Locations in South

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We didn't review this location but you can check out the review of the Ruth's Chris Steakhouse in Winter Park.

The first mall food experience I remember is slurping down an Orange Julius after buying my very first pair of pegged, zipper-on-the-bottom jeans. My obsession with the jeans didn't last, but I can't say the same for the fabulous string of selections I discovered thereafter at the mall: bubblegum-flavored popcorn, See's gourmet lollipops, bourbon chicken … the list goes on.

Nothing, however, compares to what's cooking in a corner of the Florida Mall: Salsa Taqueria and Tequila bar. Here, I sipped my very first glass of amaretto-infused tequila for dessert, which blew the pineapple Julius away for best beverage at the mall.

But let's rewind. Before I even entered the colorful and cavernous restaurant, I sampled the chips the hostess was giving out at the entrance. Hungry shoppers were lured in by the dozens, and I could see why. As the homemade chips delicately crackled between my teeth, I knew I had to have more – a lot more. In fact, I didn't stop until three bowls of guacamole ($3.95) were polished off. It was creamier than usual and tingled the tongue with fresh lime, serrano pepper and hints of cilantro.

Queso fundido ($6.50), a rich blend of manchego, asadero and Monterey Jack cheeses, was swaddled in fresh handmade flour tortillas and was proof that bread and cheese is a universally adored pairing. Tortilla soup ($4.95), creamy from the blending of corn tortillas with hearty chicken broth, was bright and refreshing. Among the flavors to shine in this soup were guajillo chiles, a common dried pepper in Mexico, but a difficult-to-find ingredient in American markets.

The taco sampler ($10.95) was an array of flavor and texture. If one were eating a spectrum of color, this is what it would taste like; it started with a light citrus-marinated chicken, then moved through marinated beef, roasted pork with pineapple and sweet onions, grouper with fruity pico de gallo and slaw, roasted mushrooms, and poblano peppers with queso fresco. I was overwhelmed with the mixture of surprise as the tastes ran from sweet and fruity to fragrantly spicy to pleasantly mellow to creamy and back again.

One of the best things about Salsa Taqueria is the just representation of capsicums on the menu. Look no further to expand your knowledge of peppers: bell, smoked jalape'o, chipotle, serrano, guajillo and poblano, to name a few.

The Mexico City enchiladas ($11.95) are a mix-and-match of choices: There's chicken, beef or shrimp, but also be prepared to choose from yellow, poblano, guajillo or tomatillo mole, all spectacularly delicious. My favorite, the guajillo, seemed heavy at first, but woke the mouth with a little zing and a lot of tang after the first bite. Among three sandwich selections, we tried "torta Havana" ($8.50), thinly sliced pork loin, ham and avocado on pleasantly light, toasted bread. The addition of chipotle sauce made the flavors come alive.

For dessert we ordered the tres leches ($3.95), of course. Tres leches is one of my current kitchen experiments, and I made one the other day that looked like a deflated balloon. Luckily, Salsa Taqueria's fared better, but was more like a tiramisu drenched in fruit puree than the silky, milk-soaked genoise that captures my recent affections. (Note: I invite … no, beg those with good tres leches recipes to please step forward and share.) So, after our delicious meal, I was ready to go try on some jeans – no zippers on the bottom this time.

Here are some quick tips for those who don't have an entire evening to kill at Seasons 52, the new "test" restaurant on Sand Lake Road from the Darden folks (Red Lobster, Olive Garden, Bahama Breeze).

Don't go there on a Friday night. Don't go after 7:30 p.m. Don't try to make a reservation; they're booked for weeks. Don't go there now. But once the newness wears off, go there.

Don't go there on a Friday night. Don't go after 7:30 p.m. Don't try to make a reservation; they're booked for weeks. Don't go there now. But once the newness wears off, go there.

Seasons 52 is what they're calling a "fresh grill." The concept ties seasonal items and global specialties into the menu, trying to make the most of what's currently available. Basically, that means some dishes will come and go throughout the year, while others will change when, say, asparagus is harvested in California or strawberries reach their peak here.

Seasons 52 is what they're calling a "fresh grill." The concept ties seasonal items and global specialties into the menu, trying to make the most of what's currently available. Basically, that means some dishes will come and go throughout the year, while others will change when, say, asparagus is harvested in California or strawberries reach their peak here.

Even if you're not a salad person, the mixture of baby spinach and Comice pear from Oregon, drizzled with lemon vinaigrette and blue cheese, is a perky delight ($4.75). And even with the occasional grit, the large "Fisherman's bowl" of mussels ($8.50), fragrant with an orange-ginger broth, is worth ordering, just to slurp every drop from the bowl. By comparison, the much-touted chicken flatbread ($7.50), a long slab of thin, oven-roasted bread wasn't as impressive, undercooked in spots but crunchy and savory in others.

Even if you're not a salad person, the mixture of baby spinach and Comice pear from Oregon, drizzled with lemon vinaigrette and blue cheese, is a perky delight ($4.75). And even with the occasional grit, the large "Fisherman's bowl" of mussels ($8.50), fragrant with an orange-ginger broth, is worth ordering, just to slurp every drop from the bowl. By comparison, the much-touted chicken flatbread ($7.50), a long slab of thin, oven-roasted bread wasn't as impressive, undercooked in spots but crunchy and savory in others.

A rare presence in restaurants, chunks of mesquite-grilled turkey were presented with great flair on a kabob with red onions from Maui, and a sweet, dark tamarind glaze ($12.75). I cannot imagine it being done any better.

A rare presence in restaurants, chunks of mesquite-grilled turkey were presented with great flair on a kabob with red onions from Maui, and a sweet, dark tamarind glaze ($12.75). I cannot imagine it being done any better.

Grilled sea scallops ($17.95), giant discs pan-browned with fresh asparagus on the side, hovered right on the cusp of absolute greatness, and if they'd stayed in the skillet 30 seconds more they would have been.

Grilled sea scallops ($17.95), giant discs pan-browned with fresh asparagus on the side, hovered right on the cusp of absolute greatness, and if they'd stayed in the skillet 30 seconds more they would have been.

Another interesting concept: Waiters come equipped with a wireless PDA (a sort of personal dining assistant) that not only feeds orders directly to the kitchen, but accesses nutritional information for every meal, on request. (Locally based nutritionist/writer Pam Smith, an expert on health and how people really eat, consulted on the menu.)

Another interesting concept: Waiters come equipped with a wireless PDA (a sort of personal dining assistant) that not only feeds orders directly to the kitchen, but accesses nutritional information for every meal, on request. (Locally based nutritionist/writer Pam Smith, an expert on health and how people really eat, consulted on the menu.)

The room is large but with a feeling of intimacy. There's a great use of woods and windows, and everything fits, from the fabulous silverware to the energetic and casual but attentive service. And the chefs have great hats. While you're waiting for a table (even at 5:30 p.m. there was a 30-minute wait) the pleasant bar offers 60-plus wines by the glass.

The room is large but with a feeling of intimacy. There's a great use of woods and windows, and everything fits, from the fabulous silverware to the energetic and casual but attentive service. And the chefs have great hats. While you're waiting for a table (even at 5:30 p.m. there was a 30-minute wait) the pleasant bar offers 60-plus wines by the glass.

Another "test" concept, Outback Steakhouse's Zazarac (which I liked), wasn't open long enough to be entered on a resume. I can't predict that the kitchens at Seasons 52 will be permanent enough to live out its name. But if it does, go.