Sandwiches/Subs in Orlando

When looking for more than "a good loaf," you'll definitely find it at Au Bon Pain (pronounced ah-bahn-pahn). The high-end bakery-cafe chain with an outpost on every other corner in Manhattan has established its first local site in tourist territory in the Club Hotel at DoubleTree.

The polished, Art Deco-styled bakery is stocked with its fresh-baked loaves including the famous tomato-basil variety, as well as consistently delicious roast-beef and brie sandwiches, soups in bread bowls, croissants stuffed with chocolate and raspberries, and a killer Boston clam chowder. Vegetarian, low-fat and low-sodium versions are available, too.

The polished, Art Deco-styled bakery is stocked with its fresh-baked loaves including the famous tomato-basil variety, as well as consistently delicious roast-beef and brie sandwiches, soups in bread bowls, croissants stuffed with chocolate and raspberries, and a killer Boston clam chowder. Vegetarian, low-fat and low-sodium versions are available, too.

Prices are high – 99 cents for a focaccia bagel, for instance. But there are plush sofas, laptop ports, televisions and plenty of reading material. Other sites in central locations are a strong possibility.

BBB offers a wide variety of healthy food and can accommodate most dietary needs.

Given the seemingly unambiguous moniker of Boston Bakery & Café, one would expect to find display cases filled with mouthwatering cream pies, cupcakes, whoopee pies, molasses-sweetened brown bread and, perhaps, the odd patron or two downing frothy glass mugs of Irish coffee. Unfortunately, that isn't the case. Instead, this simple café on the fringes of Little Saigon is primarily a Vietnamese restaurant, and lies smack dab in the middle of what I like to call the CoFer District (Colonial Drive and Ferncreek Avenue).

Further digging revealed that the name isn't so cryptic after all. Owners Tony and Yolanda Vu ran a restaurant in the Boston suburb of Quincy before swapping nor'easters for sweltering zephyrs a year ago. The couple shares kitchen and cooking responsibilities, but it's Yolanda who handles the baking duties.

A large cake display case sits at the core of the square space, but upon entering, neither 'bakery� nor 'café� are descriptors that immediately leap to mind. In fact, the baby blue'colored walls and children milling about makes it feel more like a nursery or after-school daycare. Even so, I did glimpse a few baguettes resting on sheet pans behind the counter, undoubtedly prepared for one of their many banh mi, or Vietnamese sandwiches (ask for a side of their homemade butter if ordering one).

But the purpose of this assignment was to spotlight confections, not comestibles, and with Halloween looming, focusing on a place where those of us over the age of 13 could go and satisfy our sweet tooths seemed imperative. So, off to the display case I went in search of treats but, I have to say, I felt slightly tricked after perusing the offerings. Most were cake rolls, birthday cakes and Napoleons that weren't offered by the slice; and there was nary a tart, pie, turnover or éclair in sight.

Evidently, they were all sold out of personal-sized cakes, but a small, oval-shaped 'cheese cakeâ?� ($2) stared back at me, which I promptly ordered and devoured in four bites. Now this isn't your Cheesecake Factory brand of cheesecake; it's more like pound cake with a layer of soft cream cheese in the center, and rather delicious.

Pre-packaged cakes made by a friend of the owner are also available, but the plastic wrapping is a total buzz kill.

Still craving cake and cake-like products, I got myself a chocolate cake roll ($8), which resembled a log made of sponge. Light and airy with a hint of coffee flavoring, the roll embodied a minimalist ideal in both look and taste. I took it home and enjoyed it deeply with a dollop of double Devonshire cream. Simple, unaffected, not too sweet, but far from orgasmic.

The menu board beckoned to 'experience the slush magicâ?� so, on this particular visit, my accompanying beverage of choice was a perfectly tangy and refreshing passionfruit slushie ($3.50). Other flavors, ranging from mint-chocolate to watermelon, are also offered, each with the option to add chewy 'pearls,â?� or tapioca balls, to the mix for an additional 40 cents. Those rubbery orbs are often found dotting the bottoms of plastic cups filled with milk tea, thus the terms 'bubble tea,â?� 'pearl teaâ?� and 'boba tea.â?� The drink, hugely popular in cities with large Asian populations, was as trendy as Starbucks' lattes among high school and college students when I was growing up in Toronto, and it seems to have a burgeoning following here in Orlando. I enjoyed the sugary Thai bubble tea ($3) until the tapioca balls got stuck in my straw. Neophytes, take heed: When you're offered a straw from the decanter, be sure to choose one wide enough to suck up the balls. Uhh, yeah.

If sipping bubble tea through a broad, colorful straw seems too emasculating an act, might I suggest the red bean tea ($3.50), sans tapioca. The proteined potable (the sole nod to their Beantown roots) features red bean (or azuki) powder, producing a smoky slurp akin to liquid barbecue.

Vietnamese coffee ($2), meticulously prepared in a press pot by blending a chicory-flavored French roast with Vietnamese arabica and robusta grounds, will definitely turn your crank. Served in a small glass, the coffee is at once ridiculously strong, syrupy-sweet and glacially creamy thanks to the addition of sweetened condensed milk. Amusing side note: The brand of the chicory-flavored coffee, Café Demonte, is a blatant rip-off of Café du Monde and even comes in a can that looks remarkably similar to the one the venerable Big Easy coffeehouse produces.

Admittedly, I was a little disappointed in this bakery, especially when, on a return visit, the display case was, once again, devoid of individually portioned baked goods. Pissa! If sweet treats are what you crave this Halloween, avoid being tricked and take your chances at the Publix across the street.

Upon gazing at Brianto's stark white walls, ornamented with memorabilia and photographs of every Philadelphia Phillies baseball player that ever donned a red-pinstriped uniform, I asked the good-natured lad behind the counter a question that no patron had ever dared to ask, let alone in deadpan fashion: 'Why no photos of Joe Carter?â?�

Record screech.

In the moments that ensued, his bulging gaze met my squinting glare for what seemed like minutes, but when the hoagie virtuoso's eyes eventually regained focus, we were all able to (thankfully) laugh the moment off. 'You should've said that after you got your food,â?� he joked ' at least I think he was joking. Carter's home run off Phillies closer Mitch Williams to win the '93 World Series for the Blue Jays isn't exactly a high point in the city's sports history. So in a place where even the logo is a facsimile of their beloved Phillies', I was happy to have all my teeth after uttering the cheeky quip: teeth I needed in order to chomp down on their huge hoagies and cheesesteaks.

They take their cheesesteaks seriously here ' I'm talking Amoroso's hearth-baked rolls and sliced rib-eye steak, flown straight in from the City of Brotherly Love. And they don't skimp on the chopped meat in the cheesesteak supreme ($5.99 for 6-inch; $8.99 for 12-inch; $12.99 for 18-inch), a beefy sub with the requisite onions, green peppers and mushrooms oozing with sharp provolone and Cheez Whiz. Be sure to Whiz it up, as the cheesesteak borders on bland without it, likely due to the meat not being seasoned ' or not strongly enough.

For the same price, you can opt to make the very same cheesesteak a 'cheesesteak hoagie,â?� which means adding lettuce, tomato, raw onions and a splash of oil, vinegar and mayo. The hoagie comes without green peppers or mushrooms, but I was surprised at how much better it was than the cheesesteak supreme. Everyone at the table agreed that this was the best sandwich of the lot, and we picked the 18-inch behemoth clean. Also good was the Liberty Bell ($5.99, 6-inch; $8.99, 12-inch; $12.99, 18-inch), a cold hoagie stuffed to the hilt with ham, turkey and roast beef, and plenty of sweet and hot peppers to pack a punch. The hot meatball hoagie ($4.49, 6-inch; $7.49, 12-inch; $11.49, 18-inch) was endorsed by one of my Italian dining companions ' not so much for the sub itself, but for the well-seasoned meatballs. You'll also find other Keystone State faves such as crackling Herr's potato chips (59 cents, small; 99 cents, medium; $1.59, large), refreshingly crisp Hank's birch beer ($1.99) and sugary Tastykakes ($1.29). Junk food connoisseurs may disagree, but to me, the Tastykakes tasted just like Hostess cupcakes/Ding Dongs/Ho Hos.

Brianto's may not satisfy pangs for the legendary cheesesteaks and hoagies cooked up at Pat's or Geno's in Philadelphia, but the guys here make every effort to bring a little Philly flavor to Central Florida. If they focused a bit of that effort in seasoning the beef, transplanted Philadelphians might flock to Avalon Park for some of their griddled gourmandizing.

Then, like Joe Carter off a Mitch Williams fastball, they'll be sure to hit it out the park.

The day I went to Champs Deli across the street from the downtown library, there were just five people in the place. Still, I almost didn't make it in.

The little phone-booth-sized established for quite a while, with Chef George serving his famous pulled-pork sandwiches, and even though it's now owned by Lilia's Catering, George is still there. (By the way, Champ's Bakery on West Church has no connection to this place.)

The little phone-booth-sized established for quite a while, with Chef George serving his famous pulled-pork sandwiches, and even though it's now owned by Lilia's Catering, George is still there. (By the way, Champ's Bakery on West Church has no connection to this place.)

The cold-cut selection is pretty ordinary, but where else can you get a pretty decent chicken-salad sandwich and a cup of soup for $3.95, or a hot breakfast sammich for a buck-fifty? The banter that flies around might be reason enough to stop by, but if you're not in the neighborhood, they have a website. They have a website! It's almost bigger than the deli! Check Champs Deli if you need a catering menu.

After serving Central Florida for the better part of three decades, Amira's Kosher Deli closed its doors in May of last year, leaving a vacuum in the mouths and bellies of Jews and Gentiles craving kosher staples. Not one to succumb to the vagaries of the economy, Amira and Jerry Cohen's son, Justin, did his part to fill that vacuum, even if it was more than 40 miles away from where Amira's once stood. The place, Cohen's Deli and Butcher Shop, is ensconced in an oddly shaped strip mall off U.S. Highway 27 and U.S. Highway 192 in Clermont. The reason for the deli's locale? To cater to tourists, of course ' specifically, the scores of Jewish vacationers keeping kosher. For the rest of us, it'll definitely require a schlep to satisfy cravings for latkes, knishes, matzo-ball soup, pastrami or, yes, even halvah.

For those who do make the drive, comfort awaits ' not so much in the seating, but certainly in the food. Puckering up over sour dills (served whole) and pickled tomatoes is a pleasure while perusing the menu. Justin, sporting a chef's coat with 'Master Butcherâ?� printed on the back, makes the rounds with regulars, then dashes behind the counter to fill orders. And while Cohen's menu is held to strict glatt kosher standards under the supervision of Rabbi Yosef Konikov, that hardly means it comes at the expense of taste. Pulpy matzo farfel soup ($2.99 cup; $3.99 bowl), while mushy, was a lemony delight and reminiscent of Greek avgolemono soup. Unintentionally star-shaped potato latkes ($3.99) were, ironically, the star of the menu. A side of apple sauce made an ideal dip for the perfectly crisp potato pancakes, and they held up quite nicely the next day. Seeing the glass case loaded with an assortment of knishes made ordering one difficult to resist. The potato version reminded me of my mom's potato vadas ' doughy, pliant and wonderfully seasoned. All that was missing was some red-hot chutney.

Burgers aren't what come to mind when you think of a Jewish deli, but I had to try Cohen's quarter-pounder ($6.99) after learning the beef is ground fresh in the butcher shop. (Like Amira's, Cohen's has the luxury of an on-site butcher shop to supply meats for their deli and catering operations.) The resulting patty was a little flattened, but tasted great, and the bun, baked on the premises, was out-of-the-oven fresh. I opted for a side of fresh-cut, skin-on fries ($1.99) and a tumbler of sweet, crisp coleslaw, both spot-on.

The overstuffed beef brisket sandwich ($10.99) is just that ' two slices of spongy, flavorful rye stuffed with nothing else but beef brisket. While purists may appreciate the no-nonsense approach, they may also find it a tad dry; a dip in the decanter of gravy helps. Creamy potato salad ($1.99) made from red-skin tubers makes a perfectly worthy side.

The thin slab of halvah ($1.99), a crumbly sesame-paste confection, didn't exactly wow me, and made the dense dairy-free chocolate cake ($4.99) taste better than it actually was. But with its many menu holdovers from Amira's, it's nice to see the tradition live on, even if it is in Lake County. Forget the desserts. Like Amira's, Cohen's real strength is straight-from-the-shtetl home cooking.

Tucked away in the Hidden Gardens area of Park Avenue is a shiny new place for noontime snacking, appropriately called The Lunch Box. The sandwich shop is an extension of Olive This, Relish That, the quirky tapenade, jam and foodstuff place owned by the Doggie Door folks. So call this the People Door, if you will.

Wind through the back courtyard of the Hidden Gardens or walk right in to the front door of Olive This, Relish That for yummy sandwiches made with prime rib and mushrooms sauteed in vermouth; tarragon chicken salad (get there early, this one sells out); or grilled Italian bread with fontina cheese and peppers.

Wind through the back courtyard of the Hidden Gardens or walk right in to the front door of Olive This, Relish That for yummy sandwiches made with prime rib and mushrooms sauteed in vermouth; tarragon chicken salad (get there early, this one sells out); or grilled Italian bread with fontina cheese and peppers.

Build your own from specialty breads such as black olive or ciabatta rolls, and add a vegetable, ham and pasta salad and a fresh-baked cookie, and you've got something great to pack into your own tin pail.

A garden of leafy delights awaits at Eden’s, a clean, spacious green house on North Orange sandwiched between Winnie’s Oriental Garden and the Ravenous Pig. The focus here is on the body (healthy food), spirit (a place for quiet reflection and artistic expression) and mind (free Wi-Fi), though their wraps and salads really take center stage. The blues and greens of the interior reflect the colors of the sky, plants and water, but are also reminiscent of an Aegean café, which may have induced me to order the Athena ($4.80). The mélange of greens, kalamata olives, tomatoes, cukes, peppers, snow peas and feta can be stuffed in a wrap or enjoyed as a traditional bowl of salad. I opted for the former (in a tomato-basil wrap) and had some lemon-pepper chicken thrown in for an additional $2. The flavors were rightfully tangy, if a tad salty. I really liked the Daisy ($4.80), a refreshingly sweet and delightfully nutty salad that I enjoyed sans wrap. Mandarin oranges and strawberries provided the pop, almonds and sunflower seeds the crunch and raspberry vinaigrette the invigorating splash.

There are 11 different salads from which to choose, and if none tickles your fancy, create your own from Eden’s 37 available “tossings” and 12 dressings. Counter service can slow considerably during the lunch rush, but that’ll give you a chance to peruse the original artwork and sayings on the walls. Oh, and if you’re looking for a little quiet reflection, the consistent chatter and piped-in music could foil any meditative urges. It should be noted that the items above, though ordered “small,” were enormous portions, but really – eating too much salad is like taking too many naps; how bad for you could it possibly be?

Coffee, bagels, salads and all the usual, plus beer and wine

They're heavy on the Philly at Famous Phil's: names of city landmarks on the wallpaper, photos of the city everywhere, recent issues of Philadelphia magazine on the tables. The connection's even in the slogan, just in case you missed it: "Real Philly people making real Philly cheese steaks." (The editor in me wonders: Are they real people from Philly, or are they people who are really from Philly?)

So these had better be some fine cheese steaks, right? After all, one does not invoke the hometown of the cheese steak lightly.

On that score, Phil's is hit and miss. The cheese steaks themselves ($2.99 to $5.25) are good; not great, but a notch above the cheese steaks you'll get at, say, a sub shop. They crank 'em out right out in the open on a big flat grill, and the smell of searing beef and frying onions brings back fond memories of carnivals past. I found the meat flavorful but dry, not sopping and juicy the way a memorable sandwich should be.

Then there's everything else at Phil's. I had an all-American hoagie ($3.99) that was the most uninspired sub I've encountered outside of a Subway. The Italian wedding soup ($1.99) was indistinguishable from canned, and the onion rings ($1.89) were mushy on the inside and left a puddle of grease in the bottom of the container.

The place was packed with Full Sail students, and most of them were eating cheese steaks; the wise move is to do the same and not stray too far down the menu.

A Brit opening a curry stand is nothing new, but a restaurant steeped in Indian cuisine using a time-honored British dish as a launching pad for seafood fusion? Well, that calls for a closer look. 

The small, cozy interior of this strip-mall restaurant is more family dining room than seaside shack, but the flashy part is the menu. New England, Floridian and Caribbean seafood styles dominate, often with a curry or southeast Asian twist. But they do traditional just fine: The whiting fish and chips ($7.45, served with cole slaw) is a huge slab of tenderly fresh fish, with a satisfying (but not gratuitous) layer of golden-browned batter. Beyond the basket are entrees like curry shrimp ($12.95, with two sides) pan-seared and slathered in delicious red curry with the spice turned up, surprisingly accurately, to your liking. The side of hush puppies, crispy on moist, is a must-try.

fish and chips ($7.45, served with cole slaw) is a huge slab of tenderly fresh fish, with a satisfying (but not gratuitous) layer of golden-browned batter. Beyond the basket are entrees like curry shrimp ($12.95, with two sides) pan-seared and slathered in delicious red curry with the spice turned up, surprisingly accurately, to your liking. The side of hush puppies, crispy on moist, is a must-try.

Sandwiches, tacos, beer and wine to go!

Creperies appear to be blossoming all over the city, be they comfortable restaurants like Pointe Orlando's La Creperia Café or humble food carts like downtown's Crepe Company. Winter Park's Green Lemon Café likely falls into the fast-casual category, but husband-and-wife owners Amanda and Rob Volence certainly don't foster a dine-and-dash mentality. Like the cooks, they're always up for a chat; during quieter moments, the original paintings hanging on the café's colorful walls beg for a closer examination and, if one's wallet allows, purchase. But unlike the art, the food served here won't break the bank ' most items hover around the $7 mark, offering affordability without sacrificing taste. A plus: Only Boar's Head meats are used in their savory crepes, salads, sandwiches and paninis ' a definite notch above the grade of meat offered a couple of doors down at Subway. And with the Whole Foods Market in the same shopping plaza, Green Lemon should, theoretically, have a steady base of customers filtering out of the grocery store's doors and into theirs.

In fact, a few happened to walk in the evening of my visit proclaiming ignorance of the café's existence, grabbing a few takeout menus, then enviously peering at the pesto-heavy chicken Florentine crepe ($7.50) I was so gleefully devouring. The thin-fried envelope packed a flavorful wallop with a proper proportion of chicken, spinach, onions, mushrooms and cheddar-jack. The turkey brie ($7) posed a lighter, more subtly flavored option, with green apple slices adding a mild sweetness. (They didn't skimp on the brie, either.) If you opt for the sizable 'black & bleuâ?� roast beef'and'blue cheese crepe ($7.50), the irony of the café being sandwiched between Marie-France and Omaha Steaks won't be lost. OK, it probably will, but that won't take away from the sandwich. I happened to glance at the turkey bacon panini ($7.25) one of the cooks was chomping down on during a break and it, too, looked worthy of ordering.

But when it comes to crepes, the pièces de rèsistance lie on the sweeter side of fried, so I was a little disappointed in the absence of my favorite ' crepes suzette ' from the selections listed on the menu. The fact they're not licensed to sell alcohol may have something to do with it, though that may change in the coming weeks. Until then, the Green Lemon crepe ($4), with lemon and sugar, is the closest thing, but you're better off going with a more filling option, and there are plenty. The Southern Comfort crepe ($5.50) is a viscous mélange of peanut butter, bananas and chocolate sauce, while the 'caramel delightâ?� ($4.50) can be made a seasonal delight with the addition of cinnamon apples for a buck extra. A separate 'dessert crepesâ?� category listed items that were entirely too rich and decadent for my tastes, but if you're the type that gets a kick out of Oreo crumbs or s'mores in your crepes, have at it.

There's a scene in Talladega Nights where Ricky Bobby gets his arm broken for refusing to utter the words, 'I love crepes.â?� After enjoying one here, you likely won't need your arm twisted. And if you don't, there's likely another one on Green Lemon's menu that'll squeeze the sentiment out of you.

There's a scene in Talladega Nights where Ricky Bobby gets his arm broken for refusing to utter the words, 'I love crepes.â?� After enjoying one here, you likely won't need your arm twisted. And if you don't, there's likely another one on Green Lemon's menu that'll squeeze the sentiment out of you.

There are two kinds of luxury. There's the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous kind or the real-life-only-much-better kind. Solid-gold cutlery, Chanel couture and Rolls-Royces fall into the first camp. James Perse T-shirts, Prada lip balm and Greens & Grille fall squarely into the second: simple everyday basics that turn out to be deceptively luxurious.

At first blush, Greens & Grille seems pleasant but nothing special. A high-ceilinged room decorated in industrial-lite chic ' concrete floor, exposed ducts overhead, lots of galvanized steel ' slowly reveals lavish touches: potted orchids blooming on the tables of the high-backed booths; stainless steel fresh-pepper grinders; heavy white china plates.

The cafeteria-style service plays up the bare-bones-basic mood, but as you stand at the salad, grilled-meat or sandwich station, the high quality of the ingredients and preparation becomes apparent. On my first visit, I was befuddled by the tempting array of salad toppings. Salad bars are so often mirages ' the vision of a 30-foot-long array of gorgeous vegetables turns out to be 10 yards of iceberg lettuce, canned beets and sodden macaroni salad. At Greens & Grille, my fantasy salad bar coalesced before my eyes: jade-green edamame, oven-roasted beets, juicy kalamata olives. That heightened-basics approach revealed itself here as well: crispy pancetta instead of bacon bits; sweet grilled red-onion strips instead of stiff, stinky purple rings.

For $6.50, you can choose your organic greens (romaine or baby 'farmer's greensâ?�) and add five out of the 27 'seasonal toppingsâ?� available. For another $2.50, add grilled-to-order turkey, pork loin, chicken, steak, shrimp or portobello mushroom. (I chose the porcini-rubbed flank steak.) The salads are tossed and dressed before your eyes. All dressings are made from scratch daily; I especially recommend the sherry-thyme vinaigrette. Also, the greens can be 'rolled or bowledâ?� ' that is, tossed onto a plate or wrapped up in a grilled flatbread.

The sandwich station plunks any of the above-mentioned grilled meats onto bread nicely charred on the grill when you order. There's nothing simpler than a turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato and onion, but the G&G version I ate was worlds beyond any average sandwich shop's. First, and most importantly, the turkey was sliced from a roasted breast, not the reconstituted meat slurry usually passed off as 'cold cuts.� Instead of a pale tomato and a leaf of iceberg lettuce, my sandwich was finished with organic baby greens, grilled onions and juicy roasted tomato. Rather than plasticky American, G&G offers Havarti, Gruyère, Gorgonzola and white cheddar; I chose the Havarti. I added a generous portion of Hass avocado (also luscious on my companion's portobello-mushroom sandwich). A side of macaroni and cheese ($3.50) was incredibly rich, bubbling-hot and crowned with crunchy bread crumbs; the wild mushroom soup ($4.50) was an earthy, savory broth with generous chunks of sauteed creminis.

The only problem with all of this is greed. I had to remind myself on my second visit not to overload the circuits with Gorgonzola and steak and avocado and pancetta, enticing as it all was. When each element sings with freshness, what would be a spartan green salad or vegan sandwich elsewhere becomes a rich symphony of tastes. The roasted turkey, faintly tasting of lemon and herbs, was sufficient unto itself; had I not made a point of nibbling an unadorned bite, its essence might have been lost under all of the other equally wonderful ingredients. And this attention to detail doesn't come cheap. It's easy to spend almost $9 on a simple sandwich or salad.

Chef/owner Julie Petrakis, formerly of slow-food palace Primo and now pastry chef at Luma on Park, has departed after developing the recipes, leaving her brother-in-law Brian to head the team. Some changes have already begun; the excellent tomatoes, previously roasted in-house, are now sourced from Sysco, according to one of the friendly prep folk. (Much as the name 'Syscoâ?� might curl any foodie's lip, I must admit that I found the tomatoes exceptional, and was chagrined to learn their provenance.) Let's hope the new chef Rob Pompa is able to keep up the high standards. With any luck, G&G will not only survive but thrive and expand; this covert hedonist is running out of excuses to drive all the way to Millenia for a sandwich.