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Delight, inspiration, and comfort are the things that we require to get us through the dark days that so many of us have experienced since – well – you can finish the sentence on your own. This is a time for many people to reset. Here are some random ideas.
We have rediscovered neighborhoods, walking around mornings and evenings with families, riding bicycles after fixing them, and talking vaccines with dog walkers. Beyond the weekend spandex riders, plenty more people are riding. Great bike shops like Revolution Bicycle Services were literally backed up for weeks trying to meet the demand. When Selena went on injured reserve, original owner and brother Mauricio had to fly in from Colorado to Cutler Bay to help their Andante meet the demand.
Given this winter’s gorgeous weather and reduced traffic flow – one of the few good effects of the pandemic – the ability to enjoy the outdoors rescued a great many folk. While Miami Beach felt strangely ghostlike, Hobie Beach, Virginia Key, and Bill Baggs were buzzing with sunbathers, bikers, and local visitors. My riding buddy, local theater treasure Teo Castellanos and I went frequently to a place somewhere over the rainbow bridge that we love so much and that he christened the Bahamas, that I won’t share it even though you might already know it.
Hobie Beach provides parking if you are early enough, freedom for dog owners no matter how inconsiderate they may be, shade from some beaten up coconut trees, and consistent noise pollution from each family’s musical selections. Still, the ease with which you can park, swim, and sunbathe simply is excellent. Virginia Key is similar, but you have to pay an entrance fee, unless you are on a bicycle. Crandon Park too has an entrance fee for cars, but like Miami Beach, it felt often abandoned and neglected compared to the others.
Bill Baggs, conversely bustles with fisherpeople, walkers, history buffs who never realized how the spot by the beautiful lighthouse was a terminal for the Underground Railroad. Bike rentals, kayak rentals, and sweet sandy spots abound. All the transformed outdoor dining spots in Key Biscayne remain a positive development.
Big business hogged up the Paycheck Protection Program money and that includes so many of the restaurant chains, teams, groups, and outposts that cheerleaders at Eater rave about so relentlessly as they invade us from nearby, New York, Las Vegas, or LA to profit from the Beach, Brickell, and Wynwood. But local spots that may have struggled are the ones I want to patronize and praise, so here goes.
Way way west in the wild wild horse country is the magically named Aguacate Sanctuary of Love. Juices, smoothies, and vegan food are served amid yoga classes, old shady trees, yodeling chickens, Buddhas, and Crayola inspired picnic tables. It’s the best of unpretentious Miami.
Family and golf cart friendly way down Deering way in Palmetto Bay, Pig Floyd flourished even before the pandemic ebbed. They are smoking the hell out of a hella lot of brisket, ribs, and pork until they sell out every day but Monday and Tuesday. They have a full bar, live music, and back then, Miami’s largest contingent of friendly COVID questioners. There is a covered area, but it’s entirely outdoors. Also chilling in PB is Maxwell Bros Clothing Store, brewing beer and hand tossing pizzas for another unlikely audience thrilled to be blessed with such local quality. Everyone should copy the newish deck aesthetic or one like it.
Farther north, just west of 95 in Overtown, a recent Google reviewer wrote this about Rosie’s Pop-Up: “I think it’s the best breakfast I’ve ever had.” I’m not gonna argue. Fried chicken, waffles, biscuits, and some seriously talented soul food comes from a truck parked next to a cool outdoor space next to the Copper Door Bed and Breakfast. Great vibes, better food, lovely service, and a sweet couple producing all this. Don’t let it go to your head.
Finally, a serious shout to Havana Harry’s. Often unfairly maligned by reviewers for whatever reason, nobody produces more delicious, massive plates than this place in the shadow of Merrick Park and its mall-glamorous, chi-chi, hospital clean places. If you drop your car off at lunchtime at the Collection and you’re not all that, walk the extra steps through Merrick Park and enjoy some down home, gut busting comfort food.
There are too many others to mention, but much love to all the small businesses that got us through the coronavirus depression and provided takeout and hope.
