If there were ever a sandwich in need of an ingredient-driven overhaul, it would be the Cuban. Alberto Cabrera was just the man to do it. He bakes the pan cubano daily at his Coral Gables spot Bread + Butter. He slow-roasts the pork for a dozen hours in a hulking red smoker. He makes the whole-grain mustard every day. Getting a Cuban ($12) here can take more than ten minutes, but it's worth it. His Elena Ruz ($8) includes slow-roasted turkey glazed until it develops a crisp, crackly exterior. The Reubencito ($10) pairs house-made pastrami with pork belly in a combination that will silence even the chattiest visitor. These sandwiches can stand toe-to-toe with those of Italy, Vietnam, and even Greece.

Nestled among the shops and restaurants along Biscayne Boulevard lies a tiny escape from the city that leads to a cozy green pasture called Lulu's Ice Cream. Wooden panels cover the walls, and picturesque wooden tables delicately accented with fresh flowers fill the room. There's only one thing that could make this atmosphere sweeter: ice cream. Using all-natural ingredients, Lulu's Ice Cream combines the scientifically awesome power of nitrogen with delicious options like Nutella and coffee to create concoctions so rich and creamy it's a sin to have only one scoop. Not only is the shop both adorable and enjoyable, but also the food is all about being natural. Chalked on the blackboard wall beneath the pale light of a red lantern is the story: "We work with local farmers to bring you the freshest ingredients... We use liquid nitrogen to freeze your ice cream on the spot." Cool down one summer afternoon at Lulu's with some heavenly Nutella ice cream in a freshly made waffle. Two scoops are $5, and a pint costs $11.

Even before it reached Miami Beach, Freddo was a big deal. Its helado had tempted taste buds in Argentina with its hand-crafted creaminess since 1969. When the company announced its foray into Miami, locals swooned at the mere thought of this frozen perfection. So what makes Freddo so outstanding? It could be that it's made from fresh, hormone-free milk, pure cane sugar, fruits, and other natural and raw ingredients. No artificial flavors, colorings, or preservatives here! But it's really all about the taste and texture. The helado is far creamier than others. The flavors are rich and tasty without being overly sweet. So when you dig into your dark-chocolate cone, you're getting the flavor of the chocolate, not a sugar-masked substitute. But what really sets Freddo apart is its panini — a scoop of chocolate helado heat-sealed inside a Hawaiian roll. It's way beyond an ice-cream sandwich. It's the most delectable food-engineering marvel in the world.

The cupcake is the ideal dessert. It's a personal cake, not too big, nor is it too sweet and chewy like a cookie or brownie. But don't settle for the basic — that's so 2000s. In the 2010s, desserts come in weird mashups (cronut, anyone?). At Sweetness Bake Shop, the selection of cupcakes is not only unique (and uniquely Miami) but also impressive enough to put a smile on any kid's face. Cupcake flavors change daily, so prepare for the unexpected (or just check the website). One regular is the guayabera: a cupcake filled with guava and topped with cream-cheese frosting. For some extra mouthwatering sweetness, visit the shop's Instagram account, @sweetnessbakes.

Few things are better than sitting in an opulent Louis the XIV-style Parisian bakery. War, peace, the latest hemline — none of this matters. The only real question in such a place is whether you want your macaron with wisps of rose petals or lemon zings. Mike Mayta and Keily Vazquez, the couple behind roving sweets seller Illegal Bakery, turn this hoity-toity experience on its head. They sell delicate, sugary little sandwiches for breakfast in the flavors of Fruity Pebbles, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Cap'n Crunch. Later in the day, they peddle a more refined selection, such as jasmine, strawberries, and champagne, or chocolate and cardamom ($24 for a dozen). The pair, regulars at pop-ups and farmers' markets, recently joined the kitchen at Michelle Bernstein's Cena, but there are no plans to get off the sweet train anytime soon — they'll still sell macarons at farmers' markets around town.

Various locations in Miami-Dade; illegalbakery.com

Decadent desserts belong in hotels, perhaps because you have to walk only a short distance to your room after the sugar high crashes. At Traymore, in the Metropolitan Miami Beach by Como, executive pastry chef Emanuel Alves brings a sense of wonder to sweets. He plays with texture in exciting ways. Take, for instance, the passionfruit cannelloni ($12): It differs from a traditional cannoli because it uses a sesame-seed tuile as the shell, which comes stuffed with passionfruit cream instead of ricotta or pistachio. His desserts are different nuts to crack. The orange-chocolate texture ($15) is bold and tart with a blood-orange sorbet and rock-lava coulis and crunchy crepe flakes. The deconstructed lemon pie has strawberry foam and spicy piquillo pepper ice cream to pique your interest. Come for dinner, but stay for desserts so addictive you might have to check in to the hotel for a night.

Readers' choice: Barton G the Restaurant

You expect fried chicken, green bean casserole, fried okra, and good old Deep South fixings at any Southern restaurant. Though Crackers Casual Dining serves some of the Magic City's tastiest finger-licking, country-inspired comfort food, the Miami Springs eatery takes home the blue ribbon for its fried bread pudding ($5.95). Cut into cubes, deep-fried to perfection, and served on a warm platter with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce, Crackers' fried brioche bursts with flavor. With a crisp, golden outer layer and a soft, creamy center swirling with cinnamon sugar and just the right amount of raisins, this bread pudding melts in your mouth. Sure, this dessert is large enough to share with the table, but after one bite, you'll want it all for yourself, no matter how stuffed you may be.

You know the saying: Firefighters make darn good pie. No? Well, it should be a saying considering fireman Derek Kaplan bakes the most luscious ones in town. Kaplan's story began with an affinity for baking at the age of 15. Then he grew into a six-foot-tall college football player and, after graduation, took a job as a firefighter at Miami's Fire Rescue Station 1. But between putting out blazes and rescuing cats from trees, he turned a rundown Wynwood storehouse into a vibrant bakery. It's a sliver of a space, but its mural of psychedelic pies is just the right way to illustrate his flagship creation: the key lime pie. Everything is done in-house using the good stuff — from the buttery graham cracker crust to the plump key limes (he and his crew go through 300 to 400 pounds per week). It's easy as pie to take home a whole one for $25 to $30. Want to practice sweet restraint? A single slice will set you back $5.40 — but good luck eating just one.

Danny Serfer is the slick of mayo inside a Taleggio-and-Gouda-stuffed grilled cheese. He's the dollop of caviar atop scrambled eggs and white bread. Junk food and highbrow ingredients don't exist for this South Florida-born-and-raised chef. Everything is delicious. First came the Allen Susser protégé's diner-style Blue Collar, with gut-busting sandwiches and parm portions large enough to strike fear in the heart of the sturdiest Italian-American grandmother. Next came Mignonette, a seafood bar that shamelessly offers caviar alongside fried shrimp. Serfer's greatest success is his ability to vacillate between borderline-stoner grub and pinkie-out cuisine while consistently delighting diners. Only with Serfer can you relish crawfish gumbo and foie gras in the same meal.

Readers' choice: Michael Schwartz

In Miami, it seems everyone is from somewhere else. But not everyone embraces this wacky, sun-and-drama-soaked city like Philadelphia restaurateur Stephen Starr. He has opened restaurant after restaurant that has added whole new dimensions to the subtropical diet. First came Makoto, his pristine Bal Harbour Japanese spot where Morimoto protégé Makoto Okuwa plies some of the city's freshest fish. Next came Verde and Ted's at YoungArts, two eateries that are helping to fuel and spread downtown Miami's cultural renaissance. Soon to arrive will be the Continental, a midcentury-Philly import that will give Miami Beach some Mad Men flair. So go ahead, have a three-martini-and-club-sandwich lunch. Tell your boss that Starr said so.