Locations in Orlando

If you've ever seen the movie "Tampopo," you're familiar with the delicate balance among flavors, textures and ingredients that makes up a good bowl of noodles. We don't have a traditional Japanese noodle shop in Orlando (excuse me a moment while I weep), but amid the crowd of Vietnam-ese eateries in town, we now have Phó 88, which calls itself a "noodle soup restaurant."

The phone is answered as "Beef Noodle 88," so take that as a hint; the specialty is various cuts of meat in soup, from very rare eye round and brisket to tendon and tripe. Nothing is wasted here. The restaurant is enormous, and it is made even more so by the great expanses of mirrors lining the walls, reminiscent of an exercise studio. The servings are large enough that you might need a workout.

The wrapper on the chopsticks proclaims in Vietnamese, "Enjoy your meal." I have yet to find out the significance of "88." I asked our waiter, who asked the owner and came back to say, "It's a lucky number ... isn't it?" The number 8 is considered lucky to Vietnamese, and there are a few (unrelated) Phó 88s around the country, but just as many Phó 89s, 75s, 79s and 777s. So, it's hard to say where luck lies.

While "phó" usually refers to beef soup, it literally means "your own bowl," as it's a meal that's not meant to be shared. You might want to share, though.

As with Japanese noodles, clarity of broth is a sign of good phó (pronounced "fuh," not "faux"). The masses of very thin rice noodles come submerged in clear, delicately seasoned broth, either beef- or chicken-based. The chicken broth is particularly good, lightly seasoned with ginger and scallion. It's a shame that the chicken meat (I ordered a combo of light and dark on two different occasions) was kind of tough. Soups come in three sizes ($3.95 to $5.95), and the extra-large could easily cradle your head.

Not to say that you can't stuff your head with other dishes. Shrimp, pork and crabmeat (which unfortunately is "faux") can be combined with egg or rice noodles ($5.25 to $7.75). Items that appear on most Vietnamese menus, such as pork and spring rolls on rice vermicelli ($4.95), are here as well -- along with "exotics" like shrimp paste on sugar cane, beef stew and various fried rice dishes.

I advise eating in rather than ordering to go. The noodles tend to become a unified lump if not submerged immediately, and the portions of meat are not as large in takeout.

Noodle shops are the fast-food joints of the Far East, and with Phó 88 in town, why settle for a burger?

If I lived somewhere in the middle of nowhere I would be jumping for joy at the arrival of Pho Hoa, the new Vietnamese soup emporium that has moved in to the Primrose Avenue spot vacated by the Golden Lake restaurant. But with the many nearby family-owned Vietnamese eateries (including Pho 88, another soup place a scant 1.2 miles away), the addition of a franchise seems redundant. Truth is, a franchise is a relatively risk-free way of opening a new restaurant and sharing the company's national advertising.

There are more than 90 other Pho Hoas and sister Pho Cong Lys, from California to Boston and Ontario to Kuala Lumpur. The chain emphasizes the "Health Conscious Choice" of its broth-based dishes. And although I could not find any exact nutritional information, there doesn't seem to be much danger in the beef and chicken consommés, with pieces of meat, noodles and a whole bunch of vegetables. A bowl here is sort of like having a soup, salad and main course all at once.

There are more than 90 other Pho Hoas and sister Pho Cong Lys, from California to Boston and Ontario to Kuala Lumpur. The chain emphasizes the "Health Conscious Choice" of its broth-based dishes. And although I could not find any exact nutritional information, there doesn't seem to be much danger in the beef and chicken consommés, with pieces of meat, noodles and a whole bunch of vegetables. A bowl here is sort of like having a soup, salad and main course all at once.

The sign looming over Pho Hoa reads, "The best Vietnamese food in town," and I can undeniably proclaim, "Not in this town." But the food ain't bad, and judging by the mostly Vietnamese clientele, rather authentic. The clear soup bases of beef or chicken are slow-simmered and delicately seasoned, even the beef broth is a lustrous golden color. The bowls come large ($5.50) and even larger ($6.50), loaded with rice noodles, mushrooms, and in the case of the chicken pho, bits of cauliflower and broccoli. The pho do bien chua cay (seafood soup, $6.50) finds squid, tender scallops and a bit of fish floating amongst the noodles, a savory combination that unfortunately included the dreaded "fake crab." Tell them to leave it out if at all possible.

The sign looming over Pho Hoa reads, "The best Vietnamese food in town," and I can undeniably proclaim, "Not in this town." But the food ain't bad, and judging by the mostly Vietnamese clientele, rather authentic. The clear soup bases of beef or chicken are slow-simmered and delicately seasoned, even the beef broth is a lustrous golden color. The bowls come large ($5.50) and even larger ($6.50), loaded with rice noodles, mushrooms, and in the case of the chicken pho, bits of cauliflower and broccoli. The pho do bien chua cay (seafood soup, $6.50) finds squid, tender scallops and a bit of fish floating amongst the noodles, a savory combination that unfortunately included the dreaded "fake crab." Tell them to leave it out if at all possible.

The big adventure is the beef soup (which is what "pho" means). To the basic dish is added any number of beef cuts, from steak, brisket and meatballs ("For Beginners" on the menu) to tendon, bible tripe (so named because it looks like the pages of a book) and flank steak, either "fatty" or "crunchy" (cooked by the heat of the soup or well-done).

The big adventure is the beef soup (which is what "pho" means). To the basic dish is added any number of beef cuts, from steak, brisket and meatballs ("For Beginners" on the menu) to tendon, bible tripe (so named because it looks like the pages of a book) and flank steak, either "fatty" or "crunchy" (cooked by the heat of the soup or well-done).

I will enthusiastically recommend the blended drinks, in particular the avocado one ($3.25). It looked like soft-serve pistachio ice cream and tasted like frozen guacamole.

I will enthusiastically recommend the blended drinks, in particular the avocado one ($3.25). It looked like soft-serve pistachio ice cream and tasted like frozen guacamole.

The etiquette of pho calls for an abundance of seasoning and supplementing. There's hoisin sauce for a sweet and spicy kick of garlic and soy; sesame oil for a mellow fragrance; basil leaves, coriander, bean sprouts and jalapeños for crunch, bite and heat; and the ever-present red chili sauce. Try being adventurous and slurp it down -- it's OK to slurp here.

Comfort food: Every cuisine has it. Whether it's American macaroni and cheese, English trifle or French cassoulet, comfort foods share certain basic qualities – lots of carbohydrates, a lack of challenging texture or spices, and a comforting reminder of childhood. And on those terms, Pilin is a total success.

American "Thai" food is undoubtedly different from what you might eat in Thailand. The dishes on the menu at Pilin (and most Thai restaurants) would probably seem as foreign to a Bangkok native as your neighborhood Chinese restaurant's kung pao chicken would to a diner in Beijing. But as Thai overtakes Chinese as the ethnic cuisine of choice, those "Thai" dishes are becoming just as codified: phad Thai, tom kha gai soup, Panang curry; all are as familiar as moo goo gai pan these days. For some of us, a steaming coconut-scented bowl of tom kha gai is just as comforting as Mom's chicken soup.

After some aimless driving and a U-turn, we finally found the place (it's in a strip mall on the north side of the street, near the intersection of 436 and 434). A mirrored back wall augments the wide-open feel; there weren't many people seated in the room, but there was a booming takeout trade. We sat near the front, and there was a steady in-and-out of locals picking up brown paper bags. Service was very friendly, somewhat hampered by the fact that our waitress didn't speak much English – and seemed to be baby-sitting her very young sister and providing service to every table. Still, she was quite attentive and tried her best to answer questions.

We started with a selection of appetizers. The chicken satay was juicy and lightly seasoned with turmeric, accompanied with a mild peanut sauce; the tom kha gai was creamy, packed with chicken and straw mushrooms; so far, exactly what you expect from your neighborhood Thai place. But we were thrilled to see green papaya salad on the menu. It was referenced as "Thailand's most favorite salad," yet it's inexplicably rare at Thai restaurants around Orlando. We took a flyer on "tofu todd," fried bean curd served with a weak vinegar/sugar dipping sauce and sprinkled with chopped peanuts. And it's a good thing we did – our pal Todd was utterly bland ("useless" was the general sentiment), but that blandness complemented the papaya salad, the cool crunchy strands of which were lip-tinglingly spicy.

Now here's where the comfort-food aspect of the evening started to become apparent. The massaman curry – chicken, pork, beef or tofu with potatoes, onions and a mild peanut-coconut sauce – was as soothingly creamy and bland as any 5-year-old could wish for. I mean that in the best possible way. This is the dish to order on those days when you crawl home after an exhausting day at work or when you're looking for culinary consolation. The potatoes were tender; the onions almost melting, all sharpness simmered away; the curry was velvety-smooth. A little boring, but heavenly.

Our other entrée, the phad lad na, was also addictive, though somewhat spunkier: wide, silky noodles and crunchy-crisp broccoli swimming in a wine-scented broth. The menu advised that it was "recommended to mix with vinegar chili pickles and chili powder," and they brought out a pretty, green china tray of condiments: chilis pickled in vinegar, dried chili seeds, chopped peanuts and chili paste. Delicious as the dish was without it, the enhancements gave a nice kick to stir us out of our massaman stupor.

In the interests of thorough research, we decided to try dessert. I'm not much of a dessert fan, but we ordered the sweet sticky rice with mango, and it was the high point of the meal. A small slab of chewy rice was lapped in sweet, thick coconut milk, contrasting with slices of ripe, peppery mango. Lush yet zingy, it was as though the two halves of our comfort-food equation came together.

Have you been to the town of Celebration? It's so ... clean. And planned. And it has those "Neighborhood Electric Vehicles" (with reserved parking spots that you al-ways pull into before seeing the "NEV Parking" sign).

The Celebration planning extends to food as well. If anyone can afford fabulous chefs, Disney can; yet the cuisine at the immaculate Plantation Room is good but unimpressive.

The Celebration planning extends to food as well. If anyone can afford fabulous chefs, Disney can; yet the cuisine at the immaculate Plantation Room is good but unimpressive.

Although Café D'Antonio, Columbia and the Market Street Café -- the more visible dining spots along the main drag -- were packed, Plantation Room, ensconced in the Celebration Hotel, was eerily quiet on both midweek evenings I visited. It's more of a special-occasion kind of place than somewhere to go on impulse. The room itself is gorgeous, alive with the subdued sparkle of crystal glasses and good china. And the background music of 1930s' jazz is fun. But The Plantation Room misses the goal of a well-manicured dining experience: a spectacular dinner.

Although Café D'Antonio, Columbia and the Market Street Café -- the more visible dining spots along the main drag -- were packed, Plantation Room, ensconced in the Celebration Hotel, was eerily quiet on both midweek evenings I visited. It's more of a special-occasion kind of place than somewhere to go on impulse. The room itself is gorgeous, alive with the subdued sparkle of crystal glasses and good china. And the background music of 1930s' jazz is fun. But The Plantation Room misses the goal of a well-manicured dining experience: a spectacular dinner.

Head Chef Jean-Louis calls his creations "New Florida Cuisine." Well, they're new and in Florida, but nothing cried out "Sunshine State" except for the sweet and spicy fruit salsa, full of mango and pineapple, which flavored the crab-cake appetizer. And covering firm escargot with an overpowering cream sauce did nothing for the flavor or Floridaness of the wee mollusks (both $8).

Head Chef Jean-Louis calls his creations "New Florida Cuisine." Well, they're new and in Florida, but nothing cried out "Sunshine State" except for the sweet and spicy fruit salsa, full of mango and pineapple, which flavored the crab-cake appetizer. And covering firm escargot with an overpowering cream sauce did nothing for the flavor or Floridaness of the wee mollusks (both $8).

The filet mignon ($28) was one big honkin' piece of meat, a good 4-inches thick; unfortunately, it was served in a much-too-salty mushroom sauce. Salt also was the villain with the breast of duck ($19) that was tender and darkly tasty, but a little too far removed from the oven to be as crispy as it should have been. The accompanying and impressive tower of crisp sweet-potato slices filled with mashed sweet potatoes was delicious, though.

The filet mignon ($28) was one big honkin' piece of meat, a good 4-inches thick; unfortunately, it was served in a much-too-salty mushroom sauce. Salt also was the villain with the breast of duck ($19) that was tender and darkly tasty, but a little too far removed from the oven to be as crispy as it should have been. The accompanying and impressive tower of crisp sweet-potato slices filled with mashed sweet potatoes was delicious, though.

Sweet potatoes (if it's a plantation, this must be the crop) showed up flavoring grits around the grouper ($22), a nice combination. In fact the fish was the best taste of the evening, lovingly uncomplicated and cooked to firm and juicy perfection, served with baby bok choy. So why was the whole dish covered with threads of deep-fried scallions? The selection prompted my companion to ask, "What am I eating here, grass?"

Sweet potatoes (if it's a plantation, this must be the crop) showed up flavoring grits around the grouper ($22), a nice combination. In fact the fish was the best taste of the evening, lovingly uncomplicated and cooked to firm and juicy perfection, served with baby bok choy. So why was the whole dish covered with threads of deep-fried scallions? The selection prompted my companion to ask, "What am I eating here, grass?"

Even though we ordered both the cherries jubilee and bananas foster, neither was flambéed at the table -- and that might tell the whole tale of the Plantation Room. The bits are all there, but nothing really lights a fire.

I owe many of my favorite meals to my husband's penchant for monster movieplexes with stadium seating. For months, our friend, who happens to be Cuban, had been trying to get us down to his part of town to eat at his favorite Latin place, Pio Pio. The problem was, he lives in a southern part of town I generally refer to as the BFE – the Bad Food Extravaganza. Snobbishly and repeatedly, we refused the invitation.

Then one night, we were leaving the Cinemark Festival Bay Theater – after watching a loud movie in which humans outsmarted aliens, natural disasters abounded and everything else blew up – and, suddenly, I was hungry. And there it was – Pio Pio (which translates into "Chick Chick"), sequestered in a wasteland of deserted shopping malls off a six-lane highway. Later, I realized my friend was right about this place, to which I would return again and again, like a sequel junkie.

Pio Pio, a Peruvian and Colombian restaurant, opened its first Orlando location in October 2000. After successfully running four restaurants in New York, the Diego family decided to try their luck here and opened close to a dollar theater near Kissimmee (11236 S. Orange Blossom Trail; 407-438-5677). Months later, another family member opened a location on International Drive near Kirkman Road, strategically situated on our driving route home from the movieplex. This past summer, another site popped up on the southeast side (2500 S. Semoran Blvd., 407-207-2262). Let's hope they have a Godfather-sized family, so they can keep them coming.

The menu choices are the same at all the Pio Pios, and they are limited; but in my experience, this is exactly what makes them so appealing, because everything is good. The "pollo Pio Pio a las brasas" ($8) is some of the most exquisite rotisserie chicken that has ever crossed my lips; consistently tender and moist, its crispy, herbed skin is the treasure. Juan Diego, owner of Pio Pio on I-Drive, claims the secret is a family recipe. But he agreed that the original marinade, a mixture of spices, vegetables and herbs, does make the difference.

Their beans and rice ($4) are a homemade Colombian-style mainstay. The beans are plump and supple, seasoned with just the right amount of pepper and garlic, in a brackish broth of their own flavorful juices. I've never tasted rice so consistently tender, devoid of the starchy mushiness that so many restaurants try to pass off as rice. Orders of tostones, maduros and yuca ($3 apiece) are best when dipped in the worship-worthy sauces that come with every meal: tangy garlic, and a green-tinged hot sauce made with jalapeños and habañeros.

Although chicken is the star at Pio Pio, they serve a very decent grilled steak with french fries for a mere $9.50. Also on the menu: pork chops ($9.50), empanadas ($1), posole-style chicken soup ($3) and saffron rice ($3).

Tucked away behind a curved bar littered with chicken statues, wine bottles and plants is the giant rotisserie. There is a row of wall hangings at eye level on the bright-orange walls – letters from customers and New York Times reviews – that we had to lean into awkwardly in order to read. The atmosphere is comfortable and complete in its family modesty.

For dessert, the exceptionally tasty flan ($4) and the tres leches ($4), both made in-house, are recommended. A good flan has no air bubbles and is doused in deep-amber caramelized sugar, and Pio Pio's is flawless. My favorite dessert, by far, is tres leches, dense yellow cake soaked in three milks (condensed, evaporated and half-and-half). Please, skip the crème brûlée – you're at a Latin restaurant, after all, and a good one.

It's a rare movie – never mind the bombs and brains – that isn't worth a try, when there's Pio Pio waiting afterward.

When you go to a "restaurant and pizzeria," you don't normally expect two distinct environments. But that's exactly what Positano's has: a front room offering a boisterous, family-oriented pizzeria, and a back room featuring elegant, sophisticated Italian dining.

This dual identity can be confusing. Entering from the front, we found ourselves awash in family meals, televisions, busy pizza makers and ringing takeout phones. We had to make our way to the "middle" of the space to be transported into a more pleasant fine-dining room full of atmosphere.

This dual identity can be confusing. Entering from the front, we found ourselves awash in family meals, televisions, busy pizza makers and ringing takeout phones. We had to make our way to the "middle" of the space to be transported into a more pleasant fine-dining room full of atmosphere.

Management makes the "restaurant" half feel cozy with mood lighting, fine background music and an impressive bar and wine list. The excellent service was friendly and helpful without being intrusive, and we were welcomed with a bread basket of cheese-flavored dinner rolls and a light, fresh-baked Italian roll with surprisingly good cracker crust.

Management makes the "restaurant" half feel cozy with mood lighting, fine background music and an impressive bar and wine list. The excellent service was friendly and helpful without being intrusive, and we were welcomed with a bread basket of cheese-flavored dinner rolls and a light, fresh-baked Italian roll with surprisingly good cracker crust.

For appetizers, my guest and I went in opposite directions: she had the "Positano bruschetta" ($6.25), which we found fairly average and lifeless. I had the delicious "warm chicken salad" ($8.95), an Asian-style dish featuring excessive amounts of shiitake mushrooms over a bed of mixed greens, sun-dried tomatoes, arugula, balsamic vinegar and nicely grilled chicken. It was a surprising, refreshing and original treat.

For appetizers, my guest and I went in opposite directions: she had the "Positano bruschetta" ($6.25), which we found fairly average and lifeless. I had the delicious "warm chicken salad" ($8.95), an Asian-style dish featuring excessive amounts of shiitake mushrooms over a bed of mixed greens, sun-dried tomatoes, arugula, balsamic vinegar and nicely grilled chicken. It was a surprising, refreshing and original treat.

The shared menu offers a wide selection from seafood and chicken to innumerable sorts of pasta. We ordered both a "fine dining" entree as well as a New York-sized slice of white-cheese pizza ($15 per pie, $2.50 per slice) to sample from each side of this unique restaurant.

The shared menu offers a wide selection from seafood and chicken to innumerable sorts of pasta. We ordered both a "fine dining" entree as well as a New York-sized slice of white-cheese pizza ($15 per pie, $2.50 per slice) to sample from each side of this unique restaurant.

The pizza was thin-crusted and hand-rolled. "Pasta fagoli" ($3.50, if ordered separately) was served as a precursor to the entree, though it was more of a Tuscan-style white bean soup (with very little pasta) rather than a real pasta fagoli. We sensed a pattern: "ordinary" dishes were prepared rather matter-of-factly, while "specialties" received more care and attention.

The pizza was thin-crusted and hand-rolled. "Pasta fagoli" ($3.50, if ordered separately) was served as a precursor to the entree, though it was more of a Tuscan-style white bean soup (with very little pasta) rather than a real pasta fagoli. We sensed a pattern: "ordinary" dishes were prepared rather matter-of-factly, while "specialties" received more care and attention.

This theory was confirmed with the expertly prepared and presented "veal saltimboca"($17.50). The veal was tender and perfectly done, the prosciutto topping was a nice complement, and the sage seasoning and fabulous white-wine sauce combined to make the dish a real delight.

This theory was confirmed with the expertly prepared and presented "veal saltimboca"($17.50). The veal was tender and perfectly done, the prosciutto topping was a nice complement, and the sage seasoning and fabulous white-wine sauce combined to make the dish a real delight.

For dessert, we tried both the chocolate Amaretto cheesecake ($5.50) and the unique "berrimisu," ($4.95), a fruity twist on the traditional tiramisu. The cheesecake relied too much on its toppings, but the "berrimisu" was exquisitely light and tasty -- the perfect complement to the natural "heaviness" of Italian cooking.

For dessert, we tried both the chocolate Amaretto cheesecake ($5.50) and the unique "berrimisu," ($4.95), a fruity twist on the traditional tiramisu. The cheesecake relied too much on its toppings, but the "berrimisu" was exquisitely light and tasty -- the perfect complement to the natural "heaviness" of Italian cooking.

Positano's obviously takes great pride in their "specialities," but the "family side" seems a far more average experience. I recommend one-half of Positano's highly.

You'll battle crowds to get a seat at Brandon McGlamery's Park Avenue "it spot," but once inside, the rustic Italian creations of chef Matthew Cargo will justify the body-checking. Start with house-cured bresaola and meatballs lolling in cipollini-sweetened sauce, then indulge in Bolognese bigoli enriched with foie gras butter, or simple oven-roasted yellowtail snapper.

Orlando's ability to create and attract "stars" goes for acclaimed cuisine celebrities just as well as sports and music figures.

Chefs Paul Bocuse and Gaston Lenotre call Epcot their Florida home; Todd English is moving in to the Walt Disney World Swan and Dolphin Hotel; Roy Yamaguchi holds sway on Sand Lake Road; and we've all been exposed to Emeril and Wolfgang Puck. Slightly lower on the fame scale, but no less talented, is Melissa Kelly, the guiding hand behind Primo at the JW Marriott Orlando, Grande Lakes.

The massive Grande Lakes complex also includes The Ritz-Carlton Orlando, home of Norman's, the signature restaurant headed by fellow James Beard Award winner Norman Van Aken; Kelly was named "Best Chef: Northeast."

This Primo is the second location for the renowned chef, who opened her Rockland, Maine, location in 1999 to critical acclaim. While Kelly's "down east" spot is a fairly simple affair in a Victorian house, the Orlando version reflects its massive surroundings. In a deep-colored room with semi-William Morris wallpaper and organic-looking chandeliers, you're confronted with a dizzying assortment of salad knives, fish forks and several sizes of dessert spoons. The cutlery is only slightly more complex than the food.

Kelly and chef de cuisine Kathleen Blake are well-versed in the ways of organic foods -- in fact, there's an organic garden on the premises -- and the menu varies with available supplies. The stuffed squash blossom starter ($10) was immensely pleasurable: crispy flowers filled with creamy ricotta and drizzled with balsamic vinegar. Too bad there were only two. Fried calamari ($11) used tender ring slices and spicy tentacles dressed with cress and citrus.

It isn't often you encounter a new experience, which I did with the sturgeon entree ($28). Sturgeon are huge, dense beasts, and my serving had a firm texture more like chicken than fish, with a flavor that only comes from cold-water catches. It was served alongside a baby artichoke half-filled with tomato couscous and a braised slice of escarole (impossible to cut with the fish knife).

Beautiful women and young men with spiky hair make up the well-trained staff, and do their jobs well. The only downside that comes to mind is the price: Dinner for two easily rises to more than $100. The Maine lobster ($32) -- while interestingly served with handmade pansoti (similar to ravioli) stuffed with squash -- is not the expected full shellfish but some chunks and a few deshelled claws, which seems a bit expensive.

There's thought behind the cuisine, and the excellent food isn't simply trendy -- Melissa Kelly has earned her fame.

It was 8:45 p.m. and the jokes were flying at our table. "You know you're at a restaurant on I-Drive when ... A) You wait an hour for a drink refill. B) You seriously consider going to the restroom for a glass of tap water. C) You actually do this, and the staff doesn't notice.

Thank God the faucets worked, as my friend said.

Our group had arrived at New Punjab Indian Restaurant at 7 p.m., and more than 90 minutes later, we were still waiting for our check -- and water refills. The "help wanted" sign out front should have been a tip-off. There was only one waitress in the dining room filled with dozens of customers. We watched as she shifted into high gear and tried in vain to take care of everyone. We couldn't even make eye contact to show our best, most pleading expressions. After dining on curries, hot sauces and peppers, the need for water was more than a nicety -- it was essential.

We later found out that we just happened to catch the restaurant as it was experiencing a rare fluke, being short-staffed on sudden notice. And that later in the evening, another waitress had arrived to ease the pressure.

Indian cuisine is so rich and complex, and there is so little of it in Orlando, that I think this I-Drive restaurant remains a strong competitor. A stand-by for Indian food since1988, New Punjab offers an excellent tour of the classics: curries, fried puff breads, chutneys, stewed lentils, tandoor dishes baked in clay ovens and more.

Filmy curtains obscure the view of the neon-bright, tourist-clogged boulevard outside, and the dulcet strains of sitars float through the softly lit dining area. Its authentic ethnic ambience would be more in line with what you'd expect to find in bohemian Greenwich Village than commercial International Drive.

We started off with the variety tray ($7.95), which gave a taste of the majors: cracker-crisp papadam bread studded with spicy lentils; bhaji onion fritters and puffy, deep-fried aloo pakora vegetable fritters, enriched with hot spices. Thesamosa pastries were as round and big as tennis balls, stuffed with potatoes and peas -- better yet, order them as a separate appetizer stuffed with chicken ($3.50). The mango chutney ($1.95) was chunky and full-bodied, and we lavished it on the pashwarinan bread ($3.75), sweetened with crushed nuts and raisins.

A tandoor dish is the litmus test of an Indian restaurant, and Punjab prepares a delicious chicken tikka kebab ($13.95), threaded with gorgeous char-broiled meat, onions, peppers and tomatoes. Another recommendable entree is the superbly creamy "lamb fancy nuts curry" ($14.95), featuring dark lamb meat in a mild, yellow curry sauce with raisins and nuts. All dinners come with unlimited helpings of delicately steamed white rice.

When we finally recaptured our waitress' attention and got the check, she couldn't have been more gracious and apologetic for the prolonged wait, which went a long way toward smoothing over what was otherwise a satisfying experience.

When we first drove up, we were greeted by harsh fluorescents dipping into the strip-mall parking lot. Surrounded by rental cars, timeshares and newly built hotels, this area of the Orlando dining scene is difficult to figure out. There are mostly chain restaurants, but somehow they fit together – Olive Garden and Taco Bell alongside Marriott and Hilton. But a family-operated Venezuelan hole-in-the-wall? Q'Kenan (pronounced koo-ke-nan) certainly adds something unique to this mix but, even better, the cuisine is deserving of special attention.

Although Q'Kenan is nothing more than a sparse room with brightly colored walls and intense overhead lighting, the food speaks rapturous volumes. A long counter with chafing dishes full of homemade Latin stews runs the length of the restaurant. It's also part grocery store, and there is an assortment of candy bars and T-shirts with "Venezuela" scrawled across the front in red, blue and yellow. In fact, the owner previously operated a Venezuelan grocery on State Road 192, but sold it because she wanted to introduce Central Floridians to a wider range of food from her homeland.

The restaurant name refers to a plateau-type mountain in the highlands of southern Venezuela. At Q'Kenan, you ARE likely to get a mountain of food, so come hungry. Take, for instance, the parrilla tepui mixta ($10.99) that my friend ordered. The mountain range of a dish came with a hearty portion of pork chop, chicken breast, skirt steak and sausage, all nicely seasoned and expertly grilled. It was served with a heap of french fries, yuca, green salad and – last but not least – a grilled arepa, the Venezuelan sandwich staple.

Before delving into any of the entrees, we sampled the tequeños ($4.99) starter, described as cheese sticks. Neither battered nor deep-fried, these finger snacks were covered in a yeasty bread that tightly wound around homemade Venezuelan cheese. The bread was slightly sour and salty like a Bavarian pretzel, and the cheese had a soft, mellow tanginess. Another starter, and the one that will keep me coming back again and again, is the cachapas: sweet corn pancakes folded in half crepe-style and stuffed with a delicious assortment of cheeses and meats. We tried the cachapas with queso rallado ($4.50), a strongly aged Venezuelan cheese. Sweet corn peeked through these quarter-inch thick pancakes. The cheese within made them moist and bright in flavor. Dipped in homemade crema, a sauce much like seasoned sour cream, they were wonderful.

My husband talked me into getting madurito ($4.99), and I wasn't all that excited about it until I took the first bite. Basically, it's a sandwich of shredded beef, lettuce and tomatoes between two large pieces of fried plantain (in place of bread). You can't really hold it like a sandwich because 1) it's dripping with a tartar-like sauce, and 2) fried plantains aren't very sturdy. But I loved how the sweet plantain tasted against the backdrop of the spicy shredded beef, called pabellón.

Q'Kenan has a wide selection of arepas, another type of corn pancake that's savory and dry. They can be served plain but are often opened like a pocket and stuffed with fillings, then wrapped in paper to munch down one-handed. I tried one with cold chicken salad and avocado ($3.99) stuffed into a crisp, warm, freshly made arepa. Our waitress suggested the one stuffed with pabellón, black beans and cheese ($4.25), and if I hadn't already been so full, I would've indulged. I did manage a bite or two of tres leches ($2.50), but by the time I got up to leave I was feeling quite like a mountain myself.

I've always considered Irish food to be similar to British food in the sense that it's something you eat because you're already at the pub, have had a few pints and don't feel like driving somewhere else to get a real meal. So it's bangers and mash, maybe a shepherd's pie, to soak up the hooch and settle the stomach; not bad, but not stellar. It'll do.

Now that I have been to Raglan Road, an Irish pub and restaurant at Disney's Pleasure Island, however, I'm going to have to reconsider that assessment. Their Irish fare is tasty enough to entice a teetotaler into a pub, and I now understand that there is no excuse for mediocre Irish food.

My expectations of the place, frankly, were low. Given the location, I assumed they were slinging the same old Emerald Isle standards at the tourists and doubling the prices. Surely the menu would be nothing but boiled this and cabbage that, heavy on the corned beef and a crock of stew on the side.

But once inside the place, I quickly sensed that it was not a typical Americanized Irish pub, and it turned out that it wasn't. While walking back to our table after a short wait, the chatty hostess informed us that the room we were dining in was actually an Irish estate house, disassembled there and shipped here piece by piece. The furniture is all antique, and the framed photos hanging on the dark wooden walls are authentic. The result is an amazingly cozy atmosphere for such a large restaurant.

We started with an appetizer named "Smokie City" ($10.95) which sounded sketchy ("oven baked layers of smoked cod with mature Wexford cheddar and double cream") but turned out to be brilliant. The smoked cod, dense and lovely, was offset perfectly by the tangy cheddar sauce in which it swam. We lapped up every bite, smearing it like a spread on large slices of crusty sourdough, then turned the crock over to get the last few drops.

Entree No. 1 was "Planxty" ($19.95), a dish that I ordered because I liked the name. What I got was roast pork shank poking up out of a bed of mashed potatoes, with a side of apple chutney. About that roast pork: When the meat falls off the bone before you can get it on the fork, it's tender. And this was tender. The chutney added a note of sweetness, and the potatoes were nice and lumpy, so no complaints at all. It was a very satisfying dish.

Entree No. 2, "It's Not Bleedin' Chowder," was similarly expensive ($19.95) and just as good. The name is supposedly a quote from the chef when he was asked exactly what the dish was, which is a rich mix of scallops, fish, mussels and prawns, mixed in a white wine sauce infused with saffron and finished with cream. At that price it better not be bleedin' chowder, and it better not look like anything that came out of a can. It wasn't, and it didn't. The seafood was fresh, the sauce was tangy and lively, and I can't recall having tasted a better fish stew, if you can call it that.

The only item that disappointed was the bowl of "Down the Middle" ($5.50), a hearty but bland tomato and vegetable broth soup. That was for the vegetarian in the family, because there wasn't much else on the menu she could eat.

Dessert, which took almost 20 minutes to get to the table for some reason, was "Ger's Bread & Butter Pudding" ($7.99). I'm not much of a bread pudding fan, which is exactly why I ordered it. So far the meal had exceeded all my expectations. Would dessert disappoint? Not a chance. Ger, whoever he/she may be, has concocted a heavenly bread pudding. It comes out in a warm crock with tiny pitchers of butter and butterscotch that you add yourself, as much or as little as you like. The sourdough bread soaks it up, and you get a raisin-infused mush that's sweet, rich and cinnamony. Once again I upended the serving dish to coax out the last drop.

This being Disney, there's entertainment in the form of table dancing and an Irish band. But that's just dressing. This is a pub you can come into for dinner, and maybe hang around to grab a Guinness or two or three.

We didn't review this location but you can check out the review of Rainforest Cafe at Downtown Disney Marketplace.

There's something unsettling about eating a bowl of pasta with a squawking parrot perched overhead. Or getting fanned by the flapping ears of a life-sized elephant as another round of Rainforest Rickys arrives from the Magic Mushroom organic juice-and-smoothie bar.

Rainforest Cafe, an addition to the Downtown Disney Marketplace, is a slickly packaged, 550-seat restaurant loosely patterned after a lush jungle, with faux wildlife and vegetation, special effects and colossal fish tanks.

Rainforest Cafe, an addition to the Downtown Disney Marketplace, is a slickly packaged, 550-seat restaurant loosely patterned after a lush jungle, with faux wildlife and vegetation, special effects and colossal fish tanks.

Outside, there's a 65-foot spewing volcano, which generated some enthusiasm from afar, until I got closer and saw the snaking Disney-style line. At 8 p.m. on a weeknight, it took 20 minutes to get our "passports," followed by an hour's wait for our table. We headed for the retail area, which sells $30 T-shirts and semi-educational jungle knickknacks. In our estimation, hunkering down on a stool fashioned into a gazelle's hindquarters at the aforementioned Magic Mushroom was a more attractive way to bide our time.

Outside, there's a 65-foot spewing volcano, which generated some enthusiasm from afar, until I got closer and saw the snaking Disney-style line. At 8 p.m. on a weeknight, it took 20 minutes to get our "passports," followed by an hour's wait for our table. We headed for the retail area, which sells $30 T-shirts and semi-educational jungle knickknacks. In our estimation, hunkering down on a stool fashioned into a gazelle's hindquarters at the aforementioned Magic Mushroom was a more attractive way to bide our time.

The menu offers casual, familiar items with clever names. Best of our entrees was the seafood Galapagos ($14.95), which blended fresh sautéed shrimp and fish pieces with vegetables and pesto sauce over linguine. I also liked the rasta pasta ($11.95) -- grilled chicken, pesto, broccoli, red peppers and herbs in a garlic cream sauce. Less appealing was the marinade in the Siam stir fry ($12.95), chicken sautéed with vegetables, served on rice with wontons and sesame seeds.

The menu offers casual, familiar items with clever names. Best of our entrees was the seafood Galapagos ($14.95), which blended fresh sautéed shrimp and fish pieces with vegetables and pesto sauce over linguine. I also liked the rasta pasta ($11.95) -- grilled chicken, pesto, broccoli, red peppers and herbs in a garlic cream sauce. Less appealing was the marinade in the Siam stir fry ($12.95), chicken sautéed with vegetables, served on rice with wontons and sesame seeds.

The desserts we sampled ($4.95) were delicious: "gorillas in the mist," a chocolate-topped banana cheesecake, and "chocolate diablo," rich cake with gooey layers of pudding.

The desserts we sampled ($4.95) were delicious: "gorillas in the mist," a chocolate-topped banana cheesecake, and "chocolate diablo," rich cake with gooey layers of pudding.

There's a healthy selection of appetizers, burgers, sandwiches, salads and comfort foods like meat loaf and fried chicken. When asked, the server brightly informed me that I could take home a menu -- for $15. Service was adequate, but we had to hunt our server down for the check. (Attempts to call her from across the room were rendered futile by the loudly trumpeting elephant.)

There's a healthy selection of appetizers, burgers, sandwiches, salads and comfort foods like meat loaf and fried chicken. When asked, the server brightly informed me that I could take home a menu -- for $15. Service was adequate, but we had to hunt our server down for the check. (Attempts to call her from across the room were rendered futile by the loudly trumpeting elephant.)

As with other themed restaurants I've tried, the heavily merchandised atmosphere and slightly above-average menu at Rainforest Cafe outweigh the novelty of the overall dining experience.

In the years since the Eagle landed on London’s Farringdon Road and spawned the gastropub phenomenon, that word’s definition has been interpreted in an increasingly liberal fashion amongst restaurateurs on this side of the pond. Case in point: the Ravenous Pig. The place in no way resembles a humble watering hole where commoners can indulge in high-quality meals; rather, it’s as sexy-cool as its clientele, and its frills are just as sophisticated as its fare. Granted, chef/owners James and Julie Petrakis (of Greens & Grille) make a point of calling their latest venture an “American” gastropub, ostensibly justifying the expansion of the definition.

The Pig, like its predecessor Popolo, is divided into three distinct rooms: the bar area; a central dining room; and an adjunct room with brick wall and kitchen view. The latter resembles a comedy club, but it was the complimentary fresh-baked gruyère biscuits that proved laughable. The three humble little lumps were decent enough, but we were politely declined when we requested for more. Evidently, they only make a limited number of these cheesy numbers, but no effort was made to accommodate us – we would’ve taken regular bread if offered.

The appetizers, thankfully, were seriously better. Succulent grilled quail and herbaceous made-in-house sausage ($13) underscored the talent in the kitchen; champagne grapes and shaved fennel provided a delicately sweet crown. But the crunch of cabbage overwhelmed the trio of lobster tacos ($13), an item off the “pub menu” that my two guests and I deemed insipid and disappointing. Being told TRP was one of only three restaurants in town to serve Nantucket Bay scallops ($14) necessitated an order of these coveted, incredibly sweet mollusks. Served in a balsamic brown butter, the glistening orbs were perfectly opaque, pillowy and moist.

In terms of portions, entrees aren’t much more substantial than the appetizers, but that didn’t mean mains like loin of lamb ($25) and steak frites ($22) didn’t satisfy. The former featured meaty, olive-crusted lamb rolls in a light basil-infused jus. My only complaint: The dish was served under the desired medium-rare, giving the lamb a slightly sinewy texture. The latter, a wonderfully tender porcini-marinated flatiron steak, may strike patrons who’ve dined at Greens & Grille as somewhat familiar (G&G offers porcini-marinated flank steak). A ramekin of deftly executed béarnaise and a beer glass of thinly cut truffle fries rounded out the dish.

For a place named the Ravenous Pig, there are surprisingly few pork dishes offered, but the roasted suckling pig ($23) will satiate those who worship that singular magical animal. Chunks of tenderloin bathed in stout come served over a bed of collards; the rye gnocchi flecked with caraway seeds drew a mixed reaction.

Chocoholics will undoubtedly rave about thick chocolate-chili pot de crème ($7) and the pig tails ($7), funnelcake-like fritters shaped like rear appendages and served with a comforting chocolate-espresso sauce. Cappuccino ($3.50) was served tepid, a likely malfunction of an inferior push-button contrivance, or else server negligence. You’re better off sampling an après-meal microbrew ($5 for a pint).

Service could use a bit more polishing; our waitress seemed somewhat distracted and inattentive – a lot of time was spent staring at the bronze ceiling tiles waiting for her eventual return. Still, my sincere hope is that the Ravenous Pig won’t succumb to the curse that plagued the space’s many predecessors, and if the gastropub’s moniker turns you off, don’t let it – it's a misnomer. The conservative portions ensure no patrons indulge in piggish behavior.

Recently, I heard these startling words: "The future of American food lies in the strip mall." These words did not escape from the mouth of a Midwestern tourist on a Disney vacation, nor a fast-food junkie or any other kind of junkie. They are the opinion of Tyler Cowen, a well-respected economist and dining critic. The strip mall? I have always been a little, well, snotty about strip malls. But there was Cowen, all dressed up in a suit and tie in front of 2,000 food professionals, uttering those 10 words. Could he be right? I examined my own eating habits and saw the light. Many of my meals, actually most of them, are from places in worn-out strip malls. When I want good food at a good value, I look to the strip mall: Little Saigon, Garibaldi's, Pio Pio, O'Boys, Memories of India.

I have a new place to add to my strip-mall list: Red Bamboo Thai Restaurant. Thai food is one of my favorite cuisines. There is nothing like food that can be comforting and exotic at the same time. I crave Thai on nights when I want coziness or I'm sniffly or just want to go out alone with a good book. Red Bamboo fulfilled all of my culinary needs. Not only was the food perfectly delicious, but the atmosphere was easy and casual. It's situated in one of those run-down plazas on Kirkman Road and International Drive that's full of restaurants. Be prepared to maneuver in and out of the parking lot, going through a maze of U-turns and signage.

I have a new place to add to my strip-mall list: Red Bamboo Thai Restaurant. Thai food is one of my favorite cuisines. There is nothing like food that can be comforting and exotic at the same time. I crave Thai on nights when I want coziness or I'm sniffly or just want to go out alone with a good book. Red Bamboo fulfilled all of my culinary needs. Not only was the food perfectly delicious, but the atmosphere was easy and casual. It's situated in one of those run-down plazas on Kirkman Road and International Drive that's full of restaurants. Be prepared to maneuver in and out of the parking lot, going through a maze of U-turns and signage.

Red Bamboo belongs to Nikki Pantade, a close relative of someone over at Thai House. She worked at Thai House for a while, until they encouraged her to open a place of her own. She claims her restaurant is completely different from Thai House, but I saw telltale signs of her previous experience there in the fastidious service and impeccable food. Red Bamboo looks different than most strip-mall Thai restaurants. For one thing, it is enormous. Instead of being cheaply dressed or plagued with leftover-decoration syndrome, it is draped with delightful pieces here and there in an otherwise austere space.

Red Bamboo belongs to Nikki Pantade, a close relative of someone over at Thai House. She worked at Thai House for a while, until they encouraged her to open a place of her own. She claims her restaurant is completely different from Thai House, but I saw telltale signs of her previous experience there in the fastidious service and impeccable food. Red Bamboo looks different than most strip-mall Thai restaurants. For one thing, it is enormous. Instead of being cheaply dressed or plagued with leftover-decoration syndrome, it is draped with delightful pieces here and there in an otherwise austere space.

The food is relatively standard. It's not exceptional, but it is very, very good. Nikki suggested some dishes, such as "mango fish" (market price), that are "real Thai." We tried our standbys as a benchmark and found them all to meet our standards. We started with nam sod ($9.95), a salad of minced pork, ginger, shallots, lime juice and cashews. Not only was the dish delicious, but it came out as spicy as we'd ordered it. The tom kha ($3.95), although not the best I've tried, was still tasty enough that I finished every last spoonful of the fragrant coconut and lime-based soup. The papaya salad ($6.95), laden with a sweet and delicately acidic sauce, was excellent. For my entree, I got the phad Thai ($6.50 lunch/$10.95 dinner). It was a satisfying meal - unpretentious and unassuming, yet winning and tasty.

The food is relatively standard. It's not exceptional, but it is very, very good. Nikki suggested some dishes, such as "mango fish" (market price), that are "real Thai." We tried our standbys as a benchmark and found them all to meet our standards. We started with nam sod ($9.95), a salad of minced pork, ginger, shallots, lime juice and cashews. Not only was the dish delicious, but it came out as spicy as we'd ordered it. The tom kha ($3.95), although not the best I've tried, was still tasty enough that I finished every last spoonful of the fragrant coconut and lime-based soup. The papaya salad ($6.95), laden with a sweet and delicately acidic sauce, was excellent. For my entree, I got the phad Thai ($6.50 lunch/$10.95 dinner). It was a satisfying meal - unpretentious and unassuming, yet winning and tasty.

When ordering in a Thai restaurant, you're likely to be asked, "Do you like spicy?" My husband does like spicy, and I often catch him on the verge of tears at the end of a Thai meal. He had this to say about his red curry with beef ($10.95). "Their food is just spicy enough to get the juices flowing, but not so spicy that it ruins my taste buds." The cooks at Red Bamboo are masterful with spice - they don't turn the threshold for heat into a pissing contest.

When ordering in a Thai restaurant, you're likely to be asked, "Do you like spicy?" My husband does like spicy, and I often catch him on the verge of tears at the end of a Thai meal. He had this to say about his red curry with beef ($10.95). "Their food is just spicy enough to get the juices flowing, but not so spicy that it ruins my taste buds." The cooks at Red Bamboo are masterful with spice - they don't turn the threshold for heat into a pissing contest.

Of particular note is Red Bamboo's wine list. At many Thai restaurants, wine drinkers are subjected to something that tastes like Kool-Aid mixed with rubbing alcohol. It was obvious that there was some careful thought put into the wine choices, selecting the ones that bring out the best in Thai food. For instance, Merlot is too strongly tannic for spicy food; instead, Red Bamboo offers Beaujolais. As for the white-wine selection, I would go back just to enjoy another glass of spicy Gewürztraminer or a refreshing Riesling with my meal.

Of particular note is Red Bamboo's wine list. At many Thai restaurants, wine drinkers are subjected to something that tastes like Kool-Aid mixed with rubbing alcohol. It was obvious that there was some careful thought put into the wine choices, selecting the ones that bring out the best in Thai food. For instance, Merlot is too strongly tannic for spicy food; instead, Red Bamboo offers Beaujolais. As for the white-wine selection, I would go back just to enjoy another glass of spicy Gewürztraminer or a refreshing Riesling with my meal.

Maybe restaurants like Red Bamboo are the future of American dining - enjoyable everyday food at everyday prices, a great wine list and a comfortable atmosphere. That's enough to keep me coming back, strip mall or not.

An inordinately long period of time passed before the space that once housed the widely lauded Trastevere Ristorante in Winter Park finally found itself another tenant. It had seemed Jasmine's would be that place, but cost overruns and other factors shut it down before it even opened. So Rocco Potami, who has more than 30 years experience in the restaurant business, and international restaurateur Enrico Esposito took over the space, dumped $600,000 into remodeling the interior and built a brand-new kitchen to bring it up to code. That's a hefty investment for a place that isn't exactly conspicuously located, though a recently mounted marquee and additional signage should help catch the attention of commuters driving along busy Orlando Avenue.

Nevertheless, the duo's commitment is a testament to their dedication in establishing Rocco's on the city's dining scene. 'You only get out what you put in,â?� so the saying goes, and Potami and Esposito have put a lot into making their trattoria as soothing and inviting as (lots of) money can buy. By that I mean polished travertine tile floors bathed in a hushed luminescence, laundered white tablecloths, modern art on cappuccino-colored walls and all the dark-wood trimmings and furnishings a 170-seat restaurant will allow. Arched brick-framed windows looking out into the courtyard are a nice Etruscan touch and give the place an air of comfortable modesty ' a tone the pair of expressive cheek-peckers take pride in setting.

Another source of pride is chef Juan Mercado, a protégé of noted chef Massimo Fedozzi, whose creative Ligurian dishes had locals flocking to Universal's Portofino Bay Hotel. Under Fedozzi's tutelage, Mercado honed the art of preparing regional Italian fare.

Coastal regions of Italy, particularly Veneto, are well-represented in the insalata di frutti di mare ($12), plump curls of shrimp, rounds of calamari and moist slices of scallops washed in a 'secret marinadeâ?� of lemon juice, garlic and flecks of Italian herbs and served inside a large sea-scallop shell. Aesthetically, it's as though Mercado is paying homage to Botticelli; culinarily, the dish is worthy of being served to a goddess.

Another Venetian delicacy, carpaccio con arugula ($12), wasn't as worthy. The gossamer-thin slices of beef drizzled with truffle oil are artfully arranged, but just too bland on the whole. A topping of refreshing rocket salad, capers, shaved parmesan and lemon vinaigrette completed the dish.

Pasta e fagioli ($6) is done in the Neopolitan style, its hearty broth of cannellini beans and chewy rounds of pasta served in an oversized bowl. The soup had the desired consistency ' thick, not mushy ' but it could've used a little more garlic and seasoning to elevate the flavors.

For my entree, I opted for a northern Italian delicacy, and one of Mercado's signature dishes, the lombata di vitello alla Milanese ($29). The bone-in veal chop is first flattened like a cartoon character, then brought to life with a light, crisp golden-brown breading. Diced tomatoes, arugula, radicchio, lemon juice and balsamic vinaigrette provide the requisite zing.

Seeing that Rocco's is billed as an Italian 'grille,â?� it seemed appropriate to sample some meat seared over an open flame, like the pollo alla griglia con erbette ($15). This simple dish of herb-marinated chicken breast served over mashed potatoes is impeccably executed, each succulent morsel nicely complemented with intermittent bites of caramelized shallots.

Desserts are, in a word, heavenly. If you're a fan of tiramisu ($6.50), the lady fingers served here will roll your eyes to the back of your head. The glass of divine indulgence is rich, creamy and an exquisite ending to your meal. If you're so inclined, a chocolate version is also offered. I also savored a scoop of luscious milk gelato ($2.50), the deliciously dense ice cream being ideal for diners who d

When two of the best Cuban restaurants in town get together under one roof, expect a lot of spicy, savory, delicious things to happen. That's what's going on at Rolando's Cuban Restaurant in Casselberry -- easily the best Cuban on the east side. And as the eatery enters into its second decade, it's in no danger of losing its reputation after a recent ownership change. There's a new partnership between longtime Rolando's chef Faufto Rodriguez and his wife, Maria, and Numero Uno proprietors Isidro and Carmen Paulina, who will maintain their other restaurant on Orange Avenue, south of downtown Orlando.

Outwardly, none of the changes are evident. Rolando's is looking a little more formal and dressed up these days, but that's about it. Tables are draped with flowing cloths and decorated with vases of roses. Wait staff are friendly but reserved and decorous. More importantly, the food remains terrific.

Outwardly, none of the changes are evident. Rolando's is looking a little more formal and dressed up these days, but that's about it. Tables are draped with flowing cloths and decorated with vases of roses. Wait staff are friendly but reserved and decorous. More importantly, the food remains terrific.

Something as simple as a Cuban tamale gets impact from spicy beef picadillo on top; it's silky and scented with sweet cornmeal, and the meat topping is spiced so expertly that it resembles finely crumbled chorizo. Topped with a bright-yellow pepper, it's beautiful and delicious ($1.95).

Something as simple as a Cuban tamale gets impact from spicy beef picadillo on top; it's silky and scented with sweet cornmeal, and the meat topping is spiced so expertly that it resembles finely crumbled chorizo. Topped with a bright-yellow pepper, it's beautiful and delicious ($1.95).

True to Cuban tradition, there's a heavy representation of seafood. Everything from lobster to shrimp to king fish are sautéed in wine sauces and garlic sauces. Red snappers are fried and served whole, too. We passed on that variation and opted instead for a snapper fillet that was breaded and fried, then topped with crisp onions and multicolored bell peppers ($10.25). The fish was clean, odorless, firm and sweet, just the way seafood should be at its prime.

True to Cuban tradition, there's a heavy representation of seafood. Everything from lobster to shrimp to king fish are sautéed in wine sauces and garlic sauces. Red snappers are fried and served whole, too. We passed on that variation and opted instead for a snapper fillet that was breaded and fried, then topped with crisp onions and multicolored bell peppers ($10.25). The fish was clean, odorless, firm and sweet, just the way seafood should be at its prime.

Game entrees range from lamb to rabbit fricassee ($9.25), and there's even Havana-style fried rice with corn fritters. Though there are only three pork selections, at least one of them is excellent. Fried pork chunks are brushed with garlic sauce and garnished with onions ($9.25). The results are flavorful through and through, vaguely salty and quite juicy.

Game entrees range from lamb to rabbit fricassee ($9.25), and there's even Havana-style fried rice with corn fritters. Though there are only three pork selections, at least one of them is excellent. Fried pork chunks are brushed with garlic sauce and garnished with onions ($9.25). The results are flavorful through and through, vaguely salty and quite juicy.

Entrees come with a choice of side items, the best of which are a deep yellow rice that is boosted by a whisper of garlic and a shot of white wine. Also not to be missed: Fried plantains, especially the ripened ones, which are much sweeter than the green plantains.

Entrees come with a choice of side items, the best of which are a deep yellow rice that is boosted by a whisper of garlic and a shot of white wine. Also not to be missed: Fried plantains, especially the ripened ones, which are much sweeter than the green plantains.

We counted nine dessert choices, including grated coconut concoctions and papaya sweets. But we opted for a tres leches sponge cake that was soaked with three kinds of milk for a heavy, succulent effect that contrasted nicely with a fluff of meringue on top ($2.95).

We counted nine dessert choices, including grated coconut concoctions and papaya sweets. But we opted for a tres leches sponge cake that was soaked with three kinds of milk for a heavy, succulent effect that contrasted nicely with a fluff of meringue on top ($2.95).

Across Orlando, there are dozens of options for good Cuban food, but remember: Rolando's is in a whole other league.

We were waiting for a table at Romano's Macaroni Grill, and we had plenty of company. Flurries of customers milled around the front door and lined up in groups on the sidewalk outside, prepared for one hour waits. We had chosen to bide our time in the bar, lulled into complacent resignation by Peroni beers and frozen Bellinis. We stifled hunger pangs as we watched a full house chowing on pastas, grilled meats and wood fired pizzas that came from the bustling exhibition kitchen.

And then something happened that really got our attention. Five tables opened up right in the middle of the restaurant. Then they stayed open -- for five minutes, then 10. It was excruciating to watch them go unclaimed in the middle of a restaurant where people were clamoring to be seated. When our mobile "Macaroni" beeper never signaled us, we went back to the hostess to ask if anyone was going to be seated at the empty tables. But she told us our turn would come soon, and directed us back to the bar.

And then something happened that really got our attention. Five tables opened up right in the middle of the restaurant. Then they stayed open -- for five minutes, then 10. It was excruciating to watch them go unclaimed in the middle of a restaurant where people were clamoring to be seated. When our mobile "Macaroni" beeper never signaled us, we went back to the hostess to ask if anyone was going to be seated at the empty tables. But she told us our turn would come soon, and directed us back to the bar.

When a restaurant can flubs the seating arrangements like that and still remain so filled with customers, it's obviously doing something right. And Romano's Macaroni Grill is the kind of Italian restaurant that lots of people like. It's noisy, fun, fast-paced and filled with lavish Italian food at neighborhood prices. The setting is spacious, rustic and casual with stone walls, lights strung overhead, fresh flowers all around, waiters who occasionally belt out "Happy Birthday" serenades in Italian, and wine that flows. Jugs of house wine are on the honor system at $3.29 a glass. Bread is limitless too, and it's always hot, crusty, and plentiful, served with a dipping plate of olive oil, shredded parmesan and pepper.

When a restaurant can flubs the seating arrangements like that and still remain so filled with customers, it's obviously doing something right. And Romano's Macaroni Grill is the kind of Italian restaurant that lots of people like. It's noisy, fun, fast-paced and filled with lavish Italian food at neighborhood prices. The setting is spacious, rustic and casual with stone walls, lights strung overhead, fresh flowers all around, waiters who occasionally belt out "Happy Birthday" serenades in Italian, and wine that flows. Jugs of house wine are on the honor system at $3.29 a glass. Bread is limitless too, and it's always hot, crusty, and plentiful, served with a dipping plate of olive oil, shredded parmesan and pepper.

The kitchen doesn't stint on portions, either. "Fonduta Gamberi" ($6.99) is just what the name suggests in Italian: A ravishing fondue of shrimp, artichoke hearts and spinach, roasted into a melted mess with Parmesan and mozzarella cheeses. It's appetizer heaven with a heap of garlic toast wedges.

The kitchen doesn't stint on portions, either. "Fonduta Gamberi" ($6.99) is just what the name suggests in Italian: A ravishing fondue of shrimp, artichoke hearts and spinach, roasted into a melted mess with Parmesan and mozzarella cheeses. It's appetizer heaven with a heap of garlic toast wedges.

"Pizza di Pollo Barbacoda" is another winning choice: A wood-fired pizza on a thin, chewy crust with vigorous toppings of barbecued chicken, pecorino and mozzarella cheese ($7.49). It manages to be light and filling at the same time.

"Pizza di Pollo Barbacoda" is another winning choice: A wood-fired pizza on a thin, chewy crust with vigorous toppings of barbecued chicken, pecorino and mozzarella cheese ($7.49). It manages to be light and filling at the same time.

"Scaloppine di Salmone" salmon fillet ($12.99) is a winning entree that leaves a citrus impression, sauteed with fresh lemon butter. It's adorned with capers, tomatoes and fresh bright basil. But on the night we visited, the accompanying bowl of linguine had no flair whatsoever. It looked and tasted like someone had dumped it out of a pot to get it out to the table in a hurry. And the "Ravioli Formaggi" only hinted at the asiago, parmesan cheeses that were stuffed into the pasta, because the roasted garlic cream sauce had been drenched with a heart-stopping dose of salt.

"Scaloppine di Salmone" salmon fillet ($12.99) is a winning entree that leaves a citrus impression, sauteed with fresh lemon butter. It's adorned with capers, tomatoes and fresh bright basil. But on the night we visited, the accompanying bowl of linguine had no flair whatsoever. It looked and tasted like someone had dumped it out of a pot to get it out to the table in a hurry. And the "Ravioli Formaggi" only hinted at the asiago, parmesan cheeses that were stuffed into the pasta, because the roasted garlic cream sauce had been drenched with a heart-stopping dose of salt.

Popularity notwithstanding, Romano's Macaroni Grill doesn't belong in the big leagues of Italian restaurants. It's so busy being sought after that when customers start flooding in, the kitchen stops sweating the details. Best to try this restaurant when it's not quite so busy, and the heady flavors of Tuscany are more dependable. In the meantime, if you're looking for ultimate Italian breads and grilled Tuscan meats, your search has ended.

It's a Tuesday ritual for spaghetti junkies on the south side of town: Hefty, homestyle dinners for about $3 at Rossi's. This mom-and-pop restaurant is celebrating nearly 34 years in the same location by slashing prices on a special anniversary menu.

The deals are outrageous -- roughly half-price for some of the most popular items. A spaghetti dinner, plus salad and grilled garlic bread, starts at $2.75. Thick, toasted submarine sandwiches packed with deli meats start at $2.50. Ten-inch cheese pizzas are just $2.95.

The deals are outrageous -- roughly half-price for some of the most popular items. A spaghetti dinner, plus salad and grilled garlic bread, starts at $2.75. Thick, toasted submarine sandwiches packed with deli meats start at $2.50. Ten-inch cheese pizzas are just $2.95.

The only catch is that you must eat in and don't expect anything fancy. Service is casual; the amenities are low ceilings, dim lighting and lumpy seats. It's truly a south-side dive -- and a well-loved one, judging from its staying power.

If someone said, "Let's go to Roy's for dinner," you might think they were referring to a chicken shack. But you should hope they're talking about Roy's Restaurant, the latest entry in fine dining along the amazingly fertile Sand Lake and Dr. Phillips intersection.

Restaurants and shops are springing up like weeds along this stretch of land that was formerly filled with, well, weeds. Roy Yamaguchi, cookbook author, TV host and restaurateur, has opened the latest branch of his empire on it.

Restaurants and shops are springing up like weeds along this stretch of land that was formerly filled with, well, weeds. Roy Yamaguchi, cookbook author, TV host and restaurateur, has opened the latest branch of his empire on it.

From the hype, I expected someplace fancier. The decor varies: a bistro feel with quilted copper panels above an open kitchen and a smattering of small tables; upscale diner with booths and bare wood tables against a beautiful river-rock wall; and a section of wine-cellar gone mad, with enormous glass-walled wine racks. A key ingredient in the Roy's experience is wine. The chain (there's more than a dozen) has partnerships with wineries that put the "Roy's" label on select bottles and sell him truckloads of premium vintages. The guy buys 1,100 cases of Pinot Gris at a time, so you'll have lots of choices.

The food also gives you choices. The menu reads like a primer in Hawaiian and Asian cooking and combinations thereof. Inamona sauce (candlenut kernels from the island of Hana) is served with ahi tuna. Shutome swordfish is basted in Thai curry sauce. I had a lovely serving of hebi (Hawaiian spearfish), a dark, oily meat that's firmer and more pronounced in taste that tuna, nicely grilled with cilantro leaves ($25). My companion had the "surfah" combination ($25), seared mahi with macadamia lobster sauce along with triple tails with Parmesan crab sauce. Unfortunately, it was presented with the two fish stacked on each other, and the sauces sort of blended around them. They were damn good sauces, even though the fish seemed a bit too bland to carry them.

Appetizers were beautiful in presentation but ordinary in taste. Coconut shrimp sticks weren't any better than standard Chinese-restaurant fare. The topping on the "dynamite" oysters reminded me of broiler-browned mayonnaise.

Certain desserts take 20 minutes to prepare. If you're like me (and of course you are), you probably can't think about dessert so far in advance, so just order the "haupia," coconut pudding in a chocolate shell that looks like a little coconut.

Certain desserts take 20 minutes to prepare. If you're like me (and of course you are), you probably can't think about dessert so far in advance, so just order the "haupia," coconut pudding in a chocolate shell that looks like a little coconut.

Roy's prides itself on "aloha service." In this case, "aloha" must be the island word for "waiter hovering over you at alternate mouthfuls." Maybe I'm getting curmudgeonly in my old age. Maybe that's why Roy's has so much wine.

Once upon a time, indulging in Thai cuisine was an exotic foray into the unknown, but now Thai restaurants can be found on just about every main drag in town. What's next? McThai drive-throughs with satay nuggets and curry value-meals?

Thankfully, much more originality and attention to detail are in evidence at Royal Thai, which opened in 1997, making it an early entry in the Thai trend. When we visited shortly after the restaurant opened, near the busy crossroads of Semoran Boulevard and Colonial Drive, we found some aspects of the menu and service lacking.

Thankfully, much more originality and attention to detail are in evidence at Royal Thai, which opened in 1997, making it an early entry in the Thai trend. When we visited shortly after the restaurant opened, near the busy crossroads of Semoran Boulevard and Colonial Drive, we found some aspects of the menu and service lacking.

But Royal Thai has only improved with age. Two recent revisits offered a delicious presentation of the prowess of chef Jintana Bant, who hails from northern Thailand. Service was more efficient, too -- we were in and out within an hour.

But Royal Thai has only improved with age. Two recent revisits offered a delicious presentation of the prowess of chef Jintana Bant, who hails from northern Thailand. Service was more efficient, too -- we were in and out within an hour.

The simple dish param ($8.95) was handled with such a deft touch that it caught us off guard. The traditional stew of meat (which we declined in lieu of tofu) and spinach is nothing too fancy. But then we spooned some of the light peanut sauce over the pan-seared tofu cubes and vegetables, and took a taste. The hot, spicy flavors revealed themselves quietly and successively, like the trail of glitter in the aftermath of fireworks. It was at that moment we knew we were in the hands of a pro.

The simple dish param ($8.95) was handled with such a deft touch that it caught us off guard. The traditional stew of meat (which we declined in lieu of tofu) and spinach is nothing too fancy. But then we spooned some of the light peanut sauce over the pan-seared tofu cubes and vegetables, and took a taste. The hot, spicy flavors revealed themselves quietly and successively, like the trail of glitter in the aftermath of fireworks. It was at that moment we knew we were in the hands of a pro.

We had a more delayed reaction to the formidable "Thai beef stew" ($8.95), which is prepared in a red curry paste, backed up by a chorus of onions, peanuts and potatoes. Halfway into it, we realized we had crossed into extremely hot territory. We set this dish aside to be later enjoyed a few bites at a time and moved on to the next delight.

We had a more delayed reaction to the formidable "Thai beef stew" ($8.95), which is prepared in a red curry paste, backed up by a chorus of onions, peanuts and potatoes. Halfway into it, we realized we had crossed into extremely hot territory. We set this dish aside to be later enjoyed a few bites at a time and moved on to the next delight.

The "golden squid" ($5.95) was a refreshing antidote; these were jumbo rings of tender, chewy meat flash-fried into golden fritters. Left alone, they were fine, but when the appetizers were lightly whisked into a dish of chili-plum sauce -- as light and sweet as a glass of wine -- the taste was much more intriguing.

The "golden squid" ($5.95) was a refreshing antidote; these were jumbo rings of tender, chewy meat flash-fried into golden fritters. Left alone, they were fine, but when the appetizers were lightly whisked into a dish of chili-plum sauce -- as light and sweet as a glass of wine -- the taste was much more intriguing.

Our only disappointment was the mee grob ($4.95), which could have used more than four shrimp. Otherwise, it was an able rendition of crispy rice noodles sautéed in a sweet-and-sour sauce, garnished with bean sprouts.

Our only disappointment was the mee grob ($4.95), which could have used more than four shrimp. Otherwise, it was an able rendition of crispy rice noodles sautéed in a sweet-and-sour sauce, garnished with bean sprouts.

On two visits, we never saw more than a dozen customers in the dining area, which resembles a cool, dimly lit garden cottage. But they do a busy takeout business here. If Royal Thai is still uncharted territory, be assured that two years after opening, it is a worthy destination for sophisticated Thai classics.