But the menu at Millenia is identical to the one that has been so popular at the Pointe. It’s the atmosphere that is different. It’s still sufficiently upscale and appointed with such fineries as crisp white tablecloths and napkins. But whereas the International Drive restaurant has the decidedly masculine feel of a boardroom or exclusive country club the Millenia location is brighter, more modern and less, well, stuffy. Old money versus nouveau riche.

The food is the same high quality as other CapGrilles, and service is just as forward.

I liked the food I sampled, although both my companion and I found some of the flavors to be a bit muted. Experientially, I found the dinner to be more utilitarian than exotic.

I had the falafel, the chickpea fritter-like concoction. The outside was very dark, though not burnt, from frying. The inside was greenish, presumably from the parsley mixed in. It was served with tahini for dipping, and I liked it all very much.

For my entree I chose the stuffed white cabbage, easily the best thing of the meal — and I don’t usually say that about stuffed cabbage. The pungent leaves were rolled about a mixture of ground lamb, onions, garlic and seasonings, baked and topped with a tomato sauce.

Our server gamely humored us in our “how do you say in Turkish” queries and was ultimately charming and efficient.

Still, I couldn’t help but think that as Westerners we were there for a different reason than the other guests. We were looking for something exotic and unusual; they were looking for a familiar taste of home.

Caribbean Sunshine Bakery is much larger than it appears to be from the outside. At least the restaurant at John Young Parkway and W. Colonial Drive (there are two others in the area).

This place has scared the hell out of me for nearly 29 years.

That’s how long I’ve been driving past it, usually as I turn left onto South Orange Blossom Trail from Michigan Street heading for the on-ramp to Interstate-4. It’s a route I’ve taken probably thousands of times. And most of those times I’ve been conscious of glancing at the freestanding boxy building with the yellow plastic sign across the top, just over the windows clad with metal bars, with the name China Palace Restaurant and a couple of Chinese characters.

Who goes there? I wondered. What must it look like inside? Do people really eat there? And then I’d turn my attention to the traffic ahead and gird myself for the only thing scarier, a drive on the moving hell that is I-4.

But like I said, I’ve been passing China Palace for almost 29 years, ever since I moved to Central Florida to begin reviewing restaurants. Nearly three decades in a town of fickle diners. A new question began to needle me: How has it lasted so long?

We’re in the midst of the Lunar New Year festival, which began on Saturday. And since this is designated the Year of the Rooster, I decided to stop being so chicken.

So this time I made the left hand turn from Michigan Street onto Orange Blossom Trail and then veered right into one of the parking spaces directly in front of China Palace.

Firebirds is a Charlotte, North Carolina, based chain started in 2000 by Dennis L. Thompson, who co-founded Lone Star Steakhouse and Saloon. There are 34 locations (over two million dollars in bar inventory!); the Orlando restaurant is the company’s first in Florida.

The menu features little creativity yet tries to offer something for everyone. You’ve got your steaks, chicken dishes, various fish, burgers, meatloaf, five salads, distinguished from four others designated “Firebirds Signature Salads.” (The “Soups of the Day” section has eight selections, so figure that one out.) Most everything I tasted was just fine, though nothing rose to a level of wonderful.

Like other market/cafes of this type, Los Hermanos offers a variety of foods as lunch specials, each visible for your inspection through the condensation on windows of the steam table. The young woman behind the counter lifted the lids of each pan so that I could see what was underneath. It all looked good, but when she lifted the cover from the chilaquiles, my mind was made up — that’s what I’m having, I told her.
Chilaquiles are essentially strips of tortiallas that are fried and mixed with salsa and cheese. It’s a sort of Mexican comfort food. (It’s comfort food for at least one gringo, too.) Los Hermanos’ chilaquiles were served with two fried eggs on top. And because it was part of the lunch special, it also came with a load of refried beans and yellow rice. As I carried the container to the grocery checkout counter to pay for it, I was struck by how heavy it was. That was a lot of food for $6.39!
And a lot of good food, too. The chilaquiles had just the right amount of peppery heat, not to much that it burned but enough that you knew it was there. My only disappointment was that the fried eggs had cooked while sitting atop the chilaquiles in the covered pan, so the yolks had hardened a bit. I would have preferred freshly cooked eggs so that the yolk could have blended with the tortilla strips.

As the name suggests, Havana is actually two venues, a bistro on one side and a cafe on the other. What’s the difference? It’s subtle, but suffice to say that on one side of the place you order from a menu on and the other side you choose from among prepared dishes that a staff worker plates up for you. Again you ask, which is the bistro and which is the cafe? I have no idea, but you’ll be able to figure it out when you walk in.

I chose the dish-it-out side. The rules are very clearly stated at the start of the line: You choose the type of meat you want from among the available varieties, such as roast pork, stewed chicken and ropa vieja, then the type of rice you prefer (white, yellow or congri), and then two sides. I chose the roast pork on congri with yuca and red beans.

And then I watched in marvel as the young woman behind the counter started piling up the container with my selections. It was a tremendous amount of food, so much so that when she tried to close the cover of the takeout container she had to use a couple of pieces of tape so that it wouldn’t spring open.

The roast pork was wonderful — and more tender and I could have eaten it with a spoon. The rice and beans (and more beans) were good, too. Only the yuca was a bit of a disappointment. Usually yuca is heavily doused in a garlic sauce. This yuca was not. In fact, it wasn’t doused in anything. It was basically just starch. But I added some of the hot sauce that was offered at the cash register and sprinkled it liberally over everything. Perfect.

The name Hawkers makes sense once you know the concept, and it only sounds odd if pronounced by someone with a Boston accent.
The idea behind this charming little eatery is to present an array of dishes the type of which might be sold — hawked — by individuals who stake out space on the sidewalks and streets of various Asian cities but with, you know, stricter health department guidelines.
I’m resisting the urge to describe the dishes as tapas-like, but most of the menu items are “small plate” in nature. And the best way to experience Hawkers Asian Street Fare is the same as you would a tapeo, except instead of doing a tapas crawl, you might virtually wander these Asian streets and sample a number of delectable items. Try the banh mi sliders (I had the duck version; delicious) and the five spice pork choplettes. The curry Laksa is a wonderful and colorful bowl of myriad flavors with chicken, shrimp and big fat egg noodles.

Isan refers to the northeast of Thailand; zaap is a word that can mean spiciness or sassy.

As with other assemblage concepts, guests choose the ingredients and direct the staff member behind the sneeze guard who puts it all together into what one hopes will be a conglomeration that doesn’t suck. Here you can choose a burrito as your food container, or perhaps a pita pocket, or maybe just a bowl to hold it all.

I went with the burrito, choosing a white flour tortilla instead of a whole wheat one, Mexican rice instead of brown or mjedderah (the Lebanese mix of rice and lentils), black beans instead of lentils, and steak as my meat option. It doesn’t stop there. One must still choose sauces and other accouterments.

It all turned out well, however. My choices all came together into a well-stuffed burrito that was transferred into a well-stuffed diner. The quality of the ingredients — including hormone-free meat — was evident in the taste.