Best Jamaican Restaurant 2000 | Jerk Machine | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Miami | Miami New Times
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"We don't joke; we jerk," boast the folks at Jerk Machine, which serves jerk chicken, jerk pork, jerk fish, jerk stew peas, jerk shrimp, and jerk crab at seven locations in South Florida. The chain originated in Jamaica where in days gone by the maroons, escaped slaves who established independent communities in the hills, built up their courage by eating mouth-scorching spices. The meat is marinated in Jerk Machine's secret and spicy sauce, then grilled. Hard-core fanatics douse the finished meat with more sauce. For those with more timid palates, Jerk Machine also serves milder curries, ackee and saltfish (cod), mackerel, and callaloo, the Jamaican spinach. But if you are looking for even more kick to your meal, try the rum-soaked fruitcake or a bottle of ginger beer. If you want a fancy ambiance, order take-out, because the décor is strictly fast-food. All the effort here goes into the jerk.
It would be hard to beat La Palma's take on the torreja: It serves the homemade slices of Cuban-style French toast smothered in honey and maple syrup with a hint of anise. A simple dessert with versions of it going back so far the original is untraceable, La Palma even makes torrejas by the dozens for parties. It's light enough that it won't make you feel guilty, but sweet enough that you'll want to indulge, and keep on indulging.
Nature clashes with urbanization underneath this tiki hut on Virginia Key. A duck could saunter up to the table begging for scraps. Dogs, along with their masters, can sit for a meal. Seagulls float over the green mangroves that line the tranquil lagoon's clear water. Clouds float in the blue sky above downtown's skyline. The fiery orange-purple glow of a sunset seeps through the tall racks that stow powerboats. It's a reminder of one reason why we choose to live in Miami: the call of the wild coupled with the slick metropolis all in a tropical setting. Oh, and the fish sandwiches and draft beer aren't bad either.
This isn't the kind of bar where you can order vodka, Scotch, or beer. But you've got your choices all the same -- sesame, poppy, onion.... The bagels here are just what the New Yawker yaks about: crusty exterior, chewy interior. Buy 'em by the bag or take a seat at one of the tables, or best yet, the counter. Then you can have a bagel platter, accompanying that garlic bagel with a schmear of cream cheese and a little Novie. Then spread out the latest New Times, refill your coffee cup, and peruse to your pleasure while you munch. Just be prepared to wait in line for your Sunday-morning fix. At Bagel Bar East, the line is always west of the front door.
Bored with the Starbucks buzz? Can't do the Dew? Then check out the Bawls, if you've got any. This locally born soft drink combines the fizz of pop with the pep of the guarana berry, an Amazonian plant that exudes a natural substance similar to caffeine (but two and a half times stronger). The nonalcoholic beverage debuted in Miami in 1997, and has since been placed in major market chains like Publix. Not bad for the slightly sweet, slightly spicy little drink that could. The Indians in the Amazonian rain forest use guarana to increase "performance," by the way. Viagra, move over. The men in town finally have Bawls.
It's their hand-rolled pasta specials, such as amaretto and pumpkin ravioli with white-truffle cream sauce, and pappardelle with buffalo-meat ragout. Or those rich risottos ingrained with ingredients ranging from broccoli rabe and foie gras to langoustines and porcinis. Could be the thick, juicy veal chops stuffed with fontina cheese and smothered in truffle demi-glace, or the homemade desserts like a distinctly superior tiramisu. Okay, it's many dishes that make Escopazzo deliciously Italian. Entrées can push past the $30 mark, categorizing the place as expensive. But it's the romantic piazza-style dining room with gurgling fountain, extensive wine cellar, stellar service, and ebullient host and owner Pino Bodoni seeing to it that everything is just right, which make this expanded, 70-seat trattoria the very best. Honorable mentions go to Osteria del Teatro and Bice.

Best Restaurant For Intimate Conversation

B.E.D.

If you weren't already nominally sure that the ol' mattress was the likeliest place to conduct heart-to-hearts, this uniquely decadent restaurant and nightclub just might convince you. In fact it's pretty darn difficult not to go up-front and personal with your dining partner here, given that your table is a modified version of a latter-day sheik's bed. All that's missing, really, is the harem (and depending on the guest list for the evening, sometimes even those appear to be a possibility). Verbal communication, not to mention body language, gets even more confidential when fueled by a bottle of champagne or two. But a word of warning: Beds are built on platforms here, and aren't exactly private. So unless exhibitionism is your definition of intimacy, a hands-off policy might be just the ticket when that sparkling conversation tends to bubble over.
Recipe for a perfect lunch: Head over to Scotty's Landing, preferably by boat. Sit at a humble plastic table shaded from the sun by a canopy of green-burlap umbrellas. Drink deeply an ice-cold beer (or, if you're working, an ice-cold tea). Order the dolphin sandwich, blackened, with a caesar salad side. Watch the boats chug past the outdoor patio. Check out the politicians and lobbyists ducking in from nearby Miami City Hall. When your simple meal arrives, slather the substantial slice of fish in tartar sauce. Enjoy every tender, juicy, flavorful bite. When you are finished, tip generously. For best results repeat often.
That bowl of curly fried noodles on the table at every conventional Chinese restaurant doesn't exist here. The soup at Macau is too good to desecrate. Not going to find duck sauce or that vile hot mustard, either. No, siree. Macau is not hoity-toity. Clean, nondescript, friendly, unpretentious. Granted lunch deals that consist of ordinary yet tasty items such as pork fried rice, egg rolls, and egg drop soup are available. But when owner/chef May Yuen gets cranking in the kitchen and begins whipping up specialties, this restaurant transcends far beyond the mediocre chow mein purveyors. Take the salty pepper scallops: Succulent mollusks are lightly breaded, fried, and served on a bed of crisp flash-fried seaweed and piquant green chilies. Delicately steamed sea bass with ginger and scallions dissolves in your mouth like a substantial, slightly spiced Communion wafer. Tender snow pea tips lightly sautéed with garlic make you forget that dark-green leafy vegetables are good for you. Steamed white rice is so tasty it could be eaten alone. Running through the dining room: that's May's little son, Mackenzie. Running back to this restaurant over and over again: that's you.
This has always been the perfect riverfront location. The view, the feel, are so fine, so Miami: You're practically sitting in the Miami River, but as you lean back and sip your wine, your gaze drifts up to the drawbridges creaking apart to let pass all manner of funky cargo ships. Bright neon lights on the Metrorail tracks point the way through the downtown skyline. Somehow even in the dankest summer heat, Big Fish is just a little cooler and breezier. Or maybe it only seems that way, because you're focused on the pleasures of place and time. Big Fish recently changed hands and its new owners have made it more riverside-friendly, with new decks and roof, and a better view from the indoor dining room. The menu has become more Italian, and the house specialty, tagliatelle Big Fish, receives constant raves. The zuppa di pesce and generous fried calamari appetizer also are favorites.

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®