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Cultural wasteland. Rural backwater. The Redneck Riviera. Whatever northern critics might say about "Flora-Bama," the 200-mile stretch of Florida beneath Alabama, I’m here – as a Florida-raised New Yorker – to tell you they’re flat wrong.

The Panhandle, where my parents live, possesses a very distinct culture defined by American military families raising children near their bases. It also happens to be a fisher’s paradise that supplies fresh seafood to the Gulf Coast restaurants that line its soft, sugar-sand beaches. Given the relatively small size of the local regional airports, the area used to feel like a Southerner’s secret.

Not anymore. The secret’s out, especially now Taylor Swift and Florence + the Machine are singing about Destin in their new song “” (although they don't sing about the food). But, as often comes with national attention and a serious increase in real estate investment — especially along Hwy 30A and its pristine planned community of — there is finally a culinary scene to match the beauty of the beaches. Here's where to eat — and what to avoid — in the Florida Panhandle.

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Breakfast

The family-owned has been feeding Destin since 1978, with two subsequent outposts opened in Santa Rosa and Inlet Beach. For a classic Sunday morning diner, this place hits the mark with pillowy-fresh donuts, eggs every which way, and homey key lime pies. On weekends, the lines run clear out the door. Arrive by 8am if you don’t want to wait for a table. But to me, the best seat in the house is the sky blue 1950s countertop barstool, where you sit elbow to elbow with real live Flora-bamans.

For a lighter, healthier morning, I don my best yoga pants, pretend I own a multimillion-dollar condo and drive down 30A to in Alys Beach. My grab-and-go here is their avocado toast with pesto cashew aioli, parsley and pickled onions, washed down with a green apple, kale and lemon smoothie. The flavors really pop because the kitchen is fully stocked with fresh produce from the nearby . Workout or not, Raw & Juicy makes me feel better about yesterday’s double-glazed donut.

Coffee

As a self-anointed coffee snob, never lets me down, mainly because it sources beans from Portland’s famous Stumptown Coffee Roasters and whips them into cleverly local concoctions. Down here, I order the “Tan Line Latte” made with Stumptown espresso beans, mocha and house-made vanilla syrup and coconut milk. What’s better than being highly caffeinated with a nice tan line? Though Black Bear has four locations along the Panhandle, I’ve made a ritual out of stopping at the cafe in Grayton Beach.

Pro tip: Park across the street from Black Bear and hop on the free 5-minute trolley service down to the beach. Sure, it’s kitschy, but kids love it, and you won’t have to worry about parking (a challenge during the summer season).

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Lunch

Lunchtime along 30A is a socialite’s see-and-be-seen affair, best attempted in a wide-brimmed hat, full-face sunglasses and a colorful caftan. A great place to sit outside and watch life sashay by is , where you’ll find deep-bowl salads, classic lobster rolls and Charleston-style bloody marys (read: a heavy pour).

If you prefer your feet in the sand, grab a whipped feta flatbread, smoked salmon sandwich or even espresso martinis in a jar to go from , the newest bar-slash-cafe from Quest Hospitality Concepts owners Jeremy and Angela Walton. They’re the duo behind what is arguably this region’s best fine-dining restaurant, the Citizen, just across the plaza (sit tight; we'll get to that for dinner).

For the best sushi in Destin, pay a visit to Eddie Morgan, owner of . His beloved waterfront restaurant has been in operation since 1979, when Eddie’s father opened a commercial seafood market across the street. The Morgans have been feeding Destin ever since, having survived multiple hurricanes, the 2010 BP oil spill, and the take-out-only time of COVID.

Built like the hull of a wooden ship, this place is an old-school time capsule. Imagine Steely Dan or Creedence Clearwater Revival blaring over braggadocious fishers bellied up to the bar, spending their tournament winnings on beer, and you’re pretty much there.

Just don’t order mahi-mahi. Yoshi, the Tokyo-born sushi chef who married an airman and ended up here, won’t allow it. Her sushi is cut from Gulf-caught snapper, grouper, shrimp, tuna or the odd lionfish, if spear divers went out that day. “So many people come down here and say mahi-mahi is their favorite fish. But there's no mahi sold here commercially,” said Morgan, munching on torched lionfish sashimi. “If you see mahi on menus, it’s typically coming from Nicaragua, Costa Rica or Mexico.”

Happy hour

For punchy, Polynesia-meets-Gulf of Mexico cocktails, head over to , situated right in the heart of Seaside. It’s a tiki-style bar with great people-watching potential and direct access to the beach. It also happens to be run by one of the region’s best chef-restaurateurs, Nikhil Abuvala, who serves his cocktails in quirky, colorful glassware to match your mood — which for me is usually “.”

When I’m seeking a more sophisticated start to the evening, I’ll bicycle over to . Most of the culinary talent in this town is clustered in and around Hwy 30A, where you’ll find affluent vacation homeowners turned wine connoisseurs cycling or golf-carting themselves around town. The extensive international wine list here is designed to meet their expectations, with excellent varietals from Italy, Portugal, France, Napa, and even Willamette Valley, Oregon (if you know, you know).

Dinner

My hands-down favorite dinner to be had in the Panhandle is cooked by Coleman Jernigan, executive chef at at Alys Beach. You will need a reservation for a table, but the elegant, double-height space designed by Khoury Vogt Architects serves the menu to walk-ins at two separate bars: one for cocktails and another for champagne and oysters. My favorite dish is the Fishermen’s Stew ($51). It’s a savory homage to New Orleans, where Jernigan learned his trade. It’s basically bouillabaisse, chock full of mussels, shrimp, Gulf fish and smoked pork sausage from South Louisiana — served steaming hot and enriched with tarragon cream and a splash of Pernod, an anise-flavored apéritif. Ask for extra charred focaccia bread just to soak up all the sauce.

For a great steak, drive inland to Miramar Beach. But don’t let the shopping center parking lot throw you — is a popular dining room that caters to the special occasion crowd and actually has a dress code (no shorts, please). It’s a white-tablecloth, swirl-and-sniff-your-wine type of place, but it’s not uptight. Laughter and conversation drown out the sound of the kitchen, dim lighting from mod glass orbs makes everyone look good, and no one will notice if someone spills their martini.

What amuses me is that the windows are draped in white chiffon curtains to disguise the fact that we’re in a shopping center. But no one seems to mind because the 20-ounce Cowboy Ribeye ($69), cast-iron-seared in duck fat with fingerling potatoes and mushroom ragout, is just that good. Split it with your date, and it’s still a full steak dinner.

Bar

is home to a killer rooftop bar with gorgeous views over the Gulf, and it’s one of the few places open until 11pm. It also hosts live music most nights, giving the place a clubby vibe, and the Rosemary Beach crowd loves it. Speaking of the crowd, everyone looks like they’ve stepped out of a Vineyard Vines catalog: Bermuda shorts, big earrings and a bright, seasonal cocktail to match. I recommend Tomorrow's Pain ($17), made with Castle & Key gin, serrano, cucumber, cilantro and lime, stirred and served in a martini glass – worry about the pain tomorrow!

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