Later, we tried an upscale take on Cuban influences, albeit fused with French, at the one-Michelin-starred Ariete. Sitting in affluent Coconut Grove, the streets full of shoppers and diners mingling under trees bright with fairy lights, I watched as black truffle was shaved onto a roasted chicken, thin slivers fluttering toward the table. My langoustine appetizer (“It’s a trip,” a server told me) was comparatively modest; an eclectic combination of green mango and passion fruit with labneh and pine nuts, it was tart and creamy, with a hint of spice.
