Once upon a time, the lands just northwest of Homestead promised agricultural bounty. Fields of tomatoes, strawberries, and tropical fruits stretched along Krome Avenue as far as the eye could see. The times certainly are a-changing. A recent tour of the Redland, west of South Dixie Highway, revealed a sad, startling dearth of U-pick farms and an influx of new development. Where farms once flourished stand plant nurseries, new buildings, and definite signs that urban sprawl is quickly taking root in the southland's fertile soil. Robert Moehling, proprietor of Robert Is Here, a bustling produce stand farther south, presents one theory. "The U-Picks are closing because the insurance rates are too high. Farmers just can't afford to let customers pick on their property anymore," he says while busily stacking tomatoes. Rachel Grafe, one of the friendly German Baptist women who work at Knauss Berry Farm, offers her own reasoning. "Farming is going out in South Florida. A lot of the farmers here are selling out to developers, and the farmland is just kind of disappearing," she says. Thankfully there's still Knauss Berry Farm, with its sweetly old-fashioned red-and-white structure that defies the drumbeat of progress. Urbanites with a hankering to pluck produce off the stalk are welcome during the season -- mid-November through April 30, Monday through Saturday from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. -- to pick plump tomatoes for $1 per pound and sweet strawberries for $2 per pound. Although the shop also sells lettuce and juicy onions, the real lure of Knauss is the wafting scent of baked goods. No visit is complete without a purchase of sticky cinnamon buns. A mere $6.30 buys a dozen, or shell out $8.50 for twelve pecan rolls instead. A succulent strawberry rhubarb pie costs $7.30, and the fresh-baked honey wheat bread is $2.70 a loaf. The traditionally dressed German Baptists greet every customer with a friendly smile and a helpful attitude that is just as refreshing as the fruity milkshakes they sell.

You might think tacos are the specialty here -- they usually are at tacquerías. Plus this place serves eight types, including spicy pork, steam-cooked beef, and roast chicken, as well as a mean brain taco, but we mention that only so you will note this joint's allegiance to authenticity. But what sets Taquerías el Mexicano apart from other local south-of-the-border eateries is not only its tasty take on tacos, tostadas, and tamales, but also harder-to-find specialties such as braised lamb, spare ribs in hot sauce, succulent roast pork, and a slew of robust chicken stews. There are seven brands of Mexican beers to choose from too, but that's not all: Breakfast here is the bomb. Try the chilaquiles, which are tortilla chips simmered in green sauce and smothered in scrambled eggs, cheese, sour cream, rice, and beans. That's quite a meal for $4.95, and a buck more will bring an exemplary café con leche. Can you say that about your favorite Mexican restaurant?

This used to be known as the place to go for stone crabs when you couldn't get a table at Joe's main seafood house next door. It still is, but over the years, Joe's Take Away has emerged as a worthwhile destination in its own right. The sweetest of stone crabs are packed up with mustard sauce, melted butter, a bib, and a bag of Joe's signature assorted rolls. The fried chicken sandwich flies with the best and is only $5.95. Half a bronzed rotisserie chicken, lacquered with Asian-style barbecue sauce, comes with corn muffin, coleslaw, and potato salad for $6.95 -- accompanied by a bag of those rolls, as are all orders. Classic salads (caesar, chopped) are gargantuan, and fresh seafood (oysters, crabcakes, grilled or fried fish) are what Joe's is known for -- well, that and the famous sides of creamed spinach, fried green tomatoes, and steak-house potatoes (hash browns, lyonnaise, and so on). One of the world's great key lime pies is available at the extensive coffee bar and bakery section, as is chocolate pecan pie, giant cookies, biscotti, and a heavenly angel food cake with chocolate chips and chocolate whipped cream. Wines, beers, and espressos are poured too, which means you can grab a table inside the brightly lit shop and turn your take-out foods into an eat-out dinner -- just like at Joe's main restaurant, except without waiters or wait. Plus you can get something here that's not available next door: breakfast.

The first symptom of the craving is when everything else you eat suddenly feels like chewing chalk. You suddenly understand why people are addicted to getting tattoos and body piercings -- that desire for stimulation sets in. Mustard and horseradish and onions, endowed with unnamable healing properties, begin appearing in your dreams. Or perhaps it is some primordial connection to the sea, this sudden craving for brine and salt and fish oil that insistently pesters and will not shut up. This feeling can be satisfied only by entering Arnie and Richie's and witnessing the slabs of Nova Scotia and belly lox and sable sprawled in a glass display case and sniffing that smell, the one that separates the lover of flavorful food from the finicky hipster. You sit down and await your platter; spread the cream cheese carefully on your toasted onion bagel; layer it with the pink fish, a ripe tomato, and some onions; love that you are going to smell like this all day. One bite and you're transported to the tenement housing of your ancestors, to their love for the pungent, for the pumpernickel and rye. You utter a silent thanks for their persistence, which took them from the ice fields of Eastern Europe all the way here, to paradise, where you honor them through eating. Most dishes cost less than $10; breakfast ranges from $3.50 to $7.

Like many of their countrymen, Carlos and Rosalina Martinez fled their native Nicaragua in the summer of 1979, within days of the Sandinistas' taking control of the civil-war-ravaged nation. There was no way the couple would have remained in their homeland, considering Carlos was one of a handful of West Point-educated captains enlisted in Anastasio Somoza Debayle's reviled national guard. "I didn't even know how to fry an egg before coming to Miami," Rosalina reveals. "But we had to find a way to earn a living." In 1981 husband and wife opened El Masayita, named after their Nicaraguan hometown. The only local Nica restaurant with more longevity than El Masayita is venerable steak house Los Ranchos. Located in Little Havana, El Masayita is also more moderately priced than its high-end counterpart. A churrasco dinner costs only $10, while a seafood platter of pescado a la tipi tapa is a reasonable $14. On the weekends, El Masayita makes other popular Nicaraguan dishes such as bajo (shredded pork meat with yuca and salad) for $7, vigoron (salad and yuca) for $3, and small and large cups of sopa de mondongo (a creamy broth made with tripe) for $3.50 and $6, respectively.

Crammed to the rafters with good things to eat and drink, this cozy little shop presents a welcome slice of European civilization in our hurry-up-and-get-out-of-my-way urban treadmill. As the name suggests, cheese is the market's specialty. You can also pick up almost everything else, from caviar to dried mushrooms, along with wines from a small yet thoughtfully chosen selection. As you would expect from a cheese shop, the relevant curds are properly cared for, neatly displayed, and packaged in portions small enough to make trying something new an affordable endeavor. The selections includes some 200 different cheeses ranging from the familiar to extraordinary. Although you may certainly grab your cheese and go, a more civilized approach would be to order a cheese and charcuterie platter, select a bottle of wine, and sit at one of the tiny sidewalk tables, nibbling and sipping and watching the rest of the world churn on that endless urban treadmill.

It often seems that with ethnic cuisine, the less obvious and ornate the location, the better the food. Salmon Salmon is discreetly tucked into an unassuming strip mall near Miami International Airport. The small interior is decorated with a few gold Inca plates, and fishing nets cover the ceiling. But patrons do not come to Salmon Salmon for an extravagant dinner served on a silver platter and sided by sumptuous silverware; the home-style Peruvian cooking is the real gem here. Although seafood dominates the menu, salmon accounts for only a few dishes -- the place is named after its founder, Fabio Salmon. Peruse the menu while snacking on a sinus-clearing aji picante dipping sauce and bread. Allow your taste buds to recover, and then order the ceviche -- a must when indulging in Peruvian fare. For $12.75, you will receive a platter of citrus-tinged ceviche topped with sliced onions and potato chunks. Eat the dish as it comes or add a heaping of seafood fit for Atahualpa himself. Other meal options include huancaína potatoes, clams topped with onions and tomatoes, oyster cocktail, octopus, and all kinds of seafood chicharrón. Several of the plates are cooked creole-style, such as the pasta with beef tips and seafood. Although you will not find any poultry at Salmon Salmon, the skirt steak will satisfy any carnivorous cravings. Tender, chewy sautéed tips of beef are as delicious as they are affordable -- $14.25 for a dish large enough for two.

Those with a sweet tooth will have a heart attack -- we hope only figuratively -- upon entering Vicky Bakery. Elaborate cakes decorate the windows, while Danishes, buns, glory bread, and other baked goods lie glistening or powdered behind glass. The bakery itself is simple: white, nondescript, and sterile. But who needs fancy décor when colorful, sugar-saturated goodies are adornment enough? As if regular flan weren't deliciously rich enough, Vicky also offers cheesecake flan. Cue the heart attack. The sweet custard and creamy cheesecake texture topped with caramel is a guilty pleasure worth those extra 500 calories. For $2 you can savor the taste of Heaven in a small individual serving. Large trays of flan are also available to feed hungry party guests.

From the white-linen tablecloths to the black-suited waiters, everything about Casa Paco screams expensive. But this restaurant, long as it is on atmosphere and excellent food, is shockingly cheap. A diner can easily make a full meal out of the excellent tapas offered at Casa Paco; one standout is the alcachofas salteadas, artichoke hearts sautéed in olive oil with chunks of Serrano ham (a heaping portion, served in a cast-iron pan, costs $10). But many entrées hover around the $10 mark as well, with some real delicacies offered at half the price you would expect. For instance, the Basque-style black grouper (cooked in a white seafood sauce and garnished with hard-boiled eggs and white asparagus) costs only $13. Almost all the lunch specials are less than $10.

An Italian franchise that opened its doors in Miami in 2001, Bacio's gelato is simply the most delizioso. At least two dozen flavors are available on any given day, ranging from nutty (hazelnut, toasted almond) to fruity (lemon, mango) to chocolaty (at least five different variations on the basic flavor are offered). A small cone is $3.55, and a cup is $4.31. Creamy, airy, never overly sweet, and made fresh locally, Bacio's gelato approximates dessert perfection.