American in South

Broadway Café is a quaint bistro and art gallery located in the heart of downtown Kissimmee. Not only a restaurant, the Café also allows you to dine surrounded by art that isn't just restricted to the walls! Every table is a one-of-a-kind painting depicting scenes ranging from the building in the 1920's to beautiful flora and local scenery. We also offers a variety of coffee drinks, homemade desserts and an ice cream bar! The motto of Broadway Café is â??Where the Creation of Good Food is an Art!â?� so if you enjoy the arts, irresistible food made with pride, and a unique dining experience, come visit us in Historic Downtown Kissimmee!

With a commitment to nose-to-tail cookery and a fine selection of accessible-but-atypical cuts, this "Southern Public House" has already reached legendary status. James and Julie Petrakis' latest venture (now available only to ticketed airline passengers, as it's behind security at MCO) serves terrific nouveau-Southern fare -- grilled lamb heart, ethereal pork belly, foie gras-stuffed quail and a country-ham tasting flight, to name just a few. Pair your meal with a house-made brew or craft cocktail.

Seasoned shoppers will tell you that if you plan to tackle the holiday madness in any of Orlando's major malls, a good pair of walking shoes is just as important as strict adherence to the 3 Ps ' patience, perseverance and pancakes. Yes, pancakes. Or waffles, eggs, cereal, yogurt ' whatever your breakfast meal of choice happens to be. A good start is critical, even essential, when the time comes to elbow a septuagenarian or two out of the way for that marked-down sweater at the Gap.

So, if the Mall at Millenia happens to be your credit-leavener of choice, consider popping into this area brekkie joint for some pre-shopping sustenance, though judging from the quick closure of the previous tenant ' Mama Fu's Noodle House ' and the demise of the neighboring Storehouse furniture store and the Testa Rossa Caffe, you'd better hurry.

The interior hasn't veered much from its Mama Fu's days; in fact, even some of the waiters are holdovers, as is the maddening '80s and '90s pop music playing overhead. The coffee-colored walls, suspension lighting and floor-to-ceiling windows tender a level of slickness a step above your local First Watch or IHOP, and the breakfast fare, though not dazzling, is properly satisfying.

Where else to start but with the classic Belgian waffle ($5.59)? The signature from Brussels is light, crispy and simple. The lone square-shaped hotcake is a refreshingly minimalist breakfast portion, served in a square dish with an orange slice and a wee bowl of butter. But the only available liquid topping is table syrup, which is essentially super-thick high-fructose corn syrup. Is it too much to ask for a breakfast joint to serve real 100 percent maple syrup instead of this fabricated goop? Yeah, it's a tad more expensive, but if I'm paying six bucks for a waffle, I'll gladly foot a few extra cents for real maple syrup. Until that day comes, your only choice is to head over to your nearest supermarket, purchase some fancy grade-A Canadian maple syrup and carry it with you the next time you dine at this or any other pancake/waffle house. It'll make your meal considerably more gratifying and, really, it's no different than bringing your own hot sauce to a restaurant.

My dining partner opted for the granola crunch waffle ($6.69). For $1.10 more than the Belgian waffle, you get a sprinkling of rolled oats and raisins along with a plate of whipped cream. I have to admit, it just didn't look very appetizing. Perhaps it was because the granola looked like chicken feed scattered over a subway grate, or that waffles and granola seem about as culinarily mismatched as foie gras and Cheerios. No matter, traditionalists can select from other, less health-food-y options such as chocolate chip, baked pecan and strawberries with cream.

Similarly flavored pancakes are also offered, as are a range of omelets in time-honored ingredient combos, but I was more intrigued by the Florida french toast ($6.79). Though I expected to see wheat germ, bananas, strawberries and powdered sugar dusted over thick slabs of Franco-American-inspired toast, our austere waitress set down a plate of four fluffy slabs of regular french toast ($5.79). Though I was disappointed by the lack of Floridian embellishment, my frustration was tempered by the aesthetically appealing plating and the savory cinnamon-tinged eggy bread, which I ravenously devoured.

The Florida Waffle Shop also has a selection of burgers, sandwiches, salads and other lunchtime faves on hand, all of which can be enjoyed until 3 p.m., and their 'you've got to love it guaranteeâ?� ensures customers are satisfied with their orders. But until I can pour real maple syrup on my griddled cakes, complete customer satisfaction will evade me. Guess what's on my shopping list?

The first thing that strikes you about Uncle Henry's is that it's a happy place. You're greeted with a smile from a man in a bright, button-down shirt, and your chair is pulled out for you when you sit. The plastic flowers that adorn the inside are colorful.

This oasis of cheer, coincidentally enough, is nestled in the heart of the city's Parramore redevelopment effort, on the ground floor of the Hughes Supply building on West Church Street. All around this epicenter of development, there is poverty and a history of failed attempts to make things better. But Uncle Henry's is happy, so you want to be as well.

This oasis of cheer, coincidentally enough, is nestled in the heart of the city's Parramore redevelopment effort, on the ground floor of the Hughes Supply building on West Church Street. All around this epicenter of development, there is poverty and a history of failed attempts to make things better. But Uncle Henry's is happy, so you want to be as well.

The menu advertises "'The Best' Soups & Homemade Pies," so my companion and I ordered the soup of the day, black bean and rice, for an appetizer ($1.95 cup). The soup was hearty enough, thick with rice and beans, but the beans were a little too hard for my taste, almost crunchy, and the soup itself was ordinary.

The menu advertises "'The Best' Soups & Homemade Pies," so my companion and I ordered the soup of the day, black bean and rice, for an appetizer ($1.95 cup). The soup was hearty enough, thick with rice and beans, but the beans were a little too hard for my taste, almost crunchy, and the soup itself was ordinary.

For an entree, I decided to go for the "served all day" breakfast – namely, "The Cha Cha omelet" ($4.75) that our waitress suggested. ("Only the HOT want me!" the menu cautioned.) The Cha Cha comes with ham, Jack cheese, hash browns, green peppers and a "calypso sauce" that seemed to be nothing more than a moderately spicy salsa.

For an entree, I decided to go for the "served all day" breakfast – namely, "The Cha Cha omelet" ($4.75) that our waitress suggested. ("Only the HOT want me!" the menu cautioned.) The Cha Cha comes with ham, Jack cheese, hash browns, green peppers and a "calypso sauce" that seemed to be nothing more than a moderately spicy salsa.

The Cha Cha was delicious, though calling it spicy is something of a stretch. It was large enough that I couldn't finish the entire thing – and I have a healthy appetite – and sufficiently loaded with peppers and hash browns to keep my taste buds intrigued. My one complaint would be that the cheese wasn't melted enough, but next time I'll ask for it that way. The accompanying grits and rye toast were done right, and once I loaded the grits with salt – because, you know, grits need salt – and melted butter, it made for a wonderful, filling meal.

The Cha Cha was delicious, though calling it spicy is something of a stretch. It was large enough that I couldn't finish the entire thing – and I have a healthy appetite – and sufficiently loaded with peppers and hash browns to keep my taste buds intrigued. My one complaint would be that the cheese wasn't melted enough, but next time I'll ask for it that way. The accompanying grits and rye toast were done right, and once I loaded the grits with salt – because, you know, grits need salt – and melted butter, it made for a wonderful, filling meal.

My companion ordered the tuna salad sandwich ($4.75), which she found most excellent. The bread was properly toasted, and the tuna was fresh. The potato chips that came with it, on the other hand, were crumbled up. Again, however, the sandwich was more than enough to satisfy her appetite.

My companion ordered the tuna salad sandwich ($4.75), which she found most excellent. The bread was properly toasted, and the tuna was fresh. The potato chips that came with it, on the other hand, were crumbled up. Again, however, the sandwich was more than enough to satisfy her appetite.

So we left, full and happy – which, I gather, is exactly the idea.

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.

Is Orlando ready for another upmarket seafood joint, especially during these splurge-unfriendly times? Cameron Mitchell, Ocean Prime owner and current chairman of the Culinary Institute of America, thinks so, but if you trawl Sand Lake Road, you'll find plenty of fish in this proverbial sea. Noteworthy seafood restaurants on the strip include Bonefish, Roy's and Moonfish, all within a quarter-mile of his gleaming retro 'supper club,â?� and with many area restaurants reeling from recessionary disinterest on the part of diners, you have to wonder if all the grabbing hands are crumbling the pie. But confidence has its place in the business world, and Ocean Prime's undeniable swagger is what sets it apart from its fish-mongering neighbors.

The restaurant aims to channel the appeal of dining's glory days, and there's no doubt OP's the big fish when it comes to style ' aesthetes will marvel at the gossamer drapes, curvilinear design and dreamy nautical décor. If the restaurant were judged on flair alone, it'd receive top marks. If its service, fare, presentation and intangibles were as polished as its interior, it would certainly attain the lofty heights set by Orlando's other seafood supper club, the Oceanaire Seafood Room. As it stands, there's some work to be done. To wit: When asking for our water preference, I'd expect a server not to slur his speech; I'd also expect a server to remember to bring a bread basket (the sourdough-honey wheat bread was lovely when it finally arrived, minutes before we ordered dessert); and when entrees are served, I'd expect the server to clear the table area instead of gesturing with head nods and eye movements for me to do it. If this sounds like nitpicking, it is, but for a restaurant of this caliber, high expectations are justified.

I was disappointed to hear that the Alaskan red king crab legs were removed from the raw bar menu (it's available as an entrée), so I opted for the 'chilled colossal crab meat cocktailâ?� ($16) instead and found that there wasn't anything colossal about the meat, the serving platter or the flavor. Happily, the prime beef carpaccio ($14) was outstanding, and the side of beef short ribs stuffed inside a pipe bone was a nice touch.

Prime steaks range from a 7-ounce petite filet ($31) to a 22-ounce porterhouse ($48), but we were in a particularly piscatorial mood and tried the featured Alaskan halibut ($32). The fleshy fillet, dusted in Mitchell's own seasoning, was properly moist and sat atop a buttery champagne vin blanc sauce, but from essence to presentation, the dish just seemed uninspired. (I had the same fish at J. Alexander's during lunch and it was far superior, and half the price.) Though its edges were crisped, the Florida black grouper ($30) fared much better, and a la carte add-ons of jalapeño au gratin potatoes ($9) and sesame stir-fried snap peas ($8) were thoroughly devoured. Desserts, like the towering baked Alaska ($9) and the chocolate peanut butter torte ($8), are toothsome triumphs big enough for sharing.

Behind the stunning floor-to-ceiling wine repository, live music resounded from the cocktail lounge ('80s detritus on this particular night) and let me just say that nothing beats listening to 'Congaâ?� and 'Girls Just Want to Have Funâ?� while trying to enjoy a refined meal. Still, Ocean Prime has all the makings of a destination dining spot, more than just another posh see-and-be-seen joint littering the strip. Chef Todd Baggett (the Boheme, Manuel's on the 28th, Beluga, Moonfish) has the chops to raise the bar in the kitchen, and if the front of the house makes the necessary tweaks, the restaurant will flourish. For now, Ocean Prime isn't quite ready for prime time.

Orlando's ability to create and attract "stars" goes for acclaimed cuisine celebrities just as well as sports and music figures.

Chefs Paul Bocuse and Gaston Lenotre call Epcot their Florida home; Todd English is moving in to the Walt Disney World Swan and Dolphin Hotel; Roy Yamaguchi holds sway on Sand Lake Road; and we've all been exposed to Emeril and Wolfgang Puck. Slightly lower on the fame scale, but no less talented, is Melissa Kelly, the guiding hand behind Primo at the JW Marriott Orlando, Grande Lakes.

The massive Grande Lakes complex also includes The Ritz-Carlton Orlando, home of Norman's, the signature restaurant headed by fellow James Beard Award winner Norman Van Aken; Kelly was named "Best Chef: Northeast."

This Primo is the second location for the renowned chef, who opened her Rockland, Maine, location in 1999 to critical acclaim. While Kelly's "down east" spot is a fairly simple affair in a Victorian house, the Orlando version reflects its massive surroundings. In a deep-colored room with semi-William Morris wallpaper and organic-looking chandeliers, you're confronted with a dizzying assortment of salad knives, fish forks and several sizes of dessert spoons. The cutlery is only slightly more complex than the food.

Kelly and chef de cuisine Kathleen Blake are well-versed in the ways of organic foods -- in fact, there's an organic garden on the premises -- and the menu varies with available supplies. The stuffed squash blossom starter ($10) was immensely pleasurable: crispy flowers filled with creamy ricotta and drizzled with balsamic vinegar. Too bad there were only two. Fried calamari ($11) used tender ring slices and spicy tentacles dressed with cress and citrus.

It isn't often you encounter a new experience, which I did with the sturgeon entree ($28). Sturgeon are huge, dense beasts, and my serving had a firm texture more like chicken than fish, with a flavor that only comes from cold-water catches. It was served alongside a baby artichoke half-filled with tomato couscous and a braised slice of escarole (impossible to cut with the fish knife).

Beautiful women and young men with spiky hair make up the well-trained staff, and do their jobs well. The only downside that comes to mind is the price: Dinner for two easily rises to more than $100. The Maine lobster ($32) -- while interestingly served with handmade pansoti (similar to ravioli) stuffed with squash -- is not the expected full shellfish but some chunks and a few deshelled claws, which seems a bit expensive.

There's thought behind the cuisine, and the excellent food isn't simply trendy -- Melissa Kelly has earned her fame.

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

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.

Village Tavern features a wide-ranging menu of inventive American food. Only the finest ingredients are incorporated into each dish, including fresh produce, made-from-scratch pizza dough and Certified Angus beef that is cut and aged to exclusive specifications.