Locations in I-Drive/Universal: Menu

Orlando’s newest International Drive retail attraction offering an eclectic shopping adventure is distinguished by its indoor marketplace (The Village) housing 165 local artisans and craftspeople selling and demonstrating their products and services. Artegon Marketplace is also home to the area’s only Bass Pro Shops plus Ron Jon Surf Shop, Sheplers Western Wear and Gods & Monsters high-end comics and collectibles store. Fuddruckers, fast-casual restaurants, food kiosks, a ropes course, glow-in-the-dark mini golf, movie theatre and live performers every weekend provide plenty of food and entertainment options.

When the pair of cordial thick-necked bruisers requested I remove my hat before entering this brassy two-story behemoth of a restaurant, I'll admit I was a little nonplussed. Would they rather I dine in their establishment with a severe case of hat-head? I mean, this is Pointe Orlando, not Park Avenue, and the restaurant, with all its kitschy details, seems like it could've been Epcot's lost Cuban pavilion. Not to mention the fact that in all my culinary travels in Cuba, not once was I ever asked to remove any headwear. So I found it somewhat ironic and a little pretentious that a restaurant named 'Cuba Libreâ?� would bar me from entering their establishment for not removing my hat. Free Cuba? Whatever.

I made sure my cabeza was free of any gorras on my second visit, and irony of ironies, they sat me outside. Yes, the ghost of Fulgencio Batista was undoubtedly chuckling from beyond the grave, yet after sampling an overly diluted mojito ($8.50) and cuba libre ($9.50), I got a few laughs in myself (unfortunately they were of the snickering variety). But after being seated by my blasé hostess, things got remarkably better thanks in large part to former James Beard award-winner Guillermo Pernot ' the chain's concept chef and a maestro of Nuevo Latino cuisine. I knew restitution was at hand after sampling the subtly crunchy papas rellenas ($9.50). The deceptively light potato croquettes came filled with luscious beef picadillo laced with a smoky guajillo pepper sauce, and each subsequent dish maintained the same level of quality. Heavenly cuts of pulled braised duck inside the cool, crisp and refreshing pato roll ($11) made double-dipping into peanut and ponzu sauces a delight. The spring roll was equally herbaceous and sweet, thanks to watercress, cilantro, candied papaya and mango.

An inordinate amount of time passed before our entrees arrived ' despite a phalanx of waiters and ear-pieced managers patrolling the 20,000 square-foot space, efficiency seemed to be compromised. No matter, I was giddy at the sight of the sea bass a la plancha ($25) when it finally arrived, and not one flaky bit of that chile/citrus/sesame-brushed fish failed to rouse. A nod to Havana's bustling Chinatown came in the form of a side of glistening 'Chino-Cubanoâ?� rice, colored with red peppers, okra, baby cauliflower, peas and carrots. Moros y Cristianos (literally 'Moors and Christiansâ?�), a blend of white rice and black beans, was the centerpiece in the plato cuba libre ($29.50), a platter of standard ropa vieja, succulent churrasco and an outstanding chicken infused with guajillo peppers. The trio of signature dishes in the platter changes nightly, but you're sure to get a representative sampling of traditional Cuban fare no matter what the night.

You'd expect desserts to have tropical leanings and, sure enough, all comprise a fruity component. Tres leches de banana ($8) was wonderfully milky ' being soaked in three banana-flavored milks will do that, though I didn't know three banana-flavored milks even existed. Roasted pineapple accompanies the warm soufflé torte ($8), a pleasing capper layered with dulce de leche and served with dulce de leche gelato.

Like the neighboring Capital Grille and Oceanaire Seafood Room, prices here aren't exactly recession-friendly. Passing the cost of running a grand establishment to the consumer isn't a novel tactic, but at least diners at Cuba Libre are treated to dishes of worth.

And for that, I offer a tip of my forbidden cap.

Orlando's newest churrascaria is a shrine to beef, with heavenly tableside service to boot. Juicy skirt steak, salt-crusted rib-eye and meltingly tender filet are standouts, but accoutrements like deep-fried polenta squares, bacon-studded rice and beans, and thick spears of chilled asparagus will also wow. The impressive wine list leans toward South American malbecs and rioja; the high ratio of staff to diners means service is equally impressive.

When we first drove up, we were greeted by harsh fluorescents dipping into the strip-mall parking lot. Surrounded by rental cars, timeshares and newly built hotels, this area of the Orlando dining scene is difficult to figure out. There are mostly chain restaurants, but somehow they fit together – Olive Garden and Taco Bell alongside Marriott and Hilton. But a family-operated Venezuelan hole-in-the-wall? Q'Kenan (pronounced koo-ke-nan) certainly adds something unique to this mix but, even better, the cuisine is deserving of special attention.

Although Q'Kenan is nothing more than a sparse room with brightly colored walls and intense overhead lighting, the food speaks rapturous volumes. A long counter with chafing dishes full of homemade Latin stews runs the length of the restaurant. It's also part grocery store, and there is an assortment of candy bars and T-shirts with "Venezuela" scrawled across the front in red, blue and yellow. In fact, the owner previously operated a Venezuelan grocery on State Road 192, but sold it because she wanted to introduce Central Floridians to a wider range of food from her homeland.

The restaurant name refers to a plateau-type mountain in the highlands of southern Venezuela. At Q'Kenan, you ARE likely to get a mountain of food, so come hungry. Take, for instance, the parrilla tepui mixta ($10.99) that my friend ordered. The mountain range of a dish came with a hearty portion of pork chop, chicken breast, skirt steak and sausage, all nicely seasoned and expertly grilled. It was served with a heap of french fries, yuca, green salad and – last but not least – a grilled arepa, the Venezuelan sandwich staple.

Before delving into any of the entrees, we sampled the tequeños ($4.99) starter, described as cheese sticks. Neither battered nor deep-fried, these finger snacks were covered in a yeasty bread that tightly wound around homemade Venezuelan cheese. The bread was slightly sour and salty like a Bavarian pretzel, and the cheese had a soft, mellow tanginess. Another starter, and the one that will keep me coming back again and again, is the cachapas: sweet corn pancakes folded in half crepe-style and stuffed with a delicious assortment of cheeses and meats. We tried the cachapas with queso rallado ($4.50), a strongly aged Venezuelan cheese. Sweet corn peeked through these quarter-inch thick pancakes. The cheese within made them moist and bright in flavor. Dipped in homemade crema, a sauce much like seasoned sour cream, they were wonderful.

My husband talked me into getting madurito ($4.99), and I wasn't all that excited about it until I took the first bite. Basically, it's a sandwich of shredded beef, lettuce and tomatoes between two large pieces of fried plantain (in place of bread). You can't really hold it like a sandwich because 1) it's dripping with a tartar-like sauce, and 2) fried plantains aren't very sturdy. But I loved how the sweet plantain tasted against the backdrop of the spicy shredded beef, called pabellón.

Q'Kenan has a wide selection of arepas, another type of corn pancake that's savory and dry. They can be served plain but are often opened like a pocket and stuffed with fillings, then wrapped in paper to munch down one-handed. I tried one with cold chicken salad and avocado ($3.99) stuffed into a crisp, warm, freshly made arepa. Our waitress suggested the one stuffed with pabellón, black beans and cheese ($4.25), and if I hadn't already been so full, I would've indulged. I did manage a bite or two of tres leches ($2.50), but by the time I got up to leave I was feeling quite like a mountain myself.

I waited a long time for Shiraz Grill to open. Each time I drove by and saw the lights of the restaurant's stylized marquee illuminating a Moghul-style font, I drooled at the notion of devouring their charbroiled kebabs. And when it finally opened a couple of months later, my drooling problem had ceased, only to be supplanted by full-fledged salivary incontinence in anticipation of my first meal here.

Shiraz Grill is a pet project of chef/owner Ali Zarazel, an IT professional by trade who, like so many budding restaurateurs, left his day job to devote all his time and energy into running a restaurant. A bold move, to say the least, but Zarazel possesses an acute understanding and passion for the culinary variations of his home country of Iran, not to mention an unfailing entrepreneurial spirit ' qualities that could tip the scales of success in his favor.

Flamenco and belly dancers shake and shimmy through Shiraz Grill's hookah-friendly patio on weekend nights, but it's the kitchen that ultimately struts its stuff. Kashk o bademjan ($6.95), a smoky starter of pureed aubergines drizzled with cream of whey, is as dip-worthy as any hummus, and livened further by a finish of dried mint and sweet fried onions. The hummus ($6.95) is infused with more garlic than in other Middle Eastern establishments, while the falafel ($6.95) was more crumbly than crisp.

I'll get to the kebabs, but not before a mention of the outstanding khoreshts, or Persian stews. If I weren't such a kebabophile, I'd luxuriate in the smooth, rich pomegranate sauce of the khoresht e fesenjan ($14.95) each time out. The dusky stew is made with chicken and sprinkled with walnuts, but it's the pomegranate sauce that makes an immediate impression on the palate, and a lasting one at that. Faintly sweet khoresht e qeymeh ($14.95) is a milder stew of cubed sirloin, coriander and fenugreek leaves, zested with dried lime. Both dishes are best enjoyed with zereshk polo ($6.99), a hillock of rice pilaf perfumed with saffron and jeweled with sweet crimson barberries.

Zereshk polo is, in fact, my carb of choice when enjoying the real pièces de résistance, those exquisite plates of skewered meats bathed in a sublime marinade of olive oil, saffron and garlic. The shish kebab ($18.95) is a regal course of exceptionally pliant chunks of filet mignon interspersed with onions, green peppers and tomatoes, while the koobideh kabob ($11.95), two skewers of lean ground beef, has a workingman's price, but is equally rich in flavor.

Each buxom bite of boneless chicken breast ($16.95) is as succulent as the next, but a freckling of lemony sumac gives just the right zing. Chicken tenderloin ($18.95) is sectioned, pounded, then marinated before being carefully threaded onto a skewer, resulting in morsels undulating in contour, though slightly dry.

Closure is provided by a glacial orb of syrupy sweet faloodeh ($4.50), a toothsome and refreshing dessert made popular in Shiraz, Iran. Thin vermicelli noodles are frozen in cornstarch and drowned in rosewater. Also worth a try is the bastani ($4.50), a creamy pistachio ice cream made fresh on the premises.

I've had the pleasure of dining here on numerous occasions, and the restaurant refines itself with every subsequent visit. Fine tapestries and brocaded curtains accentuate a gleaming interior, and the wait staff serves with a cheerful alacrity, though they can be easily distracted. Yeah, the cheesy Persian music videos are a little tiring, and the prices are high, but an $8.95 lunch buffet is one of the best deals in town, and an irresistible, even mouthwatering, lure.

Kevin and Laurie Tarter expand their culinary empire within the confines of the Edgewater Hotel's ground floor, also home to their Chef's Table. Small plates take on Big Easy flavors with liberal doses of spice; smoked fish dip, boudin balls crowned with runny egg yolk and Asian beef skewers are stellar, and sublime sauces elevate both shrimp & grits and chicken livers. Dessert shooters satisfy without oversating.

Teaser: Kevin and Laurie Tarter expand their culinary empire within the confines of the Edgewater Hotel's ground floor, also home to their Chef's Table. Small plates take on Big Easy flavors with liberal doses of spice; smoked fish dip, boudin balls crowned with runny egg yolk and Asian beef skewers are stellar, and sublime sauces elevate both shrimp & grits and chicken livers. Dessert shooters satisfy without satiating.

The story of the churrascaria starts in the high plains of Brazil, the Pampas, where land is rich and soil fertile. It became tradition for the ranchers there to host feasts to celebrate their bounty. Especially enjoyed were the plentiful meats from animals that grazed the land. The cowboys, or gauchos, developed an out-country method of barbecuing fresh cuts of beef, pork, chicken and lamb on skewers over open-pit fires to bring out intense flavor and aroma. This churrasco cooking style was soon adopted by restaurants across Brazil, evolving into the popular steakhouses they are today: no menus, just an array of roasted meats on skewers brought around to the tables for guests to graze upon. "Rodizio" is the name for this type of service – it's like a buffet, only they keep bringing the food to you until you say, "Enough."

Texas de Brazil elegantly brings the churrascaria to Orlando. Started by a Brazilian family in Texas, the chain has been around since 1998 when they opened their first restaurant in Addison, Texas. Now there are eight restaurants around the country and in Aruba, including Orlando. Preserving the churrascaria's roots while upscaling the experience, Texas de Brazil uses rich but rustic design elements – heavy wrought-iron doors push open like horse stalls, riveted metal adorns the bright walls and ceiling; copper bowls of fire sit aside gorgeous sprays of fresh flowers.

Pleasure and overindulgence are the rules here. The music is loud, the colors vibrant. The smell of garlic and wood charcoal waft through the room like a pair of lovers dancing the samba. Walking past the sprawling salad bar that rounds out the meaty main course, one is overwhelmed by the sense of abundance: Fresh items such as carrots, celery, tomatoes, spring greens and cucumbers lie next to specialties like fresh buffalo mozzarella, shrimp ceviche, green beans with walnuts, artichoke and raisin mélange, and mushrooms sautéed with wine and garlic. And there's a huge section dedicated to Latino favorites, such as succulent black beans, garlic soup, tender rice, farofa and yuca.

Back at the table, they dropped off cinnamon-sprinkled sweet fried plantains, garlic mashed potatoes and a small disc that looks like a coaster – one side green, the other red. In keeping with rodizio custom, the green signals an onslaught of servers to bring oversized skewers of top sirloin, Brazilian sausage, roasted lamb, chicken wrapped in bacon, Parmesan-encrusted pork, filet mignon, pork ribs, flank steak and at least six other cuts of juicy, scrumptious morsels, including the unforgettable garlic-marinated picanha. If there were an Olympic category for cooked meats, Brazil would win with this heavenly beef rump cut. Feeling full? Turn the disc to red, and they'll give you a break, so you can head back up to bar.

The churrascaria meal fits well in the low-carb diet craze, but I wouldn't set foot in one without downing at least a half-dozen pão de queijo (Brazilian cheese rolls). And there is enough starchy yuca in the place to carb-load an army. Actually, all food groups are tastefully represented. Dinner is $39.99 per person and worth every hard-earned penny for the excessive amount of quality cooking it buys you. So come with an appetite, and remember: Brazil is known as a country of gorgeous people who like to frolic in scantily clad fashion – they must be on to something.

Offering seven different adventures. Large parties can start in all the rooms at once, with up to 89 players at the same time.