Welcome to Greater Fort Lauderdale—a sprawling, polyglot city where more than 4,000 restaurants reflect the 147 languages spoken across its neighborhoods. In North Lauderdale, Haitian puff pastry patties crinkle under your fingertips; in Wilton Manors, you’ll find Laotian-style sausage with sticky rice at a queer-owned supper club. Even the Michelin Guide has started paying attention, finally catching up to what locals have always known.

As a native Floridian, I’ve watched the city grow from a spring break hotspot into a vibrant, cosmopolitan destination. Over the years, I’ve chased down griot on Sunrise Boulevard and found omakase menus tucked into strip malls. I’ve wandered streets, cruised canals, and driven through off-the-beaten-path neighborhoods, always letting my appetite guide me. Here’s what I found.

400 South West 3rd Avenue
(954) 761-3500

Down by the New River, I followed the aroma of coconut milk and dendê oil to a dockside hideout where silver-haired chef Roberto Guerios rules the galley. Born in Brazil and raised in Italy, Guerios channels Bahian flavors in dishes like moqueca bubbling with fresh-caught grouper, creamy shrimp bobó bright with cilantro, and vatapá so rich it coats the spoon like velvet. The nautical dining room feels like a ship mid-voyage, flags fluttering overhead, spices perfuming the air. It’s flavorful, sun-soaked, and a little bit wild—exactly how a pirate would want it.

723 East Broward Boulevard 
(954) 807-8022

On a quiet stretch of Broward Boulevard, chef Timon Balloo cooks from memory, blending the flavors of his Trinidadian-Chinese heritage with flavors from the places that shaped him—Miami, San Francisco, Bangkok. His chowder fries are pure alchemy: Belgian frites topped with clam chowder, bacon, and herbs. I followed them with mom’s Trini oxtail, slow-braised until it collapses under a fork, and served with Haitian pikliz to cut through the richness. And don’t get me started on the “torrejas” French toast dessert—save some room, you won’t regret it.

3433 Griffin Road
(754) 216-1266

The cafecito line was already three deep when I arrived at this no-frills family-run spot. The sound of vaca frita crackling with garlic and lime and the smells of sofrito and ropa vieja fill the air. Yuca con mojo comes past me steaming and tangled with sweet onions. Locals greet each other by name, and the counter staff moves with the ease of people who’ve done this for decades.

650 North Federal Highway
(954) 462-0088

The smell of blackened seafood and the brassy lilt of Dixieland jazz guided me into this Victoria Park creole outpost, where Mardi Gras arrives in Greater Fort Lauderdale. Walls lined with beads and vintage beer ads set the tone, but the food delivers the real NOLA energy: crawfish étouffée with a slow-building heat, golden fried oyster po’boys, and a gumbo so smoky it lingered on my tongue like a backbeat. 

6234 North Federal Highway
(954) 368-8863

In a low-slung strip mall not far from downtown, I found some of the fiercest flavors in the city. Chef Suksamran’s Larb Thai-Isan delivers khao soi bathed in golden broth and crowned with crunchy noodles, and som tum snapping with fermented crab and spicy bird’s-eye chile. The duck salad, dotted with crispy skin and tossed in sweet chili and lime, is a master class in contrast. Come hungry, bring friends, and prepare to wait—it’s worth every second.

476 North Federal Highway
(754) 200-4236

Stepping inside Foxy Brown is like walking into your favorite sitcom kitchen—cozy, familiar, maybe a little retro. “We’ve grown alongside families and regulars, pioneering Fort Lauderdale’s brunch scene since 2012,” says director of operations Sasha Formica. The menu riffs on nostalgia: Green bean fries arrive tempura-crisp with sriracha aioli; the beef-a-roni marries tender short rib and creamy local ricotta tossed in casarecce pasta, just like the canned version of my latchkey childhood. But the sleeper hit? A banana bread grilled cheese with nutella and brûléed banana.

3300 North Ocean Boulevard
(954) 565-5505

Whitewashed walls, clinking glasses, platters the size of hubcaps—Greek Islands Taverna doesn’t do subtle. The pikilia platter alone is a meal: tzatziki, melitzanosalata, skordalia, and tirokafteri are all begging for torn pita. I followed those with lamb chops adorned simply with lemon, oregano, and olive oil still sputtering from the grill. The hospitality brings me back to the mountainside villages on Crete that I love, where it doesn’t matter what language you speak because food and friendship are universal. Come hungry and come early because they don’t take reservations.

2150 Wilton Drive #A113
(954) 530-5523

In Wilton Manors, where rainbow flags line the sidewalks and the music never stops, Tulio’s hums with energy and mezcal. “Tulio’s creates a welcoming space where everyone feels at home,” owner and founder Brian Parenteau tells me. Sweet claw meat and bright roasted corn salsa overflow the lobster tacos; the birria—pull-apart short rib folded into crisp tortillas—is served with consommé I’d drink by the mug. 

903 North East 5th Avenue
(954) 635-2335

Tucked just off of Flagler Village, this spot pulses with energy. Rino Cerbone, part chef, part rock band front man, pours heart and heat into his Italian American menu. “I wanted to be the one to change the game [in Greater Fort Lauderdale],” Cerbone says. “People see it. People feel it. They know in these four walls something awesome is happening.” The razor clams beckon, still sizzling under a layer of breadcrumbs and Calabrian chile. Handmade pastas and pizzas, crafted with his family’s secret dough and blistered in the wood oven, draw me in every visit. But the staple for Cerbone? “The pizza I grew up making with my father, the fresh tomato,” he says. “It’s five ingredients. Nothing to hide behind, just simple and delicious.”

551 North Fort Lauderdale Beach Boulevard

On a gusty stretch of Fort Lauderdale Beach, this Japanese-Korean fusion spot doesn’t shy away from flavor: Short rib jabche melds glassy sweet potato noodles with galbi cooked sous vide to trembling tenderness; duck baos arrive pillowy and bursting with hoisin heat. “Takato is more than just a restaurant—it’s where tradition and passion come together to create flavors that tell a story and bring people closer,” says general manager Paul-Antoine Fabre.