Given that Florida’s most famous resident is a six-foot talking mouse, and its second most recognised face is that of a President who’s never more than three words away from a headline, it should come as little surprise that the Sunshine State enjoys putting on a show. Throw in a recent smattering of Michelin stars [...]
Given that Florida’s most famous resident is a six-foot talking mouse, and its second most recognised face is that of a President who’s never more than three words away from a headline, it should come as little surprise that the Sunshine State enjoys putting on a show. Throw in a recent smattering of Michelin stars and plenty of new openings, and it’s time to revisit an old favourite by the name of Miami.
We arrive on a Saturday and dive deep into Miami vibes at Sexy Fish, directly opposite the Citizen M hotel in Brickell, where we’re staying. There’s a Sexy Fish in London too, but not on this scale. We’re swiping sushi beneath a gargantuan mirror ball octopus that’s somehow defying gravity above us. Projections bring the underwater murals to life and, with the clang of a fog horn, a posse of mermaids emerge from the kitchen for a night of general gyration and posing for photos. Every sequined minidress in Miami is here at this napkin-waving, table-thumping, DJ-pumping assault on the senses.
Sunday mornings are an ideal time to explore Miami from the water as the locals don’t emerge from their slumbers until lunchtime, Captain Mike explains as we board our zodiac for a thrilling high-speed tour of Miami’s bays and islands (booked through Ocean Force Adventures). He’s right, we have the water almost entirely to ourselves.
Miami’s best bits, from beaches to modern art and an amazing street food scene
Conversations that might be taboo in the UK – money, politics, religion – seem to be your go-to in the States, and Miami (via Mike) would like you to know that she’s very rich. There’s only one vacant plot on Star Island and it’ll set you back $25 million; you’ll then need to build a house on it. Your neighbours would include Philip Frost, the pharmaceutical billionaire (net worth: $1.9 billion, since you ask) whose name adorns many Miami institutions. His palatial pad, with six acres of gardens, is round the corner from Gloria Estefan, who can often be spotted out on the water in her motor boat, Emily. Residents at Fisher Island – America’s wealthiest zip code – are said to have petitioned to have Miami’s waste water perfumed in case the wind should pick up a whiff and waft it to their shores; the practical embodiment of “stinking rich”.
Racing across the Bay of Biscayne we discover Stiltsville, in its heyday an unlikely neighbourhood of 27 stilted shacks, which saw anyone who was anyone come to party. If you weren’t partying out in this moonshine hideaway you might as well pack your bags and head off to Utah – all American jokes seem to end in Utah. Only seven shacks remain, slowly sacrificing themselves to the sea. Largely, this is due to Miami’s sometimes-tempestuous weather – every decade or so, Miami takes a proper drubbing from a hurly-whirly that would send Dorothy back to Oz – but the other reason, Captain Mike confides, is fire – those Miami parties are just too darn smokin’ hot.
But, as with many places, Miami’s fun was not enjoyed particularly evenly. Following our Michelin Guide, we’re off to Allapattah – a native name for alligator – where almost a third of residents still live below the poverty line. Miami is taking a proactive approach to championing historically overlooked neighbourhoods and a new arts quarter is slowly evolving here.
Following an afternoon exploring the noteworthy private collection of modern art at the Rubell Museum and losing ourselves in the fully-immersive new-age art of the Superblue Museum, where the standout installation is a giant room of bubbles allowing guests to experience life in the clouds, we sit down for a knockout Basque dinner at chef Mikel Goikolea’s Leku.
Spanish is the mother tongue for most in Allapattah, and sitting outside in the warm evening air, Leku is proof of the power food has to connect people. Our meal starts with a homemade vermouth, made to an old recipe from the chef’s grandma, and ends with a spectacular array of desserts, the star of which is the Basque Country cheesecake, which has the lightness of souffle and the velvety luxuriousness of a melt-in-the-middle pudding.
Enjoying our foray into less explored parts of Miami, we take a trip out of town to the Everglades Alligator Farm for a wet ’n’ wild airboat ride through the Everglades. I was less concerned about getting wet as I was about becoming alligator lunch, though I’m reliably informed the alligators won’t eat me if they can see my full body as they don’t like to chew their food (but if they just see a head bobbing in the water, that’s a tasty appetiser). Rural Miamians used to hunt alligators as a readily available source of meat and a stand at the farm sells alligator nuggets should you be so inclined. I’m not, but am told they taste like chicken… what doesn’t?
A striking juxtaposition, not far from Allapattah, The Design District is Miami’s answer to Bond Street or Rodeo Drive. This purpose-built neighbourhood hosts only the very top design houses, each in their own magnificently designed temple to high fashion and decorated with art installations that range from ideal influencer backdrops to the sardonic and irreverent, such as the skeleton that waits at the bus stop for a long-overdue ride home. We shuffle past Insta Boyfriends taking shots to an increasingly specific brief on our way to Alain Verzeroli’s newest addition to his Michelin star collection: Le Jardinier, which also has outlets in New York, where Verzeroli lives, and Houston.
Le Jardinier is primarily focused on food from the garden and serves up vibrant, colourfully designed plates starring the tastiest seasonal vegetables and the odd unfortunate rabbit who got caught amongst the cabbages.
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I start with a multi-coloured, multi-textured trio of beetroot before devouring a hearty bowl of homemade tagliatelle in a creamy mushroom sauce. As is so often the case in my life, dessert steals the show, so I order two – difficult decisions should be avoided at all costs – and if you forced me now to choose between the bright and refreshing semi-sphere of sweet lychee sorbet, resting on a banana and passion fruit crumb and orbited by satellites of raspberry mousse, or the indulgent French kiss of a dark chocolate and salted caramel sabayon topped with a burnt sugar crisp, I’d have to order both again… just to be sure.
Michelin’s guide to the city knows how to build hype around new launches and glittery stars, but some places earn their place in the heart rather than a guide book, so on our final morning we ditch the guide for a nostalgic trip to South Beach and a traditional Cuban steak breakfast at Havana 1957. Surrounded by memorabilia, this café restaurant on the corner of Espanola Way is frozen in time. Washing down an insomnia-inflicting Cuban coffee with freshly squeezed orange juice, we rattle off the different cuisines and cultures we’ve encountered without leaving Greater Miami – it’s like a tour around Disneyworld’s Epcot, but without the mice (I hope).
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