Best Of South Florida® 2004 Winners
Food & Drink
You know you're getting an inferior diner breakfast when you get the toast. It's dry and almost cold. Next to it on the plate are a couple of fresh-from-the-fridge butter patties. At Las Colinas, the bread comes straight from the iron sandwich grill -- la plancha -- with the butter melted inside the crusty Cuban bread. Hot enough to sting your fingers. Then comes the breakfast, an array of egg dishes served with fried potatoes and, the South Florida kickstarter of choice, Cuban café con leche. You can have straight-ahead ham and eggs ($3.50) or a variety of Caribbean-style concoctions. Our favorite is the Desayuno Las Colinas ($4.99, the most expensive item on the breakfast menu), a couple of fried eggs on a thin slice of steak, with a ladle of Creole sauce. The coffee is always piping hot, a little syrupy, and -- watch out -- highly addictive. (Just the coffee and the toast? $1.90.) Las Colinas ("the hills") is owned by Michael Park and his Nicaraguan-born wife, Maria. Opened three years ago, it's Latin-style, with nearly a dozen ceiling fans, wooden chairs and tables, and a stand-alone sandwich station that turns out all those iron-flattened Cuban delights.
Top Ten Reasons Why Primavera Is Better Than the Italian Restaurant You Go To:
10. You can't fool all of the people all of the time -- Primavera's been around since 1985.
9. Wait staff isn't snobby, nor is it informal to the point of saying things like "Fuhgeddaboudit!"
8. Roasted pepper antipasto comes spiked with curry.
7. Do the owners of your favorite place have cool names like Primavera's husband-wife team of Giacomo and Melody?
6. Innovative culinary combinations like zucchini-crusted rack of lamb with Marsala date sauce; grilled salmon with pink grapefruit and merlot; pasta with fagioli.
5. Romantic ambiance can lead to amorous payoff that makes pricey bill seem a bargain.
4. Extensive wine list reasonably priced.
3. Two words: homemade pasta.
2. Frank Sinatra once ate here.
1. Because we say so, and we're experts.
Best Pizza
Louie Louie Italian Bistro and Louie Louie to Go and Louie Louie Too
It's no secret that Louie Louie's pizzas win awards all over the place. Wouldn't it be clever to be come up with someplace new? But that would be like dumping your life partner because you lost ten pounds. The secret of the success of these pies, which don't even headline the menu of this Las Olas classic (now also located across Las Olas and on Delray's Atlantic Avenue), is the way the kitchen makes so much go such a long way. Served piping hot, the homemade mozzarella and tomato sauce blend with the extra virgin olive oil on the delicate margheritas and heartier Neapolitans so authentically that you feel like you'll get smacked in the back of the head if you talk with your mouth full. Not that this is our local version of dinner at the Goombahs. The vegetarian toppings and healthy pies and the grilled rosemary chicken pizzas take the selections into new territory with great style -- much like Garbo tackling laughter in Ninotchka. Perfection on a platter.
Best Inexpensive Italian Restaurant
Zuccarelli's Italian Kitchen Readers' Choice: Il Mulino
The Olive Garden doesn't serve tripe. That's OK, but it also doesn't offer fresh pork or beef braciole, chicken scarparielo with homemade sausage and mushrooms in lemon sauce, pignoli-crusted snapper over spinach, and more than 40 types of pasta dishes -- and that's not OK, which is one reason why those seeking moderately priced, robust Southern Italian food are far better off at Zuccarelli's. Another reason is that the meatballs aren't made en masse but rather in the caring hands of the Zuccarelli family -- papa Ralph, mama Frances, and daughter Olimpia -- and Chef Buddy Kratz. They also make the sausages, mozzarella cheese, pastas, breads, and desserts and have been doing so for 23 years, much to the gratitude of a fiercely loyal clientele -- most of whom the staff here knows by name. This rustically attractive restaurant puts out some outrageously delicious pizzas too, and there's hardly an item on the absurdly extensive menu that costs more than $20.
As you eat your way through this maniacal world, exposing the recesses of your mind, you might condemn the budded tongue as a forgetful little muscle. Not so. It is a passionate appendage that betrays our animal lust for the simple things in life, and once it's introduced to the unfathomably delicious slice ($1.75) at Times Square Pizza, your heretofore complicated life will revolve around the corner of Oakland Park Boulevard and Federal Highway. Gold-chained, strong, silent types slave at the ovens in this 8-year-old New York-style eatery, then deliver your slice right to your table. No frills. No chatter. Just slice. What's their secret? Is it the perfectly heated ovens or the high-quality Grande mozzarella cheese? Don't pluck the mystery; just obey the buds. Oh, by the way: It's a sweet spot to hit on your way home from the beach.
Best Caribbean Restaurant
Caribbean Choice Restaurant and Bakery
More than 300,000 South Floridians describe their primary ancestry as non-Hispanic Caribbean or West Indian. That's a good thing, because it means there are plenty of places to get really good West Indian food. Heck, you could throw a rock almost anywhere within Broward and Palm Beach counties and it would probably fly through the window of a Caribbean restaurant. Well, wind up, Dontrelle, and cast your stone toward Caribbean Choice Restaurant and Bakery in West Palm Beach. Owner Don Smith brings his island flavor from Jamaica via the Bronx and serves up Caribbean favorites such as beef patties, jerked chicken and pork, and roti. And if you're in the mood for fish, escovitched snapper and steamed kingfish are on the menu as well. Add pigeon peas and rice and you've got good times. Whether dining in for a quick sitdown meal or eating on the run, every wanga gut (big eater) this side of Kingston can get his or her fill.
Put on a shirt with buttons and walk with your head upright. The doormen have no idea you drove up in a hoopty with a broken taillight. This place is a palace, a straight-up, steel-and-glass, 998-room hotel palace, with a lobby full of palm trees and waterfalls and a piece of $7 pie on the restaurant menu. It comes with a slice of lime on top, nestled into a puff of whipped cream, and smells like lime cologne. Walk out the back, past the pristine swimming pool and the fragrance of chlorine, past the fat-bottomed girls in bikinis and the pale men with gold chains alligator-wrestling their small children, to the second-story deck overlooking the beachless edge of that petulant, churning, blue-versus-green Atlantic expanse. Plop down into the deck chairs more comfortable than a mother's hug, recline, savor the cool shadow of the massive hotel and the breeze and the crish-splash sound of the ocean and the crumbly sweet crust and kids' laughter and the moist filling and the distance of it all and even the last juicy crumbs, and take just a second to realize that this is some pretty goddamned good pie.
Should we stop?
We're gonna be right there.
It's been, like, what? Three weeks?
Yeah, something like that.
Should we stop?
I dunno. What about the carbs?
C'mon, it's been three weeks.
Think it's still open?
The light's still on.
What about the carbs, though?
What about the chocolate/vanilla swirl? With Heath pieces? A small one is only $2.65.
What about the carbs?
Oh, fuck the carbs. We're stopping.
Pity poor Haiti, wracked by poverty and continual political unrest. Judging by Pollo Kreyol, these put-upon islanders must take great solace in the zesty fare they've concocted through the years. Housed in a defunct fast-food joint, this eatery is a magnet for Creole speakers and offers handy drive-through service as well as sitdown. You won't find any menus, billboards, or placards explaining the food, however; you'll have to ask if you're unfamiliar with this cuisine. The three or four meat dishes are lined up cafeteria-style, and for the set price of $5, you get a massive mound of your choice of meat, rice, beans, and plantains. If the gods are favorable, you'll happen in when that day's offering is pig feet stewed with okra. If you need a little time to build up courage for the hooved end of pork, there's always beef, deep-fried pork, chicken, and goat main dishes, delicately curried with green peppers, potatoes, and onions. Open 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Monday through Saturday and 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. on Sundays.
It's Sunday afternoon and you've got some room to spare after a medium-sized lunch. You're in the mood for dessert but don't know whether to have something cold and creamy or crisp and flaky. In this case, the simplest solution is to head over to Sonny's Gelato Café and let them choose for you. Sonny's offers roughly 40 flavors of Italian ice cream in cups and cones. For a single serving, prices range from $2.75 to $4.75. For larger, take-home orders, there are pints, quarts, and tubs (ten gallons). If you prefer something a little warmer, there's an assortment of baked goods as well, including cheese cake (New York, cranapple, or ricotta for $2.75 to $3.75 a slice), tiramisu ($3.75 per square), cannoli ($1.95), and biscotti (cinnamon hazelnut, chocolate chip, and almond, $8 per pound). And to keep your tongue warm, Sonny's has plenty of espresso and cappuccino that you can sip while relaxing in the piazza-like outdoor patio. Sonny's Gelato Café opens at 10:30 a.m. Monday through Saturday and 1 p.m. on Sunday.
Duck confit, a specialty of southwestern France, is one of the world's oldest preserved foods and, because of the technique involved in its preparation, serves as the ultimate litmus test for judging the skills of a French kitchen. First, the duck gets dry-rubbed in herbs, spices, and coarse salt. Next, it is soaked in brine, drained, dried, cooked slowly in fat, covered in fat, packed tightly in a jar, and tucked away in a cool dry place. Finally, the duck gets removed from storage and placed in a hot pan until the skin is crisped and the meat warmed (don't worry about this being bad for your diet -- no carbohydrates!). Chef-owner Claude Pottier's duck leg confit is, quite simply, the finest around. But those who want to duck the confit can find equal comfort in duck pâté, escargots drenched in garlic butter, and all manner of fresh seafood. Cafe Claude also boasts a heady wine selection, friendly service, moderate prices, and a dessert cart so complete that it resembles a patisserie on wheels. Last, and least, Claude's early-bird special is Deerfield Beach's finest.
More than 30 years after Hoffman's Chocolates started in a dinky Lake Worth storefront, the place is now one of the country's premier candy makers. Sure, it's long been a favorite of Palm Beach County sweet tooths. They've flocked to Hoffman's for years, if simply for the coconut cashew crunch, a heavenly sweet and sugary concoction that goes for $6.95 a pound. But now the secret's out. Bon Appetit magazine has named Hoffman's one of the country's best chocolate makers, and the Wall Street Journal has claimed it has the best Easter baskets anywhere. The $75 wicker basket comes stuffed with toys and candy, including a six-ounce bunny and an eight-ounce fudge egg. Working out of a one-acre headquarters in Greenacres, Hoffman's employees claim the secret is in the chocolate recipe, made from a blend of beans, mostly from Africa, that are specifically roasted for the company. Hoffman's claims to have a cocoa powder and cocoa butter content that rivals any of the big-name candy makers. That's the secret, apparently, to the well-known chocolate-covered strawberries; Hoffman's are cell-phone sized and covered in so much dark, white, and milk chocolate that it pools beneath them. They're available only on Friday for $19.95 a pound. There's talk at the company of expanding outside Palm Beach County, but with five stores and an airport location, you won't need to make a long drive for some of the country's best chocolate.
Results from a recent government survey on diet and health show that the average person gained three pounds from just perusing the menu at European Deli & Restaurant. A breakdown of the numbers reveals that those who read only the menu sections regarding Friday and Saturday specials put on only a pound; these include Wiener schnitzel, schnitzel à la Holstein (with egg, capers, and anchovies), sauerbraten (marinated beef in sweet and sour gravy), and roulden (beef rolled around bacon, onions, and pickles). A glimpse at the descriptions of homemade smoked kielbasa, stuffed cabbage with boiled potato, fried leberkase, and pig knuckle with sauerkraut added a pound and a half. The final half-pound was tacked on by combining the knowledge that all dinners come with dumplings or spaetzle and the understanding that you can't really eat here without indulging in at least one tall, iced pilsener glass of Erdinger draft. The conclusions of this survey didn't take into account the European Deli's numerous imports or prepared foods, and further experiments are under way to gauge the possible poundage put on by reading about the numerous thick and succulent sausages. The wurst is yet to come!
Americans will consume more than 3 billion pounds of fish this year, but some of us know so little of piscine matters that we buy our seafood at the supermarket, where "catch of the day" should more accurately be referred to as "catch of the week." At Delray Seafood, the creatures are delivered to the back door daily, and fishmongers clean them so quickly that, to paraphrase Satchel Paige, they can put a knife to a snapper as you turn out the light and there'll be two clean filets on the table before the bulb goes off. Freshness is the whole game when it comes to seafood, but variety is still the spice of life, and Delray hauls in lesser-known species such as Spanish mackerel, butterfish, sea trout, and mullet -- all shining atop glittery crushed ice. Prices generally range from $4.95 a pound (flounder) to $13.95 a pound (Chilean sea bass), which is slightly higher than the supermarket, but the difference in quality is quantifiable. Delray Seafood has taken pride in its products since 1960, when Nicholas and Nellie Griek opened the shop. Their son and his family run things now and are knowledgeable enough ichthyophiles that they can help you choose wisely for dinner and perhaps also tell you what piscine and ichthyophile mean. Closed Sundays and Mondays.
No matter how amazing Charlize Theron might be in her next role, it's money in the bank that she won't win another Oscar in 2005. Why not? Same reason that Mark's Las Olas hasn't copped a New Times Best Of restaurant award since 1999: Panels don't like to repeat themselves. Still, Mark Militello remains one of Broward's very elite chefs, and though his South Beach, Mizner Park, and City Place restaurants have their strengths, after ten years, this Las Olas branch remains the true Mark of excellence. Cozy booths, luxuriously rich mahogany tables, and a bustling open kitchen set the stage for Militello's cutting-edge cuisine, a magical mix of classical cooking techniques, the freshest of ingredients, and a menu that changes daily to accommodate what's in season. Whether it be the simple pairing of chilled Washington state Kumomoto oysters with green apple mignonette, the inspired glazing of duck with mango honey, or the hearty, homestyle plating of pork tenderloin with braised cabbage, chestnuts, and apple jus spiked with Southern Comfort, Militello hits the mark every time. Desserts such as Dutch Forreli pear and blueberry caramel tart with made-on-the-premises white chocolate almond-crush ice cream, seriously attentive service, and a faultless wine list seal the deal for Militello's flagship establishment. Enjoy this accolade, Mark -- like Charlize, next year you'll likely relinquish the crown. Readers' Choice: Chez Laurent
Over the past decade, chef Johnny Vinczencz, formerly known as "The Caribbean Cowboy," has traveled from town to town or, more specifically, from Astor Place in South Beach to De La Tierra at Sundy House in Delray Beach, titillating diners with robust American cuisine dashed with Spanish and Caribbean additions and a healthy dose of gastronomic ingenuity. Now, he's settling home on the range or, more specifically, on Las Olas Boulevard, with an eponymous place all his own. A great restaurant, however, relies on more than just a respected name. It begins with distinctively delectable food, like Vinczencz's signature "short stack" starter of buttermilk pancakes, grilled portobello mushrooms, sun-dried tomato butter, and sweet balsamic syrup and on daring, unexpected gestures like a special of Tibetan yak. A great restaurant has a certified sommelier to help navigate a first-class wine list -- or, more specifically, someone like Steffan Rau, who previously served this function at Jean George's Vong restaurant. It features waiters who, like those at Johnny V's, are amiable, accommodating, and above all professionally trained. It isn't necessary for a top eatery to offer 30 exotic cheeses and a lounge where tasty tapas tantalize between cocktails in order to qualify for greatness, but it doesn't hurt. Nor do desserts like a tall wedge of dark, dense chocolate cake layered with bananas, caramel, and peanut butter mousse, with a scoop of malted milk ball ice cream on the side. Johnny V is the new kid in town -- or, more specifically, the premier new kid. Readers' Choice: Sublime
If you haven't taken a boat on the Intracoastal, you don't know Fort Lauderdale. Seeing the multimillion-dollar mansions gives you an idea of why there's so much corruption here. These people need to steal just to pay their damn property taxes. But if you're looking for a good place to drop your own hard-earned coin, get to the Fisheries. Climb on the water taxi at Riverwalk, fork over five bucks, and motor there in style. The two-story restaurant is really two establishments: downstairs is casual, with live music and $8 baskets of fried food. Upstairs is all about fine dining and great service. It's expensive -- expect to spend about $30 for an entrée -- but the ambience and waterfront view are enough to justify the price. Built in the 1970s, it's not that old, but the late, legendary architect Bill Bigoney gave it the feel of an old packing house. Even the urinals are cool; they're wooden with old-fashioned water closets over them for flushing. And the food is wonderful, from the little shrimp salad to the sunflower wheat bread to the audaciously thick tuna filet mignon. If you're in an adventurous mood, go for the alligator and kangaroo, though we'd recommend prawns, lobster, or the Asian-sautéed snapper. The service is great too. All you have to do is kick back and enjoy the ride.
To win this category, you must be located in an interesting neighborhood, serve top-drawer chow, and be reasonably priced. That is indubitably the case with Sushi 1. The ambiance is nothing. Zero. But the sushi is some of the freshest that we have ever eaten, and daily specials, which generally cost less than $5, are knockouts (and come with three courses). Then there're those rolls. Try the dancing eel and spicy tuna. There are also bento boxes, salads, and soups. It's all family-made and can be enjoyed at one of the few tables inside or in the parking lot. The best thing about this place, though, is its convenience to the new downtown Fort Lauderdale. If you are moving into one of the panoply of condos under construction down there, this should be your regular joint. Open Monday through Saturday 11 a.m. to 8 p.m.
South Africans call them just "pies," their fast-food equivalent of the American hamburger. But there's nothing plain about the meat and vegetable pastries served by Rod and Tracey Wiggill, the SoAf ex-pats who run this storefront charmer. Service is deli-style, but two cozy tables await if you want to eat in. The pies, most under $4, are thick, bingo-card-sized delights, the kind of layered decadence crabby nutritionists campaign against. Stuffed inside are blends of meat, veggies, and gravies. The most popular among South Africans is the bobotie, which is crammed with Cape Malay curried ground beef and raisins. The Wiggills have modified one traditional favorite, chicken and mushroom, by tossing out the 'shrooms and adding peas and carrots. "It's more like the chicken pot pies everyone's used to here," the missus says. Not into meat? Try the spinach and feta cheese or the vegetable thai. The Wiggills also offer frozen pies, which you can bake yourself for a hot-pastry meal in about 20 minutes. South African groceries are also available.
Best Neighborhood Restaurant in Palm Beach
Cuoco Pazzo Café
This place has two lives. In the winter, snowbirds inundate Cuoco Pazzo Café, making the wait on weekends often longer than two hours. The café is actually a sister establishment to the Cuoco Pazzo restaurant next door, and the old codgers know you can eat cheaper, and just as well, in the café. But the real time to go is summer, when Cuoco Pazzo becomes just a quiet Italian joint with the best pizza and pasta in downtown Lake Worth. What's special about Cuoco Pazzo is its simplicity. You won't find those fat guys from Carrabba's messing up lasagna here. The veal saltimbocca ($17) is as traditional as you'd get in Roma. The chicken paillard ($14) seems straight from a grandmother's kitchen, with roasted peppers and a delicate lemon chardonnay sauce. The place gets more creative with its cioppino ($18), a saffron stew of clams, mussels, lobster, scallops, and shrimp over black linguine. They say cioppino comes from California, but after eating it here, you'll swear it's Italian.
Have you ever eaten a sandwich from a convenience store? They're fucking horrible. They're soggy. They're stale. That's certainly not egg salad, my friend. My Market is different. You've probably driven by it before. You might have stopped there to get tampons or perhaps a Slushy or a Powerbar. But have you even bothered to walk to the back of My Market? Because if you had, you would have noticed a full freakin' deli that's been there for the past 12 years and serves the best and biggest sandwiches allowed west of the train tracks. Turkey, pastrami, ham, roast beef, rye, whole wheat. It's all there, waiting. For instance, the Pee Wee ($5.50) consists of a mouth-watering combination of maple-glazed turkey on grilled rye bread with American cheese, mayo, brown mustard, lettuce, and tomato. It's served hot. Just give it a chance, baby. It won't hurt you this time.
Sometimes you can't get to Havana -- or even Miami. Sometimes, this five-table, 8-month-old splinter of a café at the western end of the Southland Shopping Center is as far as you make it for a Cuban sandwich fix so satisfying you'll wonder why Mama isn't front-page news. Oh, there are lots of breakfast items (topping out at $4.50) and soups ($2 to $3) and croquettes ($1.50) and the usual Cuban-y things on the menu -- like you care. What you came for is what you'll pull up your barstool to the blue plastic malachite countertop for: ham pork and thinly sliced Swiss cheese and pickles and mustard, all between bread ironed flatter than Bubba's forehead, blending neatly to form a taste as unique as a kiss. The low-overhead prices are much more in line with those of Havana than South Beach (where a Cuban sandwich can run $9). Although you hear mostly Spanish among the customers, gringos are welcomed by the capable staff. Mira. That means you. Open from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. every day but Sunday, Mama's packs 'em in at lunchtime, so drop by nearby Big Lots until the rush dies down. Either way, you're on to one of the real bargains in town.
Statistics show that nine and seven-eighths of every ten new dining establishments go belly up within 15 minutes of opening -- or something like that. Which means that either the management team, kitchen crew, and service staff perform admirably right from the start or the signage on the restaurant marquee will be gone faster than you can say "Boy George in Taboo." The Southwestern-inspired Sol Kitchen has thus far beaten the odds -- it started out steamy and is getting hotter by the hour. Owned by the same restaurant group that opened Delray's already sizzling 32 East (located just up the block), Sol has the advantage of experience: its chef, Ryan Brown, was chef de cuisine under Nick Morfogen at 32. Perhaps it's because these two worked together on this brash and sassy menu that the food exudes a confidence not often seen in such a short time. After you taste sunny dishes like the mahi-mahi taco with shredded cabbage, grape tomatoes, and lime; golden brown burritos packed with slow-braised pork; and grilled dolphin with mojo-soaked Cherokee heirloom tomatoes, you'll know why patrons have taken a quick shine to this boisterous, dimly lit room from the get-go. Desserts have a veteran hand in the making as well: 32 East's one-time pastry chef, Robert Malone, putting out a Cuban coffee flan so coffee-intensive that it's likely to keep you as awake as the proprietor of a new restaurant the night before opening.
A sub is a sandwich made on a lengthy loaf of crusted bread that is layered with cold cuts, lettuce, tomato, and numerous garnishings, splashed with olive oil and vinegar, and dashed with salt, coarse ground pepper, and, if you're lucky, oregano. You can also call a sub a hoagie. Or a grinder. Or a hero. Or a Blimpie if you hang with the wrong sort of people. The right sort would be the types who frequent Marco's Boulevard Subs, where they pile on the ham, salami, capicola, and provolone and top it with salad, pickles, and peppers -- hot and sweet. A dozen types of hefty cold-cut-based subs are tossed together with aplomb, including a kick-ass BLT. Sub rolls come in whole wheat too for those who wish to delude themselves into thinking they're eating health food. Does Boulevard finish its sandwiches with a sprinkle of oregano? Of course -- this is, after all, the top stop for those to whom subway means only that train in NYC.
Best Restaurant in Palm Beach
The Restaurant at the Four Seasons Resort, Palm Beach
It is said that the same yardstick used to critique the arts can be applied to reviewing restaurants: mood, tone, theme, setting, and harmony. The Restaurant's elegant setting is defined by its sweeping arched entrance, which is flanked by palm trees, a fountain, and tropical flowers. Once indoors, you'll find a refined tone set by colored marble in shades of creamy beige, columns of textured stone, breathtaking floral arrangements, and hand-painted silk Chinese murals. A classical mood is provided by the pianist's mellifluous notes floating from the Champagne Lounge at the far end of the room. And the epicurean theme orchestrated by Hubert Des Marais is a brilliant take on Southeastern regional fare, which includes influences from the Deep South, Caribbean, and South and Central America. Marais' tendency is to start with such stirring preludes as a salad of Florida lobster with mango, avocado, plantain, and essence of truffle or seared foie gras with starfruit johnnycakes and scotch-bonnet mango caramel, then segue into larger, richer, more luxurious movements, like char-grilled veal chop with crispy foie gras potatoes and deep morel reduction or his signature guava-braised short ribs of beef with truffle-scented cress salad. A light seafood interlude of yellowtail snapper with watermelon relish, lemon thyme, and tangelo sauce shows off the maestro Marais' versatility as well as his surprising knack for being utterly original. An underlying theme is the reliance on local products like passion fruit, mangoes, goat cheese, Okeechobee frog legs, and Indian River she crabs. A big, brassy wine list hits all the right notes. The meal rises to a crescendo with the soufflé overture, soon after which the crowd offers its accolades and files out contentedly. Readers' Choice: 32 East
Don't be scared away by the Paradise Beach Resort setting. Forget the hotel-lobby furnishings. Never mind the hokey music. Focus instead on the sparkling, Hellenic-like beachside, the festive table-dancing until 5 a.m., the warm, home-baked loaf of bread that is delivered to each table, and the fish bar filled with pristine seafood on glistening ice. Choose a whole yellowtail snapper ($17.95) and the waiter will whisk it to the kitchen, then bring it back impeccably grilled and delectably dressed in lemon juice and olive oil and served with vegetable and rice or potato. Chicken souvlaki ($14) is equally impressive, juicy, and perfumed with enough aromatic spices to make Socrates swoon. Service is amiable, prices are moderate, and on Saturday and Sunday evenings, Taverna Milos turns into a music-filled bouzouili, which, loosely translated, means a big, boisterous Greek party.
Best Turkey Sandwich
The Pickle Barrel at Moe's Southwest Grill
Turkey. Turkey dull. Still, turkey good. Turkey tries. Could be better. Turkey meets rye. Turkey improves with mustard, oil, and vinegar. Turkey makes good with usual lettuce, tomato, pickles, and olives. Then turkey tackles pepper. Hot pepper! Sweet pepper! Green pepper! Cherry pepper! Banana pepper! Turkey tastes tangy, tantalizing, titillating. The hyperactive hots! The salacious sweets! And it comes in a hulking, fist-tall wad of a $7 sandwich that only a hippo could bite through in one chomp. Oh, if only lunch came more than once a day!
Liz Taylor will wear colored contacts before you'll have a bad brioche at Bonjour. Here we have le vrai McCoy. This sliver of a bakery just east of the Bimini Boatyard again proves that if you have what people want, there's no such thing as a poor location. Whether wolfing a Napoleon at a table next to one of the fabulescent Art Institute students who love this place or settled into a lounge chair for a quick croissant, café, and an eyeball of Le Monde, you can't go wrong with Chef Alexandre Rohfritsch's handiwork. Order a delivery of a sugar-paste dessert for your next affair, or hunker down on-site with a baguette stuffed to order with field greens, cornichons, and brie and you'll ditto the words of M. Chevalier: "C'est magnifique!"
Great service in a restaurant is about making you feel as though you belong. Some dining establishments have an easier time of this than others. Diners, for instance, would seem the perfect choice to make you feel at home. They are informal, unpretentious, low intensity. But at the palatially elegant L'Escalier, the wait staff manages to treat every customer like a regular -- a regular member of royalty, that is. Dining here is like having your own personal butlers for a few hours. Food is placed on the table, and removed, with the quiet precision of a Swiss -- or Japanese -- watch. A master sommelier advises on wine with the assuredness that you'd like to experience with your stockbroker. Should you retire to the restroom, your chair will be dutifully pulled, your napkin crisply refolded. Service is smooth, sweet, formal, and thoughtful. Most refreshingly, no member of the wait team will ever interrupt your dinner conversation with a chirpy "How is everything?" It is assumed that if anything is needed, you'll let them know. Amazingly, this professional and elegant service is provided without a hint of pretension. Even the best of butlers have a hard time pulling that off.
As you probably know, bread was invented by the Duke of Sandwich, who was looking for something to put around his bologna. Unfortunately for the duke (or was he an earl?), creating bread was more difficult than he thought, and as the endless baking experiments bankrupted his beloved Sandwich, the angry peasants of that territory rebelled and exiled the duke to Hallandale, where he continued his attempts at forging a food from flour and water. After many years, the desperate duke finally succeeded and even came up with the idea of adding eggs to make an exceptional challah, though, sadly, by this time, he had become too impoverished to afford bologna. After the duke's death, his recipe for bread spread far and wide, and though an infinite number of bakeries have produced many a fine loaf since, few have mastered the art of baking like the Bakehouse. Since 1996, this retail/wholesale shop has offered a mind-boggling variety of artisan breads: honey wheat, whole wheat, onion rye, pumpernickel raisin, kalamata olive, sourdough, and, of course, the duke's challah. All breads are natural and made by hand -- no preservatives, no sugar (except for the chocolate cherry bread, available at Christmas), and no fat (except in the jalapeño-cheddar loaf). Loaves weigh up to one and a half pounds each and run $3.75 to $5.95. The bread here is, in fact, unbelievably good.
Best Restaurant When Someone Else Is Paying
Cafe Boulud Palm Beach
Local heirloom tomato salad with herbes de Provence: $13.
Sirloin burger with foie gras and black truffles on parmesan bun: $29.
Truffle-braised snapper with Vichy carrots, pea shoots, and pommes croustillantes: $36.
Bottle of DeLille Cellars' Chaleur Estate Meritage, 2000: $140.
Warm upside-down chocolate soufflé with pistachio ice cream: $13.
Dinner at Cafe Boulud when somebody else is picking up the tab: Priceless.
Morning has broken, the sun is up, and it's time to check in to Flakowitz Bagel Inn, the deliciously bagel-heavy breakfast restaurant in eastern Boca Raton. Flakowitz's bagels are homemade in the Boynton store, and its selection includes a diverse dose of doughy delight, such as cinnamon raisin, egg, rye, bialy, marble, and pumpernickel. Take your pick, and add some cream cheese ($1.45 per quarter-pound for regular, $1.60 for fat-free), scallion or veggie cream cheese ($1.70), or nova spread ($2.19). Like any good breakfast restaurant worth its weight in dough, Flakowitz is hardly a secret. Once noontime draws near, the waiting line stretches clear out the door. But don't be intimidated by the numbers; you really won't wait that long. Despite the crowd, not everyone's there to dine inside. The walkup window around the side of the building is an added convenience for a quick bagel to go. Flakowitz Bagel Inn is open 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Saturday and from 7 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Sunday.
Best Restaurant to Die in the Past Year
Hoot, Toot & Whistle
One of Delray Beach's most distinctive dining venues has hooted, tooted, and whistled for the final time. Built to take advantage of a location adjacent to railroad tracks, Hoot offered the Orient Express, an old-fashioned wood-and-tile "dining car" with large, comfy booths, life-sized picture "train windows," and a few choo-choos outside for added ambiance. The menu was a throwback of sorts as well, the juicy Delmonico steak and thick grilled pork chops a welcome antidote to the fussy Florribean fusions of today. Sadly, just as all things must pass, nostalgic replicas of all things must pass too.
After a late night out on the town, it's hard to just say good-bye and go home -- especially when the sun's already well ahead of you. Plus, all that partying creates quite an appetite, and all that alcohol needs something to absorb it -- that is, unless you enjoy a hangover. You could go to Taco Bell; but remember, you're trying to avoid being stuck in the bathroom. You're better off heading over to Sande's Restaurant for a quick bite before you lie down for the day. Open at 6 a.m., Sande's has several breakfast combinations like the number one (two eggs, bacon or sausage, and hotcakes or toast, $3.50), number two (two eggs; bacon, ham or sausage; potatoes or grits; and toast; $4), or the number three (Western omelet with toast, $5.50). For groups, there's the Family Breakfast ($19.50), which includes eight scrambled eggs; home fries, hash browns, or grits; four bacon strips; two sausage patties; two sausage links; two orders of toast; two biscuits; four hotcakes; two French toast slices; and a bowl of sausage gravy. It's sure to soak up whatever alcohol lingers in your beer-drenched belly. While time may be the best cure for a hangover, a little greasy food ain't bad either.
It's Friday night, and you're hosting a party to celebrate your, uh... Well, there's no real reason; you just wanna get drunk. But you also want to take care of your guests, and yourself, for that matter. So instead of buying the same old, run-of-the-mill domestic beer from the corner store, take a trip to Case & Keg Beer World, where you can browse the more than 600 beer types and more than 140 keg beers. Gaze in awe as you choose from the huge selection of imported/micro ales and malts from breweries in the United Kingdom, Israel, Poland, India, Japan, the Czech Republic, and more. There are also plenty of wheat beers and sodas and even such creatively packaged stuff as Scotland's Legendary Heather Ale, which comes in a castle-shaped box. You can even get beer brewed with any name you choose on the label. Just imagine the possibilities! And if you're too busy with party-planning to pick up your keg order, Case & Keg will deliver it right to your door. Though it's probably best to just go there. It may take a few trips, but your guests will love you for it. How can anyone say no to this party?
They're $8, lack jalapeños, and the chips sometimes come singed. But, lawdy, if you want to make a meal of nachos, you've found the right place. Start with a pile of red, white, and blue chips, toss on chunks of mesquite chicken, Monterey jack cheese, two kinds of olives, and a mortar-like layer of spicy beans, then top it with an eruption of pico de gallo and sour cream. The whole mélange arrives in a skillet, which has exactly the sort of walls you need to scoop up stray beans and sauce using a single corn chip, as nature intended.
Why do the Brits fare so well with pub grub when they strike out so often with the rest of culinariana? (Bubbles and squeak? Boiled parsnips?) But here's one place where the Limeys can fly as many Union Jacks as they want. The building's 19th-century façade, including eight-foot-high English-oak front doors and stained-glass windows, was on London's historic Chancery Lane and was shipped across the pond in 1996. On nights when the Brit rock band Mad Cow is shivering the timbers of this Atlantic Avenue English pub-with-a-pedigree, you might find it hard to concentrate on the top-flight fish and chips in front of you. But persevere. Take a bite of just-right filet, get up and move to the beat, and then get back to your booth and try one of the homemade meat pies (suggestion: steak and mushroom) or Scottish fish cakes or even bangers and mash. Take a sip of one of the dozen imported beers (suggestion: Newcastle Brown Ale). Booty-shake a little more. Then finish with one of the fine fruit crumbles or a sherry trifle, followed by a glass of port and a hearty wedge of aged English Blue Stilton. There now. Life isn't so bad after all. And not one boiled parsnip in sight.
Forget the usual mega-brunches, with their prix fixe prices, "whatever"-service, and trips back to the empty salvers. Here in this two-room corner cafe that throbs with highly caffeinated conversation, major hallooing, and some of the wisecrackingest service this side of Rosie on a roll is yet more proof that the gay gene extends to the concept of brunch. On a late Sunday morning, it seems that wise straights have discovered this reasonably priced (average $8 per meal) little secret too. It all works thanks to the sensible kitchen, which turns the usual brunchly ducklings -- taffy-pull pancakes and omelets Firestone could patent -- into swans. The cook even gets the temperature of the food right, dish after dish turning up neither retro-warmed nor colder than winter in Murmansk. Helping it all go down is coffee as fresh as a slap. While eavesdropping on dialogue worthy of Carson on Queer Eye (tables are that close), admire the Liberace-meets-Auntie Mame décor. Rarely has more been better. Typical of brunch, timing is everything, and during peak hours, lines can form faster than a face-lift on Joan Rivers, but be patient -- the waiting ones disappear just as quickly, sucked into this happily spinning vortex of the well-toned and quick-tongued.
Does this lawyerly eatery have an impressive tort-quashing track record? Or maybe a helpful friend at the small-claims courthouse?
So you just ate the best meal of your life, but you're not sated. You still need that little buzz that makes a damn good meal perfect. You could smoke a cigar, but that's not allowed these days. Pot? You crazy? So how about a snifter of the finest French cognac? No better place to try this final step toward gastronomic paradise than Side Bar at the Himmarshee Bar & Grille. They have the three top brands -- Courvoisier, Remy Martin, and Hennessey -- in both VSOP and top-drawer types. Side Bar is connected to the restaurant -- which is fantastic -- so you can just walk around the corner for a toot or drop in after eating somewhere else. Prices range from $9 to $25. So relax, whirl it around a little, and let the fumes make your head spin, then sip slowly. All is well with the world, no, mon ami?
South Florida is a long way from home for the several thousand Finns who spend the winters in Lake Worth. For a little taste of the motherland, many of them come to Scandia Bakery, which has become something of a city hall for snowbirds from the Helsinki hinterlands. They discuss news from the north over custard-filled Danish at breakfast, plates of meatloaf ($6.75 for a whole meal) for lunch, and cabbage rolls (two for $4) at dinner. Specials are written on paper plates taped to the back wall, and a shelf of goods displays all things Finnish, including bags of ultra-strong coffee that would make those Scandinavian winters bearable. After lounging for a few hours on the L-shaped couch under the front windows, you can buy a warm of Russian sourdough from owners Aune and Taisto Kaanto. And you'll be glad you did. All of it is a lot easier to digest than the Finnish language. Example: Thank you is pronounced kiitos. The place is open for breakfast and lunch but closed during the summer.
"Don't be a chickenshit!" "Smack my ass and call me Sally!" These are two of the more involved names of the 12 sauces (four regulars and eight rotating ones) in the bar at Tijuana Flats Burrito Co., daring you -- make that double-daring you -- to "Give heat a chance." As soon as you walk in the door, you're seeing red; the walls are a deep shade of it and decorated with photos of hot-sauce survivors. (If you're a glutton for punishment, try the aptly named "Ass in Hell.") The sauces, of course, are all there to accompany Tijuana Flats' budget-conscious menu, which includes drool-inducing dishes like the toasted blackened chicken burrito ($5.75) and the spinach artichoke quesadilla ($5.50). In fact, the most expensive thing on the menu comes out to a whopping $7.75. But your pockets won't be the only thing paying.
Best Outdoor Dining
Florida Tap Room Dockside Restaurant & Bar Readers' Choice: Dada
With 14 draft beer choices (among them, the 1988 British Grand Champion Old Thumper and a crisp, dry Shipyard Light Ale) and a no-strangers bar, the Tap Room defines itself as winningly as Charlize Theron negotiating the red carpet at the Oscars. While this may not be high dining, its score of tables hugs the Bahia Mar Marina. Just finishing its first year, the Tap Room can be proud of its have-no-fear menu, which accents appetizers such as crab cakes ($9.95), highly decorated burgers and sandwiches ($6 to $9), and a list of entrées ($16 to $19) that boasts a swanky piece of salmon served on a cedar plank. All of this good food, a sunset remindful of Key West's Mallory Pier, and the chance to rub elbows (and more?) with some of the owners of the 90-foot yachts docked a few feet away make this spot one of our favorite new dining additions. Best indication of the quality: Even the staff likes to eat here. Readers' Choice: Dada
Face it: Our primordial ancestors had the right idea about how to eat shellfish. They'd find a handy club or fist-sized rock, smash it down on the calcium carbonate-layered sea creature, and finger out the fleshy parts. Early in our lives, however, too early to resist parental persuasion, Mom and Dad thrust a spoon and fork between our fingers and opposable thumb at mealtime. We're witless and soon come to accept those cursed utensils as the proper way to deliver food to the ol' piehole. That's why the Rustic Inn is such a fine place to get in touch with your inner Neanderthal. Tucked away in the industrio-wasteland west of the Hollywood airport, Rustic Inn staff spread newspapers over the wide tables and equip diners with wooden mallets. The crab meals -- blue and golden garlic -- begin at $21. More expensive crabs include the blue steamed, Jonah, queen, and king. For the ultimate meal, order the $63 king colossal crab, which comes with parsley potatoes and veggie (as if you'd have room for one). Once the heaping bowl of crab legs arrives, you just bash away. Forget the fork; dig that meat out with your seawater-soaked hands. Suck the tiny pieces out until you're blue. A caveman paradise. Open Monday through Saturday 11:30 a.m. to 10:45 p.m. and Sundays 2 to 9:45 p.m.
About the same size as the cabin of an executive jet and as darkly intime as Antonio Banderas' eyes, this dinners-only slice of high dining has been enjoyed for 35 years by luxe Lauderdale. And it doesn't need to raise its voice to declare its utter suitability for proposals of any kind. You, however, may scream in delight over the 23-out-of-30 2004 Zagat rating, the wrinkle-erasing lighting, and the suggestive lapping of the waters drifting by your table overlooking the quiet canal. It's a high-priced-and-savagely-worth-it spread. Taken over by new owners a year ago from the Romano family that moved it from Brooklyn in 1970, La Tavernetta has a menu that leans more toward the tastes and colors of northern rather than southern Italy. And the wine list has expanded its breadth and depth (ah, those Chiantis!). But nothing else -- not even the easy-to-miss side entrance -- has changed here.
So you're drunk, having lots of fun, and you spill a greasy something down your shirt. It's after midnight. What's a slob to do? Well, if you are at the downtown hot spot Tarpon Bend, pick up one of the $15 all-cotton T's in the front. There's a pun-opoly to choose from, emblazoned with the following: "Nice Bass," "Master Baiters Welcome," "Spawn Till Dawn," "Best Piece of Tale in Fort Lauderdale," and that old classic, complemented by a picture of a very large fish: "Size Matters."
Don't be harsh on those folks who go to Tom Jenkins and order the barbecued chicken. They're not bad people, just misinformed. It isn't their fault nobody's told them the ribs here are the thickest, meatiest, and smokiest that you can possibly find this side of the Mississippi and that it's the ribs that set Tom's jaunty old barbecue joint apart from the rest. Besides, the deep, brick-red barbecue sauce here is so seriously and piquantly delicious that it can make even poultry seem irresistible. Tom's has other things going for it, like great corn muffins, slow-cooked ham-hocked greens, and an authentic Southern barbecue ambiance with African-Americans, good ol' boys, Latinos, and Jews sitting side by side not only in peace but openly communicating with one another -- as in "Could you please pass the paper towels?" Still, if you find yourself seated at Tom's next to someone eating chicken, don't pity or denigrate; just politely offer them one of your precious ribs. They will likely remember the gesture the rest of their lives. A rack costs $16.95. It's only $17.95 with two side orders and bread.
English clergyman Sydney Smith claimed, "Soup and fish explain half the emotions of life." Spot-on, Syd. Since at least half of the menu at this pan-Asian place is one or the other and since at least five are among the best liquids you'll ever swallow (a tom yum seafood soup will send you into a swivet), this 2-year-old transplant from the 79th Street Causeway in Miami-Dade County is one moving experience. Here are curries ($12 to $17) that will make your mouth -- not your eyes -- water and a selection of Thai noodle dishes that would qualify for Madame Nuh's last supper. Sushi-Thai is longer on atmosphere than many of the very good competitors. Servers here never ask "Is everything all right?" but glide by discreetly at just the right times. The place is a lucky charm on a bracelet of local Thai spots. Lunch, dinner, and delivery too.
Browsing through the produce section of your average supermarket, you have to wonder: What the hell are we eating? What is all that white stuff on apples and plums? And who sat on the tomatoes? The more sensible thing, however, would be to do your weekly fruit and veggie shopping at the West Palm Beach GreenMarket. Not that produce is all the place has to offer; there's also lots of fresh tea, pastries, nuts, and pastas, as well as an assortment of plants and flowers from more than 60 vendors. But before the shopping begins, start your morning off with a cup o' joe from Cappuccino Express ($1.25 small, $1.75 tall) or a nice pancake breakfast courtesy of Tuxedo Gourmet Catering ($4 plain or with strawberries), which has a booth set up in front of the City Hall building. Or if you prefer something a little spicier, go get some jerk chicken ($5, kabobs) from the nearby Jamaican food vendors. Either way, you'll be serenaded by live music while breakfasting in the shade. Afterward, you can check your health with a free blood-pressure screening by West Palm Beach Fire-Rescue. Try getting all of that at Winn-Dixie. The West Palm Beach GreenMarket is open Saturday from 7 a.m. to 1 p.m. from mid-October through the end of April.
The no-holds-barred crowd that often lines up in early evenings to get into this 20-plus-year-old spot is a mix of bikers, surfers, condo-nauts and prowling tourists -- all eager for their electronic buzzers to light up and tell them it's their turn to cram into this little combo tavern/fishhouse, which anchors all the glamour that is downtown Deerfield. Once inside, they'll get a taste of rough-hewn walls supporting more nautica than an Americas Cup yacht and a staff that gives as good as it gets. Not to worry. Elbows are soon too busy flying as diners dig into either the why-be-fancy? raw bar items such as fresh clams, oysters, and regular or rock shrimp (a house specialty) or more prettified choices including oysters Rockefeller, clams casino, and escargots. Prices range from $4.25 per dish to whatever the market will bear. And don't forget to try the whale fries -- Capt. Ahab would have gladly given up Moby Dick for a few mouthfuls of these.
What most "gourmet" markets fail to understand is that the finest foods needn't be fancy; they just have to taste good. Laurenzo's Oceanside lets the competition focus on the fusion of multitudinous, multinational imports, instead carving a nice niche for itself as the best purveyors of old-world Italian specialties -- truth be told, the only store in South Florida to do as good a job is the original Laurenzo's in North Miami. It's not that there is anything wrong with pistachio-crusted meatloaf with wasabi mashed potatoes, but if you want a takeout dinner to lend the comfort of home cooking, might as well get the real thing. Like manicotti, stuffed shells, and lasagna prepared with Laurenzo's ricotta and mozzarella cheeses. Like Italian sausage and peppers, eggplant parmigiana, and meatballs that would make Tony Soprano cry. We're talking one-stop shopping too, as you can turn your main course into a full meal by picking up some antipasti from the prepared foods section, freshly baked Italian bread from a North Miami bakery, a bottle of appropriate wine from a well-priced selection, fruit and salad greens from the produce department, and freshly stuffed canolis for dessert. Yes, it's all a bit pricey but still a bargain compared to what you'd pay for the same dinner in a restaurant.
The name of the restaurant is misleading, as this surely isn't a joint but a handsomely designed room with cherry-wood floors, warm mahogany highlights, and two separate rooms for parties and corporate events -- exactly the sort of environment that hobos have, throughout their colorful history, tended to avoid. It is, however, a joint venture that was started a decade ago by husband/executive chef Steven LaBiner and wife/general manager/sommelier Janet Ribera-LaBiner. Hobo's has expanded over the years, but the emphasis on ultrafresh and delectable seafood remains the same. A wide range of fish and shellfish is on hand, each customized according to patrons' desires regarding cooking method and sauce. Whether it be grilled mahi-mahi with lemon butter or pan-seared grouper with sizzling Thai sauce, the flavors of the fish come through vibrantly. Dinners are as generous as they are delicious, accompanied by artesan breads, sprightly salad, and a smart array of flawlessly cooked starches and vegetables. Consistently great seafood, professional service, comfortable family ambiance, moderate prices, and a wine list bestowed with Wine Spectator magazine's Award of Excellence make Hobo's one very classy joint.
Looking for a ten-hour votive candle? A tortilla maker? You could go to Sedano's in Hollywood, as so many of the ordinary do, but why, when a visit to this muy amable grocery in the middle of Fort Lauderdale's version of Little Havana proves you're the cultural adventurer you think you are? Owned by the Linares family for seven years and patronized by people who know from marinating sauces and chorizos, Santa Barbara Grocery packs more variety of selections in its few hundred square feet than most larger "power" markets do in 10,000; it also boasts a neighboring bakery with superb café cubano and a nearby "Latin Sounds" CD store that blasts the latest salsa from an outdoor sound system worthy of Juan Peron. On the Santa Barbara grocery counters, you'll find choices of dried beans and rice, enough types of spices for an Indian wedding feast, and hundreds of Food World mysteries. The meat selection may cause most gringos to pull out their dictionaries, and some basic Spanish won't hurt you when approaching the friendly staff. But how hard is it to say "¿Que es?" when you're holding a package of what looks like corn husks? Go ahead. Ask. They really are corn husks.
It's about time we found a place where both you and the kids can let down what's left of your hair. This low-profile Lauderdale landmark tucked along the downtown stretch of the New River is just the place. Here, by the dockside restaurant (a more formal dining area is upstairs), the kids can cannonball into the decent-sized pool and eat $3.25 hamburgers -- or chicken fingers for the same price if you're watching their waistlines -- and you can clock back at the bar, watch the boats idle by, and pretend you're young again. On Sundays, there's live music, and the performer is happy to let the whippersnappers get up and karaoke to their fave tunes (beware the American Idol wannabes). Meanwhile, you can explore the bounties of the well-stocked bar, banter with the lively and capable wait staff, delve into the sandwiches-salads-and-baskets menu with its reasonable prices and play-it-safe choices, and generally put your feet up and your mind at rest. Caution, however: One of you adults will have to lifeguard at the pool. But there's always a price, isn't there?
The etymology of romaine is about what you'd expect, given that it sounds like a Frenchman's lip-squishing pronunciation of Roman. The stuff dates back, you know. Likewise, romaine tastes about as you'd expect it to, given that it's lettuce. As lettuce, if it's to taste like more than the popped polysaccharides of a plant cell wall, you've got to pour on the dressing. The Deli Den does that fine and then goes Caesar one better by adding splinters of grated parmesan, dense croutons, and mandarin-orange sections like plump wads of knuckle skin. Slap some chicken ($8.95) or salmon ($9.95) on that baby and heap it all in a bowl like an upturned umbrella and you're ready to top off the gratis pickles, slaw, and soup (try the matzo ball) that arrive just after the ice water.
This place wins for personality and service hands down; it's an added bonus that the food is tasty. And the Horizon's got history too. This location opened a year and a half ago after its namesake on Davie Boulevard burned to the ground on Christmas Day. Owned by middle-aged Greek couple Spiro Passakos and his wife, Thecla (known to the regulars as "the Boss"), and staffed fully by members of the family, you'll think of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Housed in a nondescript little space on one of the less attractive stretches of U.S. 441, the joint is set up in classic diner fashion: booths along the windows and stools at the counter, and prices are good too. Typical diner fare with an emphasis on Greek cuisine: moussaka (think eggplant parm with way less sauce, $5.95), spanakopita (spinach pie, $3.75), gyros (for the last time, it's pronounced "yee-ros," $5.95), and souvlaki (pork or chicken chunks on a stick, $6.25). Of course, if you want a club sandwich, burger, or BLT, they got those too.
Best Deli
Poppie's Restaurant & Delicatessen Readers' Choice: Too Jay's
You are not a number; you are a human being. Now try telling that to the hostess at one of the big chain delicatessens that are to Palm Beach County what automobile factories once were to Detroit. It's true that the assembly-line pastrami sandwiches at these places are usually flawless, but you can get the same perfect specimen at Poppie's without having to wait for the three-digit number on your little white ticket to be called. During season, there are lines to get into Poppie's too, but once seated, you'll be treated in the most civilized fashion: a basket of bread and a bowl of pickles at dinner and a seasoned waitress asking, "What can I get you, bubbaleh?" Well, lessee, try some chicken soup, a knish, a side of creamed herring -- or gefilte fish? A corned beef platter with creamy potato salad -- maybe a side of chopped liver instead of the herring? A Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray, one of those shiny black & whites from the pastry department, halvah, cup of coffee with no cream or sugar (you have to watch your weight), and a loaf of Poppie's delicious seeded rye to go. Save the smoked fish and bagels for another day.
Back when you were small, when you and your fellow neighborhood rugrats gallivanted carelessly through the streets attacking one another with palm fronds, you'd occasionally receive an invitation for dinner at Vince's house. You never turned it down. That's because the food at Vince's, made with spice-filled sauces so tasty and meaty that you could eat them separately, was cooked with the love only a devoted Italian madre can provide. Those were the days. But they ain't over. Reno's Pizzeria on Hollywood Boulevard specializes in making authentic Italian-style feasts to go at rock-bottom prices (expect to be stuffed for less than $10 per person). Whether it's a Blockbuster night or a romantic dinner for two in the backyard, you can always swing by Reno's and pick up an appetizer of fried calamari and two tasty Stromboli specials. And don't forget the cheesecake, capretto. It's just like the way Vince's mama made it.
Tie pins, French cuffs, the finest wools, complexions aglow from heavy gym-time and stock options -- all are as prevalent as Britney before a CD release at this 4-year-old bastion of the New Lauderdale, which packs a Wayne (Huizenga)-meets-Terry (Stiles) degree of clout rarely seen locally outside the Tower Club. Modeled after the old chophouses of New York City and Chicago and offering mezza-Italia presentations of pastas ($10 to $11), panninis ($9 to $13), and seafood ($13 to $15) among the veal and chops, this spacious set of dark-wooded dining rooms-plus-bar leaves fuss at the front door. It provides a staff so accommodating that only their ages make you doubt they might be ex-Up with People singers. Better yet, one need not give the chauffeur the day off to afford lunch (unless you're going for a dinner-sized portion of a chop, which can run you up to $29).
So your sizzling Latin mate is in the mood for a spicy dinner, the couple on the couch across from you are vegetarians, and your visiting sister and brother-in-law won't try anything they haven't eaten a thousand times before. Give Dragon Gate a call and order piquant beef in garlic sauce and Szechuan soft-shell crabs for your better half, vegetable egg foo young and fried tofu with red pepper sauce for the noncarnivores, subgum chicken chop suey for the in-laws. Add some hot-and-sour soup, the meatiest of barbecue pork ribs, and moo shoo pork for yourself. The bill will be outrageously affordable, the food fresh and delectable, the guests occupying your living room sated so that hopefully they will merely thank you profusely and leave you alone with your grateful mate. Just pray they don't return an hour later for more.
It's a good thing when you go out for authentic ethnic food and the restaurant is packed with families of that ethnicity who are laughing and eating happily together. This is what you should expect when you arrive at Toa Toa, home to a genuine Hong Kong-style dim sum since 1989. Translated as "to touch your heart," dim sum is the Chinese equivalent to 'round-the-clock brunch, just without the mimosas. Toa Toa has a full menu complete with pictures to guide the novice. There is a variety of small plates of appetizers including sticky shrimp dumplings, fried scallop cutlets, a number of different rice pastes, and even marinated chicken feet -- scrawny, bent-pipe-cleaner-shaped things covered with red gelatinous goop. Brave virgins should just close their eyes and point their fingers at the menu, a good way to ensure variety. Top off whatever you land on with a baked custard bun and a pot or two of tea. Toa Toa is inexpensive (from $2.85 for a small dim sum to $6.95 for silver noodles) and tasty too, a bona fide culinary field trip. Even better, you can get dim sum there all day every day but Wednesday.
Yes, Betty's turns up on winner's lists all over the place, and yes, it might be great to find a new champion, but who can argue with the royal richness of the Red Velvet cake or that reasonably priced ($8.25) but unreasonably good fried chicken (done up in heart-conscious canola oil)? Then there's the fun of the three televisions staging channel battles in various corners of the room and those waitresses who can still sashay while bearing four orders of superb biscuits and sweet potato pie ($2.50 for all desserts). These are only a few of the reasons Betty Taylor's 20-year-old, ten-table-plus-lunch counter watering hole still reigns as the queen of the fast-emerging Soul Food corridor along Fort Lauderdale's Sistrunk Avenue. Some others? It opens for breakfast at 6 a.m. (closing's at 11 p.m. Monday through Thursday, midnight on weekends), the neighborhood doesn't make a white man jump, and there's a jukebox with selections that may give even you rhythm.
Diss the oncoming condo parades if you must, but if saturating downtown with monied, sushi-hungry aristocracy allows more restaurants like Shizen to open, then sunsets be damned. Bring on the noblesse and their concomitant garish high-rises. How else are you going to find a proper rainbow roll ($9) at 1:30 a.m. served in a stylish and chill joint? The servers at this 6-month-old restaurant are gracious, and the owner, Tom Kamioka, sometimes makes the rounds, even quite late, to introduce himself and welcome diners. Consider it fine Japanese dining without snobbery. Heck, after midnight, some morsels are two-for-one. Now who's feeling conspicuously wealthy, eh? Another round of spicy tuna rolls and sake already!
A fascinating cultural collision plays out daily at Joy's, a bustling East-meets-West Indian restaurant tucked in a corner of the Lauderhill Mall. Delicious curry goat would be the standard (and most popular) option at $7, but chicken, oxtail, shrimp, conch, beef, and veggies are also available, rolled up in paper-thin Indian flatbread. At only a buck, you gotta try some of the other tasty items on the menu: aloo pie is a puff-pastry filled with potatoey goodness, for instance. Or have a go at a plate of phulowrie, battered balls of split pea and saffron. Shout out your order over the booming sound system and take a number. Regardless of whether you grab a roomy booth to enjoy it there or get your food to go, you'll have plenty of time to down a bottle or two of Carib (Trinidad's favorite beer) or a shandy (half beer, half ginger ale) while you wait. After all, you're on island time, mon. The place has seven comfortable tables. So relaaaax.
At first, it seems that very little about this unassuming, pedestrian, but perennially popular strip-mall eatery is outstanding. The Thai dishes are good if unspectacular, and most of the cooked Japanese fare is just perfectly... adequate. However, the raw fish served at Sushi Thai is unbeatable. No fancy places, no jam-packed out-the-door place, not even your favorite tried-and-true neighborhood standbys can possibly match the simply spectacular off-the-boat freshness of S-T's sushi and sashimi. Artsy presentations, innovative preparations, and obscure oddities are available all over South Florida. Go ahead, knock yourself out at the conveyor-belt place where the sushi travels to you on a plastic boat and the chefs wear silly hats (and the fish tastes like dry cat food). But raw-fish eaters who demand a consistently perfect product will not find better than Sushi Thai. Master Sushi Chef Sevee Mongkolsin is adept at the most crucial aspect of the sushi trade -- selecting the very finest fish available from wholesalers. Years of studying the sashimic arts have proven that the salmon, tuna, yellowtail, and scallop (did we say salmon?) sold here beat the competition fins down. Best times to visit are Monday and Tuesday nights (5 to 10:30 p.m.), when dollar specials on sushi and items like gyoza make it fun to indulge.
The traditional Spanish regional cuisine at Cafe Seville is cooked to order, which means you may have to sit awhile in the quaint dining room, sipping one of the restaurant's excellent wines, perhaps snacking on tapas or a cold platter of Spanish Serrano ham, manchego cheese, chorizo, and stuffed olives. Soon enough, your patience will be rewarded with mouth-watering dishes like a bright rendition of Andalusia's renowned gazpacho; roasted leg of lamb, leg of pork, and rabbit with rosemary; corvina swimming in a sauce sharked with garlic, parsley, cilantro, lemon juice, and white wine; a bold cazuela de mariscos, duck, veal, chicken, or steaks. Then there's a paella so well-stocked with shellfish, chicken, and pork that it's not quite right to call it a rice dish. The robust cuisine, crisp service, and charming Old World ambiance suggest an extravagant bill, but Seville's prices are moderate, with just about every entrée under $20.
Smack in the middle of what may be the hippest little shopping center in South Florida (if we need to tell you the name, you're over), Tipico boasts a menu that says it all: "American Style -- Mexican Flavor -- Spanish Flair," with selections that jitterbug from Mexico to Cuba and on to Kansas City (cheeseburgers, caesar salads?), flaunting a catholic sense of cuisine as confidently as do all the other local Mexican-and-more places. Milton has his version of paradise. This is ours, with a $9.95 chili relleño in place of an apple. The light streams through the lace café curtains onto the polished wooden floor; the white-shirted staff smiles at you with something other than dollars in their eyes. There's hep-cat '80s rock on the sound system, and you're scarfing down a Veracruzana combo (chicken tostada, cheese enchilada, beef taco for $10.95) so spunky and fresh, you'll swear the Central American chef knew you were writing this. Churrasco steaks ($11.95), carnitas ($9.95), arroz con pollo ($9.95), and the wonderful campeche burro ($8.95) are highlights. Open most days from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m., the $10-average prices don't make you feel like you're paying by the square foot, but during peak hours (7 to 8 p.m.), you may want to trade in your Navigator for an Escort when wrangling for a parking place (try the street behind the shopping center). Don't be discouraged. La comida es perfecta!
Ages: 36; 35
Hometown: College Park, Maryland; Weymouth, Massachusetts
Claim to fame: Co-owners of Hamburger Mary's Fort Lauderdale, a premier hangout in Wilton Manors for the gay community.
What they've done for us lately: The restaurant, which opened in 2002, seats 225 but regularly has a wait.
What it takes: "A tremendous amount of teamwork, all different backgrounds and age groups. We have a great mix of gay and straight, old, and young. We both work 60 to 70 hours a week. We try to make a lot of changes. It takes a lot of patience. The most fun thing we've done was a Hamburger Mary look-alike contest... She really is a trashier Dolly Parton... Dolly out of a trailer park."
Within the pink walls of this 1950s-style diner, it's not just about the French fries themselves (although those are available in straight-cut or crinkle-cut and get sliced up in the kitchen from fresh potatoes). It's also about what you can get on them. Gravy! Chili! Cheese! Chili and cheese! Cheese and gravy! Prices begin at $2.95 for plain fries and are a bit more with chili and cheese. The waitresses -- costumed in old-fashioned pink dresses -- can also serve you fries in a waffle cut or cut from a sweet potato (those types arrive frozen but get cooked to crispy perfection). The staff also whips up a mean mashed potato, for which there's a secret recipe. So, settle onto a stool at the old-fashioned ice cream counter, put some doo-wop on the jukebox, and hope the buttons don't pop off your poodle skirt as you scarf down fries beneath the omnipresent pictures of Elvis and James Dean.
Best Vietnamese Restaurant
Pho Nam Do Vietnamese Noodle House
Our mission ultimately led to this unassuming little eatery in a nondescript strip mall in Lauderdale Lakes. Its references were good, and it lived up to the reputation. There's not much in the way of atmosphere; there are only a dozen or so tables, and the service is friendly. But you'll immediately notice that a sizable segment of the clientele is Asian, always a good sign, and that most are having a noodle soup as part of their meal, another good sign for a place that bills itself as a "noodle house." Our party of five had so much trouble deciding among the menu's 40 or so offerings (not including beverages) that we ended up sharing all of the first seven items (appetizers and house specialties) and then another three (noodle soups and a grilled shrimp rice plate). The emphasis here is on fairly basic Vietnamese food, although it's easy to pick up on the other cuisines that have influenced the country's turbulent culture, including Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Indian, and French. There's a bewildering array of beef noodle soups with various combinations of rare beef, well-done beef, beef tendon, beef tripe, and beef balls. A less intimidating handful of soups features noodles combined with beef, seafood, chicken, pork, and other ingredients. Condiments include the classic Vietnamese nuoc mam dipping sauce (based on fermented fish), a Thai-style peanut sauce, a chili sauce, and a hot pepper paste, all of which work well with just about any dish. There's no bar. Our grand total for ten dishes: $64 and change.
Georgia Pig has been around for more than half a century, which says a lot in restaurant-fickle South Florida. And not much seems to have changed except the jukebox, which now runs on CDs, and the parking lot, which was expanded a few years ago at this always-busy little eatery. The Pig still doesn't accept credit cards, and it retains its '50s-style atmosphere, which relies heavily on what can only be described as retro swine chic: ceramic pigs, carved-wood pigs, plastic pigs, etc. There's still a big heap of oak piled out back, and as you make your way to the restaurant, you can smell the smokiness provided by that wood. You get the picture. But the best thing that hasn't changed is the barbecue that dominates the small menu (in the form of a paper placemat). Sure, you can get breakfast and even burgers, shrimp, Brunswick stew, and daily $5.75 specials. But why would you want to when you can have some of the most succulent Deep South barbecue in South Florida? It comes in almost every imaginable variety: sliced pork and beef platters, spare-rib and chicken combos, even "small fry" portions. The standout, however, is the good, old-fashioned chopped pork (or beef) sandwich, which comes overstuffed with lean, tender meat you can enhance with a house barbecue sauce or hot sauce. There are a dozen or so tables and booths, but treat yourself and sit at the counter, where you can watch as the guy at the pit digs in deep to shuffle big chunks of meat around as they slowly cook, occasionally pulling one out to chop... and chop... and chop. Try not to drool.
Daril and Denizio Corti's 12-year-old Brazilian restaurant isn't big on being big. There is no ostentatious décor, no room-length salad bar, no rodizio wherein men carve large pieces of meat at your table. Panorama concentrates instead on cooking up genuine Brazilian specialties that you just can't find elsewhere, all flavorfully prepared and simply presented at an affordable price. Try a picaha skewer of juicy red hunks of beef or salt cod simmered with potatoes, onions, and pepper or shrimp stuffed with yucca or mugueca, which is fresh fish poached in coconut milk. With its authentic cuisine, live Brazilian music Thursday through Sunday, and satellite feeds of Brazilian soccer games and soap operas, you're bound to be a bit disappointed when you leave Panorama and realize that the beach in front of you is Pompano, not Ipanema.
This place, Jughead's idea of heaven, is so good that you'll overlook the missing "ed" after "fashion" in its name. The atmosphere is starker than Ellsworth Kelly's tomb. Sink your teeth into a half pound's worth of ground-fresh-daily-from-whole-briskets-of-USDA-inspected-beef burgers. Why not? They're individually pattied on the premises, grilled to order, and traditionally seasoned. Then they're stuck between buns large enough to soak up some of the drippings but small enough that you don't feel like you've put your mouth around Hawaii. Jack's offers no nostalgia besides what you'll find in the get-real menu, which is happily bereft of fad-burgers and silly dressings. This place offers homemade relishes and keeps the prices regular ($3 to $4 for burgers) and stays focused on the beef (though a few sandwiches and hot dogs are offered). Cute capper: You can get a Cherry Coke here. Now, what about a Green River?
With its high ceilings, graceful archways, large wooden tables, upholstered chairs, and rustic fireplace, Coral Springs' landmark Runyon's Restaurant looks more like a country inn than your typical steak house. It is only when you dig into giant, succulent meat like the famous prime rib with puffy popover of Yorkshire pudding or Texas-cut rib eye that you can be certain you are indeed in an honest-to-goodness, all-American house of prime meat -- and a dandy one at that. Other steak-house favorites are also on hand, like hefty beefsteak tomato salads and oversized Idaho potatoes, but, in another note of distinction, side dishes are included with the meal. Which isn't to say Runyon's is a bargain. In true steak-house fashion, prices here are as big as the outlandishly rewarding cuisine.
Yes, there's a lot of local competition in this category -- from specialty spots to chains that play with your memories of ballpark dogs of yore. But forget those ghosts of ballpark 'furters past -- and the circle-of-hell crowds in the parking lot. Right here, right now, you can have it all -- if all means a mouthful of a quarter-pound, plump, steaming beef-a-plenty kosher dog that is juicier than the young Sophia Loren in a peasant blouse. And -- natch -- it's cheaper than the competition: $1.59 for a dog, a 20-ounce drink, and your choice of trimmings, including mustard, deli mustard, onions, sauerkraut, and ketchup. You don't even need to be a Costco member to sit down at one of the tables and chow down. Sound implausible? Believe Millie Goldstein of Davie, who sat next to us on our last visit. Says Millie: "Dad was from Coney Island. He knew from hot dogs and said these were the best." Go know.
Best Place to Be a Carnivore
The Knife Argentinian Steak House
Oh sure, the Knife has a salad bar, vegetables, pasta, and the like. They got pork too, along with chicken, if you're in a fowl mood. But this place is all about the beef. We're talking brisket, roast beef, flank steaks, T-bones, ribs... all things bovine. The place has got dead cow aplenty. Hell, you can feel Clara Peller's ghost hanging in the room. And best of all, it's all you can eat. That's right. For dinner, plunk down $20.85 (Monday through Thursday -- weekends, two dollars more) and eat meat until your arteries crystallize, your heart palpitates, and your digestive system grinds to an oh-so-satisfying halt. Mainline the grease, if you like, though the place is BYOIV. Our only regret is we don't have four stomachs like our big, dumb, delicious friends. We cavemen; watch us eat.
Hiyeee! And, like, so totally welcome to the 8-month-old baby bean, Java Boys in Wilton Manors. Oh my God, like, what should you get? The regular coffee ($1.50 to $1.90) is supposed to be pretty killer -- not like that corporate diarrhea, eww -- but bore your taste buds to death! Come on, so at least get a frothy latte ($2.50 to $3) or one of their iced lattes and mochas ($2.75 to $3.25). Seriously, speak truth: Do you feel the munch? Break that starvation diet for, like, ten seconds and take a bite of this carrot cake ($3.95). Fine, go get your own crème brulée cheesecake ($4.25). You know you're just going up there to flirt with (owners) Ly and Steve. OK, OK, just kidding. But tell them about your pink faux fur handcuffs, 'cause precoffee-shop leisure life, they were both law enforcement studs. Such a major turn-on. Faux fur, tell them. Dare you. OK, meet you on the plush couches, where we can watch videos of Kylie Minogue sunbathing and Madonna and Britney almost making out until superlate (midnight on weekdays and 1 a.m. on Friday and Saturdays) when they throw us out with their big, muscular arms.
The red-winged blackbird inhabits marshes and is known for its complex vocalizations. The orchard oriole can be found in the mesquite shrubs of Arizona and is characterized by modulated song. The early bird congregates in South Florida strip malls from 3:30 to 5:30 p.m.; its distinctive cries of joy can be heard for miles around: "Cheap! Cheap! Cheap!" This bird is a savvy menu-peruser with a hearty appetite and a sharp eye for picking the most susceptible restaurant owners as prey. A creature of habit, the early bird can be espied each evening at one of its favorite new nesting places: The Broadway Deli. This cordial deli/restaurant offers a full dinner of consistently well-prepared food, starting with a complimentary bowl of chopped salad and basket of home-baked breads to peck at. Most diners choose to begin their meals with bowls of perfectly light matzo balls in rich, noodle-laden chicken broth, followed by main courses like roast chicken, sweet-and-sour stuffed cabbage, or brisket of beef. Each entrée is accompanied by choice of two sides (make one of them kasha varnishkas), soft drink, and dessert -- all for the chirpy price of $7.95 to $9.95. Many other species of diners flock here for breakfast, lunch, and post-early-bird dinner too.
Mad cow hasn't changed anything -- many restaurateurs still consider vegetarians the al Qaeda of American diners. Sublime offers a much-needed refuge of respect to these oft-abused eaters and does so in more convincing fashion than anyplace else in the region. The 150-seat room is Zen-like serene and tastefully enhanced with skylights, potted plants, and waterfall windows. The food products have been harvested via sustainable or certified organic practices, and the wines come from chemically unadulterated crops. Even the olives and vodka in the house martini are organic. More significantly, the delectable cuisine ranges from wholesome nutty grain bread paired with hummus that jump-starts the meal, to appetizers like fire-roasted artichoke or wood-oven pizza, to main courses like polenta short stack with tomatoes and arugula and stuffed cabbage swelled with brown rice, diced fruits, and nuts. Sublime keeps prices low, with most entrees between $12 and $14, and 100 percent of the modest profits are donated to promoting animal welfare and the vegan lifestyle. Which means that when you eat at Sublime, you will not only partake of the finest vegetarian fare around but you'll also perform something of a philanthropic act.
The menu is chock-full of wondrous Persian cuisine -- which is a politically innocuous way of saying Iranian food. All this may seem quite exotic, but many of the offerings here are surprisingly familiar, like hummus, stuffed grape leaves, and kebabs of chicken, salmon, tenderloin, and lamb -- all tasty renditions but nothing to declare a fatwah over. It's the other items listed that catapult Caspian past the ubiquitous, formula-driven pita emporiums. Absolutely distinctive (and delectable) dishes include khoresht stews of beef, chicken, or lamb; fragrant ashe reshteh, soup plumped with kidney beans, garbanzos, lentils, and noodles and greened with spinach, chives, cilantro, parsley, and mint; and khoresht e' fesenjoon, chicken with an audacious pomegranate/walnut sauce -- jars of which are available for sale next door at Caspian's grocery, Nu Taste. The menu states that "nearly three thousand years of history, tradition, and love have gone into the meals you are about to enjoy," and yet prices are no higher than that of other Middle Eastern establishments that have only 2,000 years behind them. You can't beat that for a bargain.
Name: Johnny V (Johnny Vinczencz)
Age: 43
Hometown: St. Louis
Claim to Fame: One of South Florida's most sought-after and most restless chefs
What he's done for us lately: He kicked off the year by opening Johnny V Restaurant/Lounge on Las Olas Boulevard. This after hopping around South Beach and Delray Beach for a decade or so, experimenting with Caribbean and Southwest cuisines, making his name among comfort-food-loving diners. The new place is getting raves. There's something familiar but subtly different about dishes like sage-scented Florida dolphin (with rock shrimp-flecked plantain stuffing) or the lobster shepherd's pie. This is American home cooking with attitude.
What it takes: "At certain levels, either you have it or you don't. You can learn your cooking skills. But the creative end? That's a gift."
Located just west of Presidential Circle in Hollywood, China Lane is nestled in a strip mall that gives it the perfect location for movie night. After all, since Blockbuster Video is one block east, you can pick up that new release, then grab your piping-hot order of moo goo gai pan ($8.95). But this Chinese restaurant offers much more than anonymous takeout. With a book-sized menu advertising dozens of authentic Chinese dishes, China Lane serves up the spicy, saucy, and sweet on beds of white and fried rice until 10:30 p.m. on Fridays and Saturdays, 10 p.m. all other days. And this ain't Grandma's MSG-filled Chinese joint either. You'll see young professionals and municipal workers nearly every night. This may be due to the restaurant's location in a recently rejuvenated area of Hollywood. Readers' Choice: P.F. Chang's
Best Place for a Volcano Roll and a Thai Friend
Saito Bangkok
Nok arrives at our table, beaming her angelic smile over a plateful of volcano rolls. She sets it down, then brings us more Sapporo. How old could she be? 19? Yet so independent, so brave, here all by herself. We are going to Thailand next week. This dinner is anticipation. "You make me miss my country," says Nok, giggling and struggling for words. "What hotel are you staying in?" Two days later. Bangkok. The telephone rings. Nok's friend. In case we need anything. Why stick to Broward and Palm Beach? Nok is the sweetest waitress in the wooorrrllllldd!
The first thing you'll want to do is buy some tumeric, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, and black peppercorns. Next, you'll take a mortar and pestle and crush the seeds (don't grind!). Now you've got your masala spice mix and can begin prepping the rest of the ingredients for your home-cooked Indian meal. No, we're not kidding, and yes, this is exactly why people who want to eat Indian food tend to do so at restaurants. So the question begs to be answered: Where to find a great Indian restaurant? And the answer zips back: "Go to Nabab." The place has all the vindaloos, tandooris, tikkas, and kebabs, along with less common regional treats such as "mild" murgh from Kashmir (with nuts, fruits, and spices), "medium hot" gosht kadai (lamb dish from Peshawar), and "very very very hot" South Indian mirchi masala (lots of peppers). Try making one of these at home -- even if you succeed, the cost for spices alone will exceed Nabab's average entrée price of $10. It's best to eat out when you desire Indian food and bester yet to do it at Nabab.
From the outside, Punta del Este looks like a dive bar. It's located right next to a laundromat called Sexy Suds. But if you're brave enough to go inside, you'll find a lobster Creole ($14.95) that'll make you cream your jeans and fried cassava ($1.75) that's almost better than sex. In fact, if you're not gettin' any, Punta del Este is a food lover's substitute for a night of hot loving. And if you're really advanced, prepare for the threesome. The Punta Del Este Special Combo ($12.95) features three meats (pork, palomilla steak, and chicken), served with rice and beans and sweet plantains. Finish it off with a steaming cup of café Cubano, and then, muchacha, let's rumba!
UPDATE: This restaurant is closed.
OK, so you have to queue up with what can be described only as an arthritic chorus line of elderly people who, for some unexplained reason, seem to have extremely sharp elbows. Nothing worthwhile comes easy. But once you plop the two big, empty, white plates upon your tray (only novices take one) and begin to work your way down the aisle of prolifically piled produce, you'll be so focused on composing (piling) towers of greens with every salad garnishing imaginable that you won't even notice the body blows from the woman behind you who's trying to grab more garbanzo beans. And that's just the beginning. After taking a seat, it's time to get up again to fill up bowls of daily soups and chilis -- chicken noodle, with giant wedges of roasted chicken, deserves a "best chicken noodle soup" citation all its own. Two types of pastas tossed every 20 minutes, along with freshly baked breads, muffins, and minisquares of pizza focaccia make it tough to save room for dessert, but most patrons manage some frozen yogurt with multiple toppings. All of this for the ridiculously low dinner price of $8.69 --kids under 3 years old eat free, ages 3 to 5 cost $1.49, 5 to 12 go for $4.49. Get in line. Readers' Choice: Houston's, Cheesecake Factory (tie)
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