The Sunshine State’s Most Essential Bites

Starting at just $10, Beefy King’s sandwich platters are a great deal, all served with cole slaw, a large order of beefy spuds and a Kosher dill pickle. Photo by Roberto Gonzalez.

FLORIDA HAS A FOOD CULTURE THAT MOST PEOPLE WHO’VE ONLY EATEN NEAT A THEME PARK OR BEACH RESORT COUNTER  ( that includes some boring long-term residents too), rooted in the land, the water, and the communities that were here long before the tourists arrived. From the freshwater marshes of the interior to the oyster bays of the Panhandle, the kitschy strawberry fields of Plant City to the Skunk Ape-ridden sawgrass of the Everglades, the state and its quirky residents produce ingredients and dishes that exist nowhere else. This is not a list of the trendiest restaurants or the most Instagram-friendly plates, y’all. It’s a guide to the food that is genuinely, irreducibly Floridian.

If you want to try one of Florida’s most old-school dishes, swamp cabbage is on the menu at Marsh Landing in Fellsmere. The dish is made from the heart of the sabal palm, Florida’s state tree, and it has been a cracker staple since settlers were living off the land and chewing on trees in the flatwoods and marshes of South Florida, and it tastes exactly like the name sounds: earthy, tender, faintly sweet, somewhere between cooked cabbage and artichoke heart. Marsh Landing serves it at a restaurant housed in a 1926 building that once sold Florida land during the boom years, which kind of flavors the whole experience. It’s about an hour southeast of Orlando, and well worth the drive. Marsh Landing is open Tuesday through Friday 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. and Saturday through Sunday 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. at marshlandingrestaurant.com

The Yearling Restaurant in Cross Creek sits on the edge of one of the most untouched stretches of Florida remaining, and is the same hammock and marshland that Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings wrote about in her Pulitzer Prize-winning novel of the same name, which inspired the 1946 film starring Gregory Peck and Jane Wyman. The restaurant leans hard into that heritage (the book, not the movie). Cross Creek is about 20 miles southeast of Gainesville and feels genuinely removed from the modern world, which is part of the draw. The Yearling has been serving Old Florida cooking in that setting for decades, and the menu reads like a field guide to Cracker dining. Cooter, which is a freshwater turtle but more fun to say out loud to family, shows up on the menu alongside local venison (which feels like eating Bambi at Walt Disney World). They’ve got gator tail, frog legs, catfish, and mullet too, if you want something a little less exotic but still fun for your Instagram. Wear something Old Florida and make a whole day of it. yearlingrestaurant.net

Lee & Rick’s opened in 1950, as a 9 stool establishment which only served oysters. Lee & Rick ran the restaurant out front, and raised their family in the back portion, which served as their home. Photo by Roberto Gonzalez.

Lee & Rick’s Oyster Bar on Orange Blossom Trail has been shucking oysters in Orlando since 1950, and the place kind of looks like it too, in the best possible way. Like those retired couples you see at Playalinda who are browner than your dad’s boat shoes. What comes out of that kitchen, though, is some of the finest oyster work in Central Florida. The oysters are steamed to order, served by the dozen on metal trays with crackers, hot sauce, and drawn butter, and they hit the table tasting like a lover who spent all day at the beach — briny, plump, and clean. The setting is dim, the decor is dated, and the parking lot won’t impress anyone, but that only serves to keep out the snobs. It’s one of those places that has survived for 75 years not because of atmosphere or marketing, but because the oysters are just that good. Sometimes the best things in Florida come in the humblest shells. leeandricksoysterbar.com

While we’re chatting seafood, Up The Creek Raw Bar at 313 Water Street in Apalachicola is about as close to the source as you can get when it comes to Florida oysters. Apalachicola Bay, sitting just outside town where the Apalachicola River spills into the Gulf of Mexico, produces what many consider the finest oysters in the state, with a brininess that comes from the perfect mix of freshwater flowing down from Georgia and Alabama meeting the saltwater of the Gulf. Eating them at Up The Creek, right there on the water in the same small fishing town where they were harvested, is a different experience than getting them shipped somewhere else (nothing against Lee & Ricks). They’re as fresh as oysters get. You can order them raw on the half shell or steamed. Apalachicola is about a four-and-a-half-hour drive from Orlando, out on the Panhandle where the traffic is a bit slower and the sunsets hang out a little bit longer. upthecreekrawbar.com

Drinks are flowing at The Flora-Bama, which was originally constructed in 1964. Photo courtesy Visit Pensacola.

While we’re up that way, the Bushwacker is as synonymous with the Florida Panhandle as cowboy boots in the sand and mullet tossin’, and the Flora-Bama on the Alabama-Florida state line is one of the most famous places to drink one. The Bushwacker is practically a rite of passage. Something I learned on a recent tour with Visit Pensacola to check out the annual Mullet Toss.” It tastes like a frozen chocolate milkshake, with a proprietary combination of Kahlúa, Baileys Irish Cream, dark crème de cacao, coconut rum, and vanilla ice cream, all blended together into something that drinks more like dessert than a cocktail but gets you pretty messed up if you’re not paying attention. The drink originated in the Virgin Islands in the 1970s but found its spiritual home along the Gulf Coast, where beach bars from Pensacola to Panama City have been serving them for decades. At the Flora-Bama Lounge, Package & Oyster Bar, a legendary honky-tonk that straddles the state line and has survived hurricanes, legal disputes, and decades of spring breakers, the Bushwacker is practically a rite of passage. florabama.com

Boiled peanuts are one of those things that don’t make sense until you’ve had a good one, and Krackers Boiled Peanuts in Callahan, just outside Jacksonville in Nassau County, is one of the better places to understand what the fuss is all about. Making them is relatively simple: you take raw green peanuts and slow-cook them for hours in heavily salted water, sometimes with Cajun seasoning thrown in. As a result, the shell goes soft and gives way easily, and inside the peanut is tender, warm, and deeply savory, almost like a legume that can’t decide if it’s a snack or a side dish (just like me). They’re a roadside staple across the South and especially in Florida, where you’ll find them in paper bags at gas stations, farm stands, and dedicated boiled peanut operations that take the craft seriously. Krackers does them particularly well, though, cooked low and slow until the salt has worked all the way through, with enough heat in the Cajun variety to keep things interesting without overwhelming the peanut itself. Krackers is a natural stop for anyone driving up toward Georgia or coming back down into Florida, and plenty of people plan their route specifically to pass through. You eat them standing over a trash can or in the front seat of your car, cracking shells and tossing them, and by the time you’re done you’ve gone through an entire bag without realizing it. facebook.com/p/Krackers-Boiled-Peanuts

Ulele’s Native Chili. Photo courtesy Ulele.

Ulele in Tampa sits in a restored 1903 Water Works building on the Hillsborough River, and the menu leans hard into Florida’s native ingredients. The Native Chili is an ambitious, deep, complex bowl built with layers of alligator, wild boar, venison, duck, and ground chuck, rounded out with cranberry beans and chili spices that tie the whole thing together. It’s like a chili puttanesca. I dated a hunter who always had random meats in his fridge (no pun meant) who loved throwing them together into weird dishes, but his stuff tasted like he was stoned and went off script. This chili is bangarang. Don’t sleep on the jalapeño corn beer muffins either. The restaurant is named for the legendary Princess Ulele from Tampa Bay’s indigenous history, and that spirit of honoring what the land and water here have always provided runs through everything on the menu. It’s one of the more distinctive dining experiences in the Tampa Bay area, and reason enough to make the drive down I-4. ulele.com

While we’re chatting indigenous cuisines, Miccosukee fry bread should definitely be on your Florida food bucket list too. Which is exactly why making the trip to the Miccosukee Indian Village on the Tamiami Trail west of Miami is worth it. The bread is made fresh on site, and the experience of eating it right there, pulled fresh from the fryer in the heart of the Everglades, is just as important as the food itself. The Miccosukee Tribe has maintained a presence in the Florida Everglades for generations, retreating deeper into the sawgrass during the Seminole Wars and never signing a peace treaty with the United States government. Fry bread has deep roots across many Native American communities, despite being simple dough dropped into hot oil. It’s fried until the outside is golden and slightly crispy while the inside stays soft, chewy, and warm. You can get it plain, dusted with powdered sugar, or topped with honey, and any version is worth eating. The village also offers alligator wrestling demonstrations, airboat rides, and a museum documenting Miccosukee history and culture, but the fry bread alone is reason enough to pull off the Tamiami Trail and spend some time there. instagram.com/miccosukeeindianvillage

Now let me bring it back home to Orlando. The Neighborhood Eatery on Magnolia Avenue in downtown Orlando serves one of the most affordable lunches in The City Beautiful, without sacrificing taste.  The Mills 50 Bowl is the move here, with warm rice, grilled chicken, lettuce, cabbage, pickled daikon and carrots, cucumber, tomato, cilantro, green onions, and a fried egg, all topped with garlic aioli and hot sauce. And it’s massive. The problem, and it is a consistent and legendary problem, is the service. The staff at The Neighborhood Eatery have cultivated what can only be described as a masterclass in indifference — orders are taken with the enthusiasm of someone who would rather be anywhere else, questions about the menu are met with sighs, and the general vibe behind the counter suggests that your presence is tolerated rather than welcomed. They just got an order kiosk a few months ago, but you can still sense their general disdain as soon as you walk in. It’s glorious. orl-eats.com

The It’s Bananas pizza at Perla’s Pizza in Winter Park is exactly what it sounds like, and it works better than it has any right to. Michelin-starred chef Michael Collantes puts red sauce, mozzarella, pepperoni char cups, fresh bananas, and parmesan on a thin-crust pie, and somehow the combination is perfect. The sweetness of the banana cuts through the salt of the pepperoni in a way that makes the whole thing click. I was actually in the kitchen when Collantes was testing the recipe with his friends, so I can speak from the heart and say it’s not just the kind of dish that sounds like a dare. It’s got some food science behind it. Perla’s is as much a late-night vinyl bar as it is a pizzeria, with a DJ spinning records and a pretty tight cocktail program to match, all tucked into a spot on West Fairbanks Avenue that stays open until 1 a.m. on weekends. perlaspizzafl.com

Starting at just $10, Beefy King’s sandwich platters are a great deal, all served with coleslaw, a large order of beefy spuds and a Kosher dill pickle. Photo by Roberto Gonzalez.

And to round it all out, there’s Beefy King on Bumby Avenue. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need to advertise because it’s been doing the same thing right since 1968 and everybody already knows about it. They serve up steamed meat piled high on a soft bun, served fast and cheap in a no-nonsense counter-service setup that hasn’t changed much in decades. The steam keeps the meat tender, juicy, and hot in a way that grilling or roasting just can’t compete with. The roast beef is the signature and the reason most people show up, but the menu has everything from the beef and cheddar, the corned beef, the pastrami, and roast turkey (which tastes the best with cheese, slaw, and horseradish sauce). Most people get a side of tots too. beefykingorlando.com