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The name pretty much states outright what a diner can expect -- that is, if you have any idea what to expect from a Tahitian barbecue. Here's what not to expect: grass skirts and flaming batons. The only flames here are the ones chef-owner Darroll Tekurio applies to his exuberant barbecue, with its tangy, bright sauces and authentic island side dishes such as fafa (a spinach-chicken dish) and ipo (coconut dumplings). He does ribs especially well: They're lean but not mean, succulent but not sloppy. If you're ready to expand your barbecue horizons beyond Texas and the Carolinas, then Taro's is ready to take you on a saucy tour of the South Pacific.
Take a lot of fresh air, add some tables, and top it all off with some of the most buttery fried clams in the business, and voilà! You have an equation for perfection, otherwise known as Fins. The seafood is served with a sense of humor here -- try the "shrimp and crabsicles," deep-fried pops of juicy seafood. The fishies of the day -- and there are always many -- change often, and preparations are both extensive and inventive. And OK, we know full well that homemade carrot cake isn't seafood, but who can resist it? Not us, certainly; we won't even try. In fact the only thing we'll be attempting in the future is to make good on our promise to dine here more often.
Lord, what foods these morsels be! At Joe Bel-Air's, conventioneers, Port Everglades dock workers, art students, and Fort Lauderdale's common folk (what's left of 'em, anyway) converge at this retrofitted '50s-era diner for no-nonsense grub. The plates of breakfast fare, lunch items, meat loaf, and baked desserts originate, ostensibly, from the kitchen. However, it's worth noting that Joe Bel-Air's kitchen backs up directly against the Culinary Institute of Fort Lauderdale. Judging by the quality of some of Joe Bel-Air's late-night pies (such as the yummy Boston cream), one of those broom closets must have a false panel through which baked goods of extraordinary power and energy are surreptitiously passed into the realm of mortals. Asking the pink-clad waitresses at Joe's to confirm or deny these rumors will win you a quizzical stare -- further proof that we're right.

If you want your plate to be served from the left and picked up from the right, don't go here. If you want your water glass to be aligned with the tip of your knife and all other beverages to be placed to the right cater-corner of your agua, see ya later. If you want tuxedo jackets with seams as straight and narrow as W.'s unreadable lips, then bye-bye now. But if you like it when the waiters and waitresses, garbed in traditional Thai uniforms, not only know your name and face but remember what you ordered last time, then this is the place. At Moon you can actually utter those famous, longed-for words: "I'll have the usual."
We wish we looked as good in black leather pants as Canyon's cool wait staff or got seated as quickly as its high-profile regulars. But most of all, we'd like to be the prickly pear. The key ingredient in Canyon's famed margarita, it spends its whole life swimming in top-shelf tequila. Sip this pale pink drink, and everything seems Southwestern, including the tasty tuna tartare with wasabi cream. So what they ain't got tuna in Albuquerque? Canyon's inventive menu is inspired by the Southwest, and after eating here, you will be too. Consider growing cacti or naming your new puppy "Adobe." Hang a dream catcher -- just don't start a conversation with, "Chipotle lately?"

When the takeout menu features the phone number in letters as big and scarlet as the proverbial A and includes numerous full-color photos of the dim sum for which this place is legendary, you can rightly assume that these folks do to-go in style. You can order anything for pickup, even the most tricky dishes, such as shrimp fried in shredded taro or smashed red-bean pancakes. The dim sum, made to order, offers the most authentically Hong Kong tastes, while the regular menu advertises a host of Cantonese, Mandarin, Hunan, and Szechuan specialties. But whatever you choose, you can rest assured it's going to tumble out of those cartons steaming hot and sizzling with flavor. Our only regret? That there isn't a Toa Toa Two Two.

Best Thing to Come from Albania Since John Belushi

Tony's Pasta & Pizza

The high point of Lake Worth's Albanian archipelago of pizzerias is Tony's, where head chef Muharrem (founding brother Tony went on to work for a food distributor) turns out superb, crusty, New York- style pizza and homemade pasta with sauces of surprising delicacy. So good is his product that for some five years Palm Beach's five-star Four Seasons Resort made Tony's the bespoken pasta maker to the smart set. The ravioli -- pumpkin, spinach, or mushroom-saffron with pine nuts -- aren't part of the menu at his retail joint, but you can still order them for the home. It's an unadorned storefront, so don't expect any ambiance. In fact bring your own cutlery or suffer the cheap plasticware. It's worth it.

It's the eternal Zen question: How many links makes a chain? In chef-proprietor Mark Militello's case, we think the answer is several, all located in South Florida. With the recent addition of Mark's CityPlace in West Palm Beach, "Trade-Mark" Militello has expanded the empire he began in North Miami, then moved to Fort Lauderdale, Boca Raton, and South Beach. Many chefs of his James Beard Award-winning caliber think a namesake restaurant is sufficient, but we know that, when it comes to talent, a single venue is only one hand clapping. But four -- now there's some real regional noise in the making.

Is it a good sign when a restaurant's wine list offers too many vintages to count? We think so, especially when at least one third of those bottles are from lesser-known international vineyards and priced less than 30 bucks. With this policy the folks at City Oyster declare that they're not out to screw us with triple the retail. Rather they're here to educate our palates with sips of such diverse wines as the Allan Scott Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand or the King Estate pinot noir from Oregon. Sure, you can invest $180 for a bottle of full and luxurious Opus One here, but you can also spend as little as $21 for a bright and pleasant E. Guigal Côte du Rhône red. The kicker, of course, is what you can also get by the glass, ranging from a Chateau Souverain zinfandel to a froth of Taittinger Champagne. Good-bye house wine, hello bubbly.
C. Stiles
To find Gran Forno, you could look for the storefront window that displays bakers at work, or you could simply close your eyes (mind your step) and follow your nose. The smell of bread, savory with rosemary, wafts to the street. On weekends Gran Forno is crowded and clubby. Regulars gather in tennis togs to consult maps for their upcoming trip to Tuscany while the owners chime in with advice. Not surprisingly the focaccia, pastries, and biscotti are all excellent, but the best thing about this authentic, family-owned bakery is the way it continually pulls off the unexpected. At Thanksgiving, for example, Gran Forno's beautiful pumpkin pies no doubt upstage many a turkey. And this being Florida, the bakery also makes a key lime tartlet that, while generous, might still be a tad too small (and too delicious) to share.

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