Seafood in West

You can tell that size matters to Bobby Moore. The local restaurateur seems to believe that good things come in big, sometimes gargantuan, packages. Step inside the Big Fin Seafood Kitchen ' his 11,000-square-foot behemoth of a seafood emporium ' and you'll see that philosophy in action: It's an imposing space with a centerpiece globe dangling from the high ceiling and large murals reading 'Best Tails in Townâ?� and 'We've Got the Crabs.â?� Classy. Then again, Big Fin is a perfect fit amid the grandiose environs of the Dellagio Town Center. Ample square footage appears to be a requisite for tenancy here ' a requirement Moore was more than happy to satisfy after the economy and the tax man harpooned his previous venture, Beluga, in Winter
Park Village.

Still, finding refuge in this enormous and clamorous fish tank is possible ' just ask for a table in the carpeted Atlantic Room and conversations can be had with your dining comrades. 

You'll certainly hear cries of disappointment if they run out of crab legs (as was the case on the Saturday evening we visited), murmurs of dissatisfaction after slurping the 'ya ya gumboâ?� ($5.95) and exclamations of joy at the shrimp cocktail ($9.95) and can't-eat-just-one flash-fried potato chips ($7.95), served with a roasted garlic-horseradish gorgonzola fondue. Yellowtail nigiri ($4.95) had us nodding our heads, yes, yes; room-temperature tuna sashimi ($4.95), not so much. The steakhouse roll ($6.95), with shaved prime rib, asparagus, horseradish mayonnaise and arugula, was different, but not different enough. 'It was almost innovative,â?� one of my dining partners remarked.

When the mains arrived, we were hopeful for a better effort from the kitchen. Blue crab crusted grouper ($29.95), served with a light beurre blanc, lived up to all expectations. Both the fish and the crab pancake were perfect. Garlic mashed potatoes, sadly, were dry to the point of being crumbly. Queen snapper en papillote ($24.95) was a letdown not because of its flavor, but because it was unevenly cooked. The same lapse plagued the pan-seared mahi mahi piccata ($22.95), an otherwise flavorful fillet topped with lemon, capers and again with the beurre blanc.

The pound-and-a-half broiled Maine lobster ($26.95) fulfilled the restaurant's assertion of serving the best tails in town. Unfortunately, the rest of the crustacean's flesh was zapped of its succulence due to overbroiling. Indeed, parts appeared blackened ' not browned ' and no measure of melted butter could've salvaged this
charred invertebrate.

But dessert provided sweet redemption. A homemade New Orleans-style bread pudding ($5.95) was given a delightfully airy rendering, with caramelized banana slices, vanilla ice cream and amaretto sauce. The big finale came in the form of the 'Big Fin dessert� ($14.95), a rich, decadent milk chocolate brownie cup drizzled with caramel sauce and speckled with pecans. It was big enough to finish off a table of four and helped erase the slightly bitter memory of the mains. 

The fresh catch, the service and even the soaring space put Big Fin in an enviable position. If it shores up the kitchen, it should do swimmingly.

With Fish Bones down the road and the delayed-but-inevitable opening of Moonfish Grille across the street, it might get hard to tell your fish from your bones now that Bonefish Grill has moved into the neighborhood, a modestly upscale fish house with room to improve.

It's an interesting chain of events that led to this new eatery. Bonefish Grill opened in late January 2000 in Tampa, started by two former Hops vice-presidents with an eye toward expansion. Their neighbor in Tampa, the Outback chain (owner of Outback, Carraba's and Roy's), was experimenting with high-end Cajun cooking in the form of Zazarac's, building a massive restaurant on Orlando's food-saturated Sand Lake Road. But Zazarac's disappeared after only a month; within weeks Bonefish became an Outback partner, and now we have a new tenant in Zazarac's old space.

It's an interesting chain of events that led to this new eatery. Bonefish Grill opened in late January 2000 in Tampa, started by two former Hops vice-presidents with an eye toward expansion. Their neighbor in Tampa, the Outback chain (owner of Outback, Carraba's and Roy's), was experimenting with high-end Cajun cooking in the form of Zazarac's, building a massive restaurant on Orlando's food-saturated Sand Lake Road. But Zazarac's disappeared after only a month; within weeks Bonefish became an Outback partner, and now we have a new tenant in Zazarac's old space.

The stone and brick walls and dramatic stained-glass partitions are gone, replaced by pale, textured walls and brighter lighting. No longer can the frenetic kitchen be seen; now we have a quieter, more family-friendly restaurant that seems to attract business folk to its bar and dining room (which explains the martini listings on the menu). The Outback management does know a thing or two about training servers. They were good at Zazarac, and they're good here, too.

The stone and brick walls and dramatic stained-glass partitions are gone, replaced by pale, textured walls and brighter lighting. No longer can the frenetic kitchen be seen; now we have a quieter, more family-friendly restaurant that seems to attract business folk to its bar and dining room (which explains the martini listings on the menu). The Outback management does know a thing or two about training servers. They were good at Zazarac, and they're good here, too.

My Appetizer Theory still stands: good starter, disappointing entree. I was awestruck by the "saucy rock shrimp" dish ($8.50), perfect shellfish lumps in a bright lime and tomato sauce, marvelously contrasted with creamy feta cheese and dark olives. The lemon and garlic broth surrounding "mussels Josephine" ($9) was similar in taste, combined with sautéed tomatoes, basil, and firm, briny mussels – and I'm not complaining. The serving was big enough for two, or dinner by itself.

My Appetizer Theory still stands: good starter, disappointing entree. I was awestruck by the "saucy rock shrimp" dish ($8.50), perfect shellfish lumps in a bright lime and tomato sauce, marvelously contrasted with creamy feta cheese and dark olives. The lemon and garlic broth surrounding "mussels Josephine" ($9) was similar in taste, combined with sautéed tomatoes, basil, and firm, briny mussels – and I'm not complaining. The serving was big enough for two, or dinner by itself.

Grilled fish with a choice of sauces is the specialty, so I got ahi tuna ($16.50), with the un-advertised but available Oscar sauce (a mix of crab, cream and asparagus). The tuna was OK but not extraordinary, and there was so little sauce it wasn't worth ordering. Garlic mashed potatoes were over-whipped and only slightly garlicky. As for the rainbow trout, breaded in a pistachio-Parmesan crust ($17), the breading was better than the mushy fish.

Grilled fish with a choice of sauces is the specialty, so I got ahi tuna ($16.50), with the un-advertised but available Oscar sauce (a mix of crab, cream and asparagus). The tuna was OK but not extraordinary, and there was so little sauce it wasn't worth ordering. Garlic mashed potatoes were over-whipped and only slightly garlicky. As for the rainbow trout, breaded in a pistachio-Parmesan crust ($17), the breading was better than the mushy fish.

Oddly enough, Anne Kearney, the force behind Zazarac's kitchen, won this year's James Beard award for the "Best Chef in the Southeast" for her Peristyle restaurant in New Orleans. Maybe she should have stuck around.

There aren't a lot of inland restaurants where you can savor fine Florida game such as gator tail and frog legs, done to a fine crunch in true Southern-fried-seafood style. But if you don't want to travel to remote fish camps on the St. Johns River or Lake Monroe, they'll hook you up at The Catfish Place in Apopka. You'd still better gas up the car before heading out, though. From central or south Orlando, it could take 45 minutes to an hour to get there, depending on traffic.

As you head west on State Road 436 deep into Apopka territory, The Catfish Place finally appears on a completely unnoticeable corner of Forest Avenue across from City Hall. It's a rustic, inviting beacon. Inside, the dining area is as snug as an old quilt, and the friendly wait staff invite you to huddle down over healthy helpings of comfort food.

As you head west on State Road 436 deep into Apopka territory, The Catfish Place finally appears on a completely unnoticeable corner of Forest Avenue across from City Hall. It's a rustic, inviting beacon. Inside, the dining area is as snug as an old quilt, and the friendly wait staff invite you to huddle down over healthy helpings of comfort food.

Let the menu lure you into swamp territory: Frog legs are featured as an appetizer ($5.95), as well as served as a part of various entrees. After being deep-fried, they resemble quail and are so delicate and juicy they tempt you to suck on the bones. Gator-tail nuggets are fried as well, but not overly so. Truly, the meat resembles chicken, although it's not as tender.

Let the menu lure you into swamp territory: Frog legs are featured as an appetizer ($5.95), as well as served as a part of various entrees. After being deep-fried, they resemble quail and are so delicate and juicy they tempt you to suck on the bones. Gator-tail nuggets are fried as well, but not overly so. Truly, the meat resembles chicken, although it's not as tender.

But the star of the menu is catfish -- and rightly so. Chances are you've never had it prepared as expertly as it is here. Get the boneless catfish tenders, either as an all-you-can-eat special ($9.95) or included in different dishes. Clean and fresh, they are rolled in a cornmeal breading and deep-fried to a crisp, greaseless finish in soybean oil.

But the star of the menu is catfish -- and rightly so. Chances are you've never had it prepared as expertly as it is here. Get the boneless catfish tenders, either as an all-you-can-eat special ($9.95) or included in different dishes. Clean and fresh, they are rolled in a cornmeal breading and deep-fried to a crisp, greaseless finish in soybean oil.

Some more standard varieties of seafood are presented in inventive ways: Lobster is quartered into nuggets and deep-fried as an appetizer ($7.95). They're delicate and crunchy, dipped into a pot of melted butter and chased down with a frosty beer. Among the entrees, there's the country-boy-named "shrimp a la Bob" ($14.95), sautéed in a fragrant sauce of butter, lemon, Cajun spices and garlic. For variety and abundance, there's the house special ($15.95), loaded with boneless catfish tenders, crackling fried shrimp and frog legs, and fried scallops that collapse at the slightest nudge. There also are long, chewy clam strips and gator-tail nuggets.

Some more standard varieties of seafood are presented in inventive ways: Lobster is quartered into nuggets and deep-fried as an appetizer ($7.95). They're delicate and crunchy, dipped into a pot of melted butter and chased down with a frosty beer. Among the entrees, there's the country-boy-named "shrimp a la Bob" ($14.95), sautéed in a fragrant sauce of butter, lemon, Cajun spices and garlic. For variety and abundance, there's the house special ($15.95), loaded with boneless catfish tenders, crackling fried shrimp and frog legs, and fried scallops that collapse at the slightest nudge. There also are long, chewy clam strips and gator-tail nuggets.

Dinners come with a choice of side items, the best of which are the creamy, tart cole slaw, tangy-buttery collard greens, and chunky hash browns melted with cheese and onions. The too-soggy hushpuppies flopped miserably, though.

Dinners come with a choice of side items, the best of which are the creamy, tart cole slaw, tangy-buttery collard greens, and chunky hash browns melted with cheese and onions. The too-soggy hushpuppies flopped miserably, though.

Our waitress was friendly and efficient. If you go to The Catfish Place, expect to be on your way in a short time -- it will help to make up for the long drive back home.

The Peruvians haven't played in a World Cup since the '80s, but El Sanguchon's ultra-authentic Peruvian home cooking scores major points. Everything is made from scratch, including the pillowy bread with crackly crust that accompanies the tamale con pan y salsa criolla ($5.99), a good example of a major tenet of Peruvian cooking: starch on starch. The carbs were sided with the classic condiment of thinly sliced raw red onion (made milder by washing the slices under cold water) marinated in lemon and cilantro. 

Likewise, french fries and rice are served with thin, tender steak and eggs in the bistec a lo pobre ($13.99). If you fancy fish, the pescado a lo macho is a cornmeal-crusted catfish wonder, smothered in golden cream sauce teeming with scallops, shrimp and fresh calamari. 

Chile has the edge on wine in South America, but El Sanguchon serves a delicious Peruvian Chincha Valley semisweet vintage, Borgoña, ($4.50, glass; $24, bottle) that pairs well with leche asada ($2.50), broiled custard with sweet caramel syrup glaze. 

"Nay, take a seat with us, Honor and eat with us," They answered grinning; "Our feast is but beginning."

When Christina G. Rossetti wrote those words in "The Goblin Market" in 1862, Dora Ann Drawdy was just settling into the Florida wilderness that would someday bear her name. And Rossetti certainly wasn't thinking about Vince and Janis Guzinski's restaurant when she told of the trials of sisters Laura and Lizzie. But "I ate and ate my fill, Yet my mouth waters still," fits the Goblin Market pretty well.

Not yet five years old, the restaurant is tucked into a side alley that, by the looks of all the new construction, won't be hidden and secluded much longer. Call for directions anyway. Trust me. The building was actually a small warehouse once, now set up as two cozy dining rooms and outdoor seating front and back. What parts of the gray walls that aren't covered in bookshelves are filled with windows, and the place washes with light, particularly in late afternoon when the setting sun streams across the lake.

Unlike the Goblin Men of the poem, the Guzinskis (who courted by reading poetry to each other) do not have cat faces or crawl like snails, but they do inspire some witchery in the kitchen. There's a nice hand with soups with unusual touches, like the French onion served with a crown of deep-fried onion strings, or a thick and flavorful crab bisque that's presented with a small crystal pitcher of sherry so you can season to taste ($5.95 each). A superb bread with a texture almost like pound cake comes to the table with the soup, and it's delicious.

Appetizers are just large enough to, yes, whet your appetite. The crab cakes with a tart cucumber-onion relish are very popular ($8.00), as is the unusual combination of artichoke hearts stuffed with pesto cream cheese and tempura battered ($7.00).

My waiter, Norm, was just attentive enough, apologizing when my entrée arrived in ten minutes instead of the promised five.

Judging by the poem, Lizzie would prefer ordering "Filet Portabella" ($23.00), a tenderloin topped with a portobello cap and melted brie on puff pastry and Béarnaise. Laura, with her passion for "grapes fresh from the vine, Pomegranates full and fine," would probably order "Snapper St. Martin" ($24.00), the filet pan-fried with an orange sauce, kiwi and banana. I was impressed by the flavor and presentation of the Atlantic escolar ($22.00), a firm and buttery-flavored fish that's also called walu -- very trendy right now but very tasty. It's served with a dollop of crab meat and avocado and covered in Chardonnay cream sauce, and quite a pleasure. The shrimp and lobster pasta with lemon cream sauce looked tempting too... maybe next time.

Mt. Dora is about 25 miles north of Orlando, and it's a pleasant drive if you avoid the highway. Open the windows, grab a driving-music CD, and head on up.

Lee & Rick's is an experience; it's an event, not to mention a tradition. You go with lots of people. You dress so it doesn't matter if you drop a Tabasco-laden raw oyster down your shirt. You eat way more than you expect to, and it's all good -- even when you do things that you normally would not, like gesture wildly with a shrimp tail or eat great stacks of saltine crackers covered in horseradish and cocktail sauce.

A restaurant doesn't stay in business for 50 years by accident, especially not one shaped like a dry-docked old boat and about as unfancy as they come on the inside, particularly not one on the far end of Old Winter Garden Road. I am told on very good authority that the place hasn't changed an iota since the early '60s, so we can probably say with some safety that it has never changed at all.

And why should it? Not when you can order a dozen oysters (raw or steamed, $6.95), and a large plateful of the ocean's jewels are laid before you, the raw mollusks straight from Apalachicola Bay and so fresh that they're sweet. When steamed, they are cooked just enough to satisfy the squeamish, but they're every bit as good.

The best deal is a bucket - three dozen for $14.95 - but you have to sit at the room-length oyster bar to get it. Settle in with a group at the bend of the bar, on the right side, so you can talk and watch some world-class shucking at the same time.

A pound of shrimp (hot or cold) is $12.95, and a big helping of fresh shellfish it is - firm enough to give your teeth some resistance, steamed spicy but not overbearing.

Fish dinner platters, like stuffed flounder ($9.95), come with a heap of fries. There's a lovingly uncomplicated piece of flounder, filled with a crabmeat (real and faux) and cracker stuffing. My companion described the fish as tasting "like my dad just took it out of the water," and I can't think of higher praise.

Those same plump shrimp can be ordered fried ($11.95 platter) with just enough breading to satisfy your craving for carbohydrates without masking the shrimp.

The servers don't lack from experience; this is a fast-paced atmosphere, and you've got to know your stuff to work here. So it's a pleasure to get food delivered quickly, to never have to worry about running out of beer and to be called "honey," all at the same time.

Lee & Rick's Oyster Bar just kicked off its 50th year in the business this month. They're going to be shucking like crazy, so take along a few friends and an old shirt, and have yourself a time.

It isn't often that restaurants go to war over names. But in June, Ron Woodsby, whose company owns the Fishbones chain, took Bonefish Grill to court, claiming their similar name and logo of a fish skeleton was violating trademark and confusing customers.

Then he opens Moonfish, a mile down Sand Lake Road from Fishbones and across the street from his competitor. (A moonfish, by the way, is called "opah" in Hawaii.) And why use "bone" to name a fish spot anyway?

Then he opens Moonfish, a mile down Sand Lake Road from Fishbones and across the street from his competitor. (A moonfish, by the way, is called "opah" in Hawaii.) And why use "bone" to name a fish spot anyway?

But a lot of thought and effort has gone into the design of the nonbony Moonfish, from the cast-metal opah on the front door to the magnificent art glass in the dining rooms. Everything revolves around fish. Hanging lights over the hectic bar look like little octopuses, and a giant tropical fish tank is echoed in video screens in the rest rooms. Walk around behind the sushi bar to see the catch of the day displayed next to the open kitchen -- clear eyes and bright, firm fish abound.

But a lot of thought and effort has gone into the design of the nonbony Moonfish, from the cast-metal opah on the front door to the magnificent art glass in the dining rooms. Everything revolves around fish. Hanging lights over the hectic bar look like little octopuses, and a giant tropical fish tank is echoed in video screens in the rest rooms. Walk around behind the sushi bar to see the catch of the day displayed next to the open kitchen -- clear eyes and bright, firm fish abound.

Don't plan on rushing through a meal at Moonfish; whether it's busy or quiet, things take a very long time. Our server gave new meaning to "wait staff," and the space between courses went way beyond luxurious and into interminable.

Don't plan on rushing through a meal at Moonfish; whether it's busy or quiet, things take a very long time. Our server gave new meaning to "wait staff," and the space between courses went way beyond luxurious and into interminable.

But while waiting for a table you can order immaculately prepared sushi like "dancing eel," which combines broiled eel, king crab and avocado, or the "yum-yum" roll of tuna, salmon and fried yellowtail (both $11.95). The expertise of their fish-buyer is evident in these jewels.

But while waiting for a table you can order immaculately prepared sushi like "dancing eel," which combines broiled eel, king crab and avocado, or the "yum-yum" roll of tuna, salmon and fried yellowtail (both $11.95). The expertise of their fish-buyer is evident in these jewels.

Portions are enormous, and when a dish hits the mark, it couldn't be better. A giant steamer full of Prince Edward Island mussels in garlic and white wine ($10.95) is worth the trip by itself. The open, citrus and oak-fired grill does wonderful things to the Oscar mignon, a thick sirloin filet topped with crab and Hollandaise (yes, good steak in a fish house; $20.95).

Portions are enormous, and when a dish hits the mark, it couldn't be better. A giant steamer full of Prince Edward Island mussels in garlic and white wine ($10.95) is worth the trip by itself. The open, citrus and oak-fired grill does wonderful things to the Oscar mignon, a thick sirloin filet topped with crab and Hollandaise (yes, good steak in a fish house; $20.95).

The "catch" menu changes daily, and lists not only the fish, but who caught it and where -- giving map coordinates. I didn't write down who caught my tilefish ($23.95) but it was a mild and moist one. The "chef's mixed grill," ($21.95) however, gets demerits for whoever picked our oily mahi-mahi and salmon, which were unimaginative choices from such an extensive variety. And serving overcooked shrimp scampi in such environs is practically criminal.

The "catch" menu changes daily, and lists not only the fish, but who caught it and where -- giving map coordinates. I didn't write down who caught my tilefish ($23.95) but it was a mild and moist one. The "chef's mixed grill," ($21.95) however, gets demerits for whoever picked our oily mahi-mahi and salmon, which were unimaginative choices from such an extensive variety. And serving overcooked shrimp scampi in such environs is practically criminal.

So Moonfish does occasionally miss the mark; still, in terms of the food overall, it turns out to be a lucky entry in the growing number of "concept" restaurants. No bones about it.