Locations in Orlando

Neighborhood jewel offers an eclectic pan-Mediterranean menu, with Indian, Latin and Asian influences on the horizon. The wine list is ample and studied. Sunday brunch is a local tradition.

The Greek island of Mykonos is located in the Aegean Sea. Its curving streets -- designed to confuse attacking pirates in the 16th century -- are today lined with restaurants that helped define it as a vacation mecca. Now a slice of Mykonos has come to us in the form of Mayerion Mykonos, a small, pumped-up bistro in Longwood, owned and operated by Dimitrios Salivaras. The menu offers generations of family recipes from the old country.

We were greeted at the door by a chipper gentleman who told us in a thick Mediterranean accent that his name was Nick, and that he was born in Greece in 1924 -- all before offering us complimentary glasses of dry, red wine while we waited for a table. Waits are typical here; the restaurant seats just 65. But the narrow space has been creatively transformed with high, beamed ceilings and stunning Mediterranean art. The bustling, open-air kitchen -- the "mayerion" -- adds excitement. Just about everyone gets to watch and listen as chefs whip up a fast-paced production of flavors, aromas and textures.

We started with melitzanosalata ($4.95), a glistening spread of chunky roasted eggplant blended with red wine and olive oil, and liberally anointed with garlic. While we loved it, we wished there was something to pair it with other than thick-sliced whole-grain bread. Pita wedges would have been more appropriate.

Much more impressive was thallasina skaras ($14.95), a succulent, smoky flavored charbroiled trio of shrimp, octopus and calamari, finished with a crisp lemon vinaigrette.

Although there are plenty of ethnic traditions, such as moussaka, on the menu, it's a good idea to explore the daily specials, sometimes tweaked slightly to accent the freshest available ingredients. "Grouper Mykonos" ($16.95) is not to be missed: The 14-ounce fillet of domestic black grouper was topped with a luscious melange of tomatoes, caramelized onions, celery, white wine and fresh herbs. Feta cheese was crumbled on top, and the fillet was broiled to a golden brown. Another attraction: a thick salmon fillet wrapped in layers of phyllo pastry ($16.95), baked to a delicate crisp and topped by mild sauce of lemon, dill and white wine with a hint of chopped onions.

Our expedition culminated with a complimentary treat: The waiter brought out a plate of fresh apple wedges drizzled with honey and cinnamon. It was surprising that something so simple could be so elegant and delicious -- the key was in the sun-ripened apples. In comparison, it was an off night for the soggy baklava ($1.50).

Throughout dinner, there was total attention and concern from the wait staff. Everything we ordered came in such generous portions that our to-go boxes quickly stacked up. But not to worry. This food did not go to waste.

Theo's Kitchen may be gone from this familiar location, but the space is being kept Greek by Mediterranean Blue, who also did us the favor of sprucing the joint up a bit, stocking eco-friendly wares, and adding a little flair to the menu (read: more cheese for everyone!). 

Said menu is deceptively simple, populated with just a handful of sandwiches and salads, but nearly everything is a winner. The Provence sandwich with ham, brie, herbes de Provence-infused butter and Dijon mustard ($6.50, comes with a side) may be just a Greek Cuban, but it's a delicious trip across the salty-savory spectrum. The more traditional falafel ($6.50 with a side) gets extra points for fresh, soft pita and the choice house-made tzatziki sauce. If doing dinner, a side of olive oil and oregano-garnished Greek fries helps fill you, but it'd be a ' what else ' tragedy not to order it smothered with feta cheese for $2. 

When I lived in Atlanta in the early 1990s, I was one broke-ass sucker. Before I began my illustrious career in alternative journalism, I was sleeping on a friend's floor, working various jobs, avoiding responsibility and managing to drink most of my paycheck. Therefore, despite all the wonderful dining options around town, my stomach had to endure the standard bohemian rations of cheap ramen and 99-cent fast-food menus.

Occasionally, though, minor financial windfalls would come my way, and whatever wasn't spent in pursuit of entertainment was splurged on one of two meals: fried chicken at the Silver Grill (the best fried chicken on the planet) or pizza at Mellow Mushroom. And Mellow Mushroom was the first place I ever encountered a tofu anything that tasted good. Yeah, tofu on your pizza. Weird, right? But the, um, mellow vibe at the Mushroom helped keep the hippie leanings of its pizza menu from turning the joint into some sort of granola factory. The mood was communal, the beer was cheap and the pizza – with meat or without – was always excellent.

Not surprisingly, the restaurant was successful to the point of being an institution. The first Mellow Mushroom opened in the '70s near Georgia Tech; there are now more than 50 locations throughout the Southeast. So when construction began on a Mellow Mushroom outpost – near my house even! – I was eager for a chance to see what happens when a restaurant whose identity is intertwined with its city of origin branches out into foreign territory. Would the atmosphere be as convivial? Would they have good beer? Would this charming and wonderful part of my own personal history have been turned into an Olive Garden-style commodity? Most importantly, would they have good pizza?

Answers: Yes, but with effort. Hell, yes. Yes, but not in a bad way. Absolutely.

As with any new restaurant in Winter Park, interest in Mellow Mushroom's opening was high. We went just a few days after it opened and were greeted by a polite hostess who informed us there was a 15-minute wait, which was surprising, but would have been fine if there had actually been a place to wait. The restaurant is squeezed into a tiny plot of land in the Publix shopping plaza on Aloma Avenue, and there's precious little room for parking near the restaurant (unless you count the plaza's huge parking lot nearby). With no real waiting area, this means the parking lot also functions as an ersatz holding pen for those on the list.

That's the only thing I found wrong with the new Mellow Mushroom.

Though it shone with a sparkly freshness that was a little off-putting, the classic-rock soundtrack and quasi-psychedelic artwork (right down to the "plasticine porter" bathroom-door markers) were all hallmarks of the relaxed, counter-culture Mushroom environment. A reassuringly long line of beer taps at the bar was a great sight; the fact that they all poured excellent Shipyard products made me giddy.

Our waitress was one of those sit-at-the-table types, which is usually annoying, but when she served our food, it could have been brought to us by Dick Cheney and we would have left a good tip. Huge chunks of fresh, moist mozzarella and tomato slices topped a massive bed of fresh field greens in the Capri salad ($7). The teriyaki-marinated tofu in our half-hoagie ($3.75) was accented by grilled onions, peppers and sprouts and slathered with mayonnaise. The pretzels ($3.70) were made with superfresh dough and baked on a pizza stone.

Oh yeah, the pizza. The 10-inch "Magical Mystery Tour" ($10.75) pie – spinach, feta, mozzarella, portobello mushrooms on a pesto (rather than marinara) base – was simply astounding, with copious toppings and a buttery, Parmesan-topped crust. Despite the other excellent offerings on the menu, the pizza's what it's all about here, and I'm pleased to report that expansion has done nothing to diminish the quality.

Sure, the slick new surroundings don't have the same scrappy appeal as the original shops, but the pizza's still great and, hey, I don't have the same scrappy appeal I had a decade ago either. I guess that's a fair trade.

Fondue was the craze when I was in college in the '70s. Though we couldn't afford it very often, it was our favorite way to celebrate special occasions. While price isn't the issue anymore, I still reserve fondue for special evenings. Such was the case when I recently visited The Melting Pot in Longwood, the new sister location to the popular Maitland restaurant that's operated for 20 years. This was to be an adventure for my vacationing brother.

Wood paneling, exposed beams and greenery create a more contemporary look than at the original restaurant. And yet booths, tabletop candles and overhead lights crafted from wine bottles still create a relaxed, intimate setting.

Wood paneling, exposed beams and greenery create a more contemporary look than at the original restaurant. And yet booths, tabletop candles and overhead lights crafted from wine bottles still create a relaxed, intimate setting.

Entrees include seafood, beef, chicken and vegetarian options, prepared in either cholesterol-free peanut oil or in a less traditional "court bouillon" seasoned broth that was low in salt and fat as well as cholesterol-free. Each entree comes with mushroom or chef's salad.

Entrees include seafood, beef, chicken and vegetarian options, prepared in either cholesterol-free peanut oil or in a less traditional "court bouillon" seasoned broth that was low in salt and fat as well as cholesterol-free. Each entree comes with mushroom or chef's salad.

We chose the combination fondue for two ($32.90), which features a cheese fondue appetizer, salad and an entree potpourri -- filet mignon, chicken, shrimp, teriyaki sirloin, mahi-mahi and veggies.

We chose the combination fondue for two ($32.90), which features a cheese fondue appetizer, salad and an entree potpourri -- filet mignon, chicken, shrimp, teriyaki sirloin, mahi-mahi and veggies.

We began with the "fiesta" cheese starter, a variation on the cheddar and Swiss offerings. It arrived with a basket of French, pumpernickel and rye breads, as well as tortilla chips that replaced the standard fruit and vegetable medley. Our server melted Swiss and sharp cheddar cheeses with domestic beer and onions, throwing in garlic and mild salsa for good measure. (Peppers were left on the side.) The resulting concoction was enjoyable though not especially spicy.

We began with the "fiesta" cheese starter, a variation on the cheddar and Swiss offerings. It arrived with a basket of French, pumpernickel and rye breads, as well as tortilla chips that replaced the standard fruit and vegetable medley. Our server melted Swiss and sharp cheddar cheeses with domestic beer and onions, throwing in garlic and mild salsa for good measure. (Peppers were left on the side.) The resulting concoction was enjoyable though not especially spicy.

My generous salad -- a bed of lettuce topped with a layer of mushrooms and a handful of alfalfa sprouts, coated with a zesty Italian dressing -- was heavenly. My brother's chef salad was a nice collection of fresh greens, cucumbers, Emmentaler cheese, hard-boiled egg, tomatoes and smoky ham. The house sweet-and-sour dressing was a nice departure from the norm.

My generous salad -- a bed of lettuce topped with a layer of mushrooms and a handful of alfalfa sprouts, coated with a zesty Italian dressing -- was heavenly. My brother's chef salad was a nice collection of fresh greens, cucumbers, Emmentaler cheese, hard-boiled egg, tomatoes and smoky ham. The house sweet-and-sour dressing was a nice departure from the norm.

When the entree platter arrived, our server rattled off its contents, the names of the two batters (sesame seed and tempura), the seven accompanying dressings and sauces, plus suggestions for mixing and matching combinations. As it was impossible to digest all this info at once, we experimented with only a few resulting gaffes and a couple of innovations. Try stuffing the mushroom caps with green goddess dressing, then dipping it in sesame-seed batter. It looks disgusting, but it's delicious. And the curry, cocktail and sweet-and-sour sauces are terrific.

When the entree platter arrived, our server rattled off its contents, the names of the two batters (sesame seed and tempura), the seven accompanying dressings and sauces, plus suggestions for mixing and matching combinations. As it was impossible to digest all this info at once, we experimented with only a few resulting gaffes and a couple of innovations. Try stuffing the mushroom caps with green goddess dressing, then dipping it in sesame-seed batter. It looks disgusting, but it's delicious. And the curry, cocktail and sweet-and-sour sauces are terrific.

For dessert we splurged on a rich, raspberry-milk chocolate fondue ($6.50 for two) that was served with thin squares of cheesecake and pound cake, plus a refreshing plate of fruits.

For dessert we splurged on a rich, raspberry-milk chocolate fondue ($6.50 for two) that was served with thin squares of cheesecake and pound cake, plus a refreshing plate of fruits.

Throughout our culinary adventure, we found our server to be bubbly and knowledgeable, and we especially liked the way the manager assisted with service when his staff were busy elsewhere.

We didn't review this location but you can check out the review of The Melting Pot in Longwood.

A trusty takeout joint is an integral part of any downtown neighborhood. And Metro Espresso Pasta, Pizza and Subs, tucked away on the ground floor of The Plaza apartments, fits the bill in Eola Heights.

When the business switched hands last year, new owner Lisa Cibrian injected a taste of Italy into the menu, and added beer and wine. These days, the pace is fast and furious at lunchtime. There's a handful of tables inside and on the sidewalk, but most people call for takeout.

When the business switched hands last year, new owner Lisa Cibrian injected a taste of Italy into the menu, and added beer and wine. These days, the pace is fast and furious at lunchtime. There's a handful of tables inside and on the sidewalk, but most people call for takeout.

Pizza by the slice is popular ($1.75). So are thick subs stuffed with hot meatballs and Parmesan cheese ($3.50), juicy Greek salads ($3.95) and mozzarella-packed strombolis and calzones ($3.95 and $3.50). Cibrian also makes some mean lasagna and pasta dishes ($5.50 to $6). It's open till 8 p.m. Monday-Saturday.

OBT spot is equal parts specialty grocery store, hookah supply, deli (all sorts of ready-prepared foods to take away) and lunch counter (fresh hot sandwiches sliced to order). A gaggle of smiling, gregarious women serve some of the best shawarma in town, sided with refreshing tomato-and-cucumber salad garlicky enough to ward off the undead.

Mimis Cafe is new construction trying to wear an old-world face. Sitting on Millenia Boulevard, on the fringe of our most popular consumer mecca, there wasn't anything authentic or quaint about it.

Actually, Mimis is exactly the kind of restaurant I hate. Don't get me wrong, the food is fine. Not great, but good enough. What I hate about this kind of restaurant is the jumbled, unfocused menu of more than 100 items. Mimis features everything from comfort food to New Orleans jambalaya to diner fare to brunch to pseudo-Asian to middle-of-the-road Italian – all of it trying too hard to unexceptionally please the masses. Also distasteful are the bright, prefabricated rooms filled with assembled paraphernalia – a fake 2-foot wrought-iron porch hosting a phony candlelit table hovered over our table. When dining at an establishment like Mimis, one can't help but think of the market surveys and trend magazines that must have inspired it.

The ruling theme at Mimis is New Orleans, although one can't help but wonder why. I searched and searched for an answer. Was the founder/CEO Tom Simms from New Orleans? No. Did he spend a lot of time there? No. Was his muse Mimi Cajun? No.

"We used to be more French countryside," the PR representative told me. "But we found that the New Orleans theme had BROADER APPEAL." Say no more.

So Mimis has nothing to do with New Orleans, despite the décor, and even the proprietors do not consider it a New Orleans-style restaurant. Mimis, in fact, started in 1978 in Orange County, Calif., as a place that served hearty portions of freshly prepared food at reasonable prices. And that mission is what Mimis continues to do moderately well. The only problem is that when you see a New Orleans theme you mouth-wateringly expect Cajun or Creole dishes, which are sparse on their bloated menu. We tried the pasta jambalaya ($12.29), an oversized dish of penne with chicken, shrimp, sausage and pork tossed in a lightly spicy sauce. It was good enough to finish, but lacked depth. The other Cajun-style offerings on the menu included popcorn shrimp ($8.99), a Cajun chicken sandwich ($8.79) and a rather large portion of bread pudding with whiskey sauce ($4.79). Clearly, none of these dishes were made by that breed of New Orleans chef who has the flavor of the "holy trinity" (green peppers, onions and celery) running through his or her veins.

As for comfort food, I tried the barbecue meat loaf ($9.99), which is made fresh daily. The meat was tender and flavorful, while the sauce was a sticky, sweet concoction that seemed a cross between pan gravy and Texas-style barbecue sauce.

We tried the soup special, corn chowder ($3.99), which was a little on the thick side but was spiked with fresh red peppers and sweet kernels of corn.

As of last July, the Bob Evans restaurant company has owned Mimis Cafe, and they are expanding (like every other chain outfit). By next spring they'll have gone from zero to six restaurants in Florida alone. A new store already opened in Altamonte Springs on Feb. 15 and I have to wonder: Will Orlando's local market take to it as well as tourists have?

Fill your belly at Mimis, yes. But if you really want to eat – in the sense of engaging in a transcendent journey of culinary sensations – head somewhere that is run by passion rather than market surveys.

Dim sum: It's not for brunch anymore. Not under the auspices of Ming's Bistro where the a la cart scarfing extravaganza is an all-day affair. Sure, the cart (and a few specialty items) is only available weekends before 3 p.m., but the selection is impressive and, more importantly, as authentic as any you'll find in cities with large Chinese populations. So don't come expecting to find egg-foo-this and sweet-and-sour that; bastardized Chinese fare can be had up the street at P.F. Chang's.

Like many a dim sum joint I've visited, the dining room is spacious, high-ceilinged and almost proletarian in its essence, nuanced only by a half-dozen faux-crystal chandeliers and a trio of horizontally hung Chinese watercolor prints. Dinner by the flicker of fluorescent lighting is the norm, but it fails to cast a shadow on the medley of items on the dim sum menu, most of which can be had for under $3.

Dumplings ' shrimp, pork, taro and turnip ' are dim sum staples, but a true gauge of a kitchen's worth is the quality of its chicken feet ($2.50), and this kitchen does 'em right. Textural excellence is attained by frying, boiling, marinating and then steaming the talons, the end result being nothing short of divine. There's not much flesh to chomp on, granted, but teething the delicate bones, then tearing away the fiery-hot and velvety skin is absolute magic.

Oddly named, but superbly tasty, 'fried noodle rice pasteâ?� ($2.50) ' rolls of flaky pastry wrapped in a soft, candy-white noodle and splashed with sweetened soy sauce ' could be served for dessert. The peppery zing of spicy beef tripe ($2.50) outdid that of the chicken feet, but the dish was far too chewy to devour. Best to suck the spicy juices out of the honeycomb stomach lining and discard the remnants. If you're used to meatballs of the Swedish or Italian variety, you'll likely find the trio of ashen-colored steamed beef balls ($2.50) too dense, pasty and flavorless. Dim sum dishes are often loaded with salt and MSG, so order a pot of tea (the oolong is good); if you want more tea, turn the lid over to get the waitress's attention.

If you'd rather order a la carte (not cart), there's a host of dishes from which to choose ' everything from barbecue to congee to casseroles. The house special spicy beef hot pan ($8.95) is served in a small steel wok and kept simmering by a burner underneath. The advertised spiciness in the piping-hot mix of tender beef strips, vermicelli, carrots and mushroom caps was lacking, possibly because my mouth was still feeling the burn from the chicken feet and tripe.

Vigorous slivers of ginger in the ginger scallion fish fillets ($8.95) are the sole flavoring in this simple, refreshing dish. Circular morsels of soft whitefish are accented by scallion, all held together by clear, thick sauce. Glistening stalks of bok choy highlight the tender beef and vegetable chow fun ($6.95), a decent, if entirely pedestrian, dish.

Aside from the occasional 'Are you sure you want to order that?â?� look, my waitress, one of a small army of red-vested waitresses patrolling the restaurant, was quite affable and helpful in pointing out the ingredients of the assorted dishes (menu descriptions are terse).

Ming's is a little hard to spot, tucked away a block north of the intersection of Colonial and Mills, but it's well worth seeking, and its reign as the top Orlando destination for real Chinese cuisine is sure to flourish into a dynasty.

There's only so much you can do with beans, cheese, rice and a tortilla. It might be called by different names -- burrito, taco, fajita -- but unless the layers are put together well and the ingredients taste distinctly fresh, it's all pretty much beans, cheese and rice.

Seven years ago Atlanta businessman Martin Sprock opened the first location of what would become the 140-store Planet Smoothie chain. Moe's Southwest Grill, on the ever-expanding food corridor of Sand Lake Road, is Orlando's first taste of Sprock's latest endeavor, serving freshly made tortilla-wrapped ingredients with unusual names. The chain already has spread from Atlanta to Jacksonville, Mississippi and North Carolina. "No freezer, no microwave" is a boast the restaurant makes, and it claims to prepare everything from scratch.

Seven years ago Atlanta businessman Martin Sprock opened the first location of what would become the 140-store Planet Smoothie chain. Moe's Southwest Grill, on the ever-expanding food corridor of Sand Lake Road, is Orlando's first taste of Sprock's latest endeavor, serving freshly made tortilla-wrapped ingredients with unusual names. The chain already has spread from Atlanta to Jacksonville, Mississippi and North Carolina. "No freezer, no microwave" is a boast the restaurant makes, and it claims to prepare everything from scratch.

Paintings o f people such as Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon look down on you while you eat, complete with sayings like "Give Beans a Chance." There's sort of a Subway sandwich-shop approach to the meals. Once ordered, food is built in front of customers, with choices of add-ons like hot salsa, olives and fresh cilantro. Sounds good -- better, actually, than the finished product. There's not much about the fillings, including the meats (chicken, steak) and tofu (a pleasant surprise), that make them stand out. A sprinkling of cold cheese on top of cold beans isn't terribly exciting, no matter how clever the names.

Paintings o f people such as Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon look down on you while you eat, complete with sayings like "Give Beans a Chance." There's sort of a Subway sandwich-shop approach to the meals. Once ordered, food is built in front of customers, with choices of add-ons like hot salsa, olives and fresh cilantro. Sounds good -- better, actually, than the finished product. There's not much about the fillings, including the meats (chicken, steak) and tofu (a pleasant surprise), that make them stand out. A sprinkling of cold cheese on top of cold beans isn't terribly exciting, no matter how clever the names.

Most of Moe's items are named after TV or movie characters. "Art Vandalay" ($4.69), a vegetarian mix of rice, beans, cheese, salsa and guacamole, is from "Seinfeld." The "Pinky Tuscadero" salad ($4.99) is a throwback to "Happy Days," while the "Sherman Klump" ($2.99), a cheese and salsa quesadilla, reminded Sprock of "The Nutty Professor."

Most of Moe's items are named after TV or movie characters. "Art Vandalay" ($4.69), a vegetarian mix of rice, beans, cheese, salsa and guacamole, is from "Seinfeld." The "Pinky Tuscadero" salad ($4.99) is a throwback to "Happy Days," while the "Sherman Klump" ($2.99), a cheese and salsa quesadilla, reminded Sprock of "The Nutty Professor."

Quesadillas are actually the best thing on the menu; a quick toss on a hot grill makes the ingredients come together inside the now-crunchy shell.

Quesadillas are actually the best thing on the menu; a quick toss on a hot grill makes the ingredients come together inside the now-crunchy shell.

By definition, fajitas ($6.99 to $7.99) include grilled onions and peppers, but not at Moe's: If you don't order them (for an extra 80 cents), all you get is steamed tortillas and a dish of meat, lettuce, salsa and cheese. Moe's breaks away from the salsa-bar trend and offers only two; a green tomatillo and a hot sauce that looked so watery I was afraid to touch it.

By definition, fajitas ($6.99 to $7.99) include grilled onions and peppers, but not at Moe's: If you don't order them (for an extra 80 cents), all you get is steamed tortillas and a dish of meat, lettuce, salsa and cheese. Moe's breaks away from the salsa-bar trend and offers only two; a green tomatillo and a hot sauce that looked so watery I was afraid to touch it.

It's up to the frozen margaritas to make most of the menu items more exciting.