Chinese in Orlando

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.

For all the mediocrity wreaked by line-up-to-the-trough Chinese buffets with gloppy sweet-and-sour sauces and soggy takeout containers, spanking new P.F. Chang's China Bistro stands in stark contrast.

Enter the eye-popping, postmodern interior of the high-profile debut of this restaurant chain at the still-developing Winter Park Village, and you'll think you've fallen through a pan-Asian rabbit hole. This is a world of silky Chinese murals, Ming-style vases, stacked-stone walls, a bustling show kitchen and pumped-up music.

Enter the eye-popping, postmodern interior of the high-profile debut of this restaurant chain at the still-developing Winter Park Village, and you'll think you've fallen through a pan-Asian rabbit hole. This is a world of silky Chinese murals, Ming-style vases, stacked-stone walls, a bustling show kitchen and pumped-up music.

But it's the consistently enjoyable menu that will lure you back -- and you'll have lots of company, too. We stumbled into a one-hour wait for a table on a Saturday night. As for a seat at the bar? Forget it. We settled for standing with the rest of the herd, and while we sipped a glass of house Chardonnay, we spied the captain's tables at the perimeter of the kitchen. These are the only two tables in the house for which reservations are accepted. It was fun to watch as a tag team of waiters brought platters of glistening delicacies.

But it's the consistently enjoyable menu that will lure you back -- and you'll have lots of company, too. We stumbled into a one-hour wait for a table on a Saturday night. As for a seat at the bar? Forget it. We settled for standing with the rest of the herd, and while we sipped a glass of house Chardonnay, we spied the captain's tables at the perimeter of the kitchen. These are the only two tables in the house for which reservations are accepted. It was fun to watch as a tag team of waiters brought platters of glistening delicacies.

When our turn finally came, General Tso and his chickens were nowhere to be found on the innovative menu. Instead, we tried and loved the weirdly wonderful "Chang's chicken in soothing lettuce wraps" ($5.95). Spicy chicken and vegetables were folded into watery iceberg leaves, burrito style. The spiciness was heightened by a spoonful of mustard-based sauce, which was prepared tableside by our waiter. "Pan-fried Peking dumplings" ($4.95) were a savory counterpart, stuffed with pork and vegetables.

When our turn finally came, General Tso and his chickens were nowhere to be found on the innovative menu. Instead, we tried and loved the weirdly wonderful "Chang's chicken in soothing lettuce wraps" ($5.95). Spicy chicken and vegetables were folded into watery iceberg leaves, burrito style. The spiciness was heightened by a spoonful of mustard-based sauce, which was prepared tableside by our waiter. "Pan-fried Peking dumplings" ($4.95) were a savory counterpart, stuffed with pork and vegetables.

"Mu shu chicken" ($8.95) was light and crisp, stirred with vegetables that crunched. A delicate hoisin sauce added plummy accents. The sweet, meaty mixture was wrapped in pancakes as thin as crepes. Crispy honey shrimp ($12.95) were plentiful, lightly battered and quick-fried.

"Mu shu chicken" ($8.95) was light and crisp, stirred with vegetables that crunched. A delicate hoisin sauce added plummy accents. The sweet, meaty mixture was wrapped in pancakes as thin as crepes. Crispy honey shrimp ($12.95) were plentiful, lightly battered and quick-fried.

All of the servers were well-trained and forthcoming with smart suggestions, despite being overtaxed by the volume of customers. Our waiter steered us in the right direction again and again, including his favorite, "macadamia nut pie" ($4.95), which became our favorite, too. This is a piece of glorified chocolate turtle pie with macadamia nuggets adding interest.

All of the servers were well-trained and forthcoming with smart suggestions, despite being overtaxed by the volume of customers. Our waiter steered us in the right direction again and again, including his favorite, "macadamia nut pie" ($4.95), which became our favorite, too. This is a piece of glorified chocolate turtle pie with macadamia nuggets adding interest.

P.F. Chang's China Bistro injects excitement into the Chinese dining milieu. It's a pleasure to experience the chic trappings and sophisticated service that are taken for granted with other cuisines.

In practically every neighborhood in Orlando, you'll find a Chinese restaurant feeding residents' pangs for kung pao chicken, pork-fried rice or beef lo mein. Such restaurants garner little to no fanfare; like fast-food joints, they occupy the lower rungs of gastronomic options. So when Panda Bistro opened its doors on the Colonial'Alafaya corridor, it seemed like no big deal. But then I realized the appealing eatery is the brainchild of Maggie Lee, proprietress of Winter Park's Tatáme. I've always liked Lee's tea-and-sake house, but wouldn't go there if I were craving a meal to accompany my lychee-infused sake. So naturally, I was stoked at the prospect of dining at a Maggie Lee'branded restaurant. At first blush, it was pretty much as expected, with original art by Lee and other local artists setting it apart from other strip-mall noodle houses.

A couple of fresh faces stood behind the counter juggling takeout and dine-in orders, while an older chap who appeared quite deft at handling a wok anchored kitchen responsibilities. Given the sheer number of items available (close to 150 on the menu), he probably has one of the thickest, strongest wrists in Orlando.

A picture menu will hold your attention while you hold up the line forming behind you, so it's best to grab a bill of fare, peruse an assortment more varied than characters in the Chinese alphabet while you're waiting, and then order. A majority of the patrons here are students, and Panda Bistro seems to straddle the line between catering to undergrads with unsophisticated palates and ministering to neo-hipsters who fancy themselves connoisseurs. As at Tatáme, that's Lee's target demo ' and they're literally eating it up.

The pair behind the counter seemed so inundated with carry-out orders that it was a while before our order was taken. All was forgotten when the egg drop soup ($2.95) arrived, its clear yellow broth, suspending silken strands of golden yolk, making a comforting start to the meal. Edamame ($3.95) appeared to be overcooked, but the soybeans remained full and plump. Mains, as you can imagine, run the gamut. We opted for the Hunan Double ($9.95), an altogether ordinary stir-fry of beef, chicken and the requisite vegetables in a thick, broccoli-heavy sauce. The dish lacked that seasoned-wok essence that separates a good stir-fry from a great one (like Tasty Wok's); if you want it spicy, better ask for some sriracha and chili oil. Pan-fried noodles ($9.95) came served with a lighter sauce that was a little more flavorful than the Hunan, but it was the perfectly crisp egg noodles that made this dish worth ordering again. I'm not sure I'd order the boneless Peking duck ($13.95 half; $23.95 whole) again. The shiny slabs of dark meat looked nice sitting on a bed of scallions, accompanied by mu shu pancakes and hoisin sauce. But the duck was a bit too greasy and the sauce a tad too gluey for our liking.

When diners are presented with scores of options, the fare is bound to be hit-or-miss. A more focused menu would certainly help, but when you sustain a student body with diverse backgrounds and tastes, variety can take precedence over a concentrated approach. And Lee is the key. She knows her audience, and as ambitious, creative and determined a gal as she is (she often delivers food herself), Lee's sure to make Panda Bistro a success ' even if she has to grin and bear it.

In many ways, Pu Yi is like dozens of other Chinese restaurants around town. Located in a plain shopping plaza down the street from UCF, it offers good food, modest prices and fast service. It's a typical neighborhood eatery, with one exception: Pu Yi does excellent soups. At similar establishments, I've often been disappointed by anemic won ton, and I've been downright offended by putrid versions of egg drop. Never at Pu Yi.

On a recent lunch excursion, the won ton was a winner: The broth was light and clear, yet packed with flavor. Delicately spicy pork was folded into two firm Chinese noodles. Floating on top were chopped scallions that tasted as fresh and green as they looked. My order of egg drop soup was noteworthy as well. The broth was thick and glossy, a bright golden color, dotted with slivers of egg whites. It was rich, not the least bit clingy or heavy.

We had barely finished the soups when the entrees arrived, fairly sizzling. Szechuan chicken ($4.65) was prepared to a medium spicy taste as requested. Braised sheets of chicken were served in brown gravy, brightened with stir-fried carrots, sprouts, bell peppers, bamboo shoots, baby corn, snow peas and broccoli.

We also had sweet and sour chicken ($4.15). The texture and flavor were about even. Chicken tenders were battered and fried to a crisp finish, with minimal greasiness. The sweet and sour sauce was sweet but not cloying, and it tasted unexpectedly fruity. On the side, fried rice was light and tasty, tossed with peas and carrots. Egg rolls were dainty and crisp, having been fried in an extra-thin wrapping of dough. Inside they were moist, stuffed with shredded cabbage, sprouts and spinach.

As for our dessert, we thought the almond cookies could have been a little more fresh. Still, they were nicely crumbly and sweet with sliced almonds on top. Service has been consistently good whenever I've visited. Waiters are diligent about bringing orders quickly and overcoming the language barrier.

The dinner menu looks more varied with interesting selections such as lobster sizzling wok bar ($11.95), shelled lobster with Chinese vegetables served over crispy rice patties. But lunch is more affordable: Try a quart of the shrimp fried rice, so packed with fresh shrimp, it's practically a steal at $5.95.

I found myself uttering the common Cantonese refrain m'goy (or 'thank youâ?�) repeatedly at this modest corner noodle house where roasted birds dangle as freely as modifiers in a high school English essay. No matter the language, the dishes here ' cheap, authentic and downright delicious ' speak for themselves.

Curry-infused Singapore rice noodles ($9.50) ruled, each pan-fried thread pungent with the essence of the wok and with enough shrimp and pork to realize a Levitical nightmare. A swell of thick, flat noodles glistened in the beef chow fun ($9.50), textured with a bushel of crunchy scallions and bean sprouts and layered with tender slices of beef. As far as the suspended fowl is concerned, appetizer portions of roast duck ($5.95) and chicken ($5.25), hacked into bite-sized chunks and served with a secret dip ' soy sauce and sesame oil were the only ingredients I was able to glean ' offer a proper juicy-to-crisp ratio.

Adventuresome gastronomes can have a field day with dishes from duck feet to jellyfish to beef tendon congee, while daily specials are handwritten and posted on a rack near the kitchen. The space is small, relatively unadorned and perpetually bustling with families, though heads are typically buried in bowls. The red-and-black-clad waitresses are quick, efficient and always poised to educate the uninitiated, but if you're really craving a Sino-American staple, you can get your fill of General Tso's chicken too.

The name is misleading, but Teriyaki House is the place to come to for real-deal Taiwanese fare. Skip the paper menu and focus on the photo menu: Sweet sausage, fatty pork belly and grilled milkfish all delight, but stinky tofu is lamentably easy on the nasal passages. Ask for three-cup chicken, a Formosan fave that'll have hot-pot hounds salivating.

After the slap of Charley and too many hours in a powerless, mildewing kitchen, the sight of the lights aglow inside Winnie's Oriental Garden drew us in like a magnet.

Though dressed in post-hurricane attire, we were welcomed by the young host, who sat us out of sight of the main dining area (at our request) in a corner table near the bar, in perfect sight of the color TV. (Another old friend, the A/C, was doing its job too.) We were just going to order takeout, but were convinced to sit and enjoy and not worry about our downscale attire.

Though dressed in post-hurricane attire, we were welcomed by the young host, who sat us out of sight of the main dining area (at our request) in a corner table near the bar, in perfect sight of the color TV. (Another old friend, the A/C, was doing its job too.) We were just going to order takeout, but were convinced to sit and enjoy and not worry about our downscale attire.

Gracious, relaxed service and a sense of elegance – fresh flowers, pleasant music – has been the hallmark of Winnie's ever since it opened in 1996. Before that, for 15 years, Winnie ran the China Garden restaurant in Winter Park, which never recaptured her classy touch. The sense of elegance extends to Winnie's menu as well, which has always been a cut above the area's other Chinese restaurants.

Gracious, relaxed service and a sense of elegance – fresh flowers, pleasant music – has been the hallmark of Winnie's ever since it opened in 1996. Before that, for 15 years, Winnie ran the China Garden restaurant in Winter Park, which never recaptured her classy touch. The sense of elegance extends to Winnie's menu as well, which has always been a cut above the area's other Chinese restaurants.

Never mind the hurricane hardships, the typical pampering experience was the same on this night. Warm towels were delivered by our server, and it was tempting to use them for more than just grimy fingers, considering the habituation to cold showers.

Never mind the hurricane hardships, the typical pampering experience was the same on this night. Warm towels were delivered by our server, and it was tempting to use them for more than just grimy fingers, considering the habituation to cold showers.

Ordering was easy: For an appetizer, the four pieces of crab rangoon ($4.25) were crispy outside and full of creamy flavor. For an entree, the moo shoo vegetables ($8.25) are the best in town (if anyone else even offers this meatless version), and served with brown rice, if requested. The savory gravy holds together the colorful shredded vegetables that you roll up in Mandarin pancakes spread with hoisin sauce, and savor to the last bite.

Ordering was easy: For an appetizer, the four pieces of crab rangoon ($4.25) were crispy outside and full of creamy flavor. For an entree, the moo shoo vegetables ($8.25) are the best in town (if anyone else even offers this meatless version), and served with brown rice, if requested. The savory gravy holds together the colorful shredded vegetables that you roll up in Mandarin pancakes spread with hoisin sauce, and savor to the last bite.

Winnie, you still rock like a hurricane.

The section of South Orange Blossom Trail on the edge of Florida Mall territory has been catering to varying appetites for some time as the area continues to diversify. One of the area's few German restaurants is here (Gain's), Amigos caters to the Tex-Mex crowd, and Laxmi Plaza offers food and sundry shopping to a growing population of Indian residents.

And when it comes to healthy appetites, Woodlands -- across the road from Laxmi -- is a restaurant worth adding to your go-to list. As their website (woodlands-usa.com) proclaims, "Step-in and you will be wafted with the aroma of enthralling culinary appetizing that the already proud regular customers are experiencing now."

You also could be experiencing now the flavors, aromas and visual delight of the South Indian cuisine served here.

Recipes from the southern region, the ancient India below the Vindhya Mountains, are based on Hindu tradition and use ingredients differently than the northern menus we're more familiar with. So no Kashmiri dishes like tandoori, no naan bread, no vindaloo. And no meat -- Woodlands maintains a "pure vegetarian" kitchen. (That means no animal fats, either.)

Purely delightful is more to the point. Coconut milk instead of cream, mustard seeds and fiery-hot chili peppers add to the distinctive cookery. Woodlands specializes in dosai -- thin, plate-sized crepes that are fried crisp or filled with savory items like hot chutney or potatoes ($4.75 to $6.50).

The traditional spicy and sour soup called rasam ($2.50), hot with peppers and sweet with tamarind, is a heated warm-up for dishes that stimulate every part of the tongue. Rich and sometimes smoky flavors inhabit "Gobi Manchurian" ($6.50), sautéed cauliflower, sharp with ginger and garlic, and spiced with chili and soy sauce. A concoction of lentils, brown rice and vegetables called "pongol avial" is one you'll want again ($6.50). My favorite Indian curry, the spinach-based palak paneer ($6.95) is done to a deep, creamy and slightly hot perfection.

Settling in on a favorite is fine, but the bargain is one of the dinner specials. "Mysore Royal Thali" ($14.95) combines samosa appetizers, chana chickpea curry, spiced lentil sambar and more into a feast of bright colors (such as the green coriander raita sauce) and dazzling tastes.

Offer thanks to the portrait by the front door of Sri Ganesha, the elephant-headed god of luck and new beginnings, for such a fine meal. As it says on the website, "We guarantee a sound and happy sleep after dinnertime at Woodlands."And one with a warm and satisfied belly.