A while ago I told you about the upscale seafood chain McCormick & Schmick’s, where the menu lists the origins of the featured fresh catches – blue marlin from San Jose, Costa Rica, for example.

This week we’re at another upscale seafood restaurant, Moonfish, where the menu gets even more specific. I not only know that my Black Island swordfish came from just off the coast of Cape Hatteras, I even know that it was caught – harpooned, to be exact – by Paul Josephs.
It may be more information than you need or want (heck, some people don’t even care what their waiter’s name is), but the bottom line, not to mention the hook and the sinker, is that the quality of seafood restaurants around here is getting better.
Moonfish is the latest concept from the Charley’s Steak House folks, Talk of the Town, Inc. They’re certainly not new to the seafood game. Just down Sand Lake Road you’ll find their other seafood restaurant, Fish Bones (not to be confused with Outback Steak House’s nearby Bonefish, and that you might perhaps find it confusing is the basis of a complaint against Outback by Talk of the Town calling for them to stop using that name, but that’s another story).
 
That swordfish, so ably harpooned by Josephs, was nicely grilled and had a smoky flavor to complement the firm texture and moist flakiness of the fillet.
More impressive was the Vietnamese basa, a catfishlike fish, fried whole and posed on the plate to make it look as though it might swim away. It had sweet flesh that was enhanced by slivers of whole ginger that had been placed in slits along the body. It was topped with a slaw tinged with toasted sesame oil that gave it an Asian edge.

The Alaskan halibut stuffed with blue crab, shrimp and brie just didn’t work. There wasn’t anything wrong with the fish itself; it had fresh qualities and good flavor. But that flavor was done no favor by the overpowering cheese.

It shouldn’t be surprising that steaks are properly prepared for those in the group that don’t care for fish. One of my guests had the 20-ounce bone-in New York strip ($18.95), grilled so the outside was crispy but the inside was pink and juicy, even with a requested temperature of medium-well.

For appetizers there was nothing better than the crab cake, which wasn’t very cakelike but rather a mound of lovely lump crab meat, slightly warm and rich in natural flavors.

For dessert there was an impressive sampler of sorbets, including pineapple, coconut, lemon and an unusual apple, all served in hollowed fruit. And the chocolate cake, an enormous slice of multi layers, moist and rich, the icing studded with chocolate chips, was also delightful.

Service tended toward the “let’s be friends” end of the spectrum. If you know the name of the person who caught your fish you’re certainly going to hear the name of the person serving it to you. The wine list has a number of good selections but precious few by the glass.

The moonfish, also known as opah, figures into the decor beginning with a manhole-sized door handle on the entrance. Round shapes, not necessarily fish in form, have been worked into the interior, which also features a slate entry way, dark woods and the signature wood-fired pit at the front of the kitchen.

Tables are covered with white cloths then topped with butcher paper. (Note to staff: check the stains on the portion of the cloth that hangs down, please, and change them when necessary.) The dining room is inexplicably noisy – there aren’t a lot of hard surfaces, but in a room that was only a little more than half full, my guests and I had trouble hearing each other across the table.

Still, the surroundings are mostly pleasant, and the quality of the seafood is encouraging.

It’s been a long time since we’ve had a comprehensive look at Victoria & Albert’s, Disney’s top-of-the-line restaurant at the luxurious Grand Floridian Resort & Spa. The restaurant, which last year snagged top ratings from AAA and Mobil Travel Guide, recently underwent some changes, but most are subtle.
Wedgewood has replaced Royal Doulton as the house china, Sambonet flatware has been replaced with Cristofal. The Schott-Zweisel crystal has been supplanted by Reidel, the choice of wine snobs everywhere.

There are changes to the intimate dining space as well. The walls have been repadded with coverings that fit the turn-of-the-previous-century theme. The eight thick, squat columns that ring the center rotunda have been replaced. But the room is still the elegant space it was when it opened in 1988, sumptuously appointed, romantic and quiet.

The servers still wear costumes of circa 1900 servants, but their Disney name tags no longer misidentify them as a Victoria or an Albert, one of the bits of silliness that did disservice to an otherwise high-class dining experience; the staff may now use their own names.

Scott Hunnel still oversees the kitchen, as he has done most ably for the past 11 years. Dinner is, as it was, prix fixe. Ninety-five dollars is the going rate these days. For another $50 you can pair each course with a wine chosen to complement the food. Add the tip, plus a premium for an upgraded item (more on that in a moment) and you’re looking at over 200 bucks for one person. In terms of the quality, the unique offerings, the pampering and the enjoyment of an experience that will last nearly two-and-a-half hours, it’s a bargain.

Dinner is presented in six courses from a personalized menu with options in each category. The menu my guests and I enjoyed will surely have changed significantly by the time you read this – Hunnel makes changes periodically – but the gist will remain.

 The first course, which followed an amuse bouche of a seared scallop with mango, featured a terrine of Dungeness and lump crab with three types of asparagus carefully arranged on the plate. Or, Applewood smoked buffalo as part of a stylized Waldorf salad, graced withapple walnut vinaigrette. This course presented the first upgrade option of Iranian caviar that, had anyone at my table selected it, would have added $70 or $140 to the bill depending on the size of fish eggs. We were all happy with the other selections, especially the crab.

In the next course, pan-roasted foie gras was worth the $15 premium. The buttery-textured lobe was served atop a brioche scented with vanilla and accompanied by cherries. The other choices were good too: pork tenderloin with Maui spring onions as part of a creamy sauce soubise, and Gulf of Mexico shrimp with coconut curry broth and bok choy. On another visit I had a “Napoleon” devised of veal from Marcho Farms layered with melted leeks and roasted baby fennel.

The fish course had Maine skate wing, firm, white and sweet, served with artichoke confit and preserved lemon to add a touch of tart. Monterey abalone was the premium selection ($25), dollar-sized coins of of the mollusks sauteed with baby spinach, toasted capers and accented with Meyer lemon. On one visit they were done perfectly; on the other they were tough and hard and the only disappointment I experienced.

My first choice for the seafood course was the Scottish smoked salmon cream with barely seared Copper River salmon, which was more of a soup course. But it was wonderful, the richness of the cream playing off the smoky notes of the salmon. And in a truly inspired pairing, instead of wine it was served with a Belgian ale.

For the putative main course the selections included guinea hen with mushroom risotto, morels and truffle foam; Jamison Farm lamb with Laura Chenel goat cheese gnocchi and ratatouille. The meat featured sliced medallions as well as a slender chop. The gnocchi were seasoned simply with kosher salt, which enhanced the myriad flavors within.

Grilled prime filet with celery root-potato puree, braised short ribs and oxtail jus is for the meat and potatoes types. For those types with a little extra money, the Austrailian “Kobe” beef premium ($25) is identical except for the meat.

Instead of a classic cheese course, Hunnel offers a cheesecake fashioned with English Stilton served with a cheesestick of Parmigiano-Reggiano.
Desserts showcase the genius of pastry chef Erich Herbitschek. A Grand Marnier souffle was superb, but another presentation of chocolate and spun sugar presented a tableau of a salute to Disney’s new Soarin’ exhibit. Very impressive.

The dining room is under the watchful eye of Israel Perez. The erstwhile Vicky and Al’s comport themselves professionally, and service is painstakingly proper. I do wish they’d dispense with the line-by-line reading of the menu.

Much more annoying, however, is the grilling that takes place when making a phone reservation. It is a long ordeal during which you will be asked personal questions that shouldn’t matter when making a dinner reservation. There’s no need for that.

But with that experience in the past, dinner at Victoria & Albert’s, the only restaurant in Central Florida that still requires gentlemen to wear jackets, is truly top-notch. It’s a magnificent dining experience that is worthy of the accolades it has received.

I’ve always thought Samba Room was the coolest of the eateries on Restaurant Row. In my imagination,  it’s what the swank clubs of Havana in the ‘40s must have been like. Lighting, décor and music come together in a moody meld that is not so much romantic as it is seductive. The coffered ceiling undulates throughout the large space, sheer drapes may be pulled back to provide a more secluded rendezvous, and throughout the meal the rhythmic beat of Latin music pulses and begs to be danced to.
Latin, of course, is the overriding theme of the menu, although, just as with the original, the current bill of fare does not claim authenticity. It is more a reimagining of Latin American and Hispanic dishes.
Still, no amount of imagination can explain why there is a Thai satay appetizer and an entrée of Japanese soba noodles. A press release on the new Samba Room claims a Latin-Asian fusion, but simply putting stir-fried buckwheat noodles on the menu next to Spanish paella does not constitute fusion. Now a paella made with soba noodles – that’s another thing.
But why mess with something as good as the original paella ($25.50)? Samba Room’s rice based version, boldly seasoned with intense saffron, had generous portions of shrimp, mussels, squid and chicken and a half a lobster.
Even better than the paella was the Argentinean style skirt steak ($21.50). The thin steaks, well marinated and seasoned, were folded together so as to appear to be a thicker cut of meat, I suppose. Skirt steak can be tough but this was tender. And the traditional chimichurri sauce was a nice complement. My companion also requested a side dish of shiitake mushrooms al ajillo, leathery flat caps in a subtle garlic sauce, that offered another dimension of taste as well as texture.
I also enjoyed the pork barbacoa ($18.95), stringy chunks of beer-marinated pork wrapped in banana leaves for roasting, which rendered the meat moist and full flavored. In one of the real attempts at fusion, it was served with something that was supposed to be an Asian barbecue sauce, although the flavors of the Orient escaped me.
Chilean sea bass enchilado ($24.95) was based on a superb hunk of fish, fresh-tasting with beautiful white flesh. Enchilado is not misspelled – it refers to a Creole style stew rather than the Mexican dish. But instead of a stew the fish was graced simply with a tomato-based sauce.
Appetizers didn’t have the same positive consistency as the entrees. I liked the oysters Samba ($7.95), three impossibly plump oysters coated with seasoned panko, Japanese style bread crumbs, deep-fried and served on the half shell with Manchego cheese and sweet plantains. It was neither Latin nor Asian but it was delicious.
Crab cigars ($8.95) were without substance. These, apparently, were meant to be like Mexican taquitos, but they were mostly wrapper with little inside.
Peruvian fried calamari ($8.95), besides having little to distinquish it from calamari from any other part of the world, was much too greasy.
Arepa ($6.95), the sweet corn cake from South America, had a small amount of shredded beef and a bit of cheese. More ingredients would have made this one a winner.
The tres leches  dessert was a little too dry for a cake that is supposed to be soak in three kinds of milk. Guava cheesecake had a nice creamy sweetness. The crust on the coconut crème brulee was too thick although the custard was tasty.
Service varied greatly. On one visit a hostess snipped at me and gave me attitude, and the waiter felt the need to announce, “That looks great,” each time a plate was put on the table. But on another visit the service was prompt, sincere and unintrusive.
I still think Samba Room is one of the coolest spaces on Sand Lake Road, if not all of Orlando. And I’m glad the “new” owners are tweaking the menu and improving on the quality of the food. But I wish they would stick with the Latin theme and not try to confuse with the infusion of Asian influences.

I don’t know why more locals don’t go to Everglades. Since it opened in late 1995 in the then-new Omni Rosen Hotel, now the Rosen Centre Hotel, it has served consistently high-quality food in a unique, if slightly odd atmosphere.

The entree I liked most was the Spanish Harbor swordfish ($25), but it was just one of the items I enjoyed here that has me wondering why Everglades isn’t on a list of local favorites.

The swordfish was a thick and flaky steak, served atop a scattering of succotash and dressed with a just-so-tangy barbecue sauce. A couple of slices of fried green tomatoes gave it a decidedly southern accent.

Although they tend not to roam in South Florida, the tenderloin of buffalo ($32) was another satisfying entree. The pan-seared meat was a juicy medium-rare, and it had just the tiniest hint of gaminess, just enough to set it apart from its beefy cousins. It was accompanied by a ragout of chunky mushrooms in a finely executed zinfandel reduction sauce.

For the lover of more traditional meats, the filet Key Largo ($29) should suffice, and then some. It featured a filet mignon, cooked a bit past the requested medium-rare, but still acceptable, topped with a heaping helping of jumbo lump crabmeat and bearnaise. A pinot noir demiglace added a darker flavor note to complement the sweetness of the crabmeat.

Only one dish, the Florida Bay bouillabaisse ($36) failed to satisfy. Here was an ample amount of clams, shrimp, scallops and lobster with linguica and potato chunks in broth tinged with saffron. But unfortunately the seafood had all been overcooked, the lobster falling apart into mush and the scallops hard little disks. Ironically, a section of corn on the cob, the item that is usually the overcooked one, was practically raw. And all of this was all the more disappointing because the broth was wonderful.

One of my favorites from the original menu, gator chowder, is still featured. Actually, it’s now called Alligator Bay chowder ($6), but it still features pebbles of ground gator meat and chunks of potatoes in a tomato laced broth.

Another good starter course was the duck confit ($9), a tender leg quarter with a perfect salty taste graced with a blackberry syrup. A preparation of Florida rock shrimp ($9) had the firm bits of shellfish prepared with roma tomatoes and shiitake mushrooms in an al dente risotto. Quite a substantial starter course.
Boca Chica mushroom ($8) was supposed to be crispy, but the portobello, served on watercress with balsamic vinaigrette, was not. Still, I enjoyed the flavors.

Any restaurant in Florida, let alone one with a South Florida landmark as its theme, should be ashamed to serve the Key lime pie ($5) that was offered here. Besides the lime filling being insufficiently tart, it was topped with a thick layer of tasteless white substance.

Two better desserts were the chocolate marquis ($7) and the pecan tuile ($7), each offering a sweet and rich finish.

I’m still not a huge fan of the decor, which features an enormous airbrushed mural of an Evergladescape. There is also a mother and calf manatee sculpture hanging from the ceiling and an alligator creeping down a banister. One nice touch was the addition of blinds in the windows at the front of the dining room, shutting out the stark and decidedly unattractive lobby area on the other side. On some nights there is a piano player in the lounge who can be heard throughout the restaurant, which helps drown out the swamp sound effects that are piped in.

Rosario Spagnolo has been a part of Central Florida’s restaurant scene since 1989 when he opened a charming little hosteria called Bravissimo. But it wasn’t the Bravissimo that is now on Shine Avenue in Orlando. Spagnolo’s restaurant was on Howell Branch Road in Winter Park. But then he sold that restaurant and took a position of chef de cuisine at Capriccio at the Peabody Orlando.
Then after a couple of months he went back to Bravissimo.
Then he sold it and opened a pizza place on Central Boulevard downtown.
Then he sold it and opened a new Bravissimo in Seminole Towne Center in Sanford.
Then…well, you know.
Spagnolo, it seems, is as peripatetic as was the late Sergio Scardino, who cooked for a number of Italian restaurants, including, as coincidence would have it, Bravissimo in Winter Park and Sanford.
In the meantime the Bravissimo on Shine opened, so when Spagnolo was ready to open another restaurant, this time on Lyman Avenue just off Park Avenue, he called it Allegria. I told you about Allegria – and its inevitable new owners – a couple of weeks ago.
Now Spagnolo is back with a new restaurant and a new name. Terramia Winebar-Trattoria, hidden away in a strip mall in Altamonte Springs, is somewhat different from the restaurants that came before, and yet the same in that it serves the high quality, authentically Italian cuisine we’ve come to expect from a Rosario Spagnolo operation.
Most impressive is the array of delicacies on the antipasti table temptingly displayed inside the front door. Simply tell your waiter you’d like the antipasto Terramia ($8.50 per person) and he’ll assemble an impressive platter with such things as sweet roasted red, green and yellow peppers, spicy peppers, buffalo mozzarella with tomatoes garnished with a sprig of basil, soppressata and mortadella, provolone, and Italian olives. And with the exception of some rather anemic tomatoes, every bit of it a delight.
Another worthy appetizer was the mussels fra diavolo ($7.50), a stack of mussels in a spicy broth. The only disappointment here was that there was too little broth to sop up with the doughy house bread.
Pollo Rosario ($14.50) was a predictable – and welcome – entrée. This signature dish features boneless breast meat sauteed with shrimp and sun-dried tomatoes graced with a cream sauce spiked with vodka and garlic.
Salmone Portofino ($17.50) featured a fine fillet topped with nutty, firm rock shrimp and clams with fresh artichokes. The salmon had a refreshingly fresh taste.
The beef in the braciola di manzo all Naploetana ($13.50) was a bit dry, but when submerged in the wonderfully complex marinara that also dressed the rigatoni tubes it was delicious.
A special of double-thick veal chop ($29.95) was indeed special, the meat milky and tender and cooked just so. But grilled lamb chops ($18.50) seemed to be more about the wild mushrooms that accompanied the dish than the rather smallish, tough chops.
From the list of pastas I sampled the fettuccine with braised rabbit ($14.50), which was substantial enough to be a secondi rather than a primi. The rabbit was cooked alla genovese, which in Spagnolo’s native Naples means braised in white wine with onions.
For dessert there was a tarty lemon sorbet ($6.95) served in an intimidatingly large hollowed lemon, and an Italian version of Black Forest cake ($5.95) with a liqueurish high note. Tiramisu ($) was bland and uncharacteristic, and the cannoli ($5.95) had a thinnish filling inside a too-hard pastry tube.
Service was first-rate, though the kitchen tended to bog down. There is an impressive wine list, as you’d expect from a wine bar, with numerous selections by the glass.
Wine features into the décor as well with wine storage bins behind the bar and separating dining areas. The lighting is soft and moody and the overall ambience is casually upscale.
Terramia, which translates loosely to my land, is hidden in a group of shops behind where the Altamonte Springs Pebbles used to be. It’s a tough location but fans of Spagnolo’s will undoubtedly seek him out. Don’t wait too long  — you never know.