My Market & Deli
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.

Mama's Latin Cafe
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.
Boulevard Subs
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.

The Restaurant at the Four Seasons Resort
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.

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!

Bonjour Bakery and Cafe
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!"

L'escalier at the Breakers
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.

The Bakehouse
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.

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