These are some of my favorite restaurants in South Florida, places with high-quality food where the chefs bring passion, creativity and precision to plates. Places that I recommend without hesitation to friends and strangers alike.

None were included in the 2025 Florida Michelin Guide.

When Michelin – the so-called “foodie bible” produced for over a century by the French tire company – announced earlier this year that it would be welcoming Broward and Palm Beach counties to its 2025 edition, the local restaurant and food community reacted with excitement and anticipation. But when the coveted stars and lower-rung “Bib Gourmands” and “recommended” restaurants were revealed at a ceremony in Orlando in April, beyond the obligatory smiles, high-fives and Champagne toasts, there was also much head-scratching.

In two counties with a combined population of 3.5 million and more than 7,000 restaurants, Michelin’s anonymous inspectors saw fit to award only 1.1 restaurants a star (more on that in a bit), and just three Bibs, which are given to eateries that offer “good quality food at a good value.” Nine other restaurants were listed as “recommended.” All told, the two counties had 14 restaurants included in the guide; nine from the Palm Beaches and five from Greater Fort Lauderdale.

In contrast, Miami-Dade, with 2.8 million people and roughly 8,700 restaurants, had 63 restaurants included in the guide – 15 starred, 14 Bibs and 34 “recommended.” When the guide first came to Miami in 2022, Michelin inspectors lauded 30 restaurants: 11 with stars and 19 with Bibs (the “recommended” consolation prize did not exist at that time.)

Does the fault lie within ourselves or the stars? Is the culinary scene really that much better to our south? Or are Michelin’s anonymous inspectors – who surreptitiously traversed the region last fall and early winter – just becoming snobbier when it comes to newcomers that want to join the club? The Michelin Guide will expand to include all of Florida in 2026, after getting much blowback about a system that essentially requires state and county tourism boards to pony up cash to defray the mysterious inspectors’ expenses, including travel and paying for their meals.

In early June, six weeks after this year’s ceremony, the lone Palm Beach County star recipient – Konro in West Palm Beach – shuttered, its chef-proprietor jailed and charged with a violent attack against a woman who was his domestic and business partner. It was a virtual repeat of an episode that led to the shuttering of his previous Michelin-starred establishment in Chicago in 2017.

Konro has since been removed from the 2025 Michelin Guide and its website, something Michelin says is standard when it learns of a starred restaurant’s closure.

Before Konro imploded, its 14-course tasting dinner with wine pairings cost roughly $1,000 per person, including tax and tip, payable in advance to secure the booking.

Konro’s closing leaves the two counties, for now, with just a partial restaurant with a star – the 14-seat, tasting-menu Chef’s Counter at MAASS restaurant at the Four Seasons on Fort Lauderdale beach.

And this leaves me, a former South Florida Sun Sentinel food writer who is still a keen observer (and devourer) of the South Florida food scene, with questions:

How is it that the same kitchen that produces the same food for a 125-seat dining room at MAASS be deemed star-worthy only for its expensive chef’s counter tasting menus ($195 or $375, excluding wine), and not the entire restaurant, whose a la carte menu features many of the same items?

How is it that Michelin seems to fawn over the same chefs with a history of stars in other locales (even those with checkered pasts), and so often snubs local talent and excellent restaurants with longtime community roots?

How is it that Michelin can be so uneven across the region? In the past year, I’ve had mediocre, overpriced meals at starred restaurants in Miami that left me going “huh?” and floated away from marvelous experiences in Broward and Palm Beach counties that Michelin inspectors overlooked or underrated.

When it comes to stars, Michelin’s inspectors seem to love small places with fancy tasting menus that embody what I call the three P’s: Pricey, pretentious and precious. Salons where tweezer-placed microgreens balance just so on top of fermented foams and 28-ingredient reductions. Hence, lots of chef’s counters and expensive omakase dens.

I prefer places that warm the soul. Places such as chef Timon Balloo’s The Katherine and chefs Jeremy and Cynthia Bearman’s Oceano (formerly Oceano Kitchen, which reopened in January after moving from Lantana) and chef Michael Haycook’s The Grove, and refined Italian restaurants with classic old-world service such as Angelo Elia’s Casa D’Angelo and chefs Luigi and Esperanza Marenco’s Pasta And …, which is improbably located in a strip- mall with a 7-Eleven and a Papa John’s.

In my humble palate’s estimation, all these places could have rated at least a “recommended” mention, if not full-blown stars or a Bib. And if deserving, venerable places such as Joe’s Stone Crab in Miami Beach merit “recommended” inclusion in the guide, could the same not be said for Darrel Broek and chef Oliver Saucy’s Café Maxx in Pompano Beach, or even the re-imagined Anthony’s Runway 84 or Café Martorano in Fort Lauderdale, all in business more than 30 years? Or how about some of the bold flavors and locally sourced ingredients showcased at chef Jimmy Everett’s Driftwood in Boynton Beach, or chef Jason Binder’s MIA Kitchen in Delray Beach?

Did Michelin inspectors visit these places and deem them unworthy, or miss them entirely? Michelin wouldn’t say. “The Michelin Guide doesn’t reveal specifics about the number of restaurants inspected, the destination inspection process or the inspectors’ methods of evaluating a destination,” a Michelin spokeswoman sent by email in response to questions, saying it should be attributed to the “anonymous Chief Inspector of the Michelin Guide North America.”

Michelin says its inspectors “compile lists of restaurants that warrant visits” by exploring destinations with advance field work, and also use “various sources, including local and national media, social media, and word-of-mouth recommendations.”

Did Michelin use the same inspectors who doled out honors so liberally for Miami-Dade in Broward and Palm Beach counties?

“This type of detail about our inspection teams is kept private,” the anonymous Chief Inspector wrote.

Their stars seem to gravitate toward those with Michelin pedigrees in other cities. MAASS is overseen by executive chef Ryan Ratino, who has multiple starred restaurants in his home base of Washington, D.C., and now the Orlando area, too. Famous names such as chef Thomas Keller and brands such as Korean steakhouse Cote have been awarded stars for restaurant outposts in Miami-Dade.

Are Michelin inspectors locals with a feel for the area or flown in from other parts of the world?

“We don’t share demographic information about our inspectors to maintain their anonymity and to protect the independence of the process,” the anonymous Chief Inspector wrote. “Nevertheless, they are international former professionals from the industry … all have at least 10 years of experience, which ensures they have a precise and technical knowledge of the field.”

Michelin, which awarded its first U.S. stars in New York in 2005, says its training and methodology for inspectors “ensures a uniform international standard … A starred restaurant has the same value regardless of whether it is in Paris, New York or anywhere else in the world.”

The Guide also says its ratings are based strictly on food and cooking quality and not service or décor, which makes no sense to me. Back in my reviewing days, I considered service, atmosphere and beverage programs key components to an exceptional restaurant experience. A great restaurant didn’t necessarily have to be fancy or expensive, but its environment had to be hospitable, comfortable and compatible with its overall mission.

Another eccentricity: Michelin says stars are awarded to restaurants and not individual chefs, yet “the personality of the chef as reflected in the cuisine,” is deemed critical to the accolade, listed as one of the guide’s five criteria. The others include “product quality, mastery of cooking techniques, harmony of flavors … and consistency over time and across the entire menu.”

The focus on consistency explains why the guide skews towards smaller restaurants with pricey tasting menus. As one Palm Beach County restaurateur said: “It’s a lot easier to achieve consistency when you have just one seating a night with 12 guests where everyone is eating the same dish every course, as opposed to an all-night service with 350 covers and 45 menu items.”

Yet Michelin doesn’t seem consistent in its own standards across the region, at least when it comes to the highly subjective world of food. Over the past year, I’ve eaten at numerous starred and recommended restaurants in the tri-county area and sometimes walked away confused.

For example, I had a satisfying and expensive but not particularly earth-shattering meal at one-starred Los Felix in Coconut Grove, where smallish plates of well-sauced, refined Mexican food are served rapidly in a cramped, artsy space. If that experience is star-worthy, then why not a star for Buccan in Palm Beach, chef Clay Conley’s bustling, modern American kitchen that only rated a “recommended” from the guide? Conley, a four-time James Beard Award semifinalist, opened Buccan in 2011. My recent meal there was flavorful and memorable, including standout pastas such as squid-ink orecchiette with crumbled sausage and slivers of conch, and a Sunday-only fried chicken dinner special with a heavenly biscuit and crispy, greaseless and crackling-good bird.

Sometimes the Michelin dichotomy is contained within the same building. I’ve been to the one-starred Chef’s Counter at MAASS and its tasting menu was … fine. The parade of pretty, little dishes – some showered obscenely with black truffles – didn’t tell a particularly cohesive story. The only things I remembered a few weeks later were the whimsical bookends: a foie gras macaron at the start and a miniature raspberry mochi taco at the end. I much prefer the Mediterranean offerings at Evelyn’s, one floor above MAASS in the Four Seasons Fort Lauderdale, which only merited “recommended” status in the guide. I’ve been numerous times since its 2022 opening and am always impressed by chef Brandon Salomon’s cooking, including specials like a candle made from carrots, fresh-baked pita and Jerusalem bagels with spreads and hummus, a grilled whole branzino deboned tableside with coriander-seed chermoula and rose petals, and a side dish I have dreams about – the crispy, spicy potato “batata harra.”

Perhaps realizing how the Michelin game is played and reaching for its star, Evelyn’s has recently added a tasting menu to its offerings ($125 per person, $215 with wine pairings). With all these cockamamie contradictions and imperfections, does the guide carry too much weight and garner too much attention from chefs, the media and foodies?

“Everybody cares about awards and recognition – it’s great for staff morale … I’d love to be mentioned in the guide,” said Angelo Elia, an old-school Italian chef who opened the Fort Lauderdale flagship of Casa D’Angelo in 1998. He shrugged off the snub by saying that after 30 years he’s “still learning, still trying to improve” and gets satisfaction from seeing happy guests and a healthy bottom line. “This business is a challenge every day,” he said.

The consensus among local chefs and restaurateurs whom I spoke with: It’s a good thing that Michelin is here; this year is just the start; its presence gives aspiring and ambitious chefs a worthy goal; it does give restaurants an initial attendance boost; and more places that are deserving will be recognized in future years as the inspectors roam more freely and more frequently.

The flip side: Michelin stars shouldn’t be viewed as the be-all-end-all, and inclusion in the guide doesn’t always lead to business success or long-term survival. In Miami, two starred restaurant in the 2025 guide have closed (EntreNos and Itamae AO).

Homegrown chefs like Rino Cerbone of Heritage in Fort Lauderdale, who grew up working at his family’s Pizza Time pizzerias in Coral Springs and Boca Raton, says 2025 is just the beginning for Broward’s growing and improving restaurant scene.

“This shows that local chefs can get on the map,” Cerbone said recently at Heritage, a miniature statue of Bibendum, the tire company’s mascot better known as The Michelin Man, on a bar shelf over his shoulder.

I was particularly pleased that Heritage was recognized with Bib Gourmand designation, given Michelin’s historical antipathy toward Italian-American restaurants. But Cerbone’s delicious and affordable modern takes on pizzas, pastas and other classics, such as his re-invention of clams oreganata using minced razor clams and a lemon crema, apparently proved irresistible to the inspectors.

In Palm Beach County, Aioli Bakery (where everything is made in house) and Palm Beach Meats (an artisanal butcher shop that offers sandwiches and special tasting dinners) were also deservingly awarded Bibs.

There’s more on the plate for Michelin inspectors to consider for the 2026 guide, with two notable new Fort Lauderdale restaurants arriving on the scene in recent months, Calusso and Ukiah Japanese Smokehouse. Calusso, at the renovated Pier Sixty-Six resort, is a modern American restaurant overseen by chef Jonathan Kaiser, who grew up in Hollywood and has worked at starred restaurants around the country, including the three-star Joel Robuchon at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. The opening “oysters Caprese” and closing honeycomb semifreddo blanketed by shaved curls of Comte cheese are both showstoppers.

And at Ukiah, chef Michael Lewis has made a triumphant return to South Florida after founding the innovative KYU in Wynwood in 2016, once again bringing Asian-inspired and wood-fired treats to the region. His snapper skewer brushed with brown-butter ponzu and grilled lemon is a marvel of simplicity, the smoked brisket and pastrami short rib a carnivore’s dream. And I would crawl over a bed of smoldering post oak to eat the coconut cake, derived from his mother’s recipe.

Here’s hoping Michelin saves room for dessert – and finds room on the table for more recognition for deserving Broward and Palm Beach restaurants.

FLORIDA MICHELIN GUIDE 2025
The 14 restaurants in Broward and Palm Beach Counties listed in the 2025 edition of the Florida Michelin Guide:

ONE STAR
(High quality cooking)
Chef’s Counter at MAASS, Four Seasons Hotel, Fort Lauderdale (modern tasting menu)
BIB GOURMAND
(Good quality cooking at good value)
Aioli, West Palm Beach (artisanal bakery)
Heritage, Fort Lauderdale (Italian-American)
Palm Beach Meats, West Palm Beach (artisanal butcher with sandwiches, small
plates and tasting-menu dinners)
RECOMMENDED
Buccan, Palm Beach (modern American)
Butcher’s Club, PGA National Resort, Palm Beach Gardens (steakhouse)
Coolinary and the Parched Pig, Palm Beach Gardens (modern American)
Daniel’s, A Florida Steakhouse, Fort Lauderdale (steakhouse, modern American)
Evelyn’s, Four Seasons Hotel, Fort Lauderdale (Mediterranean)
Larb Thai Isan, Fort Lauderdale (Thai)
Moody Tongue Sushi, Hilton West Palm Beach (sushi)
Nicholson Muir, Boynton Beach (steakhouse)
Stage Kitchen & Bar, Palm Beach Gardens (international)

MIKE MAYO’S LIST
Broward and Palm Beach County restaurants worthy of inclusion or elevation in the 2026 Florida
Michelin Guide, according to former South Florida Sun Sentinel food critic Michael Mayo:

NEW & NOTABLE
Calusso, Pier Sixty-Six Resort, Fort Lauderdale
Ukiah Japanese Smokehouse, Fort Lauderdale

EXCLUDED IN 2025, Worthy of Recognition

Anthony’s Runway 84, Fort Lauderdale
Cafe Maxx, Pompano Beach
Casa D’Angelo, Fort Lauderdale
Cafe Martorano, Fort Lauderdale
Driftwood, Boynton Beach
Eathai, Boca Raton
The Grove, Delray Beach
The Katherine, Fort Lauderdale
Oceano, Lake Worth Beach
Pasta And … , Margate

RECOMMENDED IN 2025 GUIDE,
Worthy of Elevation:

Buccan, Palm Beach (star)
Daniel’s, A Florida Steakhouse, Fort Lauderdale (star)
Evelyn’s, Four Seasons, Fort Lauderdale (star)
Larb Thai Isan, Fort Lauderdale (Bib)
Stage Kitchen & Bar, Palm
Beach Gardens (Bib)

CORRECTION: The one-star Tambourine Room by Tristan Brandt at the Carillon Miami Wellness Resort in Miami Beach is expected to reopen to the public on Sept. 16. The 14-seat chef’s counter restaurant with a tasting menu briefly converted to private-dining-only earlier this summer.

Aaron Feis

He spent over half his life at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High, more than 20 years. The only thing Aaron Feis loved more than his school was his family, wife Melissa and daughter Ariel.

“He was Douglas football,” head coach Willis May told the South Florida Sun Sentinel. “He played here. He coached here. He loved the team and he had nothing but concern for the kids at all times.”

Feis, 37, went from player and student in the 1990s to assistant coach and staff member, a security guard who would roam the sprawling campus in his golf cart. “People called him ‘the mayor,’ ” former coach Mike Virden said at Feis’ funeral. “Because if you needed anything or anyone, he was the guy to go to.”

Football was his life, and his absence was felt this past season. ESPN recently spotlighted Feis and the Eagles’ 2018 season in “Parkland 17.”

In the TV special, May recalled how Feis would go out of his way to help players, taking time to put together highlight tapes from game films to impress college recruiters. “He was trying to get them in college,” May said. “He did it for nothing, for no money.”

Feis was often generous and gentle, but he could be strict when it came to coaching the offensive line, his former position. “One day we jumped off-sides in practice a couple times,” football player Gage Gaynor told the Sun Sentinel. “He made us do like 50 up-and-downs [exercises] to make sure it didn’t happen again.”

Feis helped players and students struggling with personal problems and difficult home situations. Although he liked to win, his brother Ray Feis said in the ESPN special, “For him it wasn’t so much about playing [or winning] … it was about teaching kids the skills through football to live their lives.”

Feis was large and physically imposing. As an offensive lineman, his role was to sacrifice for others, clearing holes for running backs and protecting quarterbacks. Life as a security guard was similar. Students recall how Feis would sit in his golf cart, arm draped over the steering wheel, as he kept a watchful eye over the parking lot in the morning when students got dropped off by parents.

“It’s like he was saying, ‘Don’t worry, I got ’em. I’ll watch out for them. I’ll take care of them,’ ” Ray Feis told ESPN.

Melissa Feis says those who want to make a donation in Aaron Feis’ memory may contribute to StandWithParkland.org, an advocacy group formed by Parkland victims’ families to promote safety and combat violence in schools.

Alaina Petty Ryan Petty / Courtesy

Alaina Petty

Three feet of mud and raw sewage had flooded downtown Everglades City after Hurricane Irma by the time Alaina Petty arrived with shovels and volunteers from the Mormon Helping Hands program.

With her father, Ryan Petty, Alaina visited families stranded without electricity, mucking out flooded homes with shovels and rakes, cutting drywall, moving destroyed furniture, comforting people who lost everything in the storm.

This was Alaina in a nutshell: selfless and ready to serve. “On the drive back home – we were very tired – but I couldn’t help but feel that all of the kids, including Alaina, felt grateful for what they did,” Petty recalls. “What we hope people never forget about Alaina is she was ready to be your friend.”

When she wasn’t dedicated to community service, Alaina Joann Petty, 14, loved shooting at the gun range with her dad. She also loved her dogs Diego and Leo, and camping with her youth group from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Coral Springs.

At Stoneman Douglas, Alaina excelled as a Junior ROTC cadet, following her older brother Patrick, whom she idolized, into the program. “I thought she joined JROTC to get out of P.E.,” Petty says. “Then she won cadet of the quarter in December [2017] — it’s remarkable. Her older brother was really jealous.” The U.S. Army posthumously awarded her with a Medal of Heroism.

The youngest of four children — Ian, Meghan and Patrick — Alaina moved from Washington state to Florida when she was 10, and is remembered by friends and family for her bright smile and love of Miami pop star Camila Cabello and bachata music, her sister Meghan says.

“She was happiest when she was helping others,” Meghan told the Eagle Eye, Stoneman Douglas’ student newspaper. “She would spend her weekends going to soup kitchens and just doing things that helped others’ lives […] She felt the most comfortable when she was sweating, working hard and making a difference.”

Ryan Petty says donations in Alaina’s memory may be made to the WalkUp Foundation, a nonprofit raising funds for mental-health programs, which has partnered with the Columbia Lighthouse Project and Sandy Hook Promise.

Alex Schachter Max Schachter / Courtesy

Alex Schachter

Alex Schachter wasn’t ready to grow up yet. He loved video games, throwing hoops, riding roller coasters and idolizing his big brother, Ryan.

“He just wanted to be a little kid,” his father, Max Schachter, said in the South Florida Sun Sentinel video project Voices of Change. “He loved to hug and cuddle. He was growing into such a wonderful young man.”

A driven honors student with an infectious smile, Alex played trombone and baritone for Stoneman Douglas’ orchestra and Eagle Regiment Marching Band, and played for the Parkland Basketball Club.

He practically lived in his University of Connecticut hoodie, taking his allegiance to the school from his late mother, Debbie, a UConn graduate who died when Alex was 4. UConn posthumously accepted Alex into its fine arts school as a music major.

Gail Schachter Schwartz, Alex’s aunt, remembers the 14-year-old as a “beautiful, sweet, loving, adorable nephew” who was inseparable around her sons. “They would do everything together,” Schwartz says. “We can’t go to the park and enjoy Alex anymore so one of my sons took some clothing from his bedroom closet. Now he wears Alex’s clothes so he can feel close to him.”

To honor the memory of Alex — also survived by his sisters Morgan and Avery — Max Schachter and his wife, Caryn, created Safe Schools for Alex, a campaign to help schools improve safety programs. The Alex Schachter Scholarship Fund supports Stoneman Douglas marching band students.

Alyssa Alhadeff Courtesy

Alyssa Alhadeff

She was fast on the soccer field and quick on her feet as a competitive debater. When her mother would tell her that she couldn’t go to the mall, Alyssa Alhadeff would come up with 10 reasons why she should.

“She was spunky,” Lori Alhadeff told the student newspaper, the Eagle Eye. “She just always got her way and never gave up.” Alyssa, a freshman, was promoted to the school’s varsity soccer team by the end of her first season. Her family moved to Parkland from New Jersey in 2014 and Alyssa quickly made friends. She loved the beach, boys, her smartphone and making people laugh.

Lori and Ilan Alhadeff wrote the following for the South Florida Sun Sentinel:

“It was only a week before Feb. 14, 2018 that our daughter, Alyssa, had selected her course load for her sophomore year. Honors English, Pre-Calculus, Chemistry and Spanish 4 topped her list … quite a head, and a handful ahead of her! So difficult to imagine, though, that we now must write about our beautiful 14-year-old in the past tense.

“Not only an academic talent, Alyssa shined brightly athletically as well. She began playing soccer at age 3, and in high school held the position of attacking midfielder, wearing the number 8 with pride. Her unbelievable passing skills, coupled with her ability to communicate as a leader on the field, paved her way to athletic prowess.

“Alyssa was dedicated fully to her two younger brothers, Robbie and Coby. She even went so far as to convince her father to agree to unlimited Wi-Fi for the boys and herself!

“Alyssa’s presence in our lives will never be replaced.

“The light of all of our lives was dimmed forever on Feb. 14, 2018. We will spend the rest of our time trying to #liveforAlyssa, #playforAlyssa and #shineforAlyssa.”

Donations in Alyssa’s memory can be made to MakeOurSchoolsSafe.org. The nonprofit was started by the Alhadeff family and seeks to improve school safety nationwide. On Feb. 6, Alyssa’s Law mandating silent panic alarms in New Jersey public schools was signed by New Jersey Gov. Phil Murphy. Spurred by her daughter’s death, Lori Alhadeff was elected to the Broward School Board last year.

Cara Loughran Damian and Denise Loughran / Courtesy

Cara Loughran

Her first name translates to “friend” in Irish, but Cara Loughran was so much more: infectiously happy and kindhearted, selfless with an easy smile.

The 14-year-old, who loved her Irish heritage and the color purple, fiercely devoted herself to friends and the beach, surfing and gymnastics. But Irish dancing dominated her life: Watching “Riverdance,” her first theater show, inspired her to study at the Drake School of Irish Dance in Coral Springs. She planned to keep dancing through college. Drake dancers now wear purple bows to honor Loughran’s memory at performances and competitions.

Cara’s parents Denise and Damian Loughran wrote the following for the South Florida Sun Sentinel:

“Cara was an amazing child with a heart of gold. She loved life and her family and friends. She had a way of bringing joy to everyone in her life. Cara had a smile that was extremely contagious. You couldn’t help but smile back at her. She was extremely supportive of her friends and always willing to help anyone who needed her. Cara brought light and joy to all who knew her.

“Cara was a wonderful student and took her studies very seriously, she worked hard and took pride in her academic accomplishments.

“She was a wonderful daughter and an amazing sister. Cara’s brother, Liam, was her best friend and she loved him dearly. She had many great friends who loved her very much. Her friends referred to her as the glue that bound them all together many times.

“She was a beach lover and completely happy whenever she was near the ocean. She loved surfing and Irish dance. Her favorite color was purple and she loved butterflies.

“Cara was so much fun to be around. She would giggle and laugh at anything remotely funny, which amused everyone around her. Her kind and gentle nature was inspiring to all who loved her.

“We were so proud of the wonderful young lady Cara was. Referring to her in the past tense is still too painful to bare.

“Losing Cara left a gaping hole in the lives of all who loved her. Cara will be forever loved and missed.”

Carmen Schentrup Courtesy

Carmen Schentrup

She played violin and piano, sang a capella and liked country music. She read voraciously – everything from Shakespeare to science fiction – and enjoyed movies and theater. She liked shopping, particularly for shoes, and hanging out with her friends. Carmen Schentrup, a senior at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High, crammed much into her life. She studied German before her family went on a summer vacation to Germany and she studied Latin. When her father told her to take it easy during senior year, she dropped orchestra but kept her six Advanced Placement courses. Carmen died seven days before her 17th birthday. She is survived by her parents, April and Philip Schentrup, older brother Robert and younger sister Evelyn.

April Schentrup wrote the following for the South Florida Sun Sentinel:

“Our beloved daughter, Carmen Schentrup, was taken from us on February 14, 2018. She was one of 17 victims of the mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. Her life was cut too short. For the last year, we have tried to make sense of the senseless, and we have grieved with the other families.

“Carmen was silly, playful, and caring. She often made us laugh and was always looking to help others. She had wonderful friends, many of whom helped us in our time of need. She is deeply missed by all who knew and loved her.

“Carmen was also a dedicated, straight-A student. She was accepted into the University of Florida Honors Program and as a University of Washington Purple and Gold Scholar. She was excited to begin college. The day after her tragic death, she received a letter informing her she was a National Merit Finalist.

“Carmen wanted to make the world a better place. She was determined to become a leading medical researcher and discover a cure for Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (Lou Gehrig’s disease). We truly believe that Carmen was going to change the world.

“Our family partnered with the ALS Association to honor Carmen’s dream and created the ‘Carmen Schentrup ALS Research Fund.’ All funds raised will go directly to the most promising ALS research. We hope that, with enough help from all of you, Carmen’s dream of a world freed from ALS can be achieved.

“To our dear Carmen, you are a bright, beautiful, young woman bursting into the world. You are an amazing daughter, sister, and friend. You fill our lives with loving memories that we will always cherish. You are a gift from God and into His arms you return. May His divine embrace now hug you so very tenderly where we cannot. We love and miss you dearly.”

Donations in Carmen’s memory can be made to ALSA.org/carmensdream.

Chris Hixon Debbi Hixon / Courtesy

Chris Hixon

He’s remembered as a good-humored husband and loving father, a Stoneman Douglas athletic director and wrestling coach, the man who literally gave the shirt off his back. But to his wife, Debbi, Chris Hixon deserves one more accolade: hero.

“People remember Chris as a hero on that day,” Debbi Hixon says. “We remember him as a hero every day. It’s not a surprise what happened on Feb. 14. That was just who he was. We remember him as a hero not because of how he died, but because of how he lived. He always put people before himself.”

A native of Easton, Penn., Hixon, 49, lived in Hollywood and was a fixture at youth sporting events, first as a high school wrestler, and later as athletic director at Blanche Ely and South Broward high schools. Heroism defined Hixon long before Feb. 14: He served two Persian Gulf tours in the U.S. Navy (Operations Desert Storm and Desert Shield), and deployed to Iraq in 2007 as a U.S. Naval Reservist.

But to students he coached, Hixon is hailed as a compassionate, no-nonsense leader who treated them like family.

“Coach Hixon, for me, was a father figure,” Karlos Valentin, a senior, told the South Florida Sun Sentinel in 2018. “We were pretty much with him six days a week — three-to-four-to-five hours. His loss was just terrible.”

Hixon, voted 2017 Athletic Director of the Year by the Broward County Athletic Association, is survived by sons Tommy and Corey, and daughter Jennifer. Before his death, Hixon and Corey trained to run a 5K together. Last July at the ESPY Awards in Los Angeles, Hixon and his fellow coaches — Scott Beigel and Aaron Feis — were posthumously honored as 2018 Coaches of the Year.

Donations made in Hixon’s memory will benefit the Chris Hixon Scholarship Fund, awarded to one student athlete each from Blanche Ely, South Broward and Stoneman Douglas. The fund is hosting an Inaugural Chris Hixon Memorial 5K walk/run at 7 a.m. Feb. 16 at Charnow Park, 300 Connecticut St., Hollywood. Go to ChrisHixonAthleticScholarship.com.

Gina Montalto Jennifer and Tony Montalto / Courtesy

Gina Montalto

A thrill-seeker with a fierce competitive spirit, Gina Montalto, 14, loved dabbling in anything that made her heart race: tennis, soccer, flag football and extreme roller coasters.

When she wasn’t surfing, snorkeling or skiing, Montalto is best remembered by friends and parents Jennifer and Tony Montalto for being caring and selfless, whip-smart and faithful, and marching in Stoneman Douglas’ Eagle Regiment Marching Band and Color Guard. She also loved selling Girl Scout cookies for her troop, worshiping with her youth group at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Catholic Church and hanging with her younger brother, Anthony.

Jennifer and Tony Montalto sent the following message to the South Florida Sun Sentinel:

“Gina Rose Montalto, age 14, was a special girl who melted the heart of everyone she met. Her infectious smile was there from the start and brightened any room she entered. This was a quality she retained throughout her amazing life. Gina was instant friends with everyone she met. A caring and loving soul, she was often the first to reach out to the new kids in class and welcome them into the neighborhood. She also had a great sense of humor and a penchant for being silly — even goofy at times.

Always trying to make things better for others, Gina loved to do volunteer work, especially if it involved helping kids. She was a Girl Scout and active in a local church. Gina was known to all as an avid reader and a talented artist who illustrated for a local magazine. Once she told her mother that she loved books so much she wanted to live in a library.

She loved to cook with her Father and her Grandmother, especially during the holiday season. She enjoyed shopping days with her Mom, and NY Jets games with her Dad.

Gina joined the MSD Color Guard. She competed through the spring and was a part of the Eagle Regiment as they won the FL state championship in the fall of 2017. She always earned the highest grades in school and had a bright future ahead of her. Gina will be missed not only by her family, but by everyone whose life she touched.”

Donations in Gina’s memory may be made to the Gina Rose Montalto Memorial Foundation, which helps students with post-secondary education costs.

Helena Ramsay Katherine Dadd / Courtesy

Helena Ramsay

An introvert with a wicked wit, she surrounded her life with nature and travel — even in her dreams: She fantasized about seeing pink dolphins in the Amazon rain forest and studying abroad after high school.

Even more, Helena Ramsay, 17, loved nature at home, avidly tending to her plot at the Rotary Community Garden and Food Forest in Coral Springs with her mother, Anne Ramsay.

“She was blossoming. She would have definitely been a leader,” Anne told the Associated Press last year. When Helena was 2, the Ramsays moved to Coral Springs from Portsmouth, England, to live closer to Anne’s parents.

At Stoneman Douglas, the junior cared deeply about human rights, serving in the school’s United Nations Model Club and First Priority Club, a Christian youth organization. But travel never strayed far from Helena’s thoughts: She planned to study environmental science overseas, taking after her London-born mother, who graduated with a science degree. During her freshman year, Helena and a student group traveled to Barcelona, London and Paris with her teacher, Ivy Schamis.

Friends remember Helena as smart and compassionate yet quiet — until you met her, and then she was ebullient, eager to share her quirks. Samantha Grady, who met her best friend in seventh grade civics class at Sawgrass Middle School, calls her fiercely devoted to her cats. Anne, Helena and her brother, Ellis, would adopt whole litters and have them spayed and neutered at Cat Adoptions in Margate.

Grady says they bonded best over music — Twenty One Pilots, Lana Del Rey — but especially over Korean pop bands and “K-dramas,” or Korean soap operas.

“We were always talking about the characters,” says Grady, who says that “Descendants of the Sun” was Helena’s favorite K-drama. “Helena really paid attention to what you said and stuck up for what she believed in. I once said, randomly, ‘I love fuzzy socks!’ and every year for my birthday, she gets me fuzzy socks.”

Jaime Guttenberg Abbie Youkilis / AP

Jaime Guttenberg

Around the Guttenberg household, family called it the “kangaroo kick.” Fred Guttenberg calls it a “close call.”

When Jaime Guttenberg was 12, he recalls, she told him she stepped between a bully and his victim at school. Fred grew alarmed. “You’re going to get hurt,” he told her.

“She said, ‘People underestimate me because of my size,’ and I said back, ‘You think you’re tough?’ and I pushed her,” Guttenberg says. “She pushed back. So I pushed her again, and she gave me what became known around the house as the kangaroo kick. She has these strong dancer’s legs. I turned at just the right second, but ow, that could’ve been — whew. When I composed myself, I said, ‘I should be mad at you right now, but if that happens with a bully, that’s exactly what you do.’ “

Vocal and passionate, and always a champion of children with special needs, Jaime, 14, was a firecracker on the dance floor, competing as a member of Dance Theatre’s Extreme Team in Parkland. Jaime, who began dancing at age 3, is remembered by friends and family as the sassy life of the party, a jokester, an old soul and obsessed with dogs.

Jaime volunteered for Best Buddies, a nonprofit creating friendships for people with disabilities, and the Friendship Initiative, which provides programs for special-needs individuals. As a freshman, Jaime had already figured out the rest of her life: a pediatric physical therapist at the Paley Institute — taking after her mom’s career — and married with children by age 25.

“She was the best daughter ever, the best sister and the best friend ever,” Jennifer Guttenberg told the Eagle Eye. Jaime is survived by her older brother, Jesse.

Donations may be made in Jaime’s memory to OrangeRibbonsforJaime.org (orange was her favorite color), which benefits Jacob’s Pillow, Paley Institute and the Broward County Humane Society. The nonprofit supports programs pursuing gun-safety reforms, Fred Guttenberg says.

“I’m going to continue spending the rest of my life honoring my daughter, but also showing why her life was cut short,” Guttenberg says. “I want the orange ribbon to be the symbol of the gun safety movement. It’s a way to ensure the way my daughter’s life ended will never be forgotten.”

Joaquin Oliver Facebook / Courtesy

Joaquin Oliver

With his frosted hair, caring smile and strong moral compass, 17-year-old Joaquin Oliver, or “Guac,” as friends called him, filled his life with sports, music and friends in equal measure.

Born in Caracas, Venezuela, Joaquin immigrated to America at age 3 with his father Manuel, mother Patricia and sister Andrea, becoming a naturalized citizen in 2017. He never strayed from his roots, relentlessly cheering Venezuela’s national soccer team and the Miami Heat.

Around Parkland, Joaquin loved pick-up basketball games after school at Pine Trails Park, when he wasn’t shooting hoops and blocking goals for the city’s youth basketball and soccer leagues. “He was always so, so fair,” his sister, Andrea Ghersi, told the student newspaper, Eagle Eye. “In his eyes, everyone deserved to be happy … everyone deserved to have a voice.”

Once, flustered after a basketball referee ejected him from a game, Joaquin turned to his coach — his father. Manuel Oliver called the league to ask that the referee be replaced with someone more fair.

“We wanted a fair game,” says Oliver, whose gun-safety organization, Change the Ref, is named in Joaquin’s memory. Since the mass shooting, Oliver has staged gun-control rallies across the country, painting murals emblazoned with Joaquin’s face. “The best way to honor Joaquin is to fight to make sure this won’t happen to anyone else.”

Joaquin loved Frank Ocean and hip-hop — even tolerated Manuel’s “dad rock.” Oliver fondly recalls one father-son summer trip to Cocoa Beach, quickly scuttled when Joaquin realized Guns N’ Roses were performing in Orlando that night. “Joaquin said, ‘Let’s go,’ and two hours later, we’re looking at GNR onstage. His favorite guitar player is Slash, and his favorite book is ‘The Godfather,’ so when that played [the theme from Francis Ford Coppola’s] ‘The Godfather,’ he totally flipped. I will never forget that moment in his life.”

Donations in Joaquin’s memory may be made at ChangetheRef.org.

Luke Hoyer Joan Cox / AP

Luke Hoyer

To friends, 15-year-old Luke Hoyer was a basketball teammate with a generous smile, a lover of video games, a voracious eater of chicken nuggets.

To his mother, Gina Hoyer, he was simply “Lukey Bear.”

“We would like Luke to be remembered for his contagious smile, laid-back personality, and love for his friends and family,” Hoyer says. “He brought humor and happiness to all those around him. He was a quiet soul with a big heart. We will never forget who we lost that day and never forget who we live for.”

A native of Louisville, Colo., Luke loved basketball and college football, especially the Miami Heat and the Clemson University Tigers. (His father, Tom Hoyer, is a Clemson alum.) Luke’s regular haunt: shooting hoops with friends at the Parkland Golf and Country Club, which in October dedicated one of its courts in his memory. Although he played for the Parkland Basketball Club, the freshman planned on trying out for the Stoneman Douglas football team.

His sister, Abby, and brother, Jake, adored their brother’s quiet demeanor and one-word answers, although he “always knew how to make you laugh,” Abby says in the Stoneman Douglas yearbook. “There wasn’t one picture taken that Mom didn’t have to say to Luke, ‘Please try to take a normal picture,’ or, ‘Is that how you want to look in the scrapbook?’ “

Donations made in Luke’s memory should be directed through Voices for Children of Broward County to the Luke Hoyer Athletic Fund at VoicesBroward.org, which provides sports equipment and training to children for basketball, football and dance, and to StandWithParkland.org, the parents’ advocacy group.

Martin Duque Roger Lee / 21st Century Photography / Courtesy

Martin Duque

Nicknamed “Junior” by friends and family, Martin Duque loved churchgoing as much as he did soccer and the latest “Star Wars” movie.

A native of Coyuca De Catalan, Mexico, Martin immigrated to the United States at age 8 with his parents, Daisy and Martin Sr., and four brothers.

“Martin should be remembered for being a hero who always talked about God,” brother Alex Duque wrote in the Stoneman Douglas yearbook. “I loved growing up with him and seeing his beautiful smile.”

At Stoneman Douglas, Martin earned a heap of accolades as a JROTC cadet for perfect attendance, good conduct, leadership development. The U.S. Army posthumously awarded him with a Medal of Heroism for acts of heroism in the face of danger.

Martin’s brother, Miguel, who graduated from Stoneman Douglas in 2018, described his brother on Instagram as “a very funny kid, outgoing and sometimes really quiet.” In 2018, Miguel created a GoFundMe that raised $49,543 to handle funeral expenses.

“I shared 14 years with you, left Mexico when we were kids,” Miguel wrote on the social network. “I changed your diapers, I taught you how to walk … you taught me love, to always smile no matter how tough the situation was, to always help others … There are no words to describe the amazing person you are because you will always live in my heart and memory.”

Meadow Pollack Facebook / Courtesy

Meadow Pollack

A princess with a smile like sunshine who adored anything pink, Meadow Pollack is described by friends and family as ambitious but tender, as smart as she was self-assured.

The youngest of three children, Meadow, 18, enjoyed spending time with her boyfriend of three years, Brandon Schoengrund, and working at his Pompano Beach motorcycle shop. With her mother, Shara Kaplan, she volunteered at the Humane Society and doted on the family’s two cats and German shepherd, Jasmine.

A senior at Stoneman Douglas, Meadow aspired to be an attorney and planned to attend Lynn University in Boca Raton after graduation. “She was my only daughter, you know, and she was my baby,” her father Andrew Pollack told the South Florida Sun Sentinel last year. “I’ll never be able to walk her down the aisle. Meadow was a great kid, an all-around girl, beautiful inside and out.”

Pollack, along with Meadow’s surviving brothers Huck and Hunter, have become school-safety advocates, promoting an eight-point plan through his grassroots organization Americans for C.L.A.S.S. The Pollack family has also organized motorcycle rides in Meadow’s name, and is building Princess Meadow’s Playground with 17 memorial fountains inside Betti Stradling Park in Coral Springs.

Hunter Pollack cherishes memories of texting workout advice with Meadow (“She was huge into lifting weights,” he recalls) and playing kickball as children at Betti Stradling Park, their neighborhood haunt.

“We made sure we were the most superior kids on the playground,” Pollack says. “I have pictures of Meadow in my room that serve as a little reminder that if I don’t kick butt, I let my sister down. And I won’t let her down.”

To honor Meadow’s memory, Pollack says the family isn’t looking for donations, but rather solutions to prevent mass shootings. “[Parkland] was the most preventable mass shooting. My dad and I have laid out the facts. It’s about people stepping out and doing the right thing.”

Nicholas Dworet Annika Dworet / Courtesy

Nicholas Dworet

A champion in the lap pool Nicholas Dworet had won a scholarship to the University of Indianapolis and found joy in constant motion.

When the 17-year-old wasn’t swimming, he traveled to Sweden to visit grandparents and competed in triathlons with his parents, Mitch and Annika Dworet, and younger brother Alexander. Nick captained the Stoneman Douglas swim team, once winning fifth place in the 4A State Championship in the 100-meter freestyle.

His blueprint for success: a whiteboard in his bedroom, on which he wrote his life goals and inspirational quotes. Written on his goal sheet taped next to Nick’s bed: “I will train as hard as I can in and out of the water. Even on my hardest days I swear to give it my all, and I will let nothing stand in my way.”

For Nick, the goal was competing in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics, the Dworets said. “We honor Nick for his love of life, his true love Daria, his positive attitude and his respect for what he cherished most: his family and friends.”

They sent the following message to the South Florida Sun Sentinel:

“Nick visited Sweden with his family many times over the years to visit his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, but his last trip to Sweden this summer was a very special one where he was able to bring his girlfriend Daria to show her his heritage and the beautiful country.

“Far from perfect, and a typical teenager, he had a habit of ‘collecting’ empty Oreo packages in his closet, running his car almost on empty, and somehow always going over his monthly cellular data limit, leaving wrappers and used paper plates in the car as he ate on his way to practice. Always the charmer, he only had to flash his million-dollar smile, and all was forgiven.

“Nicholas was many things: a romantic, a dreamer, a mentor to so many on his swim team where he was given the nickname “Big Boss”; a music lover, a lover of life, a true friend, best brother ever, a son that brought so much joy to his parents, and so much more. But most of all, his spark of life will be forever with us and forever missed.”

Donations may be made to Swim4Nick.com, a nonprofit honoring Nicholas’ memory with swim clinics and scholarships for Stoneman Douglas swimmers.

Peter Wang Roger Lee/21st Century Photography / Courtesy

Peter Wang

He played basketball and was a fan of the Houston Rockets. He liked video games, anime cartoons and hip-hop. As a freshman at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High, he joined JROTC and impressed the unit’s leaders with his marksmanship.

Peter Wang was like any all-American kid, a native New Yorker who came to South Florida when he was young. But he was hardly ordinary. He straddled two worlds and two cultures throughout his life, adapting to the United States while respecting his family’s Chinese heritage.

His parents hail from the Fujian coastal province of China and arrived in the U.S. in 2000. Peter was born in Brooklyn in 2002. The family returned to China for two years when he was an infant, then moved to Florida. His parents owned restaurants, first in Miami Gardens and then in Pompano Beach.

Peter spoke English and Mandarin. He’d watch over two younger brothers, Jason and Alex, while his father Kong and mother Hui worked long hours. He’d play video games but also was athletic and disciplined, swimming at a local aquatics center and taking up taekwondo. He enjoyed taking friends to his parents’ Asian buffet restaurant, where they’d devour sushi, dumplings and Chinese hot pot. When his mother asked him to do something, Peter would obey without being asked twice.

“He is the person who is genuinely kind to everyone,” Lin Chen, his cousin, told the South Florida Sun Sentinel last year. “He always liked to cheer people up. He is like the big brother everyone wished they had.”

His focus shifted to academics and military training when he entered high school. Peter wanted to attend the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. He was posthumously admitted to the West Point class of 2025. The U.S. Army also posthumously awarded him with a Medal of Heroism. Peter Wang was 15.

Scott J. Beigel Linda Beigel Schulman / Courtesy

Scott Beigel

He was a geography teacher and cross-country coach who always seemed to find true north. For Scott Beigel, that meant being dedicated to his students and helping kids. He grew up on New York’s Long Island, earned an education degree from the University of Miami and spent every summer as a camp counselor in Pennsylvania. Beigel was in his first year as a teacher at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High. He volunteered to coach cross country, despite limited experience, to save the program.

“I choose to celebrate him and the 35 years we had together instead of mourning him,” says his mother, Linda Beigel Schulman. She wrote the following for the South Florida Sun Sentinel:

“Scott J. Beigel was 35 years old on February 14, 2018 when he was murdered during the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School massacre. Scott was more than just a teacher and cross-country coach. He was a son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, a cousin, an uncle, a friend, a camp counselor and a confidant. Scott was known for his dry humor and sharp sarcasm. Scott was humble and loved by all who got to know him. There was nothing Scott wouldn’t do for you — you just had to ask. Scott’s circle of friends was wide and endless.

Less than a week after the shooting, Run 4 Coach Beigel events were held all over the world in Scott’s honor. From Parkland to California. From South Korea to South Africa. From England to Australia. Scott was unassuming, but had an impact on everyone who came in contact with him. Scott loved Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School – the kids, the staff and especially his cross-country team.

Scott’s other passion was sleepaway camp. For 28 years Scott looked forward to going back to camp each and every summer to be with his campers and reconnect with the staff. Scott J. Beigel will be missed by all and is FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS!!!”

Donations in Beigel’s memory may be made to ScottJBeigelMemorialFund.com. The fund sends underprivileged children who have been impacted by gun violence to summer camp.

A previous version of this story misidentified Chris Hixon’s survivors. He is survived by one daughter, Jennifer.

Staff writer Doreen Christensen contributed to this report.

I went to Boia De in Miami, a small, unpretentious and excellent restaurant run by a passionate couple who last month were named semifinalists in the annual James Beard Awards, the so-called Oscars for chefs. I went to Rivertail in Fort Lauderdale, a culinary work in progress amid a sea of construction cranes that shows the growing promise and ambitions of Broward’s food scene. (Veal brains meuniere and Wagyu beef tartare with caviar on the New River from Miami chef Jose Mendin? Somebody pinch me.)

Each night, the crowds were thinning.

Finally, on Friday the 13th, I took four teens and another dad to Rex Baron at an eerily deserted Town Center mall in Boca Raton. Rex Baron opened in December, billing itself as “a post-apocalyptic” restaurant with a virtual-reality arcade. The near-empty dining room was decorated with doomsday murals and gas-mask clad mannequins wearing designer jackets (Dolce & Gabana) and scarves (Alexander McQueen). My daughter’s friend ordered a plastic pouch of Dr. Pepper delivered on an IV stand, sucked through a long tube.

Rex Baron’s marketing slogan: “Art of food. Art of survival.”

“If you survive the apocalypse, or virus, this is the safe haven,” our Rex Baron server said, tweaking her standard opening spiel. At the time, we found the gallows humor amusing.

The pandemic still felt distant.

Then our world stopped.

Then there were no more meals in restaurants.

And then there were no more reviews.

I’d planned on this being my final month at the South Florida Sun Sentinel for some time. Nobody figured on a month like this.

Now we’ve all recalibrated.

Now people and restaurants are truly fighting for survival.

Now it’s back to basics. Health, food, shelter. Love, family and friends (at a safe distance). These will get us through.

Now we crave the day we again can have a communal meal in a loud, lively setting. Or complain about an overcooked burger or underseasoned sauce.

At Rex Baron, the food and drinks were surprisingly good. The kitchen displayed some real thought and talent. Scallops cooked at the table on a hot Himalayan salt block, part of a DIY “survivor’s menu,” came with a plating dish of delicious butternut squash puree and micro cilantro. My $10 glass of red sangria was large and satisfying, enough to last the whole meal. Lemon caper orzo snapped with tartness and a distinct point of view, something not often said about side dishes.

If this were a normal review, I’d award Rex Baron three stars and get a kick out of liking a place I expected to hate.

I’ve always appreciated the unexpected. I’ve done it a few times in my 30 years at the Sun Sentinel. I surprised some by going from sports to news, then news to food. Change is good. Getting out of one’s comfort zone is good. So much the better when you can have three of the best jobs in the world and never once have to call the Mayflower moving van.

As a journalistic practice, I’ve always liked staying away from the pack. Going to Super Bowls and Final Fours was nice, but I preferred the story of a Texas farmer hitting golf balls in a field filled with cow manure after he earned a spot on the Senior PGA Tour. I rode with a busload of older blacks from Fort Lauderdale to Barack Obama’s first inauguration, saw a woman who grew up with Jim Crow laws cry on the National Mall as Obama took the oath of office. I watched kids drop off drawings that said “Thank you” to New York City firefighters after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. I listened to too many heartbreaking details about the 17 murdered at Stoneman Douglas High from grieving parents and spouses.

These last four years of food have been among the most fulfilling of my career. In this realm too, I’ve preferred small and quirky over big and trendy. Places such as Boia De (where we shot video of chef-owners Luciana Giangrandi and Alex Meyer before I could write flattering words), and Oceano Kitchen in Lantana and Escargot Bistro in Oakland Park. I’ve met so many talented chefs and bold restaurateurs, so many dedicated line cooks, servers, bartenders, managers, bussers and dishwashers. The hospitality industry will need our help something fierce in coming months.

As will journalism. I’ve chosen to leave the daily grind, but my colleagues will continue working insane hours with intense pressure, ferreting out facts from sometimes hostile sources and providing information during the biggest, scariest story of our lives. If you’re reading this free online, please consider subscribing. Local journalism is vital.

“Be kind, and be present for each other.” That’s the advice the small-town editor who snapped the defining photo of the Sandy Hook Elementary massacre gave when I visited Newtown, Conn., after the Parkland shooting.

Those words ring especially true today.

After every trauma — Hurricane Andrew, Sept. 11, Parkland — we find a way from despair to hope.

Each restaurant I visited this month reminded me of the fun and vitality of eating out, and the dynamism of our ever-evolving region. I have no doubt that on the other side of this crisis, from the ashes of bankruptcies and vacancies, restaurants will be reborn. Ingenuity, creativity and talent always prevail.

And on the day that restaurants reopen, we will eat again and drink again. We will laugh again and dance again. Together.

Look for me. I’ll be the one smiling with a martini.

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“It’s costing me money to stay open, but I’m doing it as long as I can to put some more cash in the pockets of my workers,” said Buddy Sherman, co-owner of Southport Raw Bar in Fort Lauderdale.

Despite being allowed to offer takeout and delivery, many restaurants are simply ill-suited to the business model and long-range prospects are dicey.

“This is going to change the restaurant landscape in South Florida,” says Elliot Wolf of Be Nice Restaurants, whose eight Fort Lauderdale eateries remain open for takeout and delivery. “We’re just trying to hold on, taking it day by day, week by week.”

“I’m terrified some of my favorite restaurants will never reopen,” says chef-restaurateur Michelle Bernstein, who temporarily closed her Cafe La Trova in Miami and her Miami Beach bar, Sweet Liberty, last week. “We don’t know how long this is going to last.”

Bernstein and industry groups say as many as 75 percent of restaurants may not survive, particularly mom-and-pops and other smaller outfits with high overhead and big debt loads that depend on constant cash flow to survive. While Congress debates stimulus and bailout packages, these smaller restaurants and their laid-off workers fret that they’ll be forgotten while major chains and other industries get help.

“Right now it’s like a shock to everyone,” said Emma Lambert, 26, of Plantation, a baker laid off last week. “Two weeks ago everything was great, the economy was doing fine. Now it’s like everyone has gone cold turkey. Everything is gone.”

Lambert and her boyfriend, Arman Gulec, a server laid off from First Watch restaurant in Plantation, were among those who turned out for free chicken-and-rice meals Sunday at 3 Sons Brewing Co. in Dania Beach.

“We do our best to make your day better and serve you with a smile, and we’re the first to get cut,” Gulec said.

Bernstein said last week that she cut nearly 94 of 160 workers at her restaurant, bar and catering firm, which has lost all its bookings for the next three months. She said more cuts would likely come this week. “The most devastating thing I’ve ever had to do,” Bernstein said.

At 3 Sons Brewing, which remains open for takeout, owner Joe Artanis said staff has been cut from 25 to 5.

Anthony Bruno, co-owner of Tacocraft in Lauderdale-by-the-Sea, said the restaurant did $4,000 in business Sunday, a steep drop from its typical take of $20,000 when its dining room was open. Bruno reopened his Andy’s Live Fire Grill in Fort Lauderdale Monday for curbside takeout and delivery after a one-week hiatus.

“I’m going to try. We’ll see how it goes,” Bruno said.

Veteran restaurateur Burt Rapoport tried last week at his Max’s Grille in Boca Raton, but by week’s end he pulled the plug because of sluggish sales. He also closed Burt & Max’s and Deck 84 in Delray Beach when dining rooms were ordered shut. Prezzo in Boca Raton is his lone restaurant still offering takeout.

Tim Petrillo, co-founder of Fort Lauderdale-based The Restaurant People, says he will keep offering takeout at four restaurants, including Java & Jam and Yolo on Las Olas Boulevard, and will reassess later in the week.

Even though the economics don’t make sense some restaurateurs say they will keep going, partly as a community service to provide an alternative to supermarkets and partly to keep some income flowing to dwindling staff. Wolf says all tips collected at his restaurants, now being staffed by managers, are being distributed to workers who’ve been let go.

With some 16,000 restaurants and bars in South Florida, including the Keys, it’s fair to estimate that tens of thousands of servers, bartenders, food runners, bussers, dishwashers, cooks and chefs have been laid off this month. All Florida bars and nightclubs have been ordered shut until at least mid-April. In-house dining at restaurants in Broward, Miami-Dade and Palm Beach counties has been halted for an indeterminate period.

Making the bad economics worse: App-based delivery services such as UberEats, GrubHub and DoorDash haven’t given restaurants a break. While offering free delivery to customers during the crisis, the services haven’t lowered the customary 30 percent commission restaurants are charged to be listed on the apps and have food delivered by third-party drivers.

“Wartime profiteering,” one restaurateur said. “When our dining rooms are full, we put up with it because it’s supplemental income. But now it’s all we’ve got and it’s breaking us.”

As fear grows and customers and revenue evaporate, more restaurants will likely keep shuttering by the day. On Monday, Shooter’s Waterfront restaurant in Fort Lauderdale announced it would halt all operations.

There’s another issue that may force restaurants to close: the widening pandemic itself.

On Sunday, chef Josie Malave-Smith and general manger Marcy Miller handed out free meals at their Bubbles & Pearls restaurant in Wilton Manors, a fundraiser to help their laid-off employees. A few hours after closing, they learned a friend had tested positive for coronavirus.

“It’s getting a little too close to home,” said Malave-Smith. “Maybe it’s time we all hit the pause button, take a break, for a couple of weeks.”

He once awarded a top four-star rating to a hot dog stand (Hot Dog Heaven in Fort Lauderdale) and carved up a pricey Italian steakhouse in Hollywood that served a rotten steak. “Stinky feet. Blue cheese. Just take this off our table. Please!” he wrote.

Tanasychuk died Tuesday in Miami after a lengthy battle with lung cancer. He was 61.

He was born in Chatham, Ontario, moved to South Florida in 1999 and joined the Sun Sentinel a couple years later. He spent 15 years at the paper as a features writer and dining critic after journalism stops in Toronto and Detroit.

“He loved food and he liked people who love food and he liked the way restaurants brought people together,” Steve Levin, Tanasychuk’s husband, said Thursday.

Levin said hundreds of tributes that flooded Tanasychuk’s Facebook page all mentioned the same themes: “His kindness and his warmth.” Tanasychuk (pronounced TAN-as-chuck, with a silent “y”) kept a low profile and tried to remain anonymous despite a shock of prematurely gray-white hair and thick-rimmed black glasses.

“He wanted to push chefs and restaurants to do better,” Bernstein said. She called him “one of the most respected food writers” because he stayed in the shadows and didn’t care about pampering or VIP treatment. “He wasn’t impressed by anything other than the food, the service and the passion that each chef brought.”

Said Tim Petrillo, co-founder of Fort Lauderdale restaurant group The Restaurant People: “Always very fair and he knew food well.”

Levin said Tanasychuk would know almost immediately if a restaurant would succeed just by the greeting at the front door. “If the food was good but the hospitality wasn’t, the place was sunk,” he said.

Details mattered. “He liked clean windows,” Petrillo said. He appreciated good design and good taste, and woe be an establishment that didn’t serve Chivas Regal Scotch whisky.

“That was actually my drink,” Levin said. “He was a beer and wine guy. Cabernet sauvignon was his favorite. Caymus.”

Tanasychuk preferred warm, mom-and-pop places to glitzy palaces, said Sun Sentinel assistant managing editor Gretchen Day-Bryant, who hired Tanasychuk in 2001.

“Always so easy to work with,” she said. “And always considerate. He’d ask about your kids, your family.”

Tanasychuk moved to South Florida without a job in 1999 after Levin moved his business to Miami Beach.

“He followed me,” Levin said.

Together for 23 years and married since 2014, Levin said they met at a gay bar in Detroit.

“I said, ‘Hi, my name is Steve and I see you out,’ ” Levin recalled. “And he said, ‘Hi, I’m John and I hope not too often.’ “

“We had a lot of fun,” Levin said. “I’d always tease him because I’d have to go out for his job after working at my job all day. I’d say, ‘I don’t see you coming to my office and helping me out.’ “

Tanasychuk left the paper in December 2015, writing a love letter to one of his “all-time favorite restaurants,” Joe’s Stone Crab, for his final review. “I love Joe’s because my dad worked for more than 40 years in this kind of restaurant,” he wrote. “To this day, he decries restaurants that don’t supply trays and folding stands. Restaurants, he says, just aren’t the professional places they used to be.”

Tanasychuk was diagnosed with lung cancer in early 2016. Levin said he fought stoically and endured three rounds of radiation treatment, “believing in the power of modern medicine.” The couple split time between South Florida and a lake home in Ipperwash Beach, Ontario, three doors down from Tanasychuk’s 92-year-old Ukrainian father, Benjamin. Tanasychuk is also survived by two sisters, Cathy and Barbara. His mother Marion, a Native Aboriginal Canadian, and sister Natalie predeceased him.

“John might be the only guy with Stage 4 lung cancer who gained 25 pounds,” Levin said. “He did all kinds of research and found that increased [Body Mass Index] might actually be helpful. And he loved to eat.”

And cook. He loved throwing dinner parties for friends, with Middle Eastern and Indian dishes his specialties. He also enjoyed kishka, pierogies and pickled eggs, vestiges of his father’s kitchen.

“He’d buy Prime New York strips at Whole Foods and dry-age them at home in the fridge,” Levin said.

That turned out to be the last home-cooked meal Tanasychuk made last week. “A little bit of salt and then broiled,” Levin said. “Really simple.”

Because of current restrictions on crowds, memorial services in South Florida and Ontario will be held at a later date, Levin said. In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations be made to the American Cancer Society or any other charity.

Voters stand six feet apart in line at a near-empty Dania Beach polling precinct. A Publix worker wipes down shelves with disinfectant. And a pub owner wonders if he should be open at all on a somber St. Patrick’s Day.

“I wish there was some directive from Washington ordering everything shut,” says Alan Craig, co-owner of the Field Irish Pub & Eatery in Dania Beach. “We need leadership. This all seems so piecemeal and contradictory.”

On a typical St. Patrick’s Day, scores would already be day-drinking. But just before 11 a.m. Tuesday, the Field still awaited its first customers.

“It’s hard to have a party when nobody wants to be there,” manager Jay O’Hare says.

Scenes from the new normal in the Age of Coronavirus.

Pandemic remedy: ‘Vote’

8:52 a.m. Voters were literally few and far between at the Frost Park clubhouse in Dania Beach Tuesday. Three voters in line stood six feet apart. “Electoral distancing,” one man quipped. A poll worker wore gloves as she handled IDs. The building was open for Presidential Primary Day, but a sign outside announced that the new coronavirus would shut the recreation center indefinitely.

Jacob Norry, 23, said he had some concerns being among strangers, but the pandemic didn’t deter him.

“I believe things have gotten this bad because of the way it’s been mishandled by our government,” he said. “And the only way to remedy that is to come out and vote.”

‘Don’t hoard. It’s not fair’

9:30 a.m. At the Beachway Plaza Publix, disinfectant wipes were nowhere to be found near shopping carts at the entrance. The canister that stood two days earlier was gone. “Now we spray all the carts at once outside and wipe them down before putting them back,” a clerk explained.

Some aisles were still barren (toilet paper, cleaning supplies), others were thinly stocked (milk, eggs, pasta). But overall food was plentiful and the store well-stocked. An older couple was delighted to see paper towels on a shelf. The husband reached for a second six-pack. “Don’t hoard. It’s not fair,” the wife said. He put it back.

‘Irish eyes are not smiling’

10:30 a.m. If this were a normal St. Patrick’s Day, revelers would already be downing Guinness in two tents outside the Field Irish Pub & Eatery. Nearly 3,000 gathered in the parking lot last year, said Alan Craig. But Craig canceled the tents over the weekend, after he saw dwindling crowds and growing concerns over coronavirus.

Co-owner Hillary Joyalle fretted about all the corned beef, cabbage and beer she ordered weeks ago, a waste of product and money. Earlier this week, Dania Beach ordered restaurants to operate at 50 percent capacity and close at 10 p.m. Craig expects a full closure order to come any day. Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis ordered all bars and nightclubs closed for a month, but because the Field has a full kitchen it’s not subject to the ban.

So St. Patrick’s Day went on. Craig and Joyalle, once married and still business partners, have owned the Field since 2001. Craig said he had conflicted feelings about still being open. He did it for the sake of his staff, many of whom he’ll soon have to lay off.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” a server said. “The rent, my car, the electric bill, the groceries.”

“Irish eyes are not smiling today,” Joyalle said.

‘Doing something I love’

11:15 a.m. Earlier this month, Bake Shack chef-owner Keith Freiman was doing well enough to contemplate new projects and new ways to sell his well-regarded doughnuts and pastries. By Tuesday, he was hoping for business survival.

His 4-year-old Dania Beach daytime cafe is pivoting to curbside pickup and delivery only starting Wednesday. He said it’s only right to close the cramped dining space for the sake of public health, even at 50 percent occupancy.

But that means pain for workers. He laid off one of his bakers this week, stuffing a Hefty bag full of frozen chicken and meat for the woman to bring back to her family.

He and his business partner will go back to working long hours with a skeletal staff. Freiman hopes delivery services such as UberEats, which has suspended delivery fees for customers but still charges eateries a 30 percent commission, will get him through the next few months.

“I came in this morning at 4, and I was just crushed,” Freiman said. “But then I checked myself. I turned up the radio, started baking and said, ‘You know what? I’m doing something I love.’ “

‘No testing … no way of knowing’

12:15 p.m. Outside the Hollywood Academy of Arts & Science charter school, a line snaked around the block. Parents and kids waited to pick up lesson printouts for coursework that would now be done at home. The new normal: Virtual school, with video-conferencing check-ins on laptops each morning with homeroom teachers and classmates.

One parent said she doesn’t have a computer and was awaiting a tablet from the school.

Another wore a surgical mask, as did her two daughters, 5 and 13. “I was a medic in the Army,” said Patricia, who declined to give her last name. “I know all about droplets and spread. There’s not enough testing, so there’s no way of knowing who’s got it. They talk about ‘social distancing,’ but look at this line. We’re not all 6 feet apart.”

‘A pile of loan packets’

12:45 p.m. From a small warehouse in Hollywood, Triar Seafood ships stone crab, grouper, snapper, tuna and other premium seafood products to high-end restaurants in South Florida and around the country. On a typical day, they fill 40 orders or more.

On Tuesday, owner Peter Jarvis said he shipped one.

“Frogs legs to a restaurant in Oklahoma City,” he said.

I had bumped into him at the bank, and he looked spooked. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said. He clutched a pile of checks from previous days. “I’m hoping some of these are good.”

Back at the warehouse, he said he’d pivot to retail sales, trying to drum up more business among South Florida residents. “Let people know we’re still cutting fish,” Jarvis said. “More people will have to cook at home.”

He spoke of tough decisions with layoffs, starting with employees who’d be eligible for unemployment benefits. He held up an application for emergency benefits from the Small Business Administration.

“I’ve got a pile of loan packets — I’m going to spend all my time doing this, ” Jarvis said. “The whole restaurant market has just dried up. Gone in a few days. I’ve never imagined anything like this.”

She lives in a comfortable, one-bedroom apartment in the assisted-living wing of a Hollywood senior community. With the new coronavirus spreading, the state has banned all “non-essential visitors” for 30 days. That includes family members.

My head understands, given the way this pandemic has ravaged the elderly worldwide. But my heart aches.

A few weeks ago, as my mom lay groggy and confused in bed, I stroked her forehead.

“That feels good, Michael,” she said.

“I love you mom,” I said.

Tell me that’s non-essential.

This virus has brought fear, anxiety and death, and has decimated commerce, industries and the economy.

It has also rattled our humanity.

How do you tell a son he can’t be there for his ailing mom?

When word came Friday that Gov. DeSantis was banning visitors to Broward nursing homes and assisted-living facilities, I freaked out. But her private aides, who help my mom bathe, dress and go to the bathroom, are still allowed, thank goodness. They just have to fill out daily forms attesting that they have no fever or cough, haven’t traveled and haven’t been around anyone who has tested positive for coronavirus. I hope this self-reporting honor system keeps the microbe at bay from our most vulnerable.

By Saturday the governor extended the ban to every nursing home and ALF in Florida, impacting tens of thousands of seniors and their families. I went to see my mom that morning, before staff got word that the Broward ban was already in place (some were told it would take effect Sunday). I took my temperature before visiting (97.8) and didn’t get within six feet of my mom. I calmly explained what was happening.

“That’s OK,” she said. “I’ve got my iPhone. We can FaceTime.”

My mom is tech savvy but sometimes she gets a little mixed up, so I get a great view of her ear when she picks up.

“Ma, hold it up to your face!” I say.

Staff say they’re trying to get iPads and other gadgets wired up so family members can have similar video calls.

“I want some Chinese food,” she said when we FaceTimed Monday. “Spare ribs. The ones with the bones in them.”

I’ve dropped off groceries, takeout food and medication the last few days, having my mom’s aide meet me outside. “Wipe everything down,” I tell the aides. “Do we have enough Clorox wipes?”

I also delivered a batch of brownies baked by my 14-year-old daughter. “Tell Natalia thank you,” my mom said. “They were delicious.”

All social activities and group gatherings at the community have been halted. The dining rooms are shut, with all meals delivered to rooms. For exercise, my mom takes walks down her hallway. She is allowed to leave for doctor’s appointments, but we will likely postpone a Friday visit she has scheduled at Memorial Regional Hospital.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” my mom said Monday.

It’s dizzying, and dismaying, how much our world has changed in a week. Last Tuesday, we sat around her dinette table and ate chocolate layer cake after singing “Happy Birthday” to my brother. We didn’t think twice about lighting candles and having him blow them out after making a wish. Now I wonder if we should have skipped the candles.

“Stay away from each other as much as possible,” a robocall message left Saturday by my city said.

I’ve told my mom to avoid watching too much TV news, and to soak up the sun on her fourth-floor balcony, the one with views of a pond and sunsets.

“How are you feeling?” I asked the other day.

“A little depressed,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder why I went through all of this.”

The recovery from brain surgery was supposed to be long and difficult. We didn’t figure on this added stress. She lost her husband of 65 years, my dad, last April. She’s been fighting skin cancer for two years.

In December, an MRI revealed a growing tumor in her brain. In February she had it removed — it turned out to be benign scar tissue from earlier radiation treatments. A week later she was rushed back to the hospital with a rapid heartbeat. All told, she spent six nights in the hospital last month. I slept at her side every night.

In my father’s final days, I promised him that I’d take care of my mom.

I’m trying.

Fort Lauderdale-based The Restaurant People has told employees of its 11 eateries to stay home if they are sick and has offered them free access to Baptist Health’s online doctor service. Veteran restaurateur Burt Rapoport says he will not hesitate to ask patrons to move outside or leave if they start sneezing or coughing without covering their mouths.

“If I offend them, I’m OK with that,” says Rapoport, who owns four restaurants in Boca Raton and Delray Beach.

We all gotta eat. Even during a global pandemic.

But restaurant life in South Florida changed dramatically this week amid escalating concerns over the new coronavirus outbreak.

Miami restaurant Eating House has started offering prepare-at-home food kits “for our more vulnerable guests.” Hooters locations in Pembroke Pines and Boca Raton have arranged to deliver wings via a new catering service. Dickey’s Barbecue Pit, a chain with a location in Dania Beach, launched a new “contactless” delivery service Friday with sealed pouches dropped at customers’ doors.

Business is down

With “social distancing” and “community spread” the latest buzzwords, restaurateurs say they have already seen revenue declines of up to 20 percent as anxious customers stay home. And with government authorities banning large crowds, major sports leagues suspending their seasons and much travel grinding to a halt, the hospitality business isn’t sure what comes next.

“This is worse than 9-11,” says Elliot Wolf, co-founder of Be Nice Restaurants, which employs 300 at its eight Fort Lauderdale eateries. After the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks that traumatized the country and rocked tourism and the economy, he says locals still went out to eat. “Restaurants were still a safe place to be. But nobody knows what this is going to do, or how long it could last.”

“We’re all flying blind,” says Tim Petrillo, co-founder of The Restaurant People, which operates Boatyard restaurant near Port Everglades, Yolo on tourist-heavy Las Olas Boulevard and S3 and Casablanca Cafe on Fort Lauderdale beach. “This is our biggest month of the year, this is our biggest weekend of the year and now I’m wondering if I’m going to have to shut down all our restaurants.”

Restaurants in downtown Fort Lauderdale still drew crowds at lunch Friday and dinner Thursday, but with cancellations and closures being announced by the minute, restaurant and bar owners hoped they’d be spared a similar fate. For now, going out to eat remains a personal choice, and restaurant owners are urging workers and patrons to be sensible and flexible.

Cautious diners

On the “Let’s Eat, South Florida” Facebook group run by the Sun Sentinel, some members say they are curtailing restaurant visits while others are taking a wait-and-see approach.

“I have no intention of changing my life just yet,” member Denise Ciparro wrote. “I think anytime you eat at a restaurant you are taking a calculated risk because you truly don’t know how your food is being handled behind the scenes.”

Wrote member Sue Seckbach Gendusa: “Admitting I canceled reservations for 4 today … Better safe than sorry. How important is a meal?”

Debra Lieberman wrote: “I am continuing to socialize and dine out. Just won’t go to any buffets.”

Rapoport, who owns Prezzo and Max’s Grille in Boca Raton and Deck 84 and Burt & Max’s in Delray Beach, says, “Everything about this crisis concerns me. We haven’t had a single reported case yet in our immediate trade area, yet our revenue is down 20 percent year over year … We just want people to stay healthy, take care of themselves and stay home if they’re sick.”

In Italy, all restaurants and bars have been ordered shut. In New York, restaurants and bars have been ordered to increase spacing between tables and reduce capacity by half. Prominent New York restaurateur Danny Meyer voluntarily shut all 19 of his eateries Friday until further notice.

Wolf, whose Fort Lauderdale restaurants include Top Hat Deli, Foxy Brown and Coconuts, says he “doesn’t even want to think about” cutting capacity or shuttering.”

“I’m stressing, but we’ll do whatever we have to in order to protect the health and safety of our guests and workers,” Wolf says. “I’m seeing guests be panicked. I’m seeing older customers who are regulars not coming in to the deli.”

Says Perrotto, who operates Rose’s Daughter and Brule Bistro in Delray Beach, “I will follow any orders that come from my government … I don’t like being over-regulated, but I understand these times are different.”

Some restaurants are pivoting to takeout and delivery options, banking on services such as UberEats, GrubHub and DoorDash to get them through coming weeks and months if crowd bans are instituted. In the meantime, restaurant operators say they have become more vigilant about cleanliness — constantly wiping down counters, tables, seats, menus and salt shakers.

“I’m telling people, ‘If you go out, go to a restaurant,’ ” Perrotto says. “We’re regulated, inspected and have the training and experience when it comes to food safety and cleanliness.”

And what is she telling her staff? “Hold onto your money. Things may get a little tight.”

I posed this question today on the Sun Sentinel’s “Let’s Eat, South Florida” Facebook group, seeking perspectives and input from restaurant patrons, workers and owners.

Have you changed your dining habits? Will you order more takeout from delivery services such as UberEats or DoorDash? Local restaurateurs say they’ve seen business erode steadily the last few weeks, with some reporting revenue down 20 percent.

You can join the discussion by joining the Let’s Eat group (membership requests are usually approved within an hour).

An excerpt from the post: “I have reservations to eat out the next two nights, and I intend to keep going to restaurants for the time being. I suppose we’re still at the ‘individual choice’ stage of this pandemic in tourist-heavy South Florida. My inbox today has been flooded with press releases from restaurants and restaurant corporations about what they’re doing to protect guests and workers (cleaning, monitoring, urging common sense to warn ill staff and patrons to stay home).

“But none of them are closing yet, even though some restaurants seat more than 250 and serve more than 1,000 people daily. In Italy, all commerce has ground to a halt. Are we prepared for that, psychologically and economically?”

“The way things were going, I just had no choice,” Fuerst said in a telephone interview Wednesday. “[Tuesday] was our last day. I have two sets of emotions running through me. There’s sadness … and a bit of relief.”

There were tears, not schmears, when breakfast customers showed up for their morning bagels and found locked doors and a sign that said “Closed. Lost lease.” There was confusion when Fuerst removed the sign and a woman told an upset crowd to “come back next week.” A few hours later, Fuerst’s daughter told lunchtime arrivals that the store was closed “forever.”

Among the reactions from stunned customers: “You’re kidding me,” “If I was religious, I’d say a prayer,” and “Oh my God, I’m going to have to go back to Brooklyn.”

Sage’s roots actually were in the New York borough of Queens, where Milton and Iris Fuerst owned a bagel bakery before moving to South Florida. Milton Fuerst died in 2002 at age 80. Iris Fuerst, 90, remained a co-owner. She came to the restaurant Wednesday to see the end.

Unsold goods would be donated to local food banks, customers were told. A neighboring storekeeper said Harvey Fuerst fretted in recent days about the restaurant’s future and the fate of his 50 employees.

“I’m devastated — this was an institution,” said longtime customer Sam Stanco. “These were the best bagels in Florida.”

In the phone interview, Fuerst said the landlord, Sunny Isles Beach-based RK Centers, had steadily increased rent through the years and kept asking the business to shoulder additional “supplemental” costs for property taxes and building upkeep. He said price increases triggered customer complaints, and there was only so much he could pass along before people stopped coming and the business would no longer be viable.

“It’s a shame,” Fuerst said. “I look at how big of a crowd we still get on Sunday mornings, so this isn’t easy. We’ve had two full generations of customers come through here. The first one died off, and the second one is all grown up and getting older, too.”

Dan Katz, who heads RK Centers, said he had no warning of the closure.

“This came out of nowhere,” Katz said in a phone interview Wednesday. “We didn’t want them to leave, we didn’t force them to leave … They were the anchor tenants of that plaza and we wanted them there for years to come.”

Katz said Sage was two years into its latest 10-year lease, whose terms he called “standard” and “reasonable.” He said Sage was current on rent except for March. He said declining business and an aging customer base may have also been factors.

“I don’t think it’s fair that this is painted as our fault,” Katz said. “We didn’t do anything — except wake up Wednesday and have a tenant break a lease agreement.”

Other shopkeepers in the Sage shopping plaza were dismayed by the closing, saying the loss of the longtime eatery could cause a domino effect. They also complained about rising costs, particularly annual supplemental charges imposed by RK Centers.

“I’m freaked out,” Gloria Zabala, who has owned nearby Le ‘Cut Hair Salon for more than five years. “They brought a lot of customers to this plaza.”

Katz said he raced over to the plaza Wednesday morning when he learned of the closing. He said he met briefly with Iris Fuerst.

“I asked Iris if there was a 1 percent chance of them reopening [if we could reach a new agreement] and she said, ‘No.’ ” Katz said. “I said, ‘Why didn’t you let us know this was coming?’ She didn’t answer.”

When Harvey Fuerst was asked if he would reconsider if Katz made concessions, he said that wasn’t his intent.

Asked if he would move to a new location, Fuerst said, “I don’t think so. I’m too old. I’m 70. My mother is 90 … The business has become overwhelming.”

Sage started as a bagel shop before turning into a full-fledged sit down restaurant offering breakfast, lunch and dinner. Bagels with appetizing — smoked salmon, whitefish salad, specialty cream cheese — were the stars, attracting legions of displaced New Yorkers along with appreciative South Floridians.

Sage recently charged $48 per pound for smoked salmon (from famed Acme smokehouse of Brooklyn), sliced thin with surgical precision by longtime clerks. Bagels, which sat in wire bins and gave off a yeasty, heady perfume fresh from the oven, came in varieties such as poppy, garlic, sesame, pumpernickel and everything, and cost $12 for a carry-out baker’s dozen. The restaurant expanded through the decades and underwent an extensive renovation in 2018.

Omelets, soups, and deli sandwiches brought steady customers, particularly as other long-running delis nearby shuttered. Among those now gone: Pumpernik’s in Hallandale, Deli Den in Hollywood and the Rascal House in Sunny Isles Beach.

Harvey Fuerst said his parents moved to Florida after growing disenchanted with the Laurelton neighborhood of Queens, where they ran Laurelton Bagel & Bakery. He said his father scouted South Florida for a new bagel shop and chose Hallandale’s main thoroughfare “because it reminded him of Queens Boulevard.”

“He saw a shopping center being built and the sign said ‘Sage Plaza,’ ” Harvey Fuerstein said. His parents signed the lease in 1972 and Sage Bagel opened in 1973. “Everyone thinks the plaza is named for us because we’ve been here so long, but my father actually named the store after the plaza,”

Upon seeing the shuttered store Wednesday, customers fretted about where they would find a replacement for Sunday morning bagel-and-lox brunches, fast-breaking meals after Yom Kippur and comforting trays of smoked sable and whitefish salad sent to grieving families during the Jewish mourning period known as “shiva.”

On Wednesday, shiva came to Sage.

“Iris called me Tuesday to let me know,” said Rhoda Friedman, of North Miami Beach, a loyal customer for 45 years. “I still can’t believe it. It’s a sad day.”