Steakhouse in Orlando

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    When dining out, do you like to be greeted three times, by name, before you are seated? Do you like to have someone refold your napkin every time you get up to use the bathroom? Speaking of the bathroom, do you like to have someone lead you there? Do you like to have the waiter give your leftovers to the valet, who delicately places them in the backseat of your car so you don't have to be burdened with carrying them yourself?

    If you answered yes to any of these questions, your table is waiting at The Capital Grille. Enjoy your meal. If, on the other hand, you think that $200 is an outrageous sum of money for two people to spend on dinner at any restaurant ' quality of service and food be damned ' then you're better off at almost any of the innumerable other steakhouses in this town, because you'll leave The Capital Grille impressed with the service and annoyed with the prices. Just like I did.

    So let's get this out of the way: No steak served a la carte is worth $36. An excellent steak that came with two or more generous sides could fairly command that kind of money. But a slab of beef sitting there all lonely on a white plate? Not unless you are a lobbyist trying to buy Katherine Harris' largesse.

    Oh yeah, the food. In a word, it's good. Notice I didn't use 'exquisite,â?� 'otherworldly,â?� 'masterfulâ?� or any other adjective that would convey the sense that dinner was worth two C-notes plus.

    We started with a lightly battered, pan-fried calamari appetizer ($12) in which the salty crunch of the squid was nicely balanced by the heat of sliced cherry peppers. Topped with a squirt of fresh lemon, it was the best dish of the night; ahem.

    A cup of French onion soup ($5) was unremarkable, as was the spinach salad with warm bacon dressing. The latter didn't quite cut it because I was expecting a wilted salad just like mom used to make, and what I was served was an unwilted salad with room-temperature dressing. Mom, by the way, never charged $7 for her salad.

    All of which is a prelude to the aforementioned lonely slab o' beef. Our waiter, Christopher (I know his name because he gave me his card), almost lulled me to sleep with a long tale of beef dry-aged in-house. There were so many options, cuts, sauces and crusts that I could not follow along. So I ordered the 'Kona-crusted sirloin steak with caramelized shallot butterâ?� ($36). My companion went with a porcini-rubbed filet mignon ($34).

    Yes, these were fine steaks. No, they were not the best steaks I've ever had. The crust on the sirloin was a spicy mixture of coffee, pepper and sugar that tasted much better than it sounds. But for all Christopher's talk of dry aging, the beef lacked the intense flavor and almost fall-apart tenderness of really top-shelf steak. Similarly, the filet was tender, juicy and more than satisfactory, but nothing different than cuts available at a dozen other places.

    Add a skimpy side of creamy mashed potatoes ($4.50 for a half-order), a plate of roasted mushrooms ($9), two drinks and a bottle of wine ($54) and the total came to $190 and change. With a tip you are in a rarified realm of dining that had better be extraordinary. While the fastidious service and posh atmosphere were worthy of those prices, I can't say the same for the cuisine.

    Other than, what a waste of time and money, about the only other thing I could think about on the drive home from an overpriced dinner at the Capriccio Grill Italian Steakhouse was how many starving people could have been fed with the money just spent. The experience was that much of a downer. When more than 100 bucks is dropped on a dinner for two, not counting drinks or wine, then it had better be a hedonistic experience, worthy of the indulgence. And there was only one thing that was special about Capriccio's new menu: The steak, from Ruprecht's, one of the oldest operating beef processors in Chicago and a purveyor of quality meats to high-end steakhouses around the country. Though expensive – $37 for the restaurant's "signature" 24-ounce rib-eye – the meat was worthy. The experience as a whole was not.

    Reservations are recommended at Capriccio, and it's a good thing we had them. The hostesses were routinely turning away party after party that showed up without them, making it seem too big a deal when we sailed into the shotgun-style dining room, ushered past grumbling guests. Capriccio is on the first floor of The Peabody Orlando, easy to park at and enter, across the street from the Orange County Convention Center. It's the hotel's supposedly midpriced restaurant; there's also the more formal and expensive Dux and the cheaper and more fun Beeline Diner. The decor is an outdated style of subdued urban chic, with contemporary lighting and fresh exotic flowers contrasting dark wood tables and checkered marble floors.

    Reservations are recommended at Capriccio, and it's a good thing we had them. The hostesses were routinely turning away party after party that showed up without them, making it seem too big a deal when we sailed into the shotgun-style dining room, ushered past grumbling guests. Capriccio is on the first floor of The Peabody Orlando, easy to park at and enter, across the street from the Orange County Convention Center. It's the hotel's supposedly midpriced restaurant; there's also the more formal and expensive Dux and the cheaper and more fun Beeline Diner. The decor is an outdated style of subdued urban chic, with contemporary lighting and fresh exotic flowers contrasting dark wood tables and checkered marble floors.

    In the back, the main dining area is built around the kitchen, where sweating cooks and steaming pans are in full view. We were seated at a small round café table squeezed into a sort of makeshift spot between the pathway and the bussing station, in front of the kitchen. Many passing eyes observed our table that night, and we managed to avoid any injury when water spilled and dishes broke at the server station. I was surprised into politeness when a server ducked under the table to pick up some broken glass – "Excuse me, madam," he said, kneeling down beside me with a towel ready to dry me off – or maybe wrap my wounds – if necessary.

    In the back, the main dining area is built around the kitchen, where sweating cooks and steaming pans are in full view. We were seated at a small round café table squeezed into a sort of makeshift spot between the pathway and the bussing station, in front of the kitchen. Many passing eyes observed our table that night, and we managed to avoid any injury when water spilled and dishes broke at the server station. I was surprised into politeness when a server ducked under the table to pick up some broken glass – "Excuse me, madam," he said, kneeling down beside me with a towel ready to dry me off – or maybe wrap my wounds – if necessary.

    Our cocktails were unimpressive – the dried olive and brown-spotted lime wedge stuck on the toothpick in the Bloody Mary ($6.25) looked like leftovers. The Grey Goose martini ($8.50) ordered "dirty" was served clean, and also was cheapened by aged olives. The flatbread in the complimentary basket was stale, but there were some fresh rolls in there, too.

    Our cocktails were unimpressive – the dried olive and brown-spotted lime wedge stuck on the toothpick in the Bloody Mary ($6.25) looked like leftovers. The Grey Goose martini ($8.50) ordered "dirty" was served clean, and also was cheapened by aged olives. The flatbread in the complimentary basket was stale, but there were some fresh rolls in there, too.

    Ordering entrees, we acknowledged Capriccio's Italian past. We selected one of the favorite pasta dishes still on the menu, as recommended by our friendly server, the "penne e pollo" ($16.95), with pieces of chicken, grapes and walnuts covered in a Gorgonzola sauce. And we ordered the 12-ounce filet mignon ($34), topped by an "Oscar" sauce that was a special on this evening. Later, the bill reflected the $12.95 addition of the teaspoon or so of rich crabmeat and two stalks of asparagus topped by hollandaise sauce.

    Ordering entrees, we acknowledged Capriccio's Italian past. We selected one of the favorite pasta dishes still on the menu, as recommended by our friendly server, the "penne e pollo" ($16.95), with pieces of chicken, grapes and walnuts covered in a Gorgonzola sauce. And we ordered the 12-ounce filet mignon ($34), topped by an "Oscar" sauce that was a special on this evening. Later, the bill reflected the $12.95 addition of the teaspoon or so of rich crabmeat and two stalks of asparagus topped by hollandaise sauce.

    When it arrived, the beef carpaccio appetizer ($9.50) offered the perfect opportunity to taste Ruprecht's product in its rarest form – thin shavings of raw meat, seasoned and dressed with tangy capers, tart lemon and a sprinkling of Parmesan. Sanguine and delicate, the carpaccio paired well with the spinach salad ($7.95), which was fine if nothing fancy.

    When it arrived, the beef carpaccio appetizer ($9.50) offered the perfect opportunity to taste Ruprecht's product in its rarest form – thin shavings of raw meat, seasoned and dressed with tangy capers, tart lemon and a sprinkling of Parmesan. Sanguine and delicate, the carpaccio paired well with the spinach salad ($7.95), which was fine if nothing fancy.

    Then came the $17 pasta insult. To relive the experience as quickly as possible: Cool al dente penne was dumped on top of a puddle of steaming sauce, so I had to mix up the dish myself. (My fingers got a bit burned – no big deal.) The rich and biting Gorgonzola sauce desperately needed the sweet grapes and the texture of the nuts to cut the thickness. But the spare bits and pieces of grape and nut and chicken were hunted and downed within a handful of bites. Across the table, the properly "flash-seared" fillet was full of flavor, enhanced by the Oscar treatment. The recommended glass of Merlot was a smart choice for taste but was a $12 slam.

    Then came the $17 pasta insult. To relive the experience as quickly as possible: Cool al dente penne was dumped on top of a puddle of steaming sauce, so I had to mix up the dish myself. (My fingers got a bit burned – no big deal.) The rich and biting Gorgonzola sauce desperately needed the sweet grapes and the texture of the nuts to cut the thickness. But the spare bits and pieces of grape and nut and chicken were hunted and downed within a handful of bites. Across the table, the properly "flash-seared" fillet was full of flavor, enhanced by the Oscar treatment. The recommended glass of Merlot was a smart choice for taste but was a $12 slam.

    The coffee was good and a bargain (no charge), and there was no oversweetening of the mixed berries in the cobbler ($7.75), though the crust tasted stale, like it had been out in the humid air too long.

    The coffee was good and a bargain (no charge), and there was no oversweetening of the mixed berries in the cobbler ($7.75), though the crust tasted stale, like it had been out in the humid air too long.

    If you're here for a convention and want steak, jump on I-4 and head downtown to Kres Chophouse for a much more special night out. If you're stuck in the hotel, head for the Beeline Diner for meatloaf.

    We didn't review this location but you can check out the review of Charley's Steak House on International Drive.

    When it comes to eating meat, steakhouses still reign supreme. What meat-eater is not enamored with those dark, lavish dungeons that allow us to feast to our blood-craving heart's content? Even those who rarely go out to eat are likely to occasionally splurge on an outing at a local steakhouse institution – one like my long-standing favorite, Charley's Steak House. It dresses up, yet sensibly. It's hedonistic, yet polite. It's luxurious, yet wholesome.

    The minute you step through the opulent wooden doors of Charley's, you know right away that you have entered an old-school establishment. Even the newer location on International Drive transports you to a time when the steakhouse was the only option for fine dining. The low-hung lamps and yellow lighting might appear outdated in another setting, but they just made my mouth water as I remembered years of celebration meals here – proms, anniversaries, graduations and birthdays. (No meal at Charley's would be complete without hearing "Happy Birthday to You" from across the room.)

    The minute you step through the opulent wooden doors of Charley's, you know right away that you have entered an old-school establishment. Even the newer location on International Drive transports you to a time when the steakhouse was the only option for fine dining. The low-hung lamps and yellow lighting might appear outdated in another setting, but they just made my mouth water as I remembered years of celebration meals here – proms, anniversaries, graduations and birthdays. (No meal at Charley's would be complete without hearing "Happy Birthday to You" from across the room.)

    Our evening started with the opening of the heavy wooden doors. The charred fragrance of porterhouse mingled with cigar and port, as we heard the refrain of the birthday song and the sizzle of meat and asparagus on the open-fire grill. We were led into one of the many nooks and crannies and were shortly greeted by our server. Charley's has great service, but it's more science than art. Every move made by the servers and hosts seems programmed by market surveys and management policy, and they rule the upselling roost. I was midway through ordering crab legs ($15.95) as an appetizer when the server suggested the "seafood sampler" ($29.95). The "seafood sampler" is not listed on the menu, however,and I wasn't aware at the time that I was being cajoled into spending twice as much money. I find this behavior irritating in a server. Call me crazy, but I want a server who is as much my ally and advocate as the establishment's robot.

    Our evening started with the opening of the heavy wooden doors. The charred fragrance of porterhouse mingled with cigar and port, as we heard the refrain of the birthday song and the sizzle of meat and asparagus on the open-fire grill. We were led into one of the many nooks and crannies and were shortly greeted by our server. Charley's has great service, but it's more science than art. Every move made by the servers and hosts seems programmed by market surveys and management policy, and they rule the upselling roost. I was midway through ordering crab legs ($15.95) as an appetizer when the server suggested the "seafood sampler" ($29.95). The "seafood sampler" is not listed on the menu, however,and I wasn't aware at the time that I was being cajoled into spending twice as much money. I find this behavior irritating in a server. Call me crazy, but I want a server who is as much my ally and advocate as the establishment's robot.

    The next round of upselling was the server's insistence on adding an additional side dish to our order. I naively bought in to his spiel and believed that without the chef's spinach and artichoke casserole ($5.95), we would be lacking a substantial meal. Not only was the casserole mediocre in taste, it was sheer gluttony to have it on our table. I would have been just as happy (and full) with the side dishes of jumbo grilled asparagus ($6.95) and baked potato ($2) alongside the delicious porterhouse steak (29.95). I also enjoyed the fresh chopped salad that came with my meal, but when the server offhandedly asked me if I wanted some blue-cheese crumbles, I should have known there would be an extra charge on the bill.

    The next round of upselling was the server's insistence on adding an additional side dish to our order. I naively bought in to his spiel and believed that without the chef's spinach and artichoke casserole ($5.95), we would be lacking a substantial meal. Not only was the casserole mediocre in taste, it was sheer gluttony to have it on our table. I would have been just as happy (and full) with the side dishes of jumbo grilled asparagus ($6.95) and baked potato ($2) alongside the delicious porterhouse steak (29.95). I also enjoyed the fresh chopped salad that came with my meal, but when the server offhandedly asked me if I wanted some blue-cheese crumbles, I should have known there would be an extra charge on the bill.

    Let's get down to business: Charley's has some of the best steaks in town – no bones about it. The meat is superior. They cure and cut it on the premises, rub it in a secret (heavenly) spice blend and then flame-grill it over oak and citrus wood in temperatures that reach over 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit. The result of all the carnivorous muss and fuss is a sublime steak.

    Let's get down to business: Charley's has some of the best steaks in town – no bones about it. The meat is superior. They cure and cut it on the premises, rub it in a secret (heavenly) spice blend and then flame-grill it over oak and citrus wood in temperatures that reach over 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit. The result of all the carnivorous muss and fuss is a sublime steak.

    Appetizers and dessert are merely the parentheses around the main affair. Our dessert was a ridiculously big piece of chocolate Grand Marnier cake ($7.95) – something Charley's has on hand to accompany the chorus of birthday tunes, I presume. Even the side dishes are trifling dashes, momentarily interrupting the meat-eating. And don't bother with the lobster (market price), one of my usual favorites. That's not what you come here to eat. Thinking ahead to the next time, I think I'll go for a filet mignon ($24.95) appetizer, a porterhouse main course and a T-bone ($20.95) dessert.

    When we first started business 10 years ago at Church Street," says Oscar Lagos, owner of Choo Choo Churros, "we had a small cart that we sold fried pastries from – churros. And since there was the train there, my wife named it Choo Choo Churros."

    From that small cart the Lagos moved to a little coffeeshop on Bumby Avenue, and then four years ago to Lake Underhill, always keeping the name. "Argentinean people and American people, they both ask, what does this name mean?" Lagos says. Well, to anyone who asks, in the universal language of food it translates into "good."

    From that small cart the Lagos moved to a little coffeeshop on Bumby Avenue, and then four years ago to Lake Underhill, always keeping the name. "Argentinean people and American people, they both ask, what does this name mean?" Lagos says. Well, to anyone who asks, in the universal language of food it translates into "good."

    Choo Choo has an affinity for small spaces, and there are barely nine tables in the room, with three more outside on a patio. Renovation is going on, but nothing will change the fact that Lake Underhill Road and the East-West Expressway are right outside. That seems to be the only negative Ã? unless you're a vegetarian.

    Choo Choo has an affinity for small spaces, and there are barely nine tables in the room, with three more outside on a patio. Renovation is going on, but nothing will change the fact that Lake Underhill Road and the East-West Expressway are right outside. That seems to be the only negative Ã? unless you're a vegetarian.

    Much of the food of Argentina and Brazil can be summed up in four letters – meat. Lots of meat, delicious big slabs of it, served in styles and from parts of beasts that some people, even carnivores, would rather not think about. So unless you know Spanish or aren't afraid to ask, you could order "morcilla" and end up with blood sausage, or be served a big order of lemon- grilled sweet breads because "molleja" is such a lovely word.

    Much of the food of Argentina and Brazil can be summed up in four letters – meat. Lots of meat, delicious big slabs of it, served in styles and from parts of beasts that some people, even carnivores, would rather not think about. So unless you know Spanish or aren't afraid to ask, you could order "morcilla" and end up with blood sausage, or be served a big order of lemon- grilled sweet breads because "molleja" is such a lovely word.

    What you might want to start with is "churrasco" ($12.95), a word that usually refers to an open-flame style of cooking rather than a cut of meat, but which in this case is a two-inch-thick skirt steak that is tender, juicy and unadorned. Here is a chef who doesn't have to season, flavor, dress up or disguise a piece of meat, but knows how to cook for the best effect. The mixed grill, or "parrillada" ($15.95 to $32.95, depending on the number of people) is a popular dish that features a little sample of everything on a sizzling platter.

    What you might want to start with is "churrasco" ($12.95), a word that usually refers to an open-flame style of cooking rather than a cut of meat, but which in this case is a two-inch-thick skirt steak that is tender, juicy and unadorned. Here is a chef who doesn't have to season, flavor, dress up or disguise a piece of meat, but knows how to cook for the best effect. The mixed grill, or "parrillada" ($15.95 to $32.95, depending on the number of people) is a popular dish that features a little sample of everything on a sizzling platter.

    If you need a break from beef, the sweet corn or ham-and-cheese empanadas – small and dense deep-fried turnovers ($1.50) – are great. There are a couple of chicken dishes "milanesa" (breaded) and a wonderful "Sierra fish" cross-cut steak (usually white fish, but on this occasion, salmon) that was firm but still juicy in a slightly spicy lemon and wine sauce.

    If you need a break from beef, the sweet corn or ham-and-cheese empanadas – small and dense deep-fried turnovers ($1.50) – are great. There are a couple of chicken dishes "milanesa" (breaded) and a wonderful "Sierra fish" cross-cut steak (usually white fish, but on this occasion, salmon) that was firm but still juicy in a slightly spicy lemon and wine sauce.

    Entrees come with a simple salad, good bread and the sounds of vintage tangos in the background, including some recordings that customers bring in to share from their own collections. (Mention Astor Piazzolla, and you're golden.) The owners are charmingly friendly. Mix in their well-prepared meals and cozy atmosphere and you have a winning combination, regardless of language.

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