3 stories
Pizza in Florida has always been a transplant's art. The state's pizzaiolos came from Brooklyn, from Naples by way of Buenos Aires, from Detroit, from Havana, and the result is a peninsula where you can eat a wood-fired Margherita in a converted Ybor cigar factory at lunch and a
Walk into any Florida brewery on a Saturday afternoon and you can usually guess the region within a minute. Tampa pours a hazy double IPA the color of orange juice into a thirteen-ounce snifter. Jacksonville hands you a pint of English bitter and asks if you want to start a tab.
Drive an hour outside any major Florida metro and the landscape changes faster than you'd expect. The pine flatwoods give way to brackish marsh, the strip malls thin into citrus groves, and the radio fades to a Spanish-language station you've never heard of. Florida rewards short
