In the 1950s, Miramar was a sleepy grid of concrete block houses built by a developer who named the city after a stretch of Cuban coastline. Today, over half the population traces its roots to the Caribbean—and the vibe? It’s more reggae than ranch-style. Miramar didn’t grow with a bang. It simmered, like the curry goat you’ll find steaming in backyard kitchens across this overlooked South Florida gem.
Tucked between Miami and Fort Lauderdale, Miramar is easy to drive past—but that’s your loss. What looks like pure suburbia from I-75 is actually one of the most culturally textured, family-friendly cities in the state. This is where Haitian bakeries sit next to Trinidadian roti shops, and where steel drums might carry across the street from a Pentecostal church to a hip-hop barbershop.
The heart of Miramar’s renaissance beats loudest at Miramar Town Center, a pastel-colored mashup of municipal offices, live-music amphitheaters, sculpture parks, and tree-lined promenades. Walk the square on a Saturday and you might find a soca dance class, an African art fair, or a poetry slam—sometimes all at once.
Locals still talk about Sharon’s Place, a now-closed eatery that once served the best saltfish and ackee north of Kingston. But don’t worry—Miramar’s got plenty more. Stop in at Donna’s Caribbean Restaurant on University Drive. Jerk chicken, oxtail, steamed callaloo—the flavors are bold, the prices fair, and the portions massive. And yes, they’ve got Ting on ice.
Not far from the bustle is Miramar Regional Park, 173 acres of everything a family could ask for: wide soccer fields, an aquatics complex, shady playgrounds, and even a meditation garden that somehow stays peaceful even during baseball season. Weekends bring grill smoke, domino matches, and kids chasing bubbles in long sunny arcs.
But if you want to find Miramar’s soul, drive west toward the Snake Creek Canal. Here lies Sheridan Park, a lesser-known greenbelt with wandering trails, fishing spots, and benches where retirees swap stories in a mix of Creole, Spanish, and patois. Look closely and you’ll spot wild iguanas sunning near the banks and peacocks strutting like they own the place.
One of the city’s true hidden gems is The Miramar Cultural Center, a sleek waterfront venue where families can watch Caribbean dance troupes, jazz concerts, or free movie nights under the stars. The murals inside depict island life, migration, and resilience. It’s also one of the few places in Broward County where a kid might learn the steel pan before they ever touch a violin.
Hungry again? The Licking, co-founded by DJ Khaled, serves up Miami-style soul food just a few blocks east. Think fried snapper, mac and cheese, collard greens, and red velvet cake—all served with swagger and a soundtrack. Across town, Zubi Fish House offers grilled tilapia with plantains and ginger sauce, tucked behind a nondescript shopping center. The owners are from Suriname. The food? Next level.
Miramar’s growth isn’t just cultural—it’s natural too. Nestled on the western edge is Snake Warrior’s Island Natural Area, named for a 19th-century Seminole leader. The 53-acre park blends freshwater marsh and tropical hammock, and it’s one of the few places in Broward where you can spot roseate spoonbills and white ibis in the same frame. Birdwatchers, bring your long lenses.
For those seeking a place to stay, Miramar has several family-friendly options close to the action. The Hilton Garden Inn Miramar offers comfort without fuss, and its location near both Turnpike and I-75 makes it ideal for day trips. For a more boutique experience, Hotel Roma Golden Glades Resort offers funky, retro charm with tropical gardens—and just enough kitsch to make it memorable.
Still not tired? Head to Amelia Earhart Park, just south of Miramar’s border. Though technically in Hialeah, it’s a regional favorite for wakeboarding, mountain biking, and pedal boating. There’s a working farm for the kids and trails that wind through pine scrub and lakefronts. Pack bug spray and snacks—you’ll want to stay awhile.
One thing that surprises visitors? Miramar is one of the most ethnically diverse cities in the entire country. More than 80 languages are spoken in local homes, and the public schools routinely hold “international dress days” that double as culinary festivals. Here, Black history isn’t confined to February—it’s lived out daily in barbershops, bookstores, and classrooms.
Looking to grab something sweet? Mojo Donuts, located just east in Pembroke Pines, is worth the short drive. Their maple bacon bar is locally famous, but don’t sleep on the guava and cheese cronut. For late-night cravings, head to Bokampers Sports Bar & Grill—a lively waterfront spot with big screens and even bigger burgers. Kids can run by the canal while you relax under twinkling lights.
Here’s something even locals don’t always know: the Miramar area was once part of a U.S. Army radar station during the Cold War, used to track potential threats coming from Cuba. The barracks are long gone, but the story lives on in dusty archives and oral histories passed between neighbors. The city has a memory—quiet, but deep.
Visiting in winter? Plan around Caribbean-American Heritage Month in June or Unity Fest, a spring celebration that turns the town center into a parade of flags, food stalls, and soca beats. You don’t need to understand the lyrics—just move your feet.
Want a practical nudge? Parking is easy and usually free at the major parks and centers. Locals know that the best time to explore Miramar Regional Park is around 9 AM, before the soccer matches kick off and the food trucks start lining up. Bring sunscreen and walking shoes—and maybe leave room in your schedule for a second lunch.
Miramar isn’t flashy. It doesn’t try to impress. It’s a city that welcomes, absorbs, and celebrates. A place where you’ll hear four accents before breakfast, where chickens might wander near a high school fence, and where the sunset over a drainage canal can feel like something holy.
For families, foodies, and culture lovers, Miramar offers something deeper than attractions—it offers authenticity. It’s where the islands meet the interstate. Where suburbia speaks in riddim. Where everyone, eventually, finds a way to feel at home.