Best Fusion Restaurant Darrel & Oliver's East City Grill.Best Polo Tailgating Picnic Boulevard Gourmet Catering.Best Southwestern Restaurant Armadillo Cafe.Best Hamburger Jack's Old Fashion Hamburger House.Best Fresh Seafood Captain Mike's Fresh Fish & Seafood.Best Early-Bird Special Chuck's Steak House.Best Wine Selection in a Restaurant Jackson's Four Fifty.Best Beer Selection in a Restaurant Big City Tavern.Best Restaurant to Die in the Past Year Bex.Best Delicatessen Wolfie Cohen's Rascal House.Best Neighborhood Restaurant Costello's.Best Pan-Asian Restaurant China Grill Café and Zen Sum.Best Farmers' Market/Palm Beach West Palm Beach Green Market.Best Farmers' Market/Broward French Green Market.Best Restaurant For a Power Lunch Maxwell's Chophouse.Best Natural-Food/Vegetarian Restaurant The Veggie Garden.Best Inexpensive Italian Restaurant Hot Tomatoe.Best Expensive Italian Restaurant Antonello. ![]() Best Burrito East Coast Burrito Factory.Best Restaurant/Broward Mark's Las Olas.Best Restaurant/Palm Beach Galaxy Grille.Best Place to Get Your Caffeine Fix From Your Car Expresso - The Gourmet Drive-Thru Coffee Shop.Best Restaurant When Someone Else is Paying Toni Bishop's Restaurant & Jazz Club.Best Restaurant For Gluttons Brazil Brazil Bar & Grill. ![]() On paper and in person, the Hollywood pair is paving a future with the painful lessons of the past. In Accounting For Myself, the CPA connects money and identity with precise, vivid prose, evoking a child's guilt as her parents squabble over finances. Lyn, whose nonfiction has appeared in the now-defunct Tropic and on Public Radio International's Marketplace, is also writing a memoir. In a poetry manuscript, The Last Dance of the Once Wicked, Jesse is revisiting what he calls "the neighborhoods of my past sorrow," including the tin-roofed farmhouse where "the night rose up on grim haunches/And crickets raised their sharp and dry bodies." That same unflinching lyricism marks his memoir, A Temporary World of Light, a short version of which won the 1998 Alligator Juniper national competition for creative nonfiction and will be published in an Arizona literary journal this year. When they met three years ago as graduate students in FIU's creative writing program, Lyn and Jesse discovered they shared an affection for Wrigley Field, a Southern Baptist upbringing - she in Mississippi, he in Virginia - and a therapeutic preoccupation with their prior experiences. She sets aside her muse from nine to five, shifting to accounting software he is constantly crafting stanzas in his head and teaches composition at Nova Southeastern University and Florida International University. She writes on a laptop at a spare, scratch-and-dent-sale desk in a walk-in closet filled with boots, blouses, and suits he composes before an oversize screen in a separate study, surrounded by photographs, poetry books, and a cartoon starring Walt Whitman. Let's put it this way: Where else can you get a $3 Bass ale served up by a not-so-chic cutie while you call the eight ball in the corner pocket with your favorite game on the tube and righteous tunes thumping from a kick-ass sound system? Hot Shots, we salute you. At Hot Shots there's plenty to fall back on, like a black-walled nightclub with a dance floor and so many pool tables there's always one open. Oh, that's another thing: You can actually find single women in there, if the game gets boring. The patrons range from Vinnie from New York to a countrified 57-year-old handyman named Bill who likes to hit on the older chicks in the place while coughing down filterless Camels. The Hot Shots waitresses are hot in more of a working-class, smoke-stained, screw-you-stupid kind of way. ![]() Hot Shots has all of these, but you'll have to forget about the girl-next-door, all-American style of, say, Hooters (not to say there's anything wrong with Hooters). Sports bars, in order to fulfill their promise as a man's paradise, need four things: plenty of televisions a small army of hot, scantily clad waitresses lots of less-than-expensive beer and buckets of chicken wings.
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