Locations in Orlando

Formerly Tom and Mony's Backroom, the new name didn’t change the inside: a basic (but cheap!) beer/liquor selection, a pool table, video games, bar food, friendly service and a splash of regulars. They do offer a pale McWells ale made by Budweiser; it tastes OK and only costs $1.50, so forgive the subterfuge.

What do soft-shell crabs have in common with the Orlando Magic? Sports fans could debate this for hours, but the answer is: They're on the menu at Fuji Sushi – sort of.

This new restaurant near the busy crossroads of Lee Road and Highway 17-92 offers some of the most sumptuous sushi in the Winter Park area, and they name it after local points of interest. So the "Orlando Magic roll" ($8.95) is prepared with soft-shell crab and chopped vegetables. The "Lee Road roll" ($5.95) contains eel and salmon skin. The "Rollins roll" ($4.95) offers crab, avocado, cucumbers with a tempura batter.

This new restaurant near the busy crossroads of Lee Road and Highway 17-92 offers some of the most sumptuous sushi in the Winter Park area, and they name it after local points of interest. So the "Orlando Magic roll" ($8.95) is prepared with soft-shell crab and chopped vegetables. The "Lee Road roll" ($5.95) contains eel and salmon skin. The "Rollins roll" ($4.95) offers crab, avocado, cucumbers with a tempura batter.

The names and ingredients don't always match up, or even make sense, but when the sushi is this good, who cares? Dining here was a rediscovery of how sensual sushi can be. Really good sushi, the kind served at Fuji, is dense in texture, yet light and oceanic in its flavors. A little bit goes a long way and is immensely satisfying.

The names and ingredients don't always match up, or even make sense, but when the sushi is this good, who cares? Dining here was a rediscovery of how sensual sushi can be. Really good sushi, the kind served at Fuji, is dense in texture, yet light and oceanic in its flavors. A little bit goes a long way and is immensely satisfying.

As a prelude to dinner, we enjoyed the "Fuji roll" ($7.95). Each slice was plump and heavy, packed with an array of hamachi, eel, scallions, cucumbers and asparagus. It was rolled in sesame seeds and flying-fish eggs for a blaze of atomic-orange color. Another appetizing variety is the "rock and roll" ($7.95), with tuna, eel, crab, asparagus and scallions. As a clever touch, the sliced rolls were cradled on the deck of a polished miniature boat platter.

As a prelude to dinner, we enjoyed the "Fuji roll" ($7.95). Each slice was plump and heavy, packed with an array of hamachi, eel, scallions, cucumbers and asparagus. It was rolled in sesame seeds and flying-fish eggs for a blaze of atomic-orange color. Another appetizing variety is the "rock and roll" ($7.95), with tuna, eel, crab, asparagus and scallions. As a clever touch, the sliced rolls were cradled on the deck of a polished miniature boat platter.

Moving along to soups and salads, we preferred osumashi ($1), clear fish broth, although the miso soup ($1) was not bad, with its soy-bean broth. We couldn't resist the hijiki ($4), a warm salad of black seaweed that had an intriguing smokiness. Of everything we ordered, this was the item that caused dueling chopsticks. A close second was ika karage ($4), strips of garlic-battered squid meat, then deep fried.

Moving along to soups and salads, we preferred osumashi ($1), clear fish broth, although the miso soup ($1) was not bad, with its soy-bean broth. We couldn't resist the hijiki ($4), a warm salad of black seaweed that had an intriguing smokiness. Of everything we ordered, this was the item that caused dueling chopsticks. A close second was ika karage ($4), strips of garlic-battered squid meat, then deep fried.

Out of curiosity, we tried the "Japanese curry" platter ($11.95), a medley of seafood, vegetables and rice in a mild sauce. It was OK but served as a reminder that curry is best saved for Indian restaurants.

Out of curiosity, we tried the "Japanese curry" platter ($11.95), a medley of seafood, vegetables and rice in a mild sauce. It was OK but served as a reminder that curry is best saved for Indian restaurants.

Adding to our enjoyment, the decor is simple and subdued. Lustrous wood partitions envelop the tables and make them seem utterly private, and the primary lighting comes from a single rice paper lantern.

Adding to our enjoyment, the decor is simple and subdued. Lustrous wood partitions envelop the tables and make them seem utterly private, and the primary lighting comes from a single rice paper lantern.

The service is sensitive and responsive. A glance from across the room brought someone immediately to the table. Fuji Sushi pays attention to detail – and it shows.

Casting into the pool of local seafood restaurants has always yielded an uncertain catch – water, water everywhere but not a decent broiled flounder to eat. That's what made a recent trip to Fulton's Crab House – the former Empress Lily gone Huck Finn – seem all the more like a fish tale. Were it possible, our dinner should have been stuffed and mounted, a trophy from a high-priced adventure.

A Saturday morning call secured a table for 8 o' clock that night. Fashionably late, we were whisked through two checkpoints to an upper-deck booth with a sunset view.

A Saturday morning call secured a table for 8 o' clock that night. Fashionably late, we were whisked through two checkpoints to an upper-deck booth with a sunset view.

With excellent service and insights provided by our waiter, we browsed the exhaustive menu over spicy Bloody Marys ($4.95) and the house crab dip and crispy lahvosh. The horseradish thickness in the drinks prompted an order of the oyster sampler platter (half-dozen $8.95, dozen $16.95) harvested from the Pacific Northwest. Other than names – Spencer Cove, Kumomoto, Malpeque, Penn Cove, Snow Creek and Quilcene – the twist on this succulent sampling was an awakening jalapeño Tabasco ice. We took our waiter up on the suggestion of Manila clams ($8.95), a deep bowl of tender clams steamed in a soy sauce and scallion broth, enhanced by a round of fragrant thyme-onion rolls.

With excellent service and insights provided by our waiter, we browsed the exhaustive menu over spicy Bloody Marys ($4.95) and the house crab dip and crispy lahvosh. The horseradish thickness in the drinks prompted an order of the oyster sampler platter (half-dozen $8.95, dozen $16.95) harvested from the Pacific Northwest. Other than names – Spencer Cove, Kumomoto, Malpeque, Penn Cove, Snow Creek and Quilcene – the twist on this succulent sampling was an awakening jalapeño Tabasco ice. We took our waiter up on the suggestion of Manila clams ($8.95), a deep bowl of tender clams steamed in a soy sauce and scallion broth, enhanced by a round of fragrant thyme-onion rolls.

Alaskan red king crab claws ($34.95) was the winning selection from the crab and lobster offerings. The Cousteau-worthy specimens neatly yielded meaty portions for dipping in drawn butter. Though the boiled red-skin potatoes were perfect, I found myself thinking of spicier versions on the menu, like roasted garlic and pepper whipped potatoes.

Alaskan red king crab claws ($34.95) was the winning selection from the crab and lobster offerings. The Cousteau-worthy specimens neatly yielded meaty portions for dipping in drawn butter. Though the boiled red-skin potatoes were perfect, I found myself thinking of spicier versions on the menu, like roasted garlic and pepper whipped potatoes.

From the fresh fish and seasonal specials came Alaska's Copper River king salmon – charcoal-grilled, served with field greens, roasted jalepeño tomato vinaigrette, corn salsa and rice ($22.95). This work of art and nature was best enjoyed like a sophisticated salad, scooping together petals of salmon with delicate greens and the chunky piquant salsa.

From the fresh fish and seasonal specials came Alaska's Copper River king salmon – charcoal-grilled, served with field greens, roasted jalepeño tomato vinaigrette, corn salsa and rice ($22.95). This work of art and nature was best enjoyed like a sophisticated salad, scooping together petals of salmon with delicate greens and the chunky piquant salsa.

The sun was down by the time we sipped cappuccinos ($2.95), savoring the divine sour cherry pie ($4.95) and milk chocolate crème brûlée ($3.95). But there's nothing like the sight of tourists throwing money around to help you loosen up and enjoy such a costly yet memorable indulgence.

Sad to say, there's not much of anything around lately that qualifies as genuine. Oranges are artificially colored, desserts are "naturally" sweetened, and don't get me started with the whole genetically altered deal. So finding an authentic eating place like Garibaldi's Mexican Restaurant is a treat.

The restaurant is named after Plaza Garibaldi, both a tourist center and local gathering place in Mexico City, alive with an almost perpetual fiesta. Garibaldi's isn't quite that frenetic, but the constant traffic on North Semoran (near the corner of Colonial Drive) brings a steady flow of diners. By all means, even if the inside dining area is free, sit outdoors (since they opened a couple of years ago, they've added an oversized fountain that muffles the noise) on a balmy night and fantasize about even sunnier climes.

The restaurant is named after Plaza Garibaldi, both a tourist center and local gathering place in Mexico City, alive with an almost perpetual fiesta. Garibaldi's isn't quite that frenetic, but the constant traffic on North Semoran (near the corner of Colonial Drive) brings a steady flow of diners. By all means, even if the inside dining area is free, sit outdoors (since they opened a couple of years ago, they've added an oversized fountain that muffles the noise) on a balmy night and fantasize about even sunnier climes.

It's probably a credit to the research department of a certain fast-food chain that you will recognize many of the terms on Garibaldi's extensive menu: gordita, chimi-changa and chalupa all make an appearance. These ain't no Madison Avenue inventions but real food done in the traditional way. And perhaps that's the problem with "authentic" – it's generally not very flamboyant or exciting.

"Fajitas de camerón" ($14) is just grilled shrimp, onions and peppers served with rice, beans, guacamole and tortillas for wrapping – not fancy but certainly tasty. "Flautas verdes" is nothing but corn tortillas rolled tightly around seasoned beef or chicken, then deep fried and topped with cheese and green salsa; it doesn't have fireworks or talking dogs, but it's $6.50 well spent.

"Fajitas de camerón" ($14) is just grilled shrimp, onions and peppers served with rice, beans, guacamole and tortillas for wrapping – not fancy but certainly tasty. "Flautas verdes" is nothing but corn tortillas rolled tightly around seasoned beef or chicken, then deep fried and topped with cheese and green salsa; it doesn't have fireworks or talking dogs, but it's $6.50 well spent.

Original dishes that do stand out are "fajitas Garibaldi" ($11), which adds chorizo sausage to a combination of chicken and beef on a sizzling iron pan, and "chile Colorado" ($7.95), a spicy beef and chili sauce platter. (And yes, it is served with beans – on the side). The selection of specialties is wide, but if you'd be happier with the standbys of tacos, burritos and enchiladas, there are 30 different combinations of same, along with chile rellenos and chalupas (all $6.50-$7).

Mexico's Plaza Garibaldi is also known for strolling mariachi bands, and we were quite thrilled to see a band tuning up in the parking lot when we drove up. The band is there several nights a week (call ahead). Be aware that they don't "stroll" but, like their compatriots in Mexico City, charge $15 a song if you want them to play. If you enjoy the authentic, ask for a real folk song (I suggest "La Negrita"), the experience is unique and worth the price just as the food is worth the trip.

The best part about the holiday season is that it's a perfectly justifiable excuse for stuffing yourself silly -- with the "New Year's resolution" ploy as a handy fallback.

So add George's Gourmet Cookies to your personal shopping list. The shop at 947 Orange Ave. in Winter Park complements the online store, www.georgesgourmetcookies.com, but both are dangerously tempting. Each cookie is about the size of a saucer, too thick to jam whole in your mouth unless you're very gifted, and loaded with things like dark gourmet chocolate, fresh-roasted peanuts, sweet cranberries, whole cherries and real butter.

So add George's Gourmet Cookies to your personal shopping list. The shop at 947 Orange Ave. in Winter Park complements the online store, www.georgesgourmetcookies.com, but both are dangerously tempting. Each cookie is about the size of a saucer, too thick to jam whole in your mouth unless you're very gifted, and loaded with things like dark gourmet chocolate, fresh-roasted peanuts, sweet cranberries, whole cherries and real butter.

George's has been making more than a dozen kinds of decadent cookies as well as ultrathick brownies and dessert bars (mmm, chocolate butterscotch) since 1989. He also offers sandwiches and soups at the shop, and drool-inducing gift baskets. Yeah, like any of it will leave your house.

Psst – I'm about to let you in on a secret. What's the cheapest theater ticket in town? Answer: Gino's Pizza & Brew III on Orange Avenue, just north of Church Street. No matter what the hour, the guys behind the counter launch into a kinetic, gritty version of Hell's Kitchen performance art every time the front door opens and a fresh horde of hungry seekers pin themselves against the counter. At night, the neon sign glows garishly over Orange Avenue, as the late-night crowd mixes with horn-rimmed yuppies. All this atmosphere for the cost of a slice of pizza? Now, that's entertainment.

We didn't review this location but you can check out the review of the Giovianni's in Oviedo.

Bryan Miller honored his Uncle Giovanni; he named his latest restaurant after him. Miller, an original owner of Positano's on Orlando's westside, and the Nikolaja brothers (whose family and recipes hail from Northern Italy) have enjoyed a successful year at their latest venue, Giovanni's Italian Restaurant & Pizzeria.

Located in the University Palms Shopping Center, it's bright and immaculate with minimalist décor: small tiles of ceramic floor covering, comfy booth seating, pale walls, a wide window-front, a few pictures, some plants, a shiny deli case, and BUSTLE. Our busy server was friendly, in that brash New York kind of way, and after a too-long wait for bread and water, she was efficient.

Located in the University Palms Shopping Center, it's bright and immaculate with minimalist décor: small tiles of ceramic floor covering, comfy booth seating, pale walls, a wide window-front, a few pictures, some plants, a shiny deli case, and BUSTLE. Our busy server was friendly, in that brash New York kind of way, and after a too-long wait for bread and water, she was efficient.

Appetizers ($3.95-$5.95) range from simple mozzarella sticks ($4.25) to the chef's baked clams oreganata ($5.95). We shared an enjoyable version of tomato bruschetta, heaped with diced tomatoes that actually tasted like tomatoes and crumbles of not-too-salty mozzarella.

Appetizers ($3.95-$5.95) range from simple mozzarella sticks ($4.25) to the chef's baked clams oreganata ($5.95). We shared an enjoyable version of tomato bruschetta, heaped with diced tomatoes that actually tasted like tomatoes and crumbles of not-too-salty mozzarella.

Salad lovers can choose from standard favorites ($2.50-$6.95): Caesar, spinach, chicken, tuna or chef. Our house salads were a fresh mix of greens, tomato, cucumber and carrots.

Salad lovers can choose from standard favorites ($2.50-$6.95): Caesar, spinach, chicken, tuna or chef. Our house salads were a fresh mix of greens, tomato, cucumber and carrots.

We looked forward to the soup course ($2.50) that chilly night and tried the minestrone. It did the job, acceptable in a nondescript sort of way.

We looked forward to the soup course ($2.50) that chilly night and tried the minestrone. It did the job, acceptable in a nondescript sort of way.

There's an interesting menu division of pastabilities: ziti, spaghetti or linguini can be had with any of seven sauces ($6.50-$7.75), from broccoli in garlic and oil to traditional tomato. A half-dozen baked pasta recipes ($7.25-$7.95) include those combinations you know and love: stuffed shells, ravioli, lasagna.

There's an interesting menu division of pastabilities: ziti, spaghetti or linguini can be had with any of seven sauces ($6.50-$7.75), from broccoli in garlic and oil to traditional tomato. A half-dozen baked pasta recipes ($7.25-$7.95) include those combinations you know and love: stuffed shells, ravioli, lasagna.

For the eight-item "pasta alla Giovanni" list ($8.50-$8.95), try the capellini primavera in a nicely spiced light sauce. For heartier appetites, the paglia fieno papalina combines green and white pasta with ham, mushrooms and peas, all in a tomato sauce with cream.

For the eight-item "pasta alla Giovanni" list ($8.50-$8.95), try the capellini primavera in a nicely spiced light sauce. For heartier appetites, the paglia fieno papalina combines green and white pasta with ham, mushrooms and peas, all in a tomato sauce with cream.

Among the calzones, the vegetarian version ($5.75) was a tasty, steaming combination of green peppers, spinach, broccoli, mushrooms, olives and onions.

Among the calzones, the vegetarian version ($5.75) was a tasty, steaming combination of green peppers, spinach, broccoli, mushrooms, olives and onions.

Unlike most aficionados of Italian food, I'm not a tiramisu freak, but I have to say Giovanni's version ($3.25) could make me convert.

Unlike most aficionados of Italian food, I'm not a tiramisu freak, but I have to say Giovanni's version ($3.25) could make me convert.

Importantly, the owner is on the premises here, and – especially with an eye toward a franchise business – aims to please. And if he promised Uncle Giovanni that in his name he'd dish up family-type food, he's done him right.

Seems like everywhere you look, there's another Giovanni.

I'm talking, of course, about Giovanni's Italian Restaurant, which is now a triplet with the addition of their newest location. I had to look up the location myself; drive all the way east on Curry Ford Road, then hang a left.

I'm talking, of course, about Giovanni's Italian Restaurant, which is now a triplet with the addition of their newest location. I had to look up the location myself; drive all the way east on Curry Ford Road, then hang a left.

Echoing the decor and menu of the other two establishments (Giovannises?), the place has Nu Yawk Eye-talian written all over it in hearty tomato-sauce letters, and that's a very good thing, indeed.

Echoing the decor and menu of the other two establishments (Giovannises?), the place has Nu Yawk Eye-talian written all over it in hearty tomato-sauce letters, and that's a very good thing, indeed.

If the pizzas don't tempt you, the "chicken sorrentino," "baked clams oreganata" and combine-it-yourself pasta combos will. This isn't a chain as much as a guy who likes cooking Italian food with a bunch of restaurants that he likes to keep an eye on. It's sort of a family thing ... no offense.

If the pizzas don't tempt you, the "chicken sorrentino," "baked clams oreganata" and combine-it-yourself pasta combos will. This isn't a chain as much as a guy who likes cooking Italian food with a bunch of restaurants that he likes to keep an eye on. It's sort of a family thing ... no offense.

Read the review on the Giovanni's located at Alafaya.

Jamacian bakery and rill serves island fare to the masses, most notably patties, those staple semicircles of flaky goodness. The spicy beef, fish, and veggie varieties are decent, though not great. What is great is the curried goat, an exotic dish with fatty pieces of meat lolling in rich, luxuriant gravy. Also worth a try is the braised oxtail and jerk chicken.

At one time it was home to corporate pizzas, as bland and predictable as the building they were made in. Today the shell of this former Pizza Hut still stands, but inside you will no longer find God-awful garlic bread served by minimum-wage slaves. Instead, at Greek Flame Taverna you'll find warm homemade pitas and other Greek treats served with pride by the Chrisan-thidis family.

They've tried to exorcise all the old deep-dish demons. The restaurant is painted classic blue and white. It's clean and decorated with pieces of Greek culture. There are Greek murals on the wall, classic statue replicas, traditional clothes on display and a map of Greece on the place mats.

The Greek Flame is far from fancy, but it's a nice alternative to fast food, especially if you're taking the kids out. The staff went out of its way to remind me how cute my son is. They also had a bunch of toys to keep him out of trouble while I read the laminated menu.

We sampled two appetizers. I found the saganaki ($4.95), a flaming cheese, to be an appropriate start. Just like the lighting of the Olympic torch, the cheese is set on fire and carried to the table. The fire is put out with lemon, which adds to the flavor. It tasted even better when wrapped inside a warm pita. I also enjoyed the spanakopita ($4.50), a light dish of spinach in a flaky phyllo dough.

I'm a relatively large man, so I ordered the "Hercules platter" ($9.95), which features large samples of four dishes. The gyro meat, a combination of beef and lamb, was served in thin shavings. It was tender and appropriately seasoned. The dolmades – grape leaves stuffed with ground meat and rice – were fine. I enjoyed the mousaka, layers of eggplant, ground beef and potato topped with béchamel sauce. Also delicious was the pistichio, a lasagna of ground beef and noodle, also topped with béchamel.

While Hercules and I were celebrating the thrill of victory, another member of our party was tasting the agony of defeat. She ordered a shrimp-and-garlic special ($10.95). While the shrimp was fresh and tasty, a couple of the jumbos were served without being properly cleaned (oops!).

After the shrimp slip-up, our table bounced back quickly with dessert. The Greek coffee ($1.25) gave us a lift somewhere between espresso and Cuban coffee. The baklava ($1.95) was obviously homemade, as was the galaktobouriko ($2.25), a Greek custard with phyllo dough.

Overall I was satisfied. The food is fine, and when it's time to pay the bill, you won't have to groan. A family of four can get their fill for about 40 bucks.

The sleepy barrio of Guavate, in the heart of Puerto Rico's Sierra de Cayey mountain range, has become a haven for palates with a penchant for pork, particularly of the roasted variety. The rotisseried piggies are as much of an attraction as the town's pastoral expanses, so it was a surprising to see just a handful of pork dishes on the expansive menu of this restaurant named after the mountain hamlet. There were no pigs impaled over open-air spits here, but we were excitedly informed that mondongo ($5.99) was available.

Not to be confused with Puerto Rico's national dish, mofongo, mondongo is, as our charming and informative waitress put it, 'drunk food.â?� The main ingredient of the hearty Latin American soup is typically beef tripe, but Boricuas use pig stomach to create the pungent, wonderfully seasoned meal in a bowl. The soup isn't for all tastes, but if you downed a few too many Medalla beers the night before, it will certainly help you regain your sobriety. Each comforting slurp is made all the more so with chunks of taro and potatoes.

If you sour at the sight of tripe, other soupy starters can be had. Less adventurous diners will find the broth of the asopao de pollo ($7.99) just as comforting. My dining partner remarked the chicken soup was reminiscent of her Puerto Rican sister-in-law's asopao, thanks to the inclusion of pigeon peas, olives, red peppers, taro and plenty of rice. For fried beginnings, the assorted meat appetizer platter ($9.99) offers a nice representation of the island's delicacies. Achiote-tinged potato balls stuffed with ground beef and mini meat turnovers begged for a splash of house-made hot sauce. Chicharrones (chicken cracklings) were nuggets of moistness, while alcapurrias, mahogany-hued cylinders of mashed plantains, starchy yautía and ground beef, failed to arouse our appetites.

Boricua kitchens are judged by the quality of their mofongo, and if you're a fan of the mashed-plantain-and-meat staple, you'll have a field day with the more than 20 varieties Guavate deftly churns out. The churrasco mofongo ($16.99) blended wonderfully tender chunks of chimichurri-basted skirt steak into an impressive heap of green plantains flavored with garlic and crispy pork skin. The mofongo didn't suffer from the desiccated texture often associated with the dish, but if you opt to enjoy it with a side of yautía (included), carb bloating is virtually assured. Chillo frito (red snapper, $15.99) was as flaky as it should've been, but it was the accompanying sauces ' a garlicky salsa ajillo and a zesty creole sauce thick with green peppers, onions and capers ' that really livened up the fish.

Such uncompromisingly traditional fare calls for traditional liquid refreshments, and fresh-squeezed juices like passion fruit ($2.99) and lemon ($2.99) are standout quaffs. Desserts, on the other hand, weren't as impressive ' a cinnamon blanket on jiggly tembleque ($3.50) negated any semblance of coconut essence, and creamy flan de queso ($2.99) could've used more caramel syrup.

Still, Guavate's dishes are a notch above other Puerto Rican restaurants in town, and the restaurant has left an indelible mark on regulars. A lease disagreement led to a relocation from East Colonial Drive to South Alafaya Trail, but the drive hasn't deterred patrons. Now if they'd just get that open-air spit â?¦.

There's nothing quite like the nostalgic feeling you get from eating at a restaurant made to look like flashback diners from the '60s. Unless it's the feeling you get from eating at the real thing.

Hampton's Drive-In Restaurant has stood, virtually unchanged, since 1957; its wood paneling and tile floors have been freshened but otherwise it's much the same. Brothers Gary and Barry Moore have owned the place (and Hampton's in Daytona) since 1980, but still serve the marinated, pressure-cooked fried chicken and award-winning hot dogs that made Hampton's famous. Dinner fare is familiar comfort food, from meat loaf to liver and onions to chicken fried steak to home-made pie.

Hampton's Drive-In Restaurant has stood, virtually unchanged, since 1957; its wood paneling and tile floors have been freshened but otherwise it's much the same. Brothers Gary and Barry Moore have owned the place (and Hampton's in Daytona) since 1980, but still serve the marinated, pressure-cooked fried chicken and award-winning hot dogs that made Hampton's famous. Dinner fare is familiar comfort food, from meat loaf to liver and onions to chicken fried steak to home-made pie.

The music is pure '50s and '60s oldies, the burgers are rare, the shakes are cold, and there's even curb service -- but, sorry, no roller-skating waitresses.

With its array of large pillars, HRC stands majestically like a Roman Coliseum of rock, boasting more pieces of rock and roll memorabilia than any other Hard Rock. Not only is there a vast, multi-level cafe, but throw in Hard Rock Live Orlando, a 3,000-person concert venue, and you've got a winner.

Having indulged in my fair share of cottage pies at Jimmy Mulvaney’s charming, unpretentious Irish boozer Claddagh Cottage, I was more than a little intrigued when word came that the pub owner (along with wife Kathy and food-service veterans Lisa and Rick Boyd) had taken over Scruffy Murphy’s once-future home to open an upscale gastropub fronted by a cordon bleu chef. Given Mulvaney’s deft skills as a bar proprietor, I was less concerned about the “pub” than I was the “gastro,” but as it turned out, the kitchen ultimately held up its end of the deal.

The “gastro,” it should be noted, is segregated from the “pub” next door and showcases Mulvaney’s skills as master artisan. Not only did he lay down the hardwood floors and take care of the wiring, Mulvaney junky-to-funkied the wooden desks left behind by the previous tenants and transformed them into beautifully crafted (if slightly upright) seating booths done in a rustic 1900s-era style. The quaint interior, with its low ceiling and exposed piping, is reminiscent of Claddagh Cottage, only decidedly classier and, at least on this Saturday evening, significantly quieter. If it weren’t for the catchy riff of “Day Tripper” and other Beatles classics being piped over the sound system, I’d likely be able to make out conversations in the kitchen. As a result, an unrivaled level of personalized service prevailed which, at times, bordered on intrusive, but it was understandable given the dearth of patrons.

And given chef Cody Patterson’s blue ribbon status, the menu, understandably, leans heavily on French cuisine. I was hoping for Irish soda bread inside the complimentary carb basket, but no such luck. Instead, it was beef and barley soup ($4) that offered a small taste of the Emerald Isle with its generous mélange of carrots, corn, green beans, peas and potatoes. Too bad the beef was lacking, and the few miniature morsels I did manage to sift out were ground, not cubed.

“Stop light prawns” ($9), so named because the trio of accompanying sauces resemble a stoplight, fared a little better. The fried plump curls were a smidgen greasy, but a dip into the olfactory-retarding wasabi mayo sauce proved to be the ultimate redeemer, while sweet mango chutney and zesty cocktail sauce were just as exceptional.

The Harp house salad ($4) left me wanting more – more brie, to be exact. The one negligible piece of warm soft cheese is a cruel addition to the mix of tomatoes, field greens, red onions and croutons. After all, no fromage-lover could eat just one small bite of brie; I’d rather they serve a significant slab of cheese with a berry compote, and let the greens be an adjunct to the dish, even if it meant an increase in price.

The two entrees I sampled were, conversely, flawless. Lamb persillade ($22) featured two racks of two chops each rubbed with honey mustard and rosemary, grilled, then roasted for a crisp finish. Creamy saffron risotto and grilled zucchini were ideal sides, but gnawing the utterly luscious flesh off the bone was what made this dish a truly enjoyable feast. The 10-ounce Angus beef filet ($33) was a tad overdone, but a superbly flavorful and prodigious cut nonetheless.

Desserts aren’t prepared in-house as yet, but don’t let that prevent you from indulging in the fabulous chocolate bombe ($6). The dome-shaped confection envelops airy dark and white chocolate mousse and rich chocolate ganache. Call me picky, but I didn’t care much for the raspberry drizzle, nor did I care much for the key lime pie ($4) which

My friend and I got to Harvey's Heathrow around 5 p.m., just as they were opening for the evening. We sidled into a bar booth and eagerly embraced our bronze paper menus. As my eyes rested on a delightful-sounding onion and ale soup with Gouda ($5), my friend said, "Oh, look. The beautiful people are arriving."

Startled out of my menu-reading trance, I looked up to watch a gaggle of golf shirts strutting in accompanied by fake boobs. Welcome to the Lake Mary dining scene, where replicas of great restaurants are set amidst the sprawl of construction.

The original Harvey's, a downtown Orlando establishment for more than 10 years, has decidedly kept up with the dining times, even if it's a little dated in appearance. The new Heathrow site has an updated appearance, while still maintaining the delicious set of standards upheld by the original.

The Harvey's in Heathrow differs from the original in one respect: The room is lighter and brighter and more airy than the dark-wood, bottom-floor-of-a-bank original. A shotgun dining room juts out from a spacious bar and is bathed in mint green and russet. Adorning every nook and cranny are design elements made of geometrical shapes – like the giant orb lamps suspended near small, angular square paintings.

We ordered a first course of lobster bisque ($5) and artichoke and cashew salad ($7) as we perused the menu for more. The lobster bisque was perfect: Sweet lobster meat mixed with rich, heavy cream that hit the tongue first. Then a subtle heat followed, tinged with pungent garlic and fragrant tarragon. Finally, a note of acidic sherry burst through, while the taste of cream still lingered. I was so absorbed that I barely had a chance to taste my friend's salad, but she insisted. Raspberry vinaigrette draped over greens and whole cashews made for a bright, clean flavor that paired well with artichoke hearts. We also tried Harvey's version of Caprese salad ($7), a mixture of underripe red and perfectly ripened yellow tomatoes stacked with fresh mozzarella cheese. This is a dish in which most restaurants miss the point. Let's face it: This is a seasonal salad, at its best when the ingredients are so fresh that the tomatoes are picked an hour before they're served (why even bother with a tasteless, green tomato?) and the cheese has been hand-pulled by the owner's grandmother in the basement. Unfortunately, Harvey's didn't quite meet that expectation, but the fresh basil and a crude pesto gave it some spunk.

The entrees are a mix of surf and turf with a few pasta dishes thrown in. My friend ordered the grilled petite tenderloin ($24), a succulent center cut of beef, well seasoned and cooked exactly to her desired doneness. A mélange of jardinière snow peas, carrots and onions, cooked tender with a refreshing snap of crispness, were dynamite. I eschewed my usual pot roast ($17) to try herb-crusted sea scallops on angel hair ($18). Drenched in a silky sauce of wine, garlic and clams, the pasta was irresistible. A few dollops of sautéed spinach made a bed for the herb-encrusted scallops, which tasted superb with nice salinity and a wonderful crust of herbed batter. But the four scallops themselves were a tad overcooked and on the rubbery side. There are many other choices, but if you like duck, don't miss the roasted half duck with triple sec and pistachio glaze ($19), a tribute to the undervalued bird.

For a nibble at the bar, I recommend ordering a bowl of truffle fries ($6), dusted with Parmesan and tossed with lightly fried shiitake mushrooms. They had a deft hand with truffle oil in the kitchen, and this dish was magic, instead of a mouthful of perfume.

We were full by dessert, but we couldn't resist at least sharing a slice of Key lime pie ($5), a pleasing balance of tartness and sweetness.

Harvey's is another successful addition to the expanding dining scene of the Lake Mary/ Heathrow area. Even if this part of town represents a maze of highways, malls, construction and suburban sprawl that I don't appreciate, at least they know how to eat up here.

There are some restaurants in Orlando that should have a revolving door installed. Or an erasable sign, at least. Take this one place in Casselberry, for example. In the past 16 years it has been Melon's, Crickets, Spirits, Heckle 'n Jeckle's, and now, Holly & Dolly's, which leads us to the one continuous factor that has tied them all together.

Actually, there are several continuous factors – mostly being beer, bar food and televisions – but the main one is spelled out over the front, nonrevolving door, and that is Dolly and her twin sister, Holly.

Actually, there are several continuous factors – mostly being beer, bar food and televisions – but the main one is spelled out over the front, nonrevolving door, and that is Dolly and her twin sister, Holly.

You'll see one or the other running around behind the bar or checking on a table (you might see both of them, but it's hard to tell), athletic women with masses of dark hair and a great deal of energy. They started their joint working careers that included four years as mermaids at Weeki Wachee Springs, spending wrinkly hours underwater for your tourist pleasure. Apparently tiring of cavorting with the clams, they discovered, Ariel-like, the existence of their legs, and spent 10 years dancing le cancan at Rosie O'Grady's, obviously in rebellion of their fish ancestry.

You'll see one or the other running around behind the bar or checking on a table (you might see both of them, but it's hard to tell), athletic women with masses of dark hair and a great deal of energy. They started their joint working careers that included four years as mermaids at Weeki Wachee Springs, spending wrinkly hours underwater for your tourist pleasure. Apparently tiring of cavorting with the clams, they discovered, Ariel-like, the existence of their legs, and spent 10 years dancing le cancan at Rosie O'Grady's, obviously in rebellion of their fish ancestry.

It was a short spin-and-kick to Melon's, and the dual barmaid gig seemed to be the right one for Dolly Heltsley and Holly Hall. When the place and its liquor license went up for sale, H and D took the bait (no pun intended) and Holly & Dolly's was born. Is it a dream come true? "No," Dolly says honestly, "but it's a steady business and we have a built-in clientele."

It was a short spin-and-kick to Melon's, and the dual barmaid gig seemed to be the right one for Dolly Heltsley and Holly Hall. When the place and its liquor license went up for sale, H and D took the bait (no pun intended) and Holly & Dolly's was born. Is it a dream come true? "No," Dolly says honestly, "but it's a steady business and we have a built-in clientele."

The sports bar/restaurant/neighborhood hangout looks typical, the bar being the focal point of the room, stools occupied by truckers and old farmers and students alike. Most of them are nursing beers and staring at the NTN trivia screens, punching half-hearted guesses about Shakespeare and sports into little keyboards. There are tables and booths on both sides, and the atmosphere is definitely more family place than meat market.

The sports bar/restaurant/neighborhood hangout looks typical, the bar being the focal point of the room, stools occupied by truckers and old farmers and students alike. Most of them are nursing beers and staring at the NTN trivia screens, punching half-hearted guesses about Shakespeare and sports into little keyboards. There are tables and booths on both sides, and the atmosphere is definitely more family place than meat market.

I would have expected more seafood on the menu, but the offerings do go beyond bar fare. Grilled grouper or fried tempura shrimp ($8.95 each) come with veggies and rice pilaf, and the kitchen does tuna steak as rare as you want it ($12.95). They also have pasta, sandwiches and a surprisingly long list of steaks available – try to get that at the corner saloon. Of course, bar food is available, but with little twists, like nibbles of gator or chunks of chicken breast served in wings sauce.

I would have expected more seafood on the menu, but the offerings do go beyond bar fare. Grilled grouper or fried tempura shrimp ($8.95 each) come with veggies and rice pilaf, and the kitchen does tuna steak as rare as you want it ($12.95). They also have pasta, sandwiches and a surprisingly long list of steaks available – try to get that at the corner saloon. Of course, bar food is available, but with little twists, like nibbles of gator or chunks of chicken breast served in wings sauce.

DJs on Saturday nights and live bands on Fridays crank up the volume and the crowd, but all in all it's a little "Cheers"-like, with food. "Hi Ed, how are you?" Dolly yells out from the bar, proving my point.

In dining, as in casino gambling, it helps to have a man on the inside. That's certainly the case at Hot Olives – the comfortably stylish Hannibal Square eatery that's been wending its way toward upscale fusion since taking over the site of the old Winter Park Grill in 2001. On a recent visit, our waitress welcomed us into her confidence by volunteering a couple of invaluable tidbits about the newly expanded menu: 1) the "spicy pecan salad" isn't really very spicy at all; and 2) even folks who think they don't like olives go crazy for the house-specialty appetizer, the "spicy fried olives."

She was right on both counts. The fried olives ($7) were simply mouth-watering, their breaded exterior and Asiago cheese-infused innards enough to tempt the most olive-wary martini-phobe. Dunking one of the delicious nuggets in the attendant dip – a swirl of blue cheese and three-chili sauce – brought the experience up yet another notch of memorability. It's easy to see why these namesake noshes are such a popular choice.

She was right on both counts. The fried olives ($7) were simply mouth-watering, their breaded exterior and Asiago cheese-infused innards enough to tempt the most olive-wary martini-phobe. Dunking one of the delicious nuggets in the attendant dip – a swirl of blue cheese and three-chili sauce – brought the experience up yet another notch of memorability. It's easy to see why these namesake noshes are such a popular choice.

As promised, nothing about the "spicy pecan salad" ($9) had us crying hoarsely for water, though the placement of toasted pecans, gorgonzola cheese and Granny Smith apple slices atop field greens produced a taste of its own pleasant distinction. For a more daring palate, there's the "Anjou pear and Cajun walnut salad" ($9), with the sprinkle of piquant nuts adding quite a kick to the assemblage of pears, greens and crumbled feta cheese.

As promised, nothing about the "spicy pecan salad" ($9) had us crying hoarsely for water, though the placement of toasted pecans, gorgonzola cheese and Granny Smith apple slices atop field greens produced a taste of its own pleasant distinction. For a more daring palate, there's the "Anjou pear and Cajun walnut salad" ($9), with the sprinkle of piquant nuts adding quite a kick to the assemblage of pears, greens and crumbled feta cheese.

As an entree, we opted for the herb-crusted grouper ($18), which reveled in a positively buttery texture that placed it among the finest specimens of this favorite fish we've yet encountered. The dish's sole failing – and it's our only strong criticism of the entire meal – was the topping of onions, which struck us as idling uncomfortably between the raw and the sautéed. Don't you hate it when a vegetable can't make up its mind?

As an entree, we opted for the herb-crusted grouper ($18), which reveled in a positively buttery texture that placed it among the finest specimens of this favorite fish we've yet encountered. The dish's sole failing – and it's our only strong criticism of the entire meal – was the topping of onions, which struck us as idling uncomfortably between the raw and the sautéed. Don't you hate it when a vegetable can't make up its mind?

The sesame-seared ahi tuna ($17) went down smooth and tender, another standout in a crowded field – but be careful with the Szechuan sauce, which if not applied sparingly can overwhelm the bed of orzo and stir-fried vegetables.

The sesame-seared ahi tuna ($17) went down smooth and tender, another standout in a crowded field – but be careful with the Szechuan sauce, which if not applied sparingly can overwhelm the bed of orzo and stir-fried vegetables.

Ordering from the dessert tray yielded two more success stories: The Snickers cheesecake ($6) had a terrifically gooey cohesion. Just as delectable was the macadamia nut pie ($6), overflowing with nuts and ending in a thin, soft crust that could have been a meal-finishing sweet in its own right.

Ordering from the dessert tray yielded two more success stories: The Snickers cheesecake ($6) had a terrifically gooey cohesion. Just as delectable was the macadamia nut pie ($6), overflowing with nuts and ending in a thin, soft crust that could have been a meal-finishing sweet in its own right.

With menu assets like these, you could forgive a restaurant for being light on ambience, but Hot Olives has it in spades. Outside patio seating is available, with blazing torches in place to make al fresco dining comfortable no matter the season. On the inside, faux-marble tabletops and rattan-backed chairs are laid out in an airy configuration; the effect is high-toned, yet just cozy enough to keep sterility at bay. Segregating interior from exterior are glass panels that mist up winsomely on rainy nights, imparting a feeling of pampered isolation from the outlying neighborhood. Acoustically, the room can be a bit loud, which poses a problem when all the tables are full. You should be whispering, anyway – how better to pick up that priceless insider knowledge the waitstaff is so eager to share with you?