce, tomato, onion, and if one is so inclined, a slice of melted cheese (maybe even a few strips of bacon), all for a price that seems proportional. Whatever happened to the all-American hamburger stand, that icon of the Fifties and Archie comic books, that great symbol of democracy and all that was good and right in our nation? Well, the genre is alive and well in North Beach. Rocky's Cheesesteak and Cheeseburgers may not be a "stand" in the technical sense -- it's actually a corner storefront with both indoor and outdoor seating -- but it feels like one. Walk in off the street, plunk yourself down on a stool or chair, and order up. The menu includes grilled chicken sandwiches and cheesesteaks, but it's the burgers people go for. We recommend, in particular, the sourdough, which comes with melted Swiss and is served on sourdough from one of Miami's best bread factories. That one will run you a whole four dollars (as opposed to two dollars for the regular burger). Follow it with a slice of gourmet cheesecake -- flavors include Oreo cookie, guava, dulce de leche, and strawberry -- for $2.50. Feel guilty? Leave a big tip.

Scotty's Landing
Scotty's fish sandwich is an ode to simplicity. A slab of fresh dolphin grilled to perfection and served on a bun with lettuce and tomato. Tartar sauce on the side. Eat it while sitting on Scotty's long wooden deck overlooking Biscayne Bay. Just beware the sharks. No, not in the bay. Miami City Hall, right next door.
Supermarket cheese sections often are criticized for their shrink-wrap items, mass-produced and factory-packaged hunks of cheese that taste like so much sawdust. We're not going to lie: Milam's has some of that stuff in stock. But it also has cheese that's been cut from an actual wheel on the actual premises -- Jarlsberg that's still fresh enough to be pliable, bufala mozzarella so new it's still coming together as a curd. In addition the gourmet market carries some harder-to-source products, including white Stilton with apricots and kasseri, a malleable, just-pungent Greek cheese that too often falls under the shadow of its sister feta's salad fame. And then of course there are the cheese-board byproducts: smoked mackerel, sopressata and other Italian sausages, and dips the likes of jerk shrimp with black bean or chicken with lemon-cilantro. So you'll pay a little more for indulging your superior dairy cravings, both in the wallet and in the waist. Talk to the hand. It's wielding the cheese knife.
Enough with the goyim joints. You want bagels made on the premises by people who know what they're doing for people who know what they're eating? Go to Aventura. Specifically this place. Bagel Cove's bagels -- beautiful, warm, chewy, hand-rolled loaves -- are not only the best in town, they're delivered to you by women who care, ladies who'll always tell you that you look too skinny, who can't understand why you don't find some nice man or woman and settle down, who always want you to come back soon. A bagel with a schmeer you can get anywhere, but love like that? Dahrklink, please.
You won't find fresher fish anywhere in town than at this simple, cement-floor shack by the fishing boat docked at Watson Island (except maybe at the fish shack next door, but Casablanca has more variety and takes credit cards). You also won't find bigger crowds, not even at velvet-rope clubs. But this is a pretty pleasant bunch. So dump your friends or family under the trees along Government Cut to watch the cruise ships sailing by, and picnic on Casablanca's fresh seafood salad and fruit drinks. Go in and grab a whole fish from one of the dozens of iced bins packed with many variations on the usual suspects seen in town: black grouper, much more succulent than red; not just yellowtail but mutton, mangrove, and hog snappers. There's also a fabulous shellfish selection. Line up with the other fish schleppers at the cash register, pay, and decide what you want done with your catch: scaling, cleaning, filleting, whatever. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes later your fish will be ready. Tip the flashy filletmeisters in back a buck or two and they'll cheer like you just won an Oscar.

Miami actually has many great Asian groceries, including a treasure trove on 163rd Street between Biscayne Boulevard and I-95. But big Lucky is best for one-stop shopping. The canned and bottled goods include not just standard soy-sauce-at-bargain-prices stuff for Asian aficionados but Lee Kum Kee's excellent XO sauce, several types of non-oyster oyster sauce for those who don't eat shellfish, and Longevity brand full-cream condensed milk for the ultimate key lime pie. The produce department has a full selection of Asian greens like snow-pea tips, fresh water chestnuts, and bamboo shoots -- even durian, the fruit that tastes like heaven but smells like hell. There's a fish department where you can see some of 'em swimming. Refrigerated cases contain a mind-boggling assortment of prepared dumplings, many in party-perfect mini sizes, and an assortment of Chinese-style sausages including near-legendary Sun Ming Jan brand from Brooklyn, whose secret ingredient is gin. Herbal and ritual remedies are stocked for those seeking health, luck, love, whatever. You'll also find a sizable selection of dishes and eating and cooking utensils. Cookbooks are on hand for those who haven't the vaguest idea what to do with the items they're buying. The clincher: If Lucky's overwhelming bounty renders you too weak to wok home, Miami's best dim sum joint (Kon Chau) is in the same mall.

Norman Brothers Produce
Alex Broadwell
Larger than the sign marking the Norman Brothers name on the front of the store are the red letters just below that exclaim, "The Fresh Approach." Words the proprietors live by. Any doubts? Check out the mouthwatering prepared foods (smoked ribs, rotisserie chickens, meat loaf), impeccable seafood and meat (including USDA prime-dry aged beef), tempting baked goods (pastries, breads, fine chocolates), top-shelf deli items, enticing fruits and vegetables, and refreshing juices and fresh-fruit shakes. A bit pricey, yes, but weekly specials guarantee you won't go home empty-handed.

Ask any number of Cubans if they'd rather sip their coffee sitting down or standing up and without hesitating they'll almost always reply: Standing up, from a ventanita. For all you non-Spanish speakers (and the six of you know who you are), that's a window, specifically one belonging to a Cuban restaurant servicing the caffeine-craving masses on the sidewalk. The reason for this is that the cafecito ritual is as much about socializing as it is about downing the black ambrosia. The ventanita at El Pub, located at the symbolic center of Miami's Cuban exile community -- Calle Ocho -- provides ample opportunity to press the flesh with the locals. The viejos on their way to and from Domino Park. The men leaving Nene's barbershop with fresh haircuts and even fresher gossip. The local politicos. This is a veritable window onto the world.
Miami's Finest Caribbean Restaurant
This delightful Jamaican joint is located in the heart of old downtown. A tall glass of this not-too-sweet elixir, which the proprietors brew themselves, costs two dollars. The (nonalcoholic) liquid is bracingly delicious and a healthy tonic for our stressed-out, urbanized bodies as well. Stop in for a refreshing energy boost between meals or sit down and sip it as you enjoy a tasty plate of oxtail, curry goat, cow foot, jerk chicken, red peas, or numerous other specialties from the island. The menu also features homemade lemonade for $1.60. Open for lunch and dinner.

Take double handfuls of berries, vine-ripened to their perfumed peak under the infinite South Florida sun. Add some of the richest cream available, a touch of sugar so sweet it was worth sacrificing the Everglades, some pure spring-water ice. Churn. What do you get? Only an addiction as powerful as Sex and the City. Give in. It's a guilty pleasure, but somebody has to make it.

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®