As Miamians, we’re accustomed to being overlooked. Miami, after all, is a destination. People come here. No one actually lives here. Does anyone here actually work? At a job? (And don’t even start with that wretched “Florida man.”)
As for what we like to eat, we all know that drill: We’re one big “melting pot.” We’re addicted to cafecitos. The only pie we acknowledge is key lime, the only sandwich the cubano, the only seafood spiny lobster (or stone crabs, in season).