Fuego by Mana: Charcoal, Birria, and a Steakhouse Behind a Parking Lot

The birria tacos arrive with the broth in its own cup, and the first thing you do is dunk. Braised brisket, corn tortilla, raw onion, cilantro, and a consommé dark enough to suggest it has been on the stove since the afternoon. Two tables over, a family of six is working through a tower of nachos under beef chili while a waiter carries a bone in ribeye past at shoulder height, still hissing. It is a quarter past six on a Tuesday in North Miami Beach, and the room is already two thirds full. Outside the window sits a parking lot the size of a small airfield. Inside is one of the odder propositions in kosher Miami: a Texas smokehouse, an Argentinian grill and a Mexican taqueria, all running out of the same kitchen.

The main course section of the menu is not called mains. It is called The Josper Grill, and the naming is honest, because the machine sets the terms for everything printed above it. A Josper is a charcoal oven with a door: the fire sits in a sealed box, the heat climbs far past anything an open grill sustains, and the meat cooks fast in an atmosphere thick with its own smoke. That is why the aged boneless ribeye at fifty nine dollars comes off with a crust you can hear, and why the twenty two ounce bone in Cowboy Steak at ninety five, listed as available when it is available, is the plate the room turns to look at.