Locations in Orlando

As one might expect, the N. Park Ave. Deli & Food Mart is on the famous Park Avenue in Winter Park. But it's on NORTH Park Avenue, the more unsightly other end of the spectrum than the chichi shops. For years, the previous owners – Anna Federer, a native Hungarian, and her husband – made their mark by offering hot goulash, among the other ethnic recipes, in the deli behind the counter of what's really a convenience store. Now retired, the Federers still own the building but a new couple is carrying on the tradition, sans goulash.

Still, the deli carries an interesting menu of cheap sandwiches and subs. A healthy egg salad on wheat with lettuce and tomatoes costs $3.19. Or take home a pound of the egg salad for $4.19. The hefty hummus and tabouli on a wrap was $4.99. The tabouli tasted a bit different than the typical varieties sold about town; this version was thick with moist bulgur wheat and thoroughly infused with the lemon juice and olive oil. It was full of flavor.

The deli also prepares the usual varieties of cold or hot sandwiches ($4.79-$5.19), from a fried chicken sandwich with fries to a tuna melt on pita. The Reuben sampled was prepared and heated in style, but there was a non-discussed substitution of cheddar cheese for Swiss. The fries were a wonder, though, thick and crispy, cooked in an auto-fry machine just for me.

The deli sits a block before North Park merges into U.S. Hwy. 17-92, near Maitland, so it's tucked off the main road and looks a bit junky, unless you're a local who knows better. And after hours, don't be shocked by the sight of the metal security gates that all but obscure the front of the store.

We didn't review this location but you can check out the review of the N.Y.P.D. Pizza & Delicatessen on Orange Avenue.

Coffee and Internet access: They go together like skateboards and beer. Nothing like answering important e-mail while throwing back your third espresso.

While just about every caffeine pusher in town is also a wireless connection hotspot, the folks at Natura Coffee & Tea brew what they consider the finest beans available: from Cafe Britt, a Costa Rican company that supplies green (unroasted) coffee to Starbucks, Barnies and illy. Go right to the source, we say, and sample grinds like Shade Grown Organic and Tarrazú Montecielo.

While just about every caffeine pusher in town is also a wireless connection hotspot, the folks at Natura Coffee & Tea brew what they consider the finest beans available: from Cafe Britt, a Costa Rican company that supplies green (unroasted) coffee to Starbucks, Barnies and illy. Go right to the source, we say, and sample grinds like Shade Grown Organic and Tarrazú Montecielo.

Natura also serves Sir Aubrey's English teas for those with a more refined taste, along with quiche, croissants and sweet treats like brownies and cheesecake. The techno-hungry can satisfy their jones on Dell workstations and a T1/broadband Internet connection, along with high-speed wireless access from the comfy sofa.

It's pretty amazing what's happening on the west side of Winter Park. Avoiding for the moment the social and economic implications of the area's growth, I'll just say that on the dining front, we're getting a lot more choices.

Some choices didn't work. The East India Market, an upscale and rather tony shop, has given way to the latest location for O'Boys Real Smoked Bar-B-Q, and for the most part it's a change for the better. (Although as far as I'm concerned, you just can't have too many places that sell walnut vinegar.)

Some choices didn't work. The East India Market, an upscale and rather tony shop, has given way to the latest location for O'Boys Real Smoked Bar-B-Q, and for the most part it's a change for the better. (Although as far as I'm concerned, you just can't have too many places that sell walnut vinegar.)

O'Boys -- which sort of sounds like another teen band -- has been a longtime fave at its West Colonial location near the O-rena. I mean the TD Waterhouse Centre. It's a step or two up from the level of roadhouse-shack smoker joint (which we all love) and many steps below the themed, expensive, "barbecue is an art form" establishment that dots the tourist landscape. You know the ones: all smoke, no flavor. O'Boys, on the other hand, definitely has flavor. It's a nice, comfortable place, nothing fancy about it, with booths around a small bar and a pleasant outdoor eating area. And it sure smells good.

The menu offers enough variations to satisfy most folk, including Caesar, chef's and green salads liberally topped with chicken or turkey, and a wide range of sandwiches and burgers. But we came here for barbecue, and by gum, we got it.

The menu offers enough variations to satisfy most folk, including Caesar, chef's and green salads liberally topped with chicken or turkey, and a wide range of sandwiches and burgers. But we came here for barbecue, and by gum, we got it.

Specials after 3 p.m. are "all-you-can-eat," and if you're lucky enough to come on a Saturday, you can chose beef, pork, chicken or ribs. Otherwise, I'd suggest the "sampler platter," which includes a huge amount of everything for $10.95. The short ribs are moist, and the sliced beef and pork are quite wonderful, slightly pink on the edges with just the right smoked flavor. I have to say I wasn't all that happy with the chicken. It's not as smothered in sauce as some places insist on doing, but the white meat was rather dry. I don't like to have to work quite that hard to chew. I did like the thin-sliced smoked turkey -- tender, with a nice hickory flavor.

Dinners come with salad or a finely chopped slaw, baked beans and garlic bread, which is nice as long as you eat it when it's hot. Avoid the uninspired french fries; wait until after 5 p.m. and have a baked sweet potato instead. Yum.

The boys of O'Boys pride themselves on their secret-recipe sauces, and three are offered at the table: a vinegar base, a lovely sweet-and-warm mustard and the Red Bottle. Red means "warning" -- this stuff is hot!

The boys of O'Boys pride themselves on their secret-recipe sauces, and three are offered at the table: a vinegar base, a lovely sweet-and-warm mustard and the Red Bottle. Red means "warning" -- this stuff is hot!

O'Boys is a local favorite, and rightfully so. Grab a rack and dig in.

Shopping near the West Oaks Mall a few weeks ago -- on my 27th trip to the hardware store for a home renovation project -- I spotted an unusual sign: "October Rice," it said, "a Chinese Cuisinery."

Open since last September, the "cuisinery" is nestled in a strip mall between a uniform store and a bar-stool outlet, so you might not expect to find more than garden-variety food. And with only five little tables in a small space, an open kitchen and counter service, October Rice doesn't look like a sit-down restaurant.

But, appointed in lovely shades of light and dark woods, and deep-blue lighting fixtures, the atmosphere seems to convince people coming in for take-out to stay. The counter and tables fill up quickly with people enjoying skillfully crafted renditions of familiar dishes.

The menu is beautiful, printed on creamy paper with elegant type, but the prices are more than reasonable.

The food sticks to the standard Chinese fare that you'd find on most menus but makes credible use of well-chosen and well-prepared ingredients. October Rice makes a savory hot-and-sour soup ($1.75), with strips of chicken and tofu cubes in a broth sharp with vinegar and spices. "Chinese ravioli" ($4.50) are deep fried wontons filled with chicken -- a bit too crisp on this visit but still a pleasant combination of flavors and textures. Chicken teriyaki ($3.75) is oven-roasted and brushed, not drowned, in dark sauce and served with crisply saut?ed vegetables.

The "festival of the sea" special combined plump shrimp, tender and moist stir-fried scallops and a chunk of lobster in a surprisingly light soy/wine sauce that didn't cover up the taste of the seafood ($11.95). The "sweet & sour" chicken ($6.95) hearkens back to days when chefs actually used pineapple and pickles, instead of sugar syrup and vinegar, to create the two contrasting flavors. Bravo for that. The wok-fried tofu ($6.25) is soft bean curd and vegetables seared in garlic and soy sauce, a much-needed alternative choice for the veggies among us.

In another unexpected move, food is served in take-away containers with plastic cutlery -- but they're the sturdiest containers I've seen. (I'm still using them.)

In Asia, rice is traditionally harvested in October, when much-needed rains from the monsoon season have ended and the 100 days of growing are over. Even in the U.S., October rice harvest festivals pop up all over Texas, Arkansas and Louisiana. So October Rice alludes to an important time of the year for an important resource. Plus, it's a wonderfully lyrical name.

Judaic dietary law dictates that in order for a kitchen to be considered kashrut, dairy products and ritually slaughtered meat (beef and chicken) need to be segregated. As a result, you won’t find cheese pizza at a kosher deli with a meat kitchen, or beef brisket at a kosher sandwich joint with a dairy kitchen. Olé Gourmet falls into the latter category, and because of the dearth of meat dishes (fish notwithstanding), it’s become a draw for area vegetarians intrigued by the mix of Mediterranean, Mexican, Italian and, of course, Israeli staples.

The small space is dominated by mustard and coffee-colored walls, not to mention a sizable open kitchen where owner Ed Leibowitz, as friendly and accommodating a chap as you’ll ever meet, along with his wife Bracha and sous-chef Meir Kokin, prepare a slew of items from the multicultural menu, often with mixed results. Fried falafel anchors the Israeli platter ($13.95) and while the crisp, greaseless chickpea croquettes met all textural requirements, the flavor had the distinct flavor and aroma of the sea, likely because they were fried in the same oil as the fish and chips ($8.95). Matbucha, a cooked salad dish brought to the Holy Land by North African immigrants, was the winner of the lot with its fiery mix of tomatoes, roasted peppers, olive oil and garlic. Tearing up a piece of pita bread and scooping up Turkish eggplant salad also proved enjoyable, but the hummus and vinegary red cabbage salad were both a tad ordinary. Baba ganoush, tahini and tabouli (items listed as part of the platter) failed to materialize, but I later learned that the platter includes falafel and your choice of five items. This isn’t evident from reading the menu, and nothing was mentioned, so the house made the selections for me.

Sesame-flecked bureka ($8.50), another Turkish staple, disappointed, but had it been served warm, it could’ve been the fulfilling, flaky, potato-filled pastry I was expecting. The ashen core of the accompanying hard-boiled egg marked it as a victim of overboiling, though garden-fresh Israeli salad – cubed cucumbers and tomatoes splashed with lemon juice and olive oil – made an ideal palate cleanser.

The mild brining and smoky essence of Nova salmon ($11.95) should please fans of the cured fish, though I can’t say I was all too crazy about the oily consistency. The platter also came with a toasted bagel, cream cheese and chopped salad.

Doughy pizza olé ($12.95) is a saucy number made all the more gooey by a liberal crumbling of feta and mozzarella cheese, and further burdened by a healthy dose of olives and onions. Ungluing a pie wedge from the plate was an exercise in patience; shoving it into my mouth required speed, agility and dexterous use of my digits. Ultimately, the slice collapsed under the weight of the toppings, but the flavors were good.

For dessert, the Mount Hermon ($5.95), a moist, chocolatey representation of the Israeli peak, is everything a warm homemade brownie should be, with two dollops of melting vanilla ice cream resembling the snowy summit. Cherry essence overwhelmed the thick slab of chocolate “mudcake” ($4.95).

Olé means “going up” in Hebrew, and it’s a fitting moniker, considering the Leibowitzes’ commitment to elevating the standards of the fare. Paring down their extensive menu and focusing on dishes they do best will help them get to that promised land.

When you think of deep-fried squid, the word "beautiful" doesn't usually come to mind. But what we saw at Olympia Restaurant changed our minds. Sitting before us was a simple platter of what the Greek refer to as kalamari: a delicate, undulating tangle of generously carved squid steaks. They were lightly fried with a lacy batter and presented with lemon wedges, fried onions and peppers.

We could almost taste the Greek elements -- sunshine, earth and sea -- that inspired the food which kept coming out of the kitchen on the night we visited. While this restaurant is elegant in a gently worn way, the setting is decidedly humble on Colonial Drive, east of Goldenrod Road. Like a hardy olive tree that's rooted deep, Olympia Restaurant has been serving authentic Greek cuisine since 1979.

Although it's been nearly 40 years since the Vasiliadis family left Greece for America, they make regular pilgrimages back to the islands for culinary inspiration, from the tiniest fishing villages to the streets of Athens. Then they bring their impressions back to Orlando and work them into the menu, which is made up of old family recipes which have been tweaked through the years.

In addition to the kalamari ($6.95), we also had a feta saganaki appetizer ($5.95), which was a satisfying platter of steamy pita wedges arranged around a pot of warm dipping sauce, made of melted feta cheese, olives, pepperoncinis.

The "Hercules platter" ($13.95) is an easy way to sample the menu, featuring roast lamb and gyro meat. There also were dolmathes, marinated grape leaves wrapped around a stuffing of spiced beef, onions and rice, spanakopita, a delicate spinach pastry wrapped in flaky phyllo dough, and tsatsiki, a mild dipping sauce of yogurt, cucumbers and garlic. There also was a taste of moussaka, which my guest ordered as a full entree ($8.95). That's hearty but mild dish built of layers of sliced and fried potatoes on the bottom, fried eggplant and spicy ground beef in the middle, and a light, creamy béchamel sauce on top.

Our waitress was attentive and thorough, yet she gave us our space. This is a pleasant spot for a leisurely dining respite. And on Friday and Saturday nights, the setting includes traditional belly dancing shows at 9 p.m. and 10:30 p.m.

The wilds of east Orlando, almost to the edge of civilization where Colonial Drive intersects Alafaya Trail, is not an area that immediately springs to mind for those on the hunt for good sushi; burgers, steakhouses, Wal-Mart and used-car lots, yes. Sushi, not so much.

Tucked away in the Alafaya Commons Plaza, a few stores west of the Publix, is Origami Sushi, an island of hip serenity in a vast sea of suburbia. Outside it looks like every other store in the strip mall. Inside the walls are painted soothing tones of muted, dusky green and burnt orange, the lighting is toned down and there are Japanese screen prints on the walls. Think funky minimalism and you'll get an appropriate mental picture.

Tucked away in the Alafaya Commons Plaza, a few stores west of the Publix, is Origami Sushi, an island of hip serenity in a vast sea of suburbia. Outside it looks like every other store in the strip mall. Inside the walls are painted soothing tones of muted, dusky green and burnt orange, the lighting is toned down and there are Japanese screen prints on the walls. Think funky minimalism and you'll get an appropriate mental picture.

Added bonus: The sushi's good, too.

Added bonus: The sushi's good, too.

Many factors go into a memorable sushi experience, but when the discussion is limited to the food, what counts is the quality and cut of the fish, the consistency and taste of the rice, and the presentation. Origami gets all three right.

Many factors go into a memorable sushi experience, but when the discussion is limited to the food, what counts is the quality and cut of the fish, the consistency and taste of the rice, and the presentation. Origami gets all three right.

Maguro (tuna, $3.95) and sake (salmon, $3.95) sushi came from the bar on a proper geta (a small wooden block used as a plate), each piece an identically formed ball of rice topped with, but not covered by, a slice of fish. Report card: "A" for presentation.

Maguro (tuna, $3.95) and sake (salmon, $3.95) sushi came from the bar on a proper geta (a small wooden block used as a plate), each piece an identically formed ball of rice topped with, but not covered by, a slice of fish. Report card: "A" for presentation.

With the exception of squid, which will take a few chomps, sushi fish should melt in your mouth, no chewing necessary. Both the tuna and the salmon dissolved without much additional help. That's the mark of sushi-quality, correctly cut fish. Report card: "A" for fish.

With the exception of squid, which will take a few chomps, sushi fish should melt in your mouth, no chewing necessary. Both the tuna and the salmon dissolved without much additional help. That's the mark of sushi-quality, correctly cut fish. Report card: "A" for fish.

Sushi rice is itself a deceptive art form -- how hard can it be to make vinegared rice? Very, judging by the lumpy, starchy version common in sushi restaurants. Origami's rice was another story; slightly sweet, it held together when handled with chopsticks (you're supposed to dip your sushi into the soy sauce fish-side down, you know), yet retained its granularity. Report card: "A" for nice rice.

Sushi rice is itself a deceptive art form -- how hard can it be to make vinegared rice? Very, judging by the lumpy, starchy version common in sushi restaurants. Origami's rice was another story; slightly sweet, it held together when handled with chopsticks (you're supposed to dip your sushi into the soy sauce fish-side down, you know), yet retained its granularity. Report card: "A" for nice rice.

The rolls (maki) were less of a success. I tried a "New Orleans roll" ($6.95) that was a mixture of crab salad, scallions, avocado and spicy mayonnaise, and found it interesting, if a bit heavy due to the mayonnaise.

The rolls (maki) were less of a success. I tried a "New Orleans roll" ($6.95) that was a mixture of crab salad, scallions, avocado and spicy mayonnaise, and found it interesting, if a bit heavy due to the mayonnaise.

Then there are the "special" rolls. Sushi purists probably wouldn't order them anyway, dismissing them as a Western bastardization of Japanese cooking, but I gave it a shot for the sake of diversity. The "heaven roll" ($9.95) crammed just about everything in the kitchen (salmon, tuna, asparagus, cream cheese and flying fish eggs) into a roll, batter fried (tempura) the result, and served it up sliced on the diagonal. Again, the adjective that comes to mind is "interesting" or perhaps "filling." I wouldn't exactly call it "tasty."

Then there are the "special" rolls. Sushi purists probably wouldn't order them anyway, dismissing them as a Western bastardization of Japanese cooking, but I gave it a shot for the sake of diversity. The "heaven roll" ($9.95) crammed just about everything in the kitchen (salmon, tuna, asparagus, cream cheese and flying fish eggs) into a roll, batter fried (tempura) the result, and served it up sliced on the diagonal. Again, the adjective that comes to mind is "interesting" or perhaps "filling." I wouldn't exactly call it "tasty."

Appetizers were also hit-and-miss. The batter on both the chicken ($3.95) and vegetable ($3.50) tempura was crunchy, light and perfect. But a deep-fried soft-shell crab ($6.95) came to the table greasy on the outside and cold on the inside -- a disappointment at the price.

Appetizers were also hit-and-miss. The batter on both the chicken ($3.95) and vegetable ($3.50) tempura was crunchy, light and perfect. But a deep-fried soft-shell crab ($6.95) came to the table greasy on the outside and cold on the inside -- a disappointment at the price.

Service throughout the meal was attentive but not bothersome, in keeping with the low-key atmosphere. The clientele was young, indicating that the University of Central Florida crowd has found the place. Perhaps the far-out location was a shrewd business move after all.

There's something about a steel drum band and a beer from Trinidad that urges you to kick back. The little Caribbean eatery Paradise Island Cafe has just introduced the mix-and-mingle concept from 5:30 p.m.-7:30 p.m. Fridays, and more than a few downtown professional types have been showing up. Five dollars buys all the Caribbean hors d'oeuvres you can eat.

Lunch also is a busy time at the cafe, which looks like a little West Indian convenience market when you first walk in, until you go past the counter into the dining area, which seats 50. The crowd spills over to the cafe tables outside. Top lunchtime requests are the succulent boneless jerk chicken ($6.95) and the beefy "oxtails," which are simmered in Jamaican herbs and spices ($5.95).

It would be easy for passersby to miss Park Ave. Pizza & Italian Restaurant, as its facade is a simple storefront amid all the pomp of Winter Park. Don't expect much better on the inside of this modest and very casual eatery. There are about five tables covered in plastic tablecloths, and the dining space is small, with a takeout counter and soda dispenser on one end. The delivery guy did double duty as our server, and the departure from the typical aloofness of the Winter Park waiters was refreshing.

I began my meal with fried calamari ($6.50). They were served in a basket with marinara sauce and were curiously all the same size, indicating their swim had taken them only from the freezer to the fryer. Chewy and overcooked, they resembled fried rubberbands. The Greek salad ($5.95) was large and had fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, black olives and feta cheese. The only problem was that there was no Greek dressing to be had, so my choices were of the salad-bar variety and thus a little disappointing.

I began my meal with fried calamari ($6.50). They were served in a basket with marinara sauce and were curiously all the same size, indicating their swim had taken them only from the freezer to the fryer. Chewy and overcooked, they resembled fried rubberbands. The Greek salad ($5.95) was large and had fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, black olives and feta cheese. The only problem was that there was no Greek dressing to be had, so my choices were of the salad-bar variety and thus a little disappointing.

But people don't come here for the salad or the appetizers; they come for the pizza. It's sold by the slice ($2-$3.75) or by the pie ($7-$27.50), and there is something on the menu for every pizza craving. We had the small, 12-inch cheese pizza with pepperoni, olives and mushrooms. The dough was hand-tossed by the owner/chef right before our eyes, so we knew it was fresh and authentic. The taste only verified this. The pizza had been baked perfectly, and the crust was a golden brown. Judging by the general inhaling of pizza going on around us, every pizza prepared is of equal quality and possesses the same great flavor.

But people don't come here for the salad or the appetizers; they come for the pizza. It's sold by the slice ($2-$3.75) or by the pie ($7-$27.50), and there is something on the menu for every pizza craving. We had the small, 12-inch cheese pizza with pepperoni, olives and mushrooms. The dough was hand-tossed by the owner/chef right before our eyes, so we knew it was fresh and authentic. The taste only verified this. The pizza had been baked perfectly, and the crust was a golden brown. Judging by the general inhaling of pizza going on around us, every pizza prepared is of equal quality and possesses the same great flavor.

The baked ziti ($7) was truly delicious. The large portion came smothered in mozzarella. The sauce was tangy, full of tomatoes and mixed with ricotta cheese. This dish would have been perfect had the ziti noodles been prepared al dente, as opposed to overcooked.

The baked ziti ($7) was truly delicious. The large portion came smothered in mozzarella. The sauce was tangy, full of tomatoes and mixed with ricotta cheese. This dish would have been perfect had the ziti noodles been prepared al dente, as opposed to overcooked.

Some Winter Parkians might be horrified at not having 10 choices of waters and at the thought of having to get their own refills. But the no-frills Park Ave. Pizza is first and foremost a pizza joint, and a good one. You can eat in, take it out or have them deliver. If you dine in, you'll get to absorb the family atmosphere and possibly catch a rerun of Friends or Seinfeld on one of the large TVs. The husband and wife who recently opened this restaurant are not concerned with decor or with the patrons overhearing them call for the delivery guy in two languages; they are concerned with making a wonderful pizza. The down-to-earth, low-key style is a nice addition to Park Avenue's predictability.

I had a hard time pinning down what kind of food it is namesake chef Justin Plank turns out of the kitchen of this renamed venture in a tenured Park Avenue location, so I went to the restaurant's website and came up with this gem: "New Euro Florida cuisine with a retro flair led by Mediterranean flavors with a slight Pan-Asian influence." In other words, they're not really sure what they're cooking either. had a hard time pinning down what kind of food it is namesake chef Justin Plank turns out of the kitchen of this renamed venture in a tenured Park Avenue location, so I went to the restaurant's website and came up with this gem: "New Euro Florida cuisine with a retro flair led by Mediterranean flavors with a slight Pan-Asian influence." In other words, they're not really sure what they're cooking either.

The line sounds like description by committee, or a new stab at reviving the "fusion" label, and it does a disservice to what Park Plaza is about: reliably good, innovative dishes served with style and flair in an atmosphere that does justice to the Park Avenue address. The place has casual-yet-refined feel to it; you can hang out on the sidewalk café and watch the poseurs pass by, you can take a seat at the renovated bar, or you can sit down for a full meal and enjoy the outdoors-indoors feel of the patio/restaurant. That's not trendy, it's just cool.

The line sounds like description by committee, or a new stab at reviving the "fusion" label, and it does a disservice to what Park Plaza is about: reliably good, innovative dishes served with style and flair in an atmosphere that does justice to the Park Avenue address. The place has casual-yet-refined feel to it; you can hang out on the sidewalk café and watch the poseurs pass by, you can take a seat at the renovated bar, or you can sit down for a full meal and enjoy the outdoors-indoors feel of the patio/restaurant. That's not trendy, it's just cool.

We went for the full-meal treatment, kicking it off with "Chef Justin's risotto" ($9), an appetizer easily big enough for two that featured cubes of roast duck and mango. While the duck was cut too small to add much to the dish, the mango imparted a sweetness that proved an excellent complement to the texture of the risotto. Another appetizer, "The Plaza wedge" ($7), was just as ambitious, if less successful. It turned out to be a hunk of iceberg lettuce topped with Gouda cheese, a slice of prosciutto and cherry tomatoes in herbed balsamic vinaigrette. Iceberg lettuce is always a problem at this price point, and the vinaigrette was too sweet. On the other hand, I'll sing the praises of "Chef Justin's five onion soup" ($6) to the rafters; it may well be the best bowl of onion soup on the planet. This hearty, intoxicating mixture of red, green and yellow onions, shallots and chives, topped with provolone, is the antidote for anyone who thinks onion soup has to be a thin, salty broth with slivers of white onions and bread cubes floating around in it.

We went for the full-meal treatment, kicking it off with "Chef Justin's risotto" ($9), an appetizer easily big enough for two that featured cubes of roast duck and mango. While the duck was cut too small to add much to the dish, the mango imparted a sweetness that proved an excellent complement to the texture of the risotto. Another appetizer, "The Plaza wedge" ($7), was just as ambitious, if less successful. It turned out to be a hunk of iceberg lettuce topped with Gouda cheese, a slice of prosciutto and cherry tomatoes in herbed balsamic vinaigrette. Iceberg lettuce is always a problem at this price point, and the vinaigrette was too sweet. On the other hand, I'll sing the praises of "Chef Justin's five onion soup" ($6) to the rafters; it may well be the best bowl of onion soup on the planet. This hearty, intoxicating mixture of red, green and yellow onions, shallots and chives, topped with provolone, is the antidote for anyone who thinks onion soup has to be a thin, salty broth with slivers of white onions and bread cubes floating around in it.

When the entrées came, I was a bit reluctant to dig in to mine – an herb-crusted roast pork tenderloin on a bed of root vegetables ($26) – because it looked so darn pretty arranged just so and topped with a hibiscus bud. It proved as good as it looked; the pork was as tender as quality beef with an infused smoky sweetness. The sauce also picked up sweetness and texture from the cranberries and cashews, and overall the dish was polished and satisfying.

When the entrées came, I was a bit reluctant to dig in to mine – an herb-crusted roast pork tenderloin on a bed of root vegetables ($26) – because it looked so darn pretty arranged just so and topped with a hibiscus bud. It proved as good as it looked; the pork was as tender as quality beef with an infused smoky sweetness. The sauce also picked up sweetness and texture from the cranberries and cashews, and overall the dish was polished and satisfying.

A seafood bouillabaisse ($36) came to the table looking every bit as gorgeous, filled as it was with mussels, giant prawns, clams, fish and half a Maine lobster tail. I had high expectations, given the price, and was a bit disappointed. The lobster and prawns were grilled before being added and were a touch dry, while the clams and mussels did get a chance to stew in the juices and benefited from it. The stock was hearty and fishy, with a subtle curry flavor Chef Justin himself attributes to his use of star anise and Pernod. The trouble was that the spicing just didn't seem to make its way into the larger chunks of seafood.

A seafood bouillabaisse ($36) came to the table looking every bit as gorgeous, filled as it was with mussels, giant prawns, clams, fish and half a Maine lobster tail. I had high expectations, given the price, and was a bit disappointed. The lobster and prawns were grilled before being added and were a touch dry, while the clams and mussels did get a chance to stew in the juices and benefited from it. The stock was hearty and fishy, with a subtle curry flavor Chef Justin himself attributes to his use of star anise and Pernod. The trouble was that the spicing just didn't seem to make its way into the larger chunks of seafood.

Service was courteous to a fault, attentive without being annoying, in keeping with the Continental atmosphere of the restaurant. But overall the experience felt pricey. When entrees get into the $30 range, they'd better be something to burst into song about. Chef Justin's Park Plaza Gardens had me humming a tune, but not quite ready to dance on the tables.

We arrived early for dinner -- about 5 p.m. -- at Passage to India, and although the restaurant was virtually empty of customers, we still had a sense of the countless people who have enjoyed meals within its four walls. The foyer was studded with framed photographs of celebrity regulars. We spotted one of Shaquille O'Neal, but another photo looked like Julio Iglesias as a famous cricket player.

For more than a decade, Passage to India has held fast to its reputation for fine Indian dining on International Drive. While it draws its share of locals, tourist business accounts significantly for its success.

Proprietor Uday Kadam has created a selection of classic Indian dishes that are, as the menu reads, "rich but not fatty, spicy but not hot." We found that to be the case with the appetizer platter ($8.95), which is a reasonably priced way to investigate the spices and textures of Indian cuisine: juicy chicken tikka tenders roasted in spicy yogurt sauce, flaky samosa pastries stuffed with peas and potatoes, crunchy pakora vegetable fritters and the more spicy, deep-fried bhaji onions.

Vegetarians will have a heyday with more than a dozen vegetable-based dishes. We absolutely loved palak sabji dal ($12.95), a sautéed mixture of spinach and eggplant in a deep, dark, tomato-based sauce. The other half of the menu is represented by chicken, lamb and seafood. All dinners are served with all-you-can-eat helpings of fluffy, oven-baked basmati rice, which is perfumed with hints of cumin, cinnamon and cloves.

Chicken korma ($15.95) was a creamy, curry dish that was prepared in an extremely mild version; the heat level barely registered. So if you prefer more formidable renditions, be specific with the waiter in advance. Lamb palak ($18.95) was more recommendable with its delicious sauce of ginger and garlic, and accented with sautéed onions and spinach.

The dining room affords a sense of intimacy, and it is formally appointed with mahogany and ruby-red details that evoke images of Bombay and the days of the British empire. Service was poised and graceful, but not affected. We felt welcomed from the beginning to the end of our dinner. Passage to India is a haven for those who want to explore the nuances of Indian cuisine in an upscale setting.

When you grow up in an Italian family, dining out rarely means Italian food. Why go to a restaurant if Mom makes it better at home? The sole exception for us were occasional visits to a nearby family-owned joint. Besides an acceptably rich marinara, it offered more entrees than Mom's recipe file, semiformal waiters and an unintendedly kitschy dining room boasting the aggressive bad taste second-generation 65-year-olds find comforting. ("Look, hon, these plastic flowers never need watering!") Perhaps this is why dining at Peppino's feels like so familiar to me.

Located waaaaay out east in Oviedo (two miles north of University, at 434 and Carigan), Peppino's had been around for 13 years, though it looks sprung from Astoria, Queens, circa 1972. There's is nothing remotely trendy within these walls or on the menu. But if you want traditional Italian fare in a place that your parents -- or at least my parents -- would love, Peppino's fills the ticket nicely.

Located waaaaay out east in Oviedo (two miles north of University, at 434 and Carigan), Peppino's had been around for 13 years, though it looks sprung from Astoria, Queens, circa 1972. There's is nothing remotely trendy within these walls or on the menu. But if you want traditional Italian fare in a place that your parents -- or at least my parents -- would love, Peppino's fills the ticket nicely.

For a recent dinner, a friend and I started with two appetizers, "escargot cognac" ($6.50) and "zuppa di mussels" ($6.95). The escargot, sautéed in a butter/garlic sauce and served in mushroom caps, were only average. The sauce and the texture of the mushrooms overwhelmed the escargot. On the other hand, the mussels, served on the half-shell, were plump and tasty, kicked up nicely by a spicy marinara sauce.

For a recent dinner, a friend and I started with two appetizers, "escargot cognac" ($6.50) and "zuppa di mussels" ($6.95). The escargot, sautéed in a butter/garlic sauce and served in mushroom caps, were only average. The sauce and the texture of the mushrooms overwhelmed the escargot. On the other hand, the mussels, served on the half-shell, were plump and tasty, kicked up nicely by a spicy marinara sauce.

For a second appetizer, we opted for a small "pizza primavera" ($7.95), topped with sausage, onions, mushrooms and sliced tomatoes. The crust was perfect, crisp on the bottom and substantial without being doughy, and the toppings were so fresh they made your mouth tingle (especially the sausage). This pizza was the surprise hit of the evening.

For a second appetizer, we opted for a small "pizza primavera" ($7.95), topped with sausage, onions, mushrooms and sliced tomatoes. The crust was perfect, crisp on the bottom and substantial without being doughy, and the toppings were so fresh they made your mouth tingle (especially the sausage). This pizza was the surprise hit of the evening.

For entrees, my friend ordered the "shrimp and scallop bianca" ($15.95), while I called for the "chicken a la Maria" ($13.95). Both were excellent, but the chicken was a clear winner on both our cards. The bianca, served over linguine, offered a delectable white-wine-and-butter sauce and robust scallops, but the shrimp were a tad overcooked and rubbery. On a different night, this would have been fantastic, but during our visit it was merely good.

For entrees, my friend ordered the "shrimp and scallop bianca" ($15.95), while I called for the "chicken a la Maria" ($13.95). Both were excellent, but the chicken was a clear winner on both our cards. The bianca, served over linguine, offered a delectable white-wine-and-butter sauce and robust scallops, but the shrimp were a tad overcooked and rubbery. On a different night, this would have been fantastic, but during our visit it was merely good.

The chicken, wisely recommended by our excellent waiter, was a huge portion of rolled chicken breast cut in four pieces and stuffed with spinach, cheese and spices and served in a hearty "pink" sauce. (It looked more light brown to me, but maybe that was the lighting.) Coated with a thin (perhaps egg?) batter, the meat was succulent and moist without a hint of greasiness.

The chicken, wisely recommended by our excellent waiter, was a huge portion of rolled chicken breast cut in four pieces and stuffed with spinach, cheese and spices and served in a hearty "pink" sauce. (It looked more light brown to me, but maybe that was the lighting.) Coated with a thin (perhaps egg?) batter, the meat was succulent and moist without a hint of greasiness.

One tip for dining at Peppino's: Trust your waiter's recommendations. We noticed that everything he suggested was excellent, or turned out to be excellent when it was served to another table after we chose something else. If you do that -- and order a pizza -- you'll immensely enjoy this Oviedo tradition.

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?

Downtown hardly needs another sandwich shop, but there is a captive-audience prosperity that is fueling outlets like Pickles Original N.Y. Deli, strategically located inside the Orange County Administration Building.

Pass clients waiting for marriage licenses and building permits on the first floor to enter the tiny cafe with ample indoor and outdoor seating. Two pickle barrels center the bustling ordering/waiting triangle, stocked with upscale Boar's Head meats, hand-dipped ice cream and gourmet desserts.

Pass clients waiting for marriage licenses and building permits on the first floor to enter the tiny cafe with ample indoor and outdoor seating. Two pickle barrels center the bustling ordering/waiting triangle, stocked with upscale Boar's Head meats, hand-dipped ice cream and gourmet desserts.

But an office takeout yielded more yawns than yums for the "turkey Reuben" and the "Italiano" sandwich with salami, ham and provolone on a hero roll (both $4.50). Only the "New Yorker" got a thumbs up for the turkey, roast beef and Swiss with cole slaw and Thousand Island dressing on marble rye. It's convenient, but why can't the fare be tasty, too?

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.

Fortunately, the newly opened Pizzeria Valdiano in Winter Park Village has the technique down. And its next-door proximity to the Regal cinemas there, will help the word spread quickly.

Fortunately, the newly opened Pizzeria Valdiano in Winter Park Village has the technique down. And its next-door proximity to the Regal cinemas there, will help the word spread quickly.

Casual and inexpensive, Pizzeria Valdiano (referring to the Vallo di Diano area of Italy, known for great peasant food) serves up the basics of cheese and toppings, along with specialties like "pizza Gamberetti" (shrimp, oil and garlic), "Fiorentina" (spinach and artichoke), and "Valdiano" (sausage, pepperoni, meatballs and veggies). The crust is breadlike and crisp at the same time, and the smells are so wonderful you'll start drooling at the front door.

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.

Some of the best-kept dining secrets are hidden in the crevices of huge, obnoxious shopping plazas. Pollo Rico is a delicious example. Sitting in a corner of the Lake Fredrica Shopping Plaza on State Road 436, the restaurant's tiny storefront gives no indication of the treasures within.

Inside, the humble eatery's off-white walls are adorned with colorful Peruvian tapestries, crafts and dolls. But the festive decorations barely hint at the feasts that await.

Inside, the humble eatery's off-white walls are adorned with colorful Peruvian tapestries, crafts and dolls. But the festive decorations barely hint at the feasts that await.

The bountiful cuisine of Peru -- a country with a high poverty rate but a wealth of good cooking -- is characterized by lots of hot peppers and root crops like yams, yuca and countless varieties of potatoes. It bears strong resemblance to Cuban food but has an unexpected Chinese influence. The flavors and textures are surprisingly comforting.

The bountiful cuisine of Peru -- a country with a high poverty rate but a wealth of good cooking -- is characterized by lots of hot peppers and root crops like yams, yuca and countless varieties of potatoes. It bears strong resemblance to Cuban food but has an unexpected Chinese influence. The flavors and textures are surprisingly comforting.

On this particularly cold and rainy night, the "caldo de pollo" ($4.50), Peruvian-style chicken soup, was the perfect remedy. Big enough to be a meal itself, it's loaded with noodles and large chunks of carrots and potatoes in a rich, deeply seasoned broth.

On this particularly cold and rainy night, the "caldo de pollo" ($4.50), Peruvian-style chicken soup, was the perfect remedy. Big enough to be a meal itself, it's loaded with noodles and large chunks of carrots and potatoes in a rich, deeply seasoned broth.

Next came the "yuca a la huancaina" ($5), which are thick, hearty slices of yuca (a root crop similar to a potato but denser, with more of a bite), deep fried and served on a plateful of spicy cheese sauce.

Next came the "yuca a la huancaina" ($5), which are thick, hearty slices of yuca (a root crop similar to a potato but denser, with more of a bite), deep fried and served on a plateful of spicy cheese sauce.

Meat-and-potato people -- which I am -- will enjoy the "lomo saltado" ($9), tender strips of beef stir-fried with tomatoes, onions and french fries in a savory brown sauce with a Chinese flair.

Meat-and-potato people -- which I am -- will enjoy the "lomo saltado" ($9), tender strips of beef stir-fried with tomatoes, onions and french fries in a savory brown sauce with a Chinese flair.

Hot peppers, or aji, are a Peruvian staple. The "aji de gallina" ($7) is a delectable blend of shredded chicken and thick potato slices in a creamy sauce with tantalizing specks of red aji. The texture is like a very thick chicken and dumplings -- perfect on a cold night.

Hot peppers, or aji, are a Peruvian staple. The "aji de gallina" ($7) is a delectable blend of shredded chicken and thick potato slices in a creamy sauce with tantalizing specks of red aji. The texture is like a very thick chicken and dumplings -- perfect on a cold night.

The high point of the meal was the "papa rellena" ($3), so amazing, I'd throw down a sumo wrestler for one. This is without a doubt the best rellena I've ever had: a huge mashed-potato ball stuffed with ground beef, sliced egg, olives and raisins, and then quickly fried until the outside is crispy. The potato pocket is served with thinly sliced lime-marinated onions and a very hot sauce made from green aji.

The high point of the meal was the "papa rellena" ($3), so amazing, I'd throw down a sumo wrestler for one. This is without a doubt the best rellena I've ever had: a huge mashed-potato ball stuffed with ground beef, sliced egg, olives and raisins, and then quickly fried until the outside is crispy. The potato pocket is served with thinly sliced lime-marinated onions and a very hot sauce made from green aji.

I don't believe any meal is complete without dessert. My server, who was friendly and eager to help, suggested "alfajor" ($1.20), a "sandie" cookie with a dulce de leche filling -- totally to-die-for. An Inca Kola (which tastes a bit like red cream soda) made the perfect chaser.

I don't believe any meal is complete without dessert. My server, who was friendly and eager to help, suggested "alfajor" ($1.20), a "sandie" cookie with a dulce de leche filling -- totally to-die-for. An Inca Kola (which tastes a bit like red cream soda) made the perfect chaser.

Peruvian fare is famous in South America, but I predict its popularity will steadily grow on this one. It's the new "Southern comfort" food. And with Pollo Rico on the map, the South will rise again.