New Disney Springs joint Summer House on the Lake impresses with a breezy vibe and Cali comfort

I've already spent a lot more time at Disney Springs than I've cared to this year, but if I find myself back at the sprawling complex dodging white-socked wankers and pixie-dusted pillocks again, it'll be to spend more time at Summer House on the Lake. To dine inside this airy waterside hacienda is to dine inside the pages of Architectural Digest.

"It's got a Hamptons feel," said one of my pals. "More like Miami with all these tropical plants and palm trees," said another. "Ahh, yes. Or maybe Newport Beach?"

Whatever affluent coastal community Summer House on the Lake most resembles, the place does its part to remove patrons from the Disney Springs bangarang and, for that, our collective cognitive states were thankful. Even the glare of a sign that simply read "YES" above our booth couldn't harsh our mellow. But, strangely enough, we found we couldn't say no to anything our server recommended. "You need to try the cheesy dream puffs," she cooed.

YES.

"And oh my God, the grilled avocado and hamachi sashimi are my faves!"

YES. YES.

YES, the puffs ($10.95) were soft, airy and cheesy and reminded us somewhat of the gruyere biscuits served at the Ravenous Pig. Honey butter made them all the better. The trio of grilled avocado halves ($13.95) slicked in salsa matcha were so smoky good, we had to order another helping. And that hamachi sashimi ($18.95), set in a pool of citrusy white-soy ponzu, inflamed palates with its demon cuts of jalapeño. "Wow, that is shockingly spicy," I said as I polished off the sashimi and finger-licked the plate clean.

Admittedly, this was not the start we were expecting, not from a brand operated by a Chicago-based conglomerate with the hokey name of "Lettuce Entertain You Enterprises" stuffed with more than 120 restaurants under its bulging belt. But they appear to be doing something right — hell, a lot right in the case of Summer House on the Lake.

We spoke to a couple from Celebration who endure the crowds on a regular basis just to sit at the restaurant's back bar, stare out onto the lake, sip rosé and eat. "We've been here 10 times," said the husband. "Here, try these salmon poke nachos," said the wife.

We were awaiting our drink order and had yet to be seated under the aforementioned "YES" sign, yet I shamelessly said yes and partook of their appetizer. I sensed that all this Cali-inspired fare seemed to put folks in a relaxed state of mind. Us included. We took our drinks and enjoyed them in the front patio under the breeze of ceiling fans while watching a line form inside the cookie bar. Yes (YES!), the restaurant houses a cookie bar off to the side for walk-ups, but those same cookies can be ordered off the restaurant's dessert menu. Which we did, under the glare of the "YES" sign, but not before shredding into more savories we said YES to, like wood-grilled artichokes ($16.95).

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"Better than Hillstone," said one pal after sucking an aioli-dipped petal. The char on this heirloom globe from Castroville, California — marinated in olive oil, garlic, lemon and oregano — was impeccable, and about $3 cheaper than at that Winter Park restaurant so many love to hate.

The trio of prime beef meatballs ($17.95) also drew universal praise for their not overly dense texture, while leftover cheesy dream puffs were employed to sop up the marinara. Nothing here looked more Cali than the butterflied chicken breast paillard ($22.95). pounded thin, marinated with herbs and lemon, and wood-grilled. Arugula and droplets of Calabrian chili vinaigrette on this crispy-edged retro piece of meat got me thinking of Jeremiah Tower, and his version of chicken paillard with ancho chile butter.

But just as thin was the crust on the margherita pizza ($19.95), though it drew nothing more than a satisfactory grunt from this table of pizza snobs. Same with the grouper fish and chips ($35.95), a pricey cut that was nearly upstaged by underlying fries dusted in malt salt — a powder lending all the puckery flavor to fries without the soggy effects.

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Photos: Quick look at Disney Springs' breezy new eatery, Summer House on the Lake

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Now on to those cookies. Personally, I thought the chocolate chip walnut ($5.45) and the oatmeal scotchie ($4.95) to be too sweet. I much preferred the enormous and utterly sexy slab of chocolate fudge layer cake ($18.95) served with vanilla Chantilly cream. It's an absolute showstopper, much like the one made famous in The Bear.

In fact, the last restaurant opening that impressed me this much at Disney Springs was Jaleo by José Andrés, and that was five years ago. Summer House on the Lake has been open for just a little more than three months but, judging from our experience, it's already in mid-season form.