One of the area’s most under appreciated restaurants, Everglades continues to offer high-quality fare. The Alligator Bay chowder is a terrific starter soup, and the swordfish is a southern inspiration

Fiorenzo, the Hyatt Regency Orlando restaurant formerly known as Fiorenzo Italian Steakhouse, has emerged from its monthslong renovation. Even though it shortened its name, it is still Italian and you can still get a good steak. With the reopening of the restaurant, Jared Gross, who made the hotel’s Urban Tide seafood restaurant a destination for locals, has taken the role of chef de cuisine at Fiorenzo. There wasn’t a thing wrong with the food here before, but with Gross’s direction I expect it to soar.

Fogo de Chao means fire of the ground, and although you’ll want to pronounce the last word in the name chow, it’s actually pronounced shoun. Chow fits better because, like all other churrascarias, it’s all about the food and lots — LOTS — of it.  
The experience begins with the salad bar, a designation that really doesn’t do justice to the array of foods splayed out. The salad bar sits in the center of the main dining room beneath massive rings of light fixtures that looks as thought they’re fashioned out of alabaster (they’re not). Physically, the bar is gorgeous: granite counter with a thick glass top that serves as the inelegantly named sneeze guard. Atop it are two colorful sprays of decorative flowers. Glass platters sit atop crushed ice and hold such things as artichoke bottoms, salami, prosciutto, sun-dried tomatoes, hearts of palm, thick stalks of asparagus, smoked salmon, aged Manchego and Parmesan cheeses, breads, and, since it is a salad bar after all, numerous greens and accoutrements. Novices make the mistake of filling up on the salad bar goodies, and it is an easy thing to do when everything is so attractive, not to mention tasty. (The smoked salmon and the prosciutto were my favorites.) But you’ll want to save considerable room for the meats that will be coming your way. They include top sirloin, bottom sirloin, ribeye, beef ribs, lamb chops and leg of lamb, chicken, sausage and pork tenderloin. (Interestingly, the only seafood offered is the salmon on the salad bar.) These are delivered to your table by the gauchos, the men (I’ve never seen women in the position) who move swiftly through the dining rooms dressed in the manner of South American cowboys. The meats are still on the skewers they were cooked on, and the gauchos slice the meats or slide whole cuts off the skewers and onto the guests’ plates. (There’s a set of tongs for you to grab the slice as it’s cut.) The meats come at you with alarming speed. If you feel overwhelmed, simply turn the green disk that sits at your table setting over so that the red side is facing up. That signals the gauchos to pass your table. Want more? Turn the green side back up and they’ll start swarming around your table again like buzzards on carrion.

Hanamizuki’s menu features Kyoto style cooking, which tends to be more elegant and formal than many of the dishes served in most American Japanese restaurants. It also focuses more on fresh vegetables and seafood other than sushi, although that is also a part of it and is available at Hanamizuki.Don’t be suprised to find a predominantly Japanese clientele here. No small wonder when the restuarant’s Web site is written in Japanese (you can opt in to a translation).

Orlando is the home of the corporate headquarters for HRC, so you’d expect the restaurant here to be superlative. And it is. It’s a massive structure, and I doubt the music plays any louder at another location. The food is basic, but more than passable.Texas chili was a good chili, but I would hate to be there when it was served to a real Texan and he or she discovers beans in it. You can find chili in Texas with beans in it, but you’ll probably also find the cook strung up out back. Then there is the Tuscan chicken salad, which could just as easily have been named Tallahassee chicken salad, or Berlin chicken salad, or even world-class chicken salad because there certainly wasn’t anything remotely Tuscan about it. OK, there were some slivers of salami and provolone cheese (which mostly comes from northern Italy, by the way) mixed in with mesclun greens, red peppers, mushrooms and asparagus. The greens were topped with cubes of grilled chicken and tossed with a red wine vinaigrette. Despite its geographical misplacement, it was a good salad.

The portions here are outsized and designed to impress, if not frighten and intimidate. Take, for example, the restaurant’s signature fried chicken and bacon waffle tower, which probably has more calories than the average adult male should eat in a week. (Excuse me, could you please pass the syrup?) Or the house version of eggs Benedict with smoked bacon, basted eggs, red pepper cream on a biscuit, all sitting atop mashed potatoes.

When the food gets this big and ostentatious, one naturally braces oneself for the trade-off in quality. But Hash House delivers there, too. All of the food I tasted — and I do mean tasted; I left a good deal of it on the plate — was quite good, well prepared and evenly seasoned.

Chef Michael McMullen has reenergized this upscale dining room with a new menu. Favorites include spicy shrimp and grits, maple horseradish mustard crusted baby rack of lamb, and cedar plank roasted sea bass. Service is among the best in town. The highlight of the dining room is the array of celebrity caricatures that cover the walls. They were done by Jack Rosen, father of hotelier Harris Rosen (hence the name of the restaurant), when he was employed by the Waldorf Astoria in New York.

Maggiano’s Little Italy is the sort of place that makes restaurant critics cringe when they hear one is coming to town. One has come to Orlando. First, it’s immense. Then there’s the issue of it being Italian, which in itself is not a cringe producer. But when you’re talking about an Americanized version of Italian food, and then factor in the mass production of a large restaurant, you can just start to picture the plates of spaghetti with sauce from an institutional sized can with meatballs that bear more than a couple of similarities to an eight ball. And it’s loud. And it plays Frank Sinatra virtually nonstop.
But it’s actually a lot of fun, and the food is decent.
So don’t let a critic’s jaded bias keep you away. Go with a group and order from the family style menu. Choose the pot roast for one of your choices, and have the tiramisu for dessert.

Don’t pay much attention to the cafe designation. This is mainly a nightclub with elaborate (and good) entertainment. You basically come here for the show and to have drinks. The food might help alleviate the affects of the latter.

Central Florida finally gets another chance to experience the wonderful world of Ethiopian cuisine. Don’t blow it this time! Wash your hands – you’ll be eating with them – and order an array of wat to sample. What? No, wat. It’s a sort of stew, and wats are the most common dishes in an Ethiopian restaurant. These might include variations of beef or chicken, but pork is never served. There are a few seafood selections on Nile’s menu, but Ethiopia is a landlocked country and seafood dishes are not common. Vegetarian wat versions feature lentils or split peas. Ethiopian restaurants are wonderful places for vegetarians to dine as meatless meals are a big part of the country’s cultural heritage. If you feel lost, ask one of your gracious hosts to guide you.

Coffee is Ethiopia’s top commodity and the coffee ceremony is a big part of a traditional meal. The coffee service area occupies a space in the front of the dining room. The whole beans are roasted in a small metal saucepan while incense burns nearby. When the beans are roasted the pan is brought to the table and waved about so the guests can enjoy the aroma. Once the beans are ground and brewed, the coffee is poured from a clay pot, called a jebena, into small handleless cups. It’s a very strong brew with a chewy texture and an aroma that is earthy and slightly charred. Desserts are not a part of a traditional Ethiopian menu.