Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink

The first time that I wrote about Michael’s Genuine Food and Drink (in Miami), I focused on the lighting. In fact, I was so focused on the lighting, I didn’t really write about the meal. Instead, I wrote a post called “When You Can’t See Your Food.” It was very dark in there.

Since then, though, I’ve been back to Michael’s twice for lunch and absolutely loved it. This most recent trip was with my mom and sister-in-law, Tali, (seen above) and as you can see lighting isn’t at all an issue when you’re eating outside at lunch. That’s the time to go.

Way Beyond Bagels

The Jewish diaspora is the kind of phrase you only use in college, and even then you’re not sure what it means. But I know this much: Jews in Boca Raton, Florida make good bagels. I’ve long sung the praises of Bagelworks on Glades Road near the Turnpike–my favorite bagel destination when I visit home (I always get “the works” with two scoops of white fish and one scoop of nova spread)–but, traditionally, my mom always buys bagels for the house from Way Beyond Bagels on Jog Road, next to the Starbucks.

Joe’s Stone Crab

There’s a secret about Joe’s Stone Crab in Miami that’s so dangerous, so protected that the people who took me there for dinner do not want to be identified.

I could’ve chosen, of course, just to write about the meal like any other meal; focusing on the food instead of the secret, but the secret to me is almost as fascinating as the stone crabs are delicious. In fact, you’ll be waiting an hour and a half for stone crabs if you don’t know the secret.

Exclusive: Inside My Parents’ Refrigerator

For years, I’ve hounded my parents to let me videotape the inside of their refrigerator, a barren wasteland of processed foods and Tupperware containers filled with pre-chopped onions. (For those late to the story, my parents do not cook.) This Mother’s Day, they finally relented and the video above offers you EXCLUSIVE access to a world of Egg Beaters, sugar-free Concord jam and a strange plastic bag hidden in a drawer. Thanks, mom and dad, for granting us access; and to all the mother’s out there, Happy Mother’s Day!

[Note: the sound gets muffled at the beginning, but stick with it. I think I had my thumb over the microphone.]

The Food At Disney World

There’s high culture and there’s low culture and then there’s Disney World. I grew up going there and going there and going there; seriously, we went there a lot (we lived in Florida, so it was close). When I dream, I dream about theme parks (psychologists: what does that mean?) and the theme parks I dream about most often are Disney theme parks. So when Craig’s movie got into the Florida Film Festival in Orlando and he was hooked up with a hotel room and a car and all I would have to do is pay for a plane ticket there and back, it was hard to resist a trip to Disney World. It’d been almost ten years since I’d been there last and I was immensely curious to see if I’d still think if it was fun or if I’d outgrown it. More importantly, I wanted to write about the food–a strange idea, but a compelling one, perhaps. What’s there to say about the food at Disney World? Actually, there’s plenty.

What Makes A Great Steakhouse

1. It must be dark, like you’re underground. The consumption of red meat is such a primal, bodily act that darkness–like darkness in the bedroom–opens one up to experience pleasure with reckless abandon.

2. There must be a piano player with a bad toupee singing Neil Diamond songs or a cheesy duo of guitar player and female lounge singer doing their best cover of K.C. and the Sunshine Band. Even Edmund White, in his classic “A Boy’s Own Story,” describes such a figure when his family takes him to a steakhouse, “a place where the overweight ate iceberg lettuce under a dressing of ketchup and mayonnaise, steaks under A.1. sauce, feed corn under butter, ice cream under chocolate, where a man wearing a black toupee and a madras sports jacket bounced merrily up and down an electric organ while a frisky couple lunged and dipped before him in cloudy recollections of ancient dance steps.”

Cuban Food in Miami (A Tour)

Nick Calzada is Craig’s film school friend who lives in Miami. Anytime we go to Florida, Craig says: “Let’s go visit my friend Nick in Miami” and inevitably we never have the time. This trip, though, we made a point to schedule a day with Nick; not only to hang out (he and Craig had lots of film stuff to catch up on) but, more selfishly, so I could convince Nick–who happens to be Cuban–to give us a tour of Miami’s Cuban culture. Specifically: the food.

Lucky for us, Nick was totally game. He told us to meet him at Versailles Restaurant on SW 8th Street. That’s where our story begins.

“Versailles is the place,” explained Nick, after we greeted him under the big sign, “where the news always comes to get a reaction from the Cuban community in Miami. It’s a big gathering spot.”

And indeed, the place was buzzing with activity. There was the restaurant proper, which had tinted windows, and then there was the coffee stand which is where we followed Nick.

(Here’s Nick and Craig, outside the coffee window.)


“Ok,” he said, “I thought we’d start here with some Cuban coffee. Does that sound good to you guys?”

“It sounds great.”

I had Nick write down everything he ordered so I could transcribe it later. Here he ordered there “cortaditos” (Cuban espressos) “con leche evaporada” (with evaporated milk) which Nick drew an arrow next to and wrote “homemade.”

To hear Nick order our Cuban coffee at the window, watch this video:

Now Craig, who gags whenever he sips my coffee accidentally at home because I put sugar in it, seemed like the worst candidate in the world to enjoy Cuban coffee.

“It’s really, really, sweet,” warned Nick, but Craig said he’d give it a go.

Here’s a shot of the woman who made our coffee:


And here’s the end result:


As a person who loves everything sweet sweet sweet, I absolutely loved my Cuban espresso. Craig, to his credit, didn’t gag.

“Mmmm,” he said–or was it more like: “Hmmm?” He nodded enthusiastically–or was it nervously–as he sipped. “It’s good,” he said, almost trying to convince himself.

Nick laughed.

Then we got into Nick’s car and he drove us to our next stop: Brazo Fuerte Bakery (which, Nick translates in my notes, means “Strong Arm.”)


There Nick pointed out the “pastelitos” or Cuban pastries in a room that made me feel, appropriately, like I was in another country (it reminded me of some of the ports of call from Caribbean cruises I took with my family in high school). I imagine it felt that way because it was such an authentic recreation of an actual Cuban bakery.




Nick took the liberty of ordering, as represented in this video:

The “plate of stuff” we ultimately settled on was a plate that included “pastelito de guyaba” (guava), “pastelito de queso” (cheese), “pastelito de carne” (meat), and “pastelito de guyaba y queso” (guava and cheese.)


Eating these, various cultures were evoked; first, of course, was France–with the flaky pastry reminiscent of a croissant. Second, though, and rather surprisingly, was China; mainly because of the meat.

“This sort of reminds me of a Chinese bakery in Chinatown,” I said, “with the pork buns mixed in with the sweeter stuff.”

My favorite of them all was the “guyaba y queso” which had the perfect blend of savory and sweet, the cheese and the guava (a pairing that’d return later–you’ll see!)

Nick also ordered us croquettes of ham and cheese:


These were every bit as greasy and good as you’d want them to be. Which led to the inevitable question: “Is all Cuban food this unhealthy?”

Nick laughed. He didn’t say “no.”

But perhaps it was in response to my question that he took us to our third location, a place with a funny name: “Palacio de los Jugos” (The Palace of the Juices.)


Here we could heal our bodies with refreshing juices and other nutritious foods like… pork rinds?

First the juices.

You order inside at a counter that’s slightly reminiscent of a Smoothie King, only at a Smoothie King they’re not chopping up pieces of fried pork behind the counter.


All around us were interesting sights. Piles of fruit:


This sign:


This strange, brown, brain-like version of dulce de leche (we asked):


And this strange sandwich which caught Craig’s eye:


That’s guava paste with white cheese for the bread. Of course Craig, the world’s most hardcore cheese lover, had to have it.

Nick helped us choose three juices to try and we took them outside where we sat with a large cluster of people in the open air. This was my favorite stop of the day; the breeze was perfect and the crowd was boisterous and entertaining.



Here are the juices we ordered:


From left to right, that’s: Guyaba, Guanabana, and Mamey.

How those translate and what fruits they represent is anyone’s guess (if you know, tell us in the comments!) Our favorite was the guanabana which was zingy and creamy and the most mysterious and, therefore, the best.

Of course, these juices were getting to be too healthy, so we also shared a bag of pork rinds (“chicharrones”) which were meaty, fatty, crunchy and all around good:



We also shared “mariquitas” (plantain chips):


And, finally, Craig’s cheese sandwich which even he found a little too intense:


It reminded me of the Spanish pairing of Manchego cheese and quince paste (an idea echoed by Molly Orangette when I told her about it a few days later (we met her and Brandon at Franny’s for dinner (Brandon’s opening a pizza place soon! (how many internal parentheses can I create? (this many!)))))

Certain food writers might’ve cowered at the idea of more food after all this food, but not me. When Nick asked if there was anything else I wanted to try I said I had to have a Cuban sandwich.

I’ve always loved Cuban sandwiches–the best ones I’ve ever had were in California when I worked at a law firm in L.A. I had a copy of Jonathan Gold’s “Counter Intelligence” and it led me to a Cuban sandwich joint in Silverlake that had no air conditioning but some of the best Cuban sandwiches of my life.

Nick took us to a place called “El Pub Restaurant” right by Domino Park which is where many Cubans come to play dominoes, as you can see here:


Here’s the restaurant:


And here’s the inside:


Here’s Nick showing off the Mojo sauce, which he’d been telling us about earlier–it’s spicy and has garlic and Nick prefers it fresh.


And, finally, here’s the last bites of the day–a traditional Cuban sandwich:


You can see the layers of ham, roasted pork, cheese, pickles and mustard on the toasted bread. It’s such a satisfying combo, if you’ve never had a Cuban sandwich please do so now. I’ll wait for you to come back before I continue.

You’re back?

Ok. Nick said we should also try a “Croquetta Preparada” sandwich which is essentially a Cuban sandwich with a fried potato croquette inside.


This is where I hit my wall.

“Ok, ok!” I yelped. “You’ve done it, Nick! You’ve maxed me out.”

And indeed I was so very full, so very sated, it’d take a very long while for me to ever get hungry again.

But look what I had to show for it: a new knowledge of a whole culture right beneath my nose there in Miami, a culture I knew nothing about but which is as vital and vibrant as any other culture in Florida or anywhere else in the U.S., for that matter. That was the most rewarding thing about the day: realizing that with a little gumption, a lot of appetite, and a friend like Nick, you can uncover a whole new world of eating and, more than that, living.

We walked off some of our food on Lincoln Road for a bit and then we parted ways; Nick had a BBQ to go to and Craig and I were meeting my family for dinner (ugh!) after all that food.

But I’m deeply indebted to Nick for being so generous with his time, his knowledge, his vehicle and, mostly, himself. He’s a great guy–I’m so glad I got to meet him–and Craig and I will now make it a set thing that when we go to Florida, there must be time for Nick Calzada. In fact, Nick says the best food in all of Miami is at a Vietnamese restaurant owned by a lesbian couple across the street from the Versailles restaurant where we started. Is that where we’ll meet Nick next? Stay tuned. A tour of lesbian Vietnamese food joints in Miami would make a fantastic follow-up post.

The Egg Onion Bagel

The bagel you see in the picture above is the result of Twitter. To wit: I announced on my Twitter feed that I was in Boca Raton for Thanksgiving (that’s where my family lives) and Shuna of eggbeater responded: “You’re in Boca?! Will you make a stop at Way Beyond Bagels? Have an egg onion for me? and Veggie schmear?”

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