A New Times reporter was once stood up in Manalapan just before a big sushi date. Dejected, he decided to gorge on sushi anyway. No-could-do, though — the local sushi joint wasn't accepting debit cards that night. So the writer did what he hadn't done in a long, long time: He went to a steak house. Callaro's served him maybe the best prime rib of his life, as well as a succession of perfectly mixed Tanq 10 martinis. It kept him well watered and well breaded and gave him cause to lament the disappearance of creamed spinach and unadorned asparagus tips from modern-day menus. He stayed at Callaro's for two happy hours, with not even a book to keep him company. He didn't care.
Chelsea Scholler
It's safe to say that most chefs know a thing or two about food. So the fact that Marumi packs up nightly with cooks who've just finished their shifts at other Asian restaurants speaks volumes. Broward's late-night Japanese izakaya (a place for beer and small plates) is run by two veterans of South Florida's sushi scene, Teruhiko Iwasaki and Tetsu Hayakawa. And in that nondescript strip mall spot, all of the home-style dishes they prepare are like dirty little secrets spoken only among chefs. Teru-san and Tetsu-san update the specials board nightly, and it seems there's no end to the surprises. The pair braise beef tongue until the flesh is silky, then slice it and serve it over a green salad with yuzu dressing. They fry up glass minnows for crunchy little beer bites and grill thick slices of black Kurobuta pork belly for dipping into a grassy scallion sauce. And if you ever tire of inventive dishes such as crispy squid salad with spicy peppers or yellowtail hot pot with shiitake mushrooms, there's always the local, line-caught whole fish. For just $1.20 an ounce, these chefs will truck out their fresh catch and allow you to select from trigger fish, grouper, snapper, or even rarer finds like scorpion fish and Florida lobster. Then they'll prepare your selection any number of ways, from tempura fried with house-made spicy mayo to a light and savory stir-fry with garlic chives and onion. The combinations are as endless as the chefs' imaginations. And that's certainly never lacking at Marumi Sushi.
Like we said before, it doesn't take a whole heap of skill to turn an expensive piece of dry-aged prime beef into a quality steak. The difference here is you get to eat your $50-plus prime rib eye — melting with marbled fat and still hissing and popping from its Dante's Inferno-esque sear — in the company of beautiful women who all look like Greek goddesses. Granted, not everyone will be comfortable partaking in such an expensive meal in a strip club — even one as upscale as NY Strip, and even if those goddesses don't enter the restaurant portion of the club. But for us, we'll pay the difference for that luxury, thankyouverymuch.
She has long been Miami's gal, a sunny chef with a proclivity toward mixing Florida's tropical bounty with homey comfort food. But when this Jewish and Latin starlet made the trip up to Palm Beach last year to open her new restaurant at the Omphoy Hotel, she instantly became our lady as well. From early on, accolades have followed Bernstein wherever she went. In her early days at Azul, she earned Esquire's attention for Best New Restaurant in America. And in 2005, after opening her flagship restaurant Michy's, Gourmet named it among the top 50 places to dine in the country. But perhaps her biggest achievement came in 2008, when Bernstein's adherence to tradition and technique earned her the coveted James Beard Foundation award for Best Chef in the South. Her star has been rising higher ever since. At her 2-year-old Design District hot spot, Sra. Martinez, she somehow reinvigorated Spanish-style tapas right in front of everyone's eyes. And now at the Omphoy, she's taken local seafood and fresh produce and let them shine under a banner of simplicity. But what makes Michy truly special is the way she somehow manages to capture her own whimsical personality in each and every one of her restaurants. To taste her recipes is to dine right there alongside her.
Check out most sushi bars these days and you'll find nothing but overfished tuna, color-enhanced salmon, and farm-raised tiger shrimp. But not at Sushi Simon, a Boynton Beach sushi joint that rises above the typical roll. The romantic eatery features a handwritten specials menu that changes every day with what's fresh. Just grab a lychee martini or an ice-cold Sapporo and then plunge right in. Try the local mutton snapper, a firm, white-fleshed fish that's hauled right off the docks nearby; the chefs here turn it into elaborate usuzukuri, paper-thin slices arranged to resemble some exotic flower. Then there's Boston fluke, which gets seared with a hand torch and slipped into a pond of citrusy ponzu. Everything is impeccably fresh, from prized cuts of fatty o-toro to wild-caught salmon the color of a Florida sunset. And the staff is warm, inviting, and, best of all, knowledgeable.
C. Stiles
What makes a Peruvian sandwich at Bravo so great? It could be the chicharron: slow-roasted pork, sliced thick and served with caramelized sweet potato. Or the lomo saltado: marinated beef tenderloin, sautéed along with purple onion and grassy cilantro. Or just maybe it's the butifarra: airy-soft bread, slathered in rustic olive tapenade or rocoto pepper sauce and stacked with country-style ham like so many playing cards. No matter which sandwich you choose, this Wilton Manors eatery crafts its Peruvian-style sandwiches with fresh, made-to-order ingredients, all for a price that's as self-contained as these complete meals on a bun.
Want breakfast like Grandma used to make? Hit this popular Sunday brunch spot for some delicious, artery-clogging, syrup-soaked food served on plates, in skillets, or even in pots — all for about $9 or less. Tom Sawyer takes the ordinary breakfast ensembles and re-creates them, like the decadent croissant French toast. If you're up for consuming even more after breakfast, try the chocolate cigars, which look like giant rolls of happiness with chocolate wrapped inside a doughy pastry and covered in powdered sugar.
There's no way this is gonna end pretty, so let's just define our terms, bloody our lips, and get on with it: French fries are not supposed to be brown, bumpy things with intact skins. They are not supposed to be big. Those are steak fries. A French fry should be thin, almost noodly, and yellow. It should taste light, like air haunted by the ghosts of fat and salt. And if you're feeling playful, it should be topped with bright-orange cheese and hunks of bacon. That's how fries are done at Spanx. Every one of the things is golden, beautiful, and just a little shy of crunchy. Magnificent. We hear Spanx has good cheese steaks too.
Chicken wings are sort of like political candidates: What the people really want is choice! Good thing Johnnie Brown's in Delray Beach recognizes that. The bar-food haven rose from the ashes of Elwood's just this past December. Since then, it's picked up where the old joint left off, offering good tunes and stick-to-your-ribs eats to go with its wide selection of draft beer. The wings are crisp and well-fried and come in 12 varieties, ranging from mild to hot. For a slower ride, try coating them in garlicky Parmesan or Asian citrus. The more daring can up the ante with ancho-bourbon, Cajun dry rub, or the baddest of the bad, mango-habanero. Unlike the goopy, corn syrup-based sauces at chain wingeries, each of Johnnie Brown's concoctions taste freshly made and big on flavor. And you can even mix them, if you're so inclined. Now that's some real choice.
This west Delray hot spot entertains throngs of hungry revelers with live music emanating from its bar-side dance floor on Friday nights a week. While the music — mostly contemporary R&B covers — is delivered expertly and with plenty of soul, it serves only as backdrop to the really entertaining part: people-watching. The plush, low-back seats by the bar are prime real estate for cozying up with small plates of wood-fired chicken wings, crisp-crusted pizzas, and light Mediterranean fare, watching the parade as it shuffles by. And what a parade it is: There are well-to-do socialites mingling with Bocahontases on the prowl, cougar hunters looking for a hookup, and captains of industry just surveying the field. Whether acting as voyeur or relishing in being an object of attention, the scene at LOLA is a crazy good time. Just bring your best pair of dancing shoes and some sunglasses to hide behind.

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