Where to eat in Florida: From Michelin-starred restaurants to local gems, I dined my way across Miami, Tampa and Orlando

In other words, it was quirky and fun, the food comforting and filling, though not particularly inventive. It was not the kind of place I’d typically associate with Michelin dining. And yet, Bern’s appears in Florida’s new Michelin Guide as a “recommended” restaurant.

In June, the inaugural Michelin Guide to Florida — specifically, Miami, Tampa and Orlando — was announced. A total of 15 restaurants earned stars; another 29 were designated Bib Gourmands (recognizing “great food at a great value”); and dozens more were “recommended” (defined as “simply a good meal”).

In October, I joined an international group of journalists invited to spend eight days eating across some of those tri-city selections, with an itinerary that leaned toward a version of American comfort food or status-ingredient fine dining, but also sprinkled in the more casual Bib Gourmand and recommended restaurants.

The starred fine-dining selections were indulgent, expensive and (mostly) delicious, but to me, they also felt unmoored — like they could have been plunked down in Las Vegas or New York City. As I looked for a connection to Floridian food, I found that the restaurants highlighted in Michelin’s more easygoing, unstarred categories were the ones that truly gave me a sense of place.

We started in Miami’s Little Havana, a multi-block ode to homesickness, filled with Cuban cafés and small parks with elderly men playing dominoes. Surrounded by Spanish conversation at the Michelin-recommended Versailles Bakery, I sampled pastries from the illuminated glass cases: buttery pastelitos filled with sweet guava jam, and spicy beef and raisin empanadas — all washed down by colada, tiny cups of extremely sweet, strong espresso.

After a brief tour (cigars, Bay of Pigs, mojitos) with a Cuban exile who referred to himself as “imported,” we hit Sanguich, a Bib Gourmand selection that specializes in Cuban sandwiches. On the awning-covered back patio, surrounded by electric green palms, I had a near-perfect meal: salty ham, lechon and melted Swiss cheese with pickles and tangy mustard, pressed inside a soft white bun; deep-fried ham croquetas heavy on bechamel, served with a spicy house-made salsa; and a thick milkshake combining guava and cream cheese — a drinkable cheesecake.

Later, we tried an upscale take on Cuban influences, albeit fused with French, at the one-Michelin-starred Ariete. Sitting in affluent Coconut Grove, the streets full of shoppers and diners mingling under trees bright with fairy lights, I watched as black truffle was shaved onto a roasted chicken, thin slivers fluttering toward the table. My langoustine appetizer (“It’s a trip,” a server told me) was comparatively modest; an eclectic combination of green mango and passion fruit with labneh and pine nuts, it was tart and creamy, with a hint of spice.

The next day, after several hours eating exotic fruits in Miami’s “countryside,” plus a two-hour stint on Miami Beach, we moved onto the Surf Club, chef Thomas Keller’s one-Michelin-starred restaurant at the Four Seasons Hotel in Surfside. Originally a private club, it has contemporary beach-house interiors and a well-heeled, members-only vibe.

The food was a version of a meal I’ve had dozens of times before, but better: anchovy-forward Caesar salad, assembled tableside, with Parmesan crisps; and rib-eye, tender and well-seasoned, accompanied by creamed spinach and equally creamy mashed potatoes.

We moved onto Tampa, a formerly sleepy city best known for Busch Gardens and now one of America’s hottest housing markets. (“Miami is vice, Orlando is mice, Tampa is nice,” a rep from Visit Tampa Bay told me.) The city is now brimming with new condos, craft breweries, shipping container food courts and multi-use coworking spaces.

Our first dinner was at Bern’s (old Tampa), and the next was at Rooster & the Till (new Tampa), a Bib Gourmand selection with exposed duct work, an open kitchen and the persistent hum of loud chatter. The standout dishes were inventive and tasty, including cobia collar, described by a server as “fish chicken wings,” coated in nuoc cham (sugar, lime and fish sauce) and laced with Thai chilies, crispy on the outside and tender inside.

At a craft brewery on the edge of the Hillsborough River, the Michelin-recommended Ulele, we sampled “native-inspired foods,” including grilled oysters loaded with Parmesan and butter, deep-fried okra with a hint of citrus, and fluffy alligator hush puppies.

Our final stop, Orlando, was hit by Hurricane Fiona, but there were few signs of damage in the villagelike Winter Park neighbourhood, full of outdoor cafés, small boutiques and a bustling weekend farmers’ market.

At the Ravenous Pig, a Bib Gourmand selection, the beer garden was brimming with young families, with a dog and/or baby under almost every table. I sampled S’mores French Toast, made of fluffy brioche with a crunchy cinnamon-sugar crust, accompanied by scorched puddles of soft marshmallow and a semi-sweet chocolate mousse — an excessive but delicious take on American comfort food.

We had perhaps our most Michelin meal at Capa, a one-Michelin-starred Mediterranean steak house at the Four Seasons Resort Orlando at Walt Disney World Resort: flawless Wagyu topped with caviar and truffle crema; sticky honeyed eggplant with queso fresco, the eggplant a near-custard inside a tempura shell; crispy octopus both meaty but light; and tuna crudo, in a pool of truffle avocado puree with a mango and microgreens salad, acidic and smooth.

There were literal fireworks at Capa — we saw the Magic Kingdom’s evening show from the balcony — but this is not the meal that stands out most when I recall my trip.

Instead, I think about Bern’s in Tampa, when I was full to the point of lethargy, slumped in my red velvet-covered chair, and it still wasn’t over. I was shepherded upstairs to Bern’s 258-seat “dessert room,” which took seven years to build and is divided into private areas with large windows constructed out of old wine barrels.

Soon, the table was covered in desserts: giant sundaes with macadamia ice cream doused in chocolate sauce; banana cheese pie, a Bern’s classic; the “King Midas,” a spiced carrot and pecan cake topped with cream-cheese frosting. Flaming bananas Foster was prepared tableside. Somewhere, a pianist enthusiastically played the theme song from “Cheers.”

It was an absurd amount of food. It was hard to stop eating. The windows made me feel like I was in a gondola. The whole experience was playful — and completely over the top, to the point of being funny. It was like no other Michelin Guide place I’d ever been in my life. In other words, I felt like I was in Florida.

Sarah Treleaven travelled as a guest of Visit Florida, which did not review or approve this article.