There isn’t an egg roll to be found on the menu at Ming’s Bistro. Nor is there a moo goo gai pan or anything named after General Tso. Instead, the menu – and the experience – is more traditional Chinese than is to be found at most Central Florida Asian restaurants, and that added to a general consistency in good quality and a welcoming and gracious staff make a meal here a real treat.
Especially exciting is Ming’s dim sum menu, which is offered at all times, even during dinner hours, something rare for even the half-a-handful of Chinese restaurants serving dim sum. But the best time to come here dim sum during the day on weekends when the small plates are served from carts wheeled through the dining room.
The trolley service presents a never-ending parade of tasty tidbits, the servers giving diners quick peeks of the foods stacked in silver steaming trays or ceramic dishes. Point and say, “I’ll have one of those,” or simply nod yes if your mouth is already full from whatever was placed on your table a moment earlier. The server will grab the hot tray with a pair of tongs and place it on your table, then make a checkmark on the tally sheet on the table. It’s sort of like an Asian version of tapas, but the gratification is more instant and the prices don’t seem to add up nearly as fast or as high as in a Spanish restaurant.
In fact most of the dim sum at Ming’s Bistro are under $3, and a serving will give a table of three or four at least a sample bite.
You may or may not be adventurous enough to try the spicy chicken feet ($2.50) or beef tripe in ginger sauce (2.50). But do try such dim sum staples as shrimp dumplings ($2.60), lotus leaf sticky rice ($3.75) and turnip cakes ($2.25). I especially liked the sticky rice, with bits of roast pork wrapped inside a lotus leaf, then steamed. (I bought one in a market in San Francisco’s Chinatown a couple of weeks ago where is was marketed as a Chinese tamale, a perfect description.)
Steamed beef balls ($2.50), were good, too, dense meatballs that had to be pried apart with chopsticks.
Dim sum isn’t the only reason to try Ming’s. I had some very nice entrees from the main menu, none better than the genger scallion fish fillets ($8.95). It featured thin pieces of firm white fish covered with slivers of ginger in a yellow sauce that was similar to a curry. The sauce was wonderful with the steamed white rice.
I also liked the house special casserole ($8.95), though you should know this isn’t the sort of casserole known in the Western world. Rather, it’s more like a stew with all sorts of goodies in it, including beef, pork, chicken and squid.
When I requested the crispy roast pork ($5.25) the woman who took my order kept asking me if I was sure that was what I wanted. Usually such a question is a signal that the dish isn’t very good or is a bit off that day. But she simply wanted to make sure I knew that this particular pork would be somewhat fatty (yea!) and have some small bones. That was acceptable, and the meat, served over rice with a slightly sweet sauce, was mouth meltable.
I also got a strange look when I ordered the egg and pork congee ($4.50). It was a different server this time but she kept asking if I knew what it was. Congee is basically a rice porridge, a breakfast staple in Asian countries, and a tough sell to American palates. In truth, it’s not something I usually care for because it’s just so blah, but I did like this version. The creamy texture of the boiled rice was complemented by the addition of egg and bits of pork.
Roast duck on rice ($5.95), similar in presentation to the roast pork, including a side of steamed bok choy, had deliciously crispy skin.
The English descriptions on the menu can be startlingly frank, as in gingered pork intestine or fish head with tofu (which is more frightening to you, the fish head or the tofu?). Each item is presented with Chinese characters but followed by a Vietnamese translation, a nod to the predominant culture in this part of town.
Ming’s Bistro is a big, bright box of a restaurant in a newly constructed building just east of Mills Avenue. On the far end is a large fish tank, with large fish inside, and a hot box with hooks holding cuts of pork, beef and whole ducks.
From the high ceilings hang jeweled chandeliers, but any light they throw is drowned out by the fluorescent fixtures above them. The walls sport framed pictures that appear to be posters or perhaps part of a mural wallpaper scheme. Décor is not emphasized.
Rather the efforts are focused on the quality of the food and service, which, despite the slightly prejudicial concerns for the Western palate, was kind, prompt and efficient.
I’m not sure why, but Chinese food has been a tremendous disappointment in Central Florida. Few manage to do it well, but to that limited list we can now add Ming’s Bistro

This must be a wonderful time to own a churrascaria. Meat, after all, is the darling of the dining scene, and churrascaria means meat.
Well, not literally. Churrascaria (tchoo-huh-scah-REE-uh) actually means house of barbecue, but to fans of this type of Brazilian steakhouse, it means meat, meat and more meat.
Texas de Brazil is a small chain out of, no surprise here, Texas that is riding the wave of low-carb popularity with a new location on International Drive. This isn’t the first churrascaria to open in the area. There have been a few, and just last year we visited another on I-Drive, Crazy Grill, which does a fine job overall.
But Texas de Brazil takes this concept to a new level. The surroundings are almost luxuriant, the service is nearly fawning, and the food is well prepared and plentiful in the all-you-can-eat concept. As to whether the $38.50 charge is a value, that depends on just how much you can eat and still enjoy yourself. I had a good time at TdB, and if you were to have weighed me when I went in and again when I left, I think the price per pound would have made it a bargain.
The first thing you’ll notice about Texas de Brazil is the colorful décor. You’ll probably see it through the windows as you circle the building trying to find the front door. Such is the parking arrangement that the entrance is on the opposite side of the restaurant.
The interior is painted a startling deep ruby red, and throughout the restaurant are gigantic sprays of silk flower arrangements that radiate their colors into the room. Floors are hardwood and tables are covered with white cloths.
The columns and ceiling beams are fashioned to look like iron girders with extruding rivets. I didn’t quite get the connections, but a manager told me later it was meant to look like a large factory in Brazil.
The wine cellar is enclosed in a glass-walled chamber just off the center of the large room. Next to it is a square buffet/salad bar. This is where your meal begins and, if you’re not careful to pace yourself, where it will end too.
The salad selection includes fairly simple greens and dressings, but also has more unusual items, such as tabbouleh, sushi and hearts of palm. In between you’ll find artichoke hearts, Brussels sprouts, asparagus, roasted red peppers, beets, buffalo mozzarella, grilled portobello mushrooms, potato salad and pasta among others.
There are also cauldrons of soup, sauteed mushrooms, black beans and rice. The black beans weren’t very flavorful, and some of the items weren’t worth the wasted calories. The Brussels sprouts, for example, were practically raw, and the sushi wasn’t done well enough to warrant its inclusion on a Brazilian buffet. But the rest of it was perfectly acceptable.
Still, I think I’d rather concentrate on the meats, and wonderful meats they were.
There is a method to the meat service and it requires proactive participation on the diner’s part. Circling throughout the dining room you’ll see a horde of servers, called gauchos after the Portuguese word for cowboys, carrying large skewers and chef knives. Each place setting has a paper disk that is green on one side and red on the other. Place the green side up when you’re ready for meat and these gauchos will stop by to offer you whatever they’re carrying. In some instances the servers fairly swarmed about the tables, descending on diners with flashing knives.
Each diner also has a set of tongs. Some of the meats and sausages are in small chunks, which the gaucho can simply slide off the skewer onto your plate. (All the servers were careful not to allow their skewers to touch a guest’s plate – a sanitation issue.) Other meats, such as top sirloin, leg of lamb and pork ribs, must be sliced. The gaucho makes a small cut and then asks the diner to grab hold with the tongs while he slices through.
The meats were all cooked over charcoal fires and well-seasoned. They were imbued with a smoky taste that complemented the herbs and spices, and the quality of the cuts was unquestionably high. Oh, and as if all that weren’t enough, your lead server will bring mashed potatoes and fried bananas to your table.
If you need a break, or when you think you’ve had enough, turn the disk over to red and the gauchos will pass you by.
If for some reason you still have the ability to eat something more, the Brazilian papaya cream ($6.25) or the chocolate mousse cake ($6.25) for dessert. And for more Brazilian authenticity, try the caipirinha ($7), a drink made with lime, sugar and cachaca.
Texas de Brazil is more expensive than Crazy Grill, but it also offers a more upscale experience, especially considering the International Drive location. If you’re following a low-carb diet, or if you just appreciate good grilled meats, you’ll think you’ve gone to hog – and cow – heaven.
Texas de Brazil is at 5259 International Drive, Orlando. It’s open  5-10 p.m. Sunday-Thursday, 5-10:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday.
Prix fixe $38.50.
407-355-0355

The Seasons 52 that exists today, in the original location on Restaurant Row Orlando and in eight other locations around the southeast, is not exactly the restaurant that it started out to be. But most of the changes have been for the best.

No, there is no butter in the kitchen or anywhere else in the restaurant. But then neither are there rolls nor yeasty hunks of bread to slather it on.
This is Seasons 52, the prototype for a new concept from Darden Restaurants, from whence Red Lobster, Olive Garden, Bahama Breeze and Smoky Bones came. To say that it is different from anything else Darden has done doesn’t go quite far enough. Seasons 52 is innovative on a number of levels, and if it succeeds as a chain – and we’ll discuss that in a moment – it could change the way dine out.

There have been a number of misconceptions about what Seasons 52 is. The name is one of the sources of confusion: it is meant to conjure the notion that instead of four there are 52 seasons of the year, because, culinarily speaking, food items come into season every week somewhere in the world. And to exploit that phenomenon, Seasons 52’s menu changes weekly.

That doesn’t, however, necessarily mean that if you go in one week and find a dish you absolutely love – something that is entirely possible – you won’t see it two or three weeks later when you return. You may see the same dish, but the salmon that came from the northeast last time might now come from the northwest. Or maybe it’s just the tomatoes from that salad that have different points of origin. You may not notice a thing, or you may find you prefer one item over another.

Another misconception is that Seasons 52 is a health food restaurant. It’s true that every item on the menu is engineered to be nutritionally balanced and have fewer than 475 calories. And fried is considered a dirty word. But to call it a health food restaurant conjures images of bran muffins and tofu bean cakes. This is hardly the place where you’ll see people wearing earth shoes and hemp vests.

Then there is the notion that this was somehow supposed to be a chainable California Grill. That stems from the team of George Miliotes and Clifford Pleau, who guided the Disney World restaurant to its reputation as one of the best restaurants in Florida. Miliotes is again the manager extraordinaire, whose devotion for fine wines has been put to great use with a phenomenal global wine list (with no fewer than 56 selections available by the glass), and Pleau assumes the helm of executive chef, assisted by Toni Robertson, formerly of Sonona Mission Inn and Spa in California. But this is not California Grill.
But then there is that char crusted pork tenderloin ($14.75) on the menu. It was served with creamy corn polenta, roasted mushrooms and a cabernet jus that looked and tasted for all the world like Pleau’s signature dish from CG. And if it had been reimagined to fit into Seasons’ mission, it didn’t lack in taste or substance. It was, as it always has been, a favorite.

I also liked the oak grilled ruby trout ($14.75), which anywhere else might have been brushed with butter while grilling to give it extra flavor and moistness, but the butterflied fillet was fine by itself, a full-flavored fish with a mouth-filling texture. It was served with wild rice, simple slices of tomatoes that burst with flavor, and broccolini.

Simplicity was the key for the grilled jumbo sea scallops ($17.95), big, thick discs of tenderness, served with orzo, and grilled asparagus. And lest you think a kitchen counting calories would never feature a juicy steak, the grilled filet mignon ($19.75) will convince you otherwise. It was a meltingly tender hunk of meat, seemingly larger than its advertized six ounces, and coated with a tamarind glaze. This, by the way, was the most expensive item on the menu.
And while the bread basket has been banished, there are some breads of a sort. There are a number of flatbread appetizers, not quite crackers, not quite pizzas. My guest and I had the spicy firecracker shrimp flatbread ($9.75), topped with chili peppers and caramelized mozzarella. It was not light on the spice.
Other appetizers included a large bowl of Prince Edward Island black mussels ($8.50), steamed in chardonnay and flavored with shallots, which made a modest broth; and a rather ho-hum presentation of tamarind glazed chicken breast skewers ($7.25), although the pineapple salsa that accompanied them was wonderful.

You’d be hard pressed to find a more satisfying salad than the one of Early Girl and Sungold tomatoes ($5.75) topped with pleasantly bitter watercress and sprinkled with salty blue cheese crumbles.

Instead of going sugar-free on the desserts, although there might be one or two so promoted, the tray features an array of “mini indulgences,” shooter-sized shot glasses all sorts of goodies for $1.95 each. I especially liked the bing cherries jubilee and the carrot cake with rum raisin sauce.
The dining room exudes warmth with its dark woods, stone, comfortable booths and mood-setting lighting. There are a couple of large trees in the center of the room that look as though they’d rather be outside, but otherwise it’s a lovely ambience.

Service was superior. Menu knowledge was first-rate and the staff all carried themselves with professionalism. Another innovation that Seasons 52 is using is handheld devices that allow the servers to take orders electronically and send them instantaneously to the kitchen. It also allows credit cards to be processed right at the table – or curbside if you call in for takeout. There are still some kinks to work out, such as when buttons are accidentally punched and phantom orders sit on the pick-up counter, but they’re eventually figure it out.

The remaining question is whether Seasons 52, which has become instantly popular and is crowded most evenings with people willing to wait an hour or more, can work as a multi-unit chain. It would seemed to me you would have to clone Miliotes and Pleau, because certainly their mark is one this prototype. But they’ve also shown themselves to be masters of training, and if they can find the right people, die-hard foodies who share their passion for excellence in whatever they do, then there will be a Seasons for everyone.

I’m pleased to say that Harmoni Market  in College Park seems to have found its voice.

When I first told you about Harmoni, the then-new eatery/ market didn’t quite seem to know what it wanted to be when it grew up. The market made a Moscow grocery store look well-stocked, and the food in the cafe was underportioned and overpriced, and too little of it was noteworthy for taste or quality.

But a new menu was released in June, and when I stopped by for a revisit I was impressed with what I saw, and especially what I tasted.

My guests and I started with the mezze, an array of appetizing bites that included hummus, sweet roasted tomatoes, compact stuffed grape leaves, tzatziki and olive tapanade.

One of my companions had the U-10 scallops, which sounds like a really weird band but were actually large scallops, deftly cooked, accompanied by a creamy risotto and sea beans.

I also sampled the Tanglewood Farms free-range bone-in chicken breast, served with baby carrots and turnips au gratin. The meat was tender and juicy and had a lovely mild flavor.

Seafood diablo had linguini tossed in a tomato sauce tinged with cream and made devilish with some crushed red pepper.

Harmoni Market is involved in Orlando’s nascent slow-food movement and is dedicated to serving natural meats and local products. It isn’t always easy — there aren’t enough locally raised meats and produce to fulfill a menu’s promise, but at least they’re trying.

And now they’re also succeeding in more ways. I had hedged my recommendation of Harmoni last year; I’m now happy to endorse it wholeheartedly.

(The Market part of the business is still a bit meager, but let’s end on a positive note.)

Harmoni Market is at 2305 Edgewater Drive, Orlando. Cafe hours are 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday through Thursday and 11 a.m. to midnight Friday and Saturday. Beer and wine are available, and credit cards are accepted. Entrees are $11 to $23. The phone number is 407-206-0033.

I’m just going to come right out and say this at the beginning and get it over with: Ulysses’ Prime Steakhouse is a restaurant of the highest caliber and may very well be one of the best in Central Florida.
That it should be located in Cocoa (Village, not Beach) makes it all the more delightful.
It was complete serendipity that I happened upon Ulysses’. I was on my way to Café Margaux, because after almost 12 years since visiting that fine restaurant I thought it was time to go back and check up on it. I had to pass Ulysses’ to get to Café Margaux, and it wasn’t until a few days later that I discovered both restaurants are owned by the same people, Alex and Pamela Litras.
Café Margaux has continued quietly over the years to provide east coasters with a brand of moderately upscale dining, a tad frilly in the décor, perhaps, but with delicious continental cuisine. Even though my absence lasted a dozen years, I continued to hear from satisfied diners that things were status quo, and my own recent experience proved that if the years had done anything at all to Café Margaux it was all on the plus side.
But Ulysses’ Prime Steakhouse is a different dining experience. It is more upscale, both in food and décor, and it offers a quiet and intimate dinner of exquisitely prepared food served with absolute precision.
One of the finest items I sampled was the seared duck liver, which though priced like an entrée at $19 was one of the standout appetizers and easily worth its cost. It featured a beautiful fat lobe, dearingly sauteed with figs braised in sauterne then glazed with mandarin-infused black pepper. It was served on challah toast and topped with chervil. Too many chefs feel a need to go overly sweet with foie gras; the chef here knows how to grace the taste of the liver instead of masking it.
Nearly as good were the diver scallops ($15), monster-sized mollusks served on the half shell with a tangy relish of kalamata olives.
The kalamata is clue to the underlying theme of the restaurant, which, as scholars of Homer will have guessed from the restaurant’s name, is Greek. Litras was attempting to pay homage to his heritage, but the Greek items tend to be the ones that don’t work. That may be because there are but a few passing nods to Greek cuisine.
Avgolemeno ($7) is one. The traditional chicken soup thickened with egg and tinged with lemon can be quite good when done well, but it is still a pedestrian soup that doesn’t blend well into a high cuisine menu. But the Greek notes are rare on the menu, and I’m grateful for that. I love Greek food, but to work it into this environment would have been a detriment.
Once you get past Ullyses’ in the restaurant’s name, you’re left with the words Prime Steakhouse, and that is were the Litras’s wisely focused their attention. The steaks were quite simply wonderful.
The menu features some Wagyu beef selections, though they are of course the domestic variety. True Japanese Wagyu can fetch astronomic prices. But the domestic variety sold here is fairly pricey, too.
How’s $56 for a 16-ounce Wagyu ribeye? For the true connoisseur it’s a mere pittance. The meat fairly meltet on the plate, let alone in the mouth. And it was cooked perfectly to the requested medium-rare. When you’ve got a product that costs as much as this does, you need a grill cook who isn’t constantly cooking re-dos.
I also had the Wagyu short ribs ($35), braised in a ragout of roasted vegetables and rose wine. The meat was delightfully fatty and coated the mouth with richness. The three ribs were served on a pallet of risotto blended with parmesan cheese and roasted garlic.
From the non-Wagyu meat list, the filet mignon stuffed with crab meat ($45) was a study in overindulgence. The USDA prime meat would have been treat enough; so could the lump crab meat that covered it. Put the two together and you’re willing to sacrifice an artery or two.
Meats are served with four sauces, served in ramekins arranged on a tiny bridge. They included rosemary cabernet demiglace de veau; chocolate demiglace de veau; pink and green peppercorn; and Maltaise, a hollandaise tinged with 150th Anniversary Grand Marnier for a slight orange flavor. All were good, but frankly the meat didn’t need saucing.
For dessert, bread pudding ($6), made with challah and dates, figs, raisins and apricots, was heavenly. The bread was custardized to a creamy texture and then sauced with rum caramel. And the macadamia pecan baklava ($8) was unlike any I had tasted before, covered with a tangerine glaze and drizzled with Mt. Ranier fireweed honey. Remember what I said before about the Greek theme not working on the menu? Forget it.
Service was positively top-notch. It wasn’t just the attentiveness – something that shouldn’t be hard in a restaurant with only 36 seats – it was also the intuitiveness, the ability to know what the diners want before they ask for it. Sometimes before they even realize they want it.
Pamela Litras designed the décor, which is sumptuously lush without being gaudy. Yards of alternating fabrics swoosh down the windows. Tables are draped with crisp white linens. And the kitchen is only slightly hidden behind glass panels that look as though they’ve been smeared with chocolate. The panels slide apart for kitchen staff to pass plates to the servers, like it was some elaborate Horn & Hardart’s automat.
I told you my assessment of Ulysses’ Prime Steakhouse at the top. There’s only one thing left to say: go.