The delight at this downtown Italian place frequented by lawyers, developers, and the rest of Miami's Masters of the Universe commences before menus are even opened. After you're seated, a waiter sporting a dinner jacket will roll a hulking wheel of Parmigiano-Reggiano up to the table. The salty, musty fragrance of the cheese is enough to knock even the fullest-blooded Italians out of their seats. A few jabs of a heart-shaped knife dislodge some jagged bits of the cheese, and soon everyone is digging in. Next, another waiter swoops in to drop a fist-size knot of razor-thin zucchini slivers fried to a snappy crisp. Somehow a sweet, tart pool of tomato sauce lands nearby. Then comes fluffy bread and dashes of good olive oil and balsamic vinegar. That is the last free thing you'll enjoy. But don't worry: You're already in such a delightful stupor the $45 price tag on the filet mignon Florentine will hardly register.
Readers' choice: Komodo