The Best Things I Ate in 2025 - Everywhere Else

Well, it finally happened – nine months into 2026, and I got around to posting my favorite dishes from last year. Now that we're back in action, let's try to keep some momentum going. In a little change to the usual routine, things are divided into the South Florida post from earlier, and now here, all the other good things from elsewhere that we ate in 2025. We covered a lot of ground last year: a much-awaited return to Japan, more than a decade after our first visit; short trips to Cape Town and Copenhagen; and even shorter trips out to the Bay Area and up north to Philadelphia, NYC and Hudson Valley.

Looking back on these meals makes me think about something that has once again become a hot topic in the food world. It seems that every five years or so, someone writes an obituary for fine dining or, relatedly, its close cousin the tasting menu. This time around, the one tolling the bell is one of its primary practitioners: chef Bruno Verjus announced in an instagram post this week that he is closing his Paris restaurant, Table, after holding two Michelin stars for the past five years and climbing his way up the "World's 50 Best Restaurants" list.^[1] In the announcement he says, "I want great ingredients. Great cooking. Great ideas. Great hospitality. But simpler. Faster. More affordable."^[2] This was followed by an interview in with he formally made this year's "Fine dining is dead" proclamation. And he's not alone. Just a few weeks ago, I saw a story querying, "Does Gen Z Have the Patience for Fine Dining?," including insights from Dominique Crenn (Atelier Crenn), Matthew Kammerer (Harbor House), Charlie Mitchell (Saga), Flynn McGarry (Cove), and E.J. Lagasse (Emeril's).^[3] For the contra position, a story on the Resy website just claimed that "Today's Tasting Menus Have Evolved With Something for All of Us".^[4]

For whatever it's worth, my experiences over last year (and more recently) would suggest that rumors of the death of fine dining have been greatly exaggerated. But – as some others have said – what "fine dining" means, or what it ought to mean, may be changing. And that's a good thing. Does it require tasting menus with courses running into the double digits that invariably feature caviar and truffles and wagyu? Does it require multi-million dollar spaces with collectible original artworks? Does it require pressed white linens at every table?  No. No. No. Every meal featured on this list was exceptional, memorable, special. Some were indeed at posh tasting menu temples. Others were at izakayas and casual counters and tables. Some featured combinations I'd never encountered before. Others were iterations of recipes that are hundreds of years old. 

One thing I definitely notice – and this may be more indicative of how my own interests have started to skew, rather than any trend – is that many of them were driven by the ingredient itself, more so than any showy, multi-component presentation. I also notice something that is not ever gong to be captured in any picture or even any recap of a particular dish: so many of these meals were made that much more special by a kind, thoughtful gesture from a chef or server: squeezing us in for an early seating at the counter in a fully-booked restaurant, a final bite of an item I'd been longing for the entire night, a comical pantomime that transcends language barriers. There's one quote from Charlie Mitchell which I think nails something about the current AI-infected zeitgeist: "The value of real-life experiences is still high."

So yeah: maybe I too want great ingredients, great cooking, great ideas, and great hospitality, simpler, faster and more affordable. But even so, sometimes I do want to see a chef stretch his wings, take chances, maybe even just indulge. We don't need to kill fine dining to move forward – perhaps just be a little more expansive in what that phrase means.   

As always, a disclaimer: this does not purport to be a definitive “best of” list, only a very personal accounting of my favorite things over the last year. While this particular post follows my travels, the primary focus here is on South Florida. And there are typically way too many footnotes. A new one for this year: em-dashes notwithstanding, all content here is generated by an actual human who pays for all his meals. These first few rounds are going to be pretty Japan-intensive. If you don't like that, well I'm not sure we can be friends, but you can just scroll down a bit. 

nodoguro nigiri - Sushi Satake (Tokyo)

Chef Takeshi Satake spent 25+ years at Kyubey (which seems to be a particularly prolific training ground for Tokyo itamaes who go on to start their own places) before opening Sushi Satake in Ginza. While many omakase sushi progressions tend to go from lighter to richer neta, Satake does something different. When the rice first comes out and is still warm, he goes with the bigger flavors, and as the rice cools he moves to the more delicate ones. The pattern repeats over the meal as the rice is replenished. So after several rounds of otsumami (including a very nice eel nanbanzuke^[5] and a hearty, intense ankimo (monkfish liver) with nitsuke sauce), the first bite of nigiri was chu-toro (medium fatty tuna), followed by buri (winter yellowtail), then hirame (fluke), then hokkigai (surf clam). Then warm and rich again, with this nigiri of nodoguro (black-threat sea perch), a surprisingly lush, fatty white-fleshed fish, lightly torched to bring out those fats and slightly crisp the skin. It's one of my favorite fish and this was one of the best iterations I've ever tasted.

(All my pics from Sushi Satake).

shrimp bisque, taro croquette - Den Kushi Flori (Tokyo)

I really wanted to go to Den, which is a favorite of many smart folks whose opinions I trust. I also really wanted to go to Florilege, which is one of the top examples of French-influenced Japanese cooking in Tokyo. Turns out chefs Zaiyu Hasegawa (Den) and Hiroyasu Kawate (Florilege) opened a restaurant together! (Cue: Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell). Den Kushi Flori is the product of their combined efforts, with an 8-course tasting menu that features several things on skewers,^[6] served at a dining counter that wraps around a big open kitchen so chefs can bring dishes directly to the diners. This was a really fun and tasty meal, the vibe of which is encapsulated in this dish which combined a frothy, intensely-flavored shrimp bisque with a crispy-outside, creamy-inside taro croquette. A little French, a little Japanese, a little something on a stick, a lot delicious. Honorable mention to the shirasu (whitebait) rice topped with shirako (cod milt) bathed in an escargot-style garlic and parsley butter.

(All my pics from Den Kushi Flori).

dashi, crab cake, bamboo shoot - Gion Nishikawa (Kyoto)

Down a stone path in Kyoto's historical geisha district, just a couple blocks from Yasaka Shrine, in an old tea house, sits Gion Nishikawa. Chef Masayoshi Nishikawa and a small team work on one side of a hinoki counter, preparing a multi-course kaiseki dinner that features an encyclopedia of techniques and seasonal ingredients. Our February visit included fugu in multiple guises (its flesh paired with steamed turnips in a hollowed-out orange; slivers of its skin suspended in a jellied broth; creamy fugu shirako over rice with grated bottarga on top), delicate flounder sashimi with baby onions, ankimo in a rich nitsuke sauce with bear^[7] yakiniku, among other things. But my favorite was among the most elemental of the dishes: a bowl of clear dashi, with a fluffy crabcake and young bamboo shoots. Nishikawa brings in wild kombu from Hokkaido to make the dashi, but it's also precision and technique that make for a broth so clear and delicate while simultaneously so vivid and intense in flavor.

(All my pics from Gion Nishikawa).

sabazushi - Nominokoji Yamagishi (Kyoto)

Chef Takahiro Yamagishi's flagship, Tominokoji Yamagishi, has one of the highest Tabelog rankings^[8] of any Kyoto kaiseki restaurant. But the kaiseki experience is not for everyone, and not for every night, and there's only so many kaiseki meals I can do on one trip and stay married. So we instead went to his more casual izakaya, the similarly named Nominokoji Yamagishi. It was awesome. The seating is all around a counter facing an open kitchen. The menus are only in Japanese, and hand-written, and mostly just befuddled every translation app I had on my phone. The crew spoke virtually no English. We managed just fine. Pristine sashimi of tai and buri. Crispy fried fugu. A little mini-bowl of oden with braised daikon and yuba. A beautifully burnished, meaty grilled chicken wing. Creamy potato salad spiked with iburi gakko (smoked daikon pickles). Airy tempura spring onions. But what I had my eye on the whole meal was the sabazushi – pickled mackerel pressed over rice, which they would slice from a big roll and sear with binchotan charcoal to order. This is a word in Japanese that I know – it's one of my favorite dishes. I'd ordered it. It didn't come. I worried. Then – literally for a post-dessert, after bringing out the pudding – chef comes by and asks, "Sabazushi?" Yes, please. I have never felt more seen.

(All my pics from Nominokoji Yamagishi).

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The Best Things I Ate in 2025 (Remember 2025?) - South Florida

I don't know if anyone noticed, but there are only four months left in 2026. Maybe it's time that I actually dusted off and finished this "Best Things I Ate in 2025" post before another year goes by? Obviously, the mission here has never been to breathlessly gush about the latest openings, but this has clearly gotten a little out of hand. So here's my attempt to kick some life into this blog, and start to catch up.

There are some consequences to delay, and one of them is that some of the places that appear in this list are now gone. Itamae AO. Awarded a Michelin star, chef Nando Chang named James Beard Foundation Best Chef - South in 2025. Entrenos. Also awarded a Michelin star. Both closed in 2025. They each had their reasons, entirely unrelated to the quality of the food and experience. Nando's reincarnation of Itamae as an omakase counter inside sister Val Chang's wonderful restaurant Maty's (Val herself was named Beard's Best Chef - South the prior year) had to close when Maty's shut down last summer – likely a victim of a mismatch between concept and venue, a very large and probably very expensive space in Midtown Miami. And Entrenos was always intended as an impermanent pop-up inside the Tinta y Cafe space in Miami Shores. Since then, chef Osmel Gonzalez went north to open Emelina in West Palm Beach (which itself picked up a Michelin star this year), and now chef Evan Burgess is in process of opening a new restaurant, Yonder, in Coral Gables.

In retrospect, 2025 turned out to be a pretty brutal year for the industry. Longtime stalwarts like Cafe Vialetto, Osteria del Teatro, Sardinia, Sugarcane, La Mar, Le Zoo, and Harry's Pizzeria all appeared in the restaurant obituary columns. So did a bunch of big-name newcomers like New York's Red Farm and Ensenada, Henrique Sa Passoa's Sereia, and Gordon Ramsay's Lucky Cat. All opened in 2024, none made it through 2025. It's tempting to try to discern some broader lesson: Miami rents and operating costs are too high, the market is too oversaturated, Miami diners are too fickle. There is some truth to all of those. If anything, it seems to me to highlight the importance of controlling costs, connecting with the local dining community, and giving people reasons to keep coming back. One thing I note is that many of the restaurants from this 2025 list that are still standing are not in the high-rent hot-spots like Wynwood and Brickell, but instead places like Little Havana, North Miami, South Miami, Little River, and North Beach.

Despite the market's challenges, last year offered some of the most interesting, inspired cooking I've experienced in Miami in quite some time, much of it from a new generation of younger chefs who were opening their first restaurants. That's genuinely exciting. I also had the good fortune to travel, and eat, very well last year outside of Miami, including a return trip to Japan, and visits to Cape Town, Copenhagen, the Bay Area and Hudson Valley. As always, a disclaimer: this does not purport to be a definitive “best of” list, only a very personal accounting of my favorite things over the last year. It is South Florida focused, but follows me around as well when we travel. And there are typically way too many footnotes. A new one for this year: em-dashes notwithstanding, all content here is generated by an actual human who pays for all his meals. We're going to do things a little different this year – let's start with the South Florida list, and then do a second round with all the rest of the ground we covered last year. Let's get on with it!

stone crab rice - Itamae AO (Midtown Miami)

Way back in 2017, I went to a one-off pop-up dinner called "Nisei" with a young chef cooking a menu from a genre I was just then starting to grasp: nikkei, the mash-up of Peruvian and Japanese flavors that is a sort of organic example of "fusion" cuisine. The chef (and part-time hip-hop recording artist) was Nando Chang, who I continued to follow as he went from food-hall kiosks to a mostly open-air space in the Design District to the omakase counter he opened as Itamae AO. Every iteration was an improvement and refinement, and every meal was better than the last. This dish is a great example, bringing Florida into the Peruvian-Japanese mixtape: local stone crab, a claw draped with anticuchera sauce, sitting atop a bowl of creamy rice enriched with more crab, chile and herb oil. Unfortunately, this would turn out to be one of the last bites from my last meal at Itamae AO. Nando has been popping up here and there for collaboration dinners since the closing – I'm eagerly waiting for the next track to drop.

(All my pics from Itamae AO).

ballyhoo - Recoveco (South Miami)

There is such a confidence in the cooking of Maria Teresa Gallina and Nico Martinez, the co-chefs and partners who opened Recoveco, that it is hard to believe it is their first time running their own restaurant. The menu is short – typically four apps, four mains, two desserts. While operating within this self-circumscribed universe, it's also typically pretty weird: one of the staples is chicken-liver mousse over speculoos crackers dotted with tropical fruit jam (could be guava, maybe starfruit, depending on what's growing); what's called "papaya salad" is a mutant hybrid of Thai som tum and Italian (actually Mexican) Caesar. And when it's not weird, it's often pretty minimalist: another staple is their "golden chicken," an Amish bird simply but expertly roasted, maybe served with a piri piri buffalo sauce. But both concept and execution are so consistently, and uncannily, on target that this has become one of my favorite restaurants to visit. This dish of ballyhoo (typically used locally as baitfish, though it's of the same family as Japanese sayori, a/k/a halfbeak) is a great example: the shiny fish fileted, cured, and cut into bite-size pieces, dappled with a white soy and sweet potato vinegar ponzu, and accompanied by a dab of fresh wasabi. Nowhere to hide; no need to.

(All my pics from Recoveco).

snow crab, corn, uni & caviar chawanmushi - Omo by Jont (Orlando)

We took the Brightline north to spend a weekend in Orlando, which has long been a haven for excellent Vietnamese food, and has more recently made leaps and bounds in all sorts of other kinds of dining experiences. We have a lot more exploring to do, but on this visit the primary focus was Omo by Jont. Its chef is Ryan Ratino, who has the Michelin two-starred Jont and one-starred Bresca in Washington DC, opened MAASS in Fort Lauderdale in late 2023 (which appeared in my 2024 list, and picked up its own star last year), and then Omo a few months later (which also picked up a star last year). Normally I would be very skeptical of this expansionist approach. But from my experiences at MAASS and Omo, it seems Ratino has some good systems, and good crews, to maintain quality control across his multiple venues. Omo is a really nice experience: the meal starts in a cozy lounge area with several small bites, moves to a dining counter in the open kitchen for several more courses, then finishes with dessert in another little lounge area. Over maybe 18 different bites, there were no misses and several highlights, the most memorable being this chawanmushi with snow crab, sweet corn, Hokkaido uni and caviar.^[1]

(All my pics from Omo by Jont).

aori ika with osetra caviar - Ogawa (Little River Miami)

Miami has seen an influx of high-end omakase venues recently. Some of these are better than others. Ogawa, in Little River, is among my favorites. Over the past several years, restaurateur Alvaro Perez Miranda has opened several Japanese spots that hit multiple points of the market: the casual Wabi Sabi (now called Midorie 79, with a sibling in Coconut Grove), the somewhat higher-end Hiywakawa, and the all-out Ogawa. Given the price (currently $395, which includes tax and service charge), it is definitely a "special occasion" spot, while I'm at Midorie 79 nearly every other week. But in my opinion, it's worth it on those special occasions. The narrow dining room with one long counter, in a building that backs onto the railroad tracks, makes me feel like I'm back in Japan. And with chef Masayuki Komatsu behind the counter, usually accompanied by Royce Appling, and sometimes Jamie Liu in the kitchen, the food gives me those feels too. The dishes change with the seasons – during this spring visit, ayu (sweetfish) tempura, sayori (needlefish) nigiri, and sakura masu (cherry trout) nigiri were all featured – but one nigiri that seems to hold steady is this one featuring aori ika (big fin reef squid) topped with a generous dollop of osetra caviar. It's a great combination: the squid slightly sticky and sweet, playing against the pop and salinity of the roe. I'm not generally a fan of the intrusion of "luxe" ingredients into every pricey omakase lineup – save your caviar and truffles and wagyu and toro, give me something perfect and peak of season instead – but this one works.

(All my pics from Ogawa).

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The Best Things I Ate in 2024 (Round 2)

We're back! And only two(ish) months after posting the first half of The Best Things I Ate in 2024! And there's still nearly five months left in 2025! Look, I don't claim to be on the cutting edge of the viral restaurant trends; it's a more deliberative process here. Unfortunately, one of the results of my tortoise-like posting pace is that two of the places included in this second half of the list are now closed. But! They were both pop-ups with a limited shelf life, so this is not entirely unanticipated, and both are hopefully going to be coming back in some form, some day. Even so, there's no escaping that this has already been one of the most brutal summers for restaurant closings in Miami that I can recall, and we're just entering August.

There's always an ebb and flow here: the market suddenly heats up (often driven by inspired local chefs with local followings), and operators from all around the globe pour millions of dollars into buildouts of new spaces in the highest-rent districts. And then summers have always been a struggle in South Florida. But the speed of the turnaround this time has been staggering: Massimo Bottura's Torno Subito, Henrique Sa Passoa's Sereia, NY imports Red Farm, and Ensenada: all shuttered within about a year.^[1] I can't think of a time so many places pulled the plug after only one season. But it's not just the newcomers: long-time stalwarts like Osteria del Teatro (38 years over a few different locations), Cafe Vialetto (26 years), Sardinia (20 years), Red Steakhouse (17 years), Sugarcane (15 years) all called it quits the past couple months. Even overwhelming critical and media recognition is no guarantee of survival: Val Chang has closed up the wonderful Maty's just a year after receiving the James Beard Foundation Best Chef South award.^[2] And EntreNos has ended their extended pop-up at Tinta y Cafe a year after picking up a Michelin star.

All of which is to say: if there's a restaurant you love, show your love. Visit often, be nice, tip well, tell your friends. It's a cruel summer^[3] – don't leave me here on my own. So let me do my part.

Luci's Chopped Salad - Boia De (Buena Vista Miami)

For reasons I've previously explained, I usually find it pretty difficult to answer the perennial "What's your favorite restaurant?" question. I wrote then that it was easier to answer if the question was "What's your favorite restaurant right now?" And back then, five years ago, the answer was Boia De, which had just opened a few months earlier. Well, while we've already established that I am not on the cutting edge of every latest dining trend, it is nonetheless somewhat out of character that if you asked me that question again right now, the answer very well might be the same. It's just impossible to not have a great meal there. While many dishes come and go, one menu stalwart remains an essential order for me on every visit and is simply one of my favorite dishes in Miami: Luci's chopped salad, chef Luciana Giangrandi's unabashed ode to Nancy Silverton's chopped salad at Pizzeria Mozza. I think Deb Perelman of Smitten Kitchen nailed why it's so great: it's got all the flavors of an Italian sub, in salad form. Perfect. Never change.

(More pics from Boia De).

Scallop, Pomelo, Rice Paddy Herb Oil, Coconut Nuoc Cham - Tam Tam (Downtown Miami)

I'd missed the "Phamily Kitchen" pop-up dinners that chef Tam Pham and his partner Harrison Ramhofer had been doing back in the day, and my first taste of Tam's cooking was a pandemic-era pho pick-up pop-up.^[4] I've been stalking him ever since, through a series of extended pop-ups in Little Haiti to his opening of a full brick and mortar restaurant in downtown Miami (in the old Diana's Cafe spot around the corner from the courthouse). It's been a thrill to see what he's able to do with a real kitchen at his disposal. The food is still fun and playful, inspired by Vietnamese "quán nhậu" – but it also shows some finesse and delicacy, nowhere more so than this absolutely delicious scallop crudo with tart-sweet lobes of pomelo, creamy-sweet-tangy coconut nuoc cham, and fragrant, verdant rice paddy herb oil.

(More pics from Tam Tam).

Unagi & Caviar with Okra - Shingo (Coral Gables)

Shingo Akikuni is another chef I've been stalking for years, going back to some nice meals at the counter of The Den at Azabu. In 2023, he finally got to open his own place, the eponymous Shingo in Coral Gables, and promptly made it on my list for that year. (Oh, and Shingo also got a Michelin star within the year). That first time, it was for the "simplest" of dishes: Akikuni's silky, rich tamago which serves as the last bite before dessert. This time, it's here for something a bit fancier: unagi, with its crackling grilled skin encasing fluffy, tender flesh, garnished with a very generous dollop of good caviar. But one of the things I love about Shingo's style is that he treats "humble" ingredients with the same reverence as "luxury" items: that caviar-crowned unagi was paired with some beautiful, fresh local okra, slippery but still with some snap. There has been a tidal wave of omakase openings over the past couple years. Shingo, along with a couple others, is at the crest of that wave.

(More pics from Shingo).

Proof Burger - Vice Versa (Downtown Miami)

Valentino Longo's aperitivo focused bar, Vice Versa, has been a very welcome addition to the downtown Miami landscape. Partnered up with Will Thompson and Carey Hynes (of the late Jaguar Sun downtown, and the current, and fantastic, Sunny's in Little River, which we'll get to below), it's got this delightful Italian Futurist vibe, and clever inspired cocktails that will go down easy but can simultaneously provide the opportunity to geek out on technique to the same degree as any served by a moustache-twirling, vest-wearing "speakeasy" mixologist. But what really completed the package for me was bringing in chef Justin Flit, last seen here at Proof. There are bright fresh crudos, perfectly tuned salads, and excellent pizzas. And to top it all off, there's the return of the "Proof Burger," which if  you go digging through the archives, was on this list way back in 2018. Here's what I said back then: "I could passionately argue that his burger was the best in Miami. Each component was carefully considered and executed with precision: two stacked grass-fed beef patties, featuring both crusty char and juicy interior; melted cheese, bolstered even further by a creamy cheddar aioli; caramelized onions, for an extra dose of umami and just a hint of sweetness; a house-baked potato bun, soft and tender but with enough structural integrity to hold everything together to the last bite." He's not lost his touch, and I can once again passionately argue that this is the best burger in Miami. Available Mondays only in limited quantities.

(More pics from Vice Versa).

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