Locations in Central

I'll admit it: I'm not thrilled by Chinese food, at least not the overly greasy and sodium-filled kind that dominates the American foodscape. If I'm going to eat Chinese, I want it to be from some back alley in Chinatown where the menu barely taps the English language. I've always said that you should dine with someone Chinese who can show you the ropes about the good stuff. But when I walked into China in College Park with two of my least Asian girlfriends, I learned a thing or two about the validity of the Chinese-American hybrid – Chimerican, one of my friends called it.

China in CP has one of those menus that numbers everything because there are so many items, all familiar and safe. Who hasn't heard of sesame chicken? Vegetable fried rice? Egg foo young? These dishes are so embedded in the American culture that they've almost become clichés of themselves. But what would a neighborhood be without Chinese takeout? People describe vapid districts of town, lacking culture, as places that "don't even have a Chinese restaurant." So China in CP not only fills a gap, but fills it well in its small spot on Edgewater Drive.

We walked up at night, the bright interior beckoning. As we stepped inside, we were awash in familiar Chimerican smells – vegetable oil, sesame, shrimp and steamed rice. This truly felt like an urban Chinese takeout, with people popping in and out for paper bags brimming with red-and-white paper boxes, plastic soup containers and fortune cookies.

I must mention the service, which was so friendly that it had the feel of a corner diner, the kind of place you go by yourself on a rainy night and pour out your sorrows while drinking hot tea and catching up on gossip. Every dish we ordered generated our server's excitement, along with a story about who else eats it or why she thought we'd like it spicier.

Shrimp fried rice ($6.95) was an enormous dish of tender rice stir-fried with a plethora of diced vegetables and shrimp pieces. It was exactly what it promised, except it was three times larger. For value, you can't go wrong at China in CP. A family of four could feast for under $20 if they put their minds to it.

Because it fit the atmosphere so well, we ordered crab Rangoon ($3.95), six pieces of deep-fried wonton filled with crab and cream cheese. These antiquated party appetizers originated at Trader Vic's, the legendary 1950s tiki hideaway. Even though crab Rangoon has filtered down from the days of groovy gastronomy, they are still satisfying to the American palate.

One of my friends ordered chicken with lemon sauce ($7.95), which was more like chicken with lemon curd. The chicken was battered and deep-fried, and from the looks of the heaping plate, there was again enough for three portions. Alongside it, a bowl of bright yellow sauce was goopy-sweet. It tasted just right with chicken, but my friend admitted that she could eat the sauce on ice cream.

My other friend ordered an appetizer of sushi. Now that grocery stores sell sushi, places like China in CP feel free to do so, too. The sushi bar that fills the back of the restaurant serves decent sushi and sashimi. My friend got the sashimi sampler ($7.95) with great toro, mediocre tuna flank and flavorless yellowtail. For her entree, she chose something that wasn't on the menu, Singapore noodles – one of those ubiquitous dishes – and they had no problems accommodating her request. They make it all the time, they told her. Her plate was a huge mound of wok-fried rice noodles with spicy, curry-flecked vegetables and seafood.

I zeroed in on Peking duck ($15). I love this Beijing specialty that involves a process of glazing and drying to produce a succulent bird with a crispy skin atop a layer of delicious fat. It had been sliced into manageable portions and was served with thin pancakes to wrap around it and hoisin sauce for dipping.

Although China in College Park is a far cry from authentic Chinese, it is firmly filling its small place in its neighborhood.

Prodigious patties for the post-grad set seems to be graffiti Junktion's function; the crowd is young and the digs run to squatter-chic embillishments. Skip the salad and chili and head straight for the beefed-up burgers, served on homemade buns. a full bar keeps the scene lively and the din uproarious.

Weighing more on the healthy than the vegetarian side, Green Day is nevertheless quite veggie-friendly. Patrons can opt to global-warm chicken, turkey, tuna or veg wraps on a grill, or make them green by leaving out the sauce and cheese. A side of broccoli crunch, flecked with sunflower seeds and subtly sweetened with raisins, nearly upstages the wraps.

Korea House dates back to 1982, and while that's hardly early history in terms of the city's evolution, the restaurant was nonetheless a pioneer on the dining scene. For many years, it was the only local eatery offering a taste of the Land of the Morning Sun, and now it's among the few.

Even today, the phone book lists just two other sources for Korean food: Korea Garden, which is down the street from Korea House; and Korea House Oriental Super Market on Edgewater Drive, which is completely unrelated to the restaurant. Oddly enough, there are more Korean churches than restaurants: six in all. There's never been the mainstream acceptance of Korean food as there has been for other Asian cuisines.

Even today, the phone book lists just two other sources for Korean food: Korea Garden, which is down the street from Korea House; and Korea House Oriental Super Market on Edgewater Drive, which is completely unrelated to the restaurant. Oddly enough, there are more Korean churches than restaurants: six in all. There's never been the mainstream acceptance of Korean food as there has been for other Asian cuisines.

Korea House offers a tour of classic Korean flavors: garlic, ginger, soy and hot pepper. The atmosphere is at once genteel and bohemian. There's a Spartan quality to the dining area, with just 10 tables, a few paper lanterns and rice-paper partitions. At night the overhead lighting is far too harsh. But there is a quiet throughout the room, even as servers deliver tray after tray of delicacies to the customers.

Korea House offers a tour of classic Korean flavors: garlic, ginger, soy and hot pepper. The atmosphere is at once genteel and bohemian. There's a Spartan quality to the dining area, with just 10 tables, a few paper lanterns and rice-paper partitions. At night the overhead lighting is far too harsh. But there is a quiet throughout the room, even as servers deliver tray after tray of delicacies to the customers.

Korea House rivals the average Chinese restaurant in terms of price and value. For the cost of a $32 dinner for two, we received an overly abundant amount of food. We tried: yaki mandoo, pan-fried dumplings stuffed with beef and vegetables and crimped into crescents ($4.25), sushi-esque kim bap, seaweed rolls filled with beef and vegetables ($3.95), a bowl of tofu soup with miso and spinach ($1.95), and a generous platter of bulgogi beef, which is kind of like Korean barbecue, marinated in a sweet garlic sauce ($9.95). The pizza-sized pajuen, a fried potato pancake laced with scallions, oysters, clams, peppers and rice, was delicious, but unwieldy and difficult to slice.

Korea House rivals the average Chinese restaurant in terms of price and value. For the cost of a $32 dinner for two, we received an overly abundant amount of food. We tried: yaki mandoo, pan-fried dumplings stuffed with beef and vegetables and crimped into crescents ($4.25), sushi-esque kim bap, seaweed rolls filled with beef and vegetables ($3.95), a bowl of tofu soup with miso and spinach ($1.95), and a generous platter of bulgogi beef, which is kind of like Korean barbecue, marinated in a sweet garlic sauce ($9.95). The pizza-sized pajuen, a fried potato pancake laced with scallions, oysters, clams, peppers and rice, was delicious, but unwieldy and difficult to slice.

There was much variety among the side items, with 11 offerings included with the meal, gratis, including cucumbers in sweet vinegar sauce, marinated bean sprouts, pickled turnips and pan-seared tofu. We sampled several varieties of kimchi, the pickled cabbage dish that is the cornerstone of the Korean diet. We had a traditional version, which had been fermented with hot peppers and caught us off-guard with its spiciness. A dish of house soy sauce added a mild, sweet dimension to different dinner items, and it wasn't salty in the least.

There was much variety among the side items, with 11 offerings included with the meal, gratis, including cucumbers in sweet vinegar sauce, marinated bean sprouts, pickled turnips and pan-seared tofu. We sampled several varieties of kimchi, the pickled cabbage dish that is the cornerstone of the Korean diet. We had a traditional version, which had been fermented with hot peppers and caught us off-guard with its spiciness. A dish of house soy sauce added a mild, sweet dimension to different dinner items, and it wasn't salty in the least.

For a culinary adventure at Korea House, you won't need a lot of money, just a hearty appetite and an open mind.

For decades, the cafeteria at Florida Hospital Orlando has been a secret arsenal for vegetarians, vegans, the healthy-minded and the broke. The operation is wrapped in the traditions of the hospital system's founding Seventh-day Adventist Church ' a diet free of meat and caffeine being one of those traditions ' but the cafeteria is loaded with meaty and meatless options, most at cheap prices.

What's always been missing is atmosphere ' the room is pleasant but nothing fancy, though mounted TV screens and fresh tabletop flowers soften the institutional vibe. Still, the panoramic view at the hospital's new Lakeside Café blows away the competition. Sitting at an outdoor table on the terrace, looking out to the east across Lake Estelle, you can see the tree-filled back side of Loch Haven Park and bustling Mills Avenue off in the distance. There's plenty of climate-controlled space inside, as well.

Inside the café itself, there are a handful of stations where food is ordered and prepared before visitors head for the cashier. The smoothies (blended from scratch, not a mix) were worth the visit alone; my refreshing carrot concoction with ginger root and banana was not too sweet and served slightly chilled ($4.99). At the colorful salad station, the crunchy Thai version with peanut sauce (and more ginger) burst with flavor; a full plate ($4.99) could be a whole meal and the half-plate ($2.99) of any variety (Greek, house, make-your-own) is a steal.

Paninis ($4.99) seem to be favorites at the sandwich station, which had ample contemporary selections but didn't forget to include a simple chicken salad on an oatmeal bun ($3.99). There are more gourmet options at the flatbread station, and they cooked my choice of cheese and roasted garlic ($5.99) in minutes. Pesto, roasted red pepper and marinara sauces were stocked at the cooked-to-order pasta station. The chocolate cake ($1.89) at the bakery was a little dry, and though I wanted a latte, I passed on the Starbucks in canisters. But the small raspberry sherbet gelato ($2), one of a dozen or so flavors, was berry- rich in taste.

The long-standing dim sum hot spot cools somewhat in the evening hours, but that doesn’t stop diners craving traditional Cantonese-American from indulging in the copious number of dishes offered. For freshness, look to the tanks teeming with striped bass, tilapia and lobster; otherwise, take your chances with the huge menu. Wor shu duck is a crispy, garlicky winner.

Teaser: The long-standing dim sum hotspot cools somewhat in the evening hours, but that doesn't stop diners craving traditional Cantonese-American from indulging in the copious number of dishes offered. For freshness, look to the tanks teeming with striped bass, tilapia and lobster; otherwise, take your chances with the huge menu. Wor shu duck is a crispy, garlicky winner.

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If I lived somewhere in the middle of nowhere I would be jumping for joy at the arrival of Pho Hoa, the new Vietnamese soup emporium that has moved in to the Primrose Avenue spot vacated by the Golden Lake restaurant. But with the many nearby family-owned Vietnamese eateries (including Pho 88, another soup place a scant 1.2 miles away), the addition of a franchise seems redundant. Truth is, a franchise is a relatively risk-free way of opening a new restaurant and sharing the company's national advertising.

There are more than 90 other Pho Hoas and sister Pho Cong Lys, from California to Boston and Ontario to Kuala Lumpur. The chain emphasizes the "Health Conscious Choice" of its broth-based dishes. And although I could not find any exact nutritional information, there doesn't seem to be much danger in the beef and chicken consommés, with pieces of meat, noodles and a whole bunch of vegetables. A bowl here is sort of like having a soup, salad and main course all at once.

There are more than 90 other Pho Hoas and sister Pho Cong Lys, from California to Boston and Ontario to Kuala Lumpur. The chain emphasizes the "Health Conscious Choice" of its broth-based dishes. And although I could not find any exact nutritional information, there doesn't seem to be much danger in the beef and chicken consommés, with pieces of meat, noodles and a whole bunch of vegetables. A bowl here is sort of like having a soup, salad and main course all at once.

The sign looming over Pho Hoa reads, "The best Vietnamese food in town," and I can undeniably proclaim, "Not in this town." But the food ain't bad, and judging by the mostly Vietnamese clientele, rather authentic. The clear soup bases of beef or chicken are slow-simmered and delicately seasoned, even the beef broth is a lustrous golden color. The bowls come large ($5.50) and even larger ($6.50), loaded with rice noodles, mushrooms, and in the case of the chicken pho, bits of cauliflower and broccoli. The pho do bien chua cay (seafood soup, $6.50) finds squid, tender scallops and a bit of fish floating amongst the noodles, a savory combination that unfortunately included the dreaded "fake crab." Tell them to leave it out if at all possible.

The sign looming over Pho Hoa reads, "The best Vietnamese food in town," and I can undeniably proclaim, "Not in this town." But the food ain't bad, and judging by the mostly Vietnamese clientele, rather authentic. The clear soup bases of beef or chicken are slow-simmered and delicately seasoned, even the beef broth is a lustrous golden color. The bowls come large ($5.50) and even larger ($6.50), loaded with rice noodles, mushrooms, and in the case of the chicken pho, bits of cauliflower and broccoli. The pho do bien chua cay (seafood soup, $6.50) finds squid, tender scallops and a bit of fish floating amongst the noodles, a savory combination that unfortunately included the dreaded "fake crab." Tell them to leave it out if at all possible.

The big adventure is the beef soup (which is what "pho" means). To the basic dish is added any number of beef cuts, from steak, brisket and meatballs ("For Beginners" on the menu) to tendon, bible tripe (so named because it looks like the pages of a book) and flank steak, either "fatty" or "crunchy" (cooked by the heat of the soup or well-done).

The big adventure is the beef soup (which is what "pho" means). To the basic dish is added any number of beef cuts, from steak, brisket and meatballs ("For Beginners" on the menu) to tendon, bible tripe (so named because it looks like the pages of a book) and flank steak, either "fatty" or "crunchy" (cooked by the heat of the soup or well-done).

I will enthusiastically recommend the blended drinks, in particular the avocado one ($3.25). It looked like soft-serve pistachio ice cream and tasted like frozen guacamole.

I will enthusiastically recommend the blended drinks, in particular the avocado one ($3.25). It looked like soft-serve pistachio ice cream and tasted like frozen guacamole.

The etiquette of pho calls for an abundance of seasoning and supplementing. There's hoisin sauce for a sweet and spicy kick of garlic and soy; sesame oil for a mellow fragrance; basil leaves, coriander, bean sprouts and jalapeños for crunch, bite and heat; and the ever-present red chili sauce. Try being adventurous and slurp it down -- it's OK to slurp here.

There was a time when a good number of my lunchtime repasts were enjoyed at this very address, back when Schlotzsky’s Deli occupied the space. So as I glided across the black-and-white checkered floor (the sole vestige from those heady deli days) to my comfortable banquette, I couldn’t help reminiscing about those deeply satisfying oven-toasted sandwiches and hoping SEA Thai’s strikingly diverse menu would leave me just as satisfied.

Thankfully, the six siblings running SEA (an acronym for “Southeast Asia,” but also an allusion to their modest seafood offerings) make customer contentment a priority. All have served as either waiters or cooks at other Siamese establishments around town, and if a culinary conundrum is encountered, parental consultation is just a phone call away.

The scene is simple and serene with a trace of lounge cool: A colorful wall of geometry evokes Mondrian, while colorful dishes evoke Shavitranuruk, the chef responsible for melding the four “S”s of Thai cookery – sweet, sour, spicy and salty. The mound of slivered green papaya ($5.95) specked with fresh garlic and soaked in vinegar and lemon elicits a proper pucker before the piercing stab of Thai green chilies numbs the tongue. The flavors are similar to Indian kachumber but with a far greater crunch, thanks to the papaya.

The perfumed broth of Thai lemongrass soup ($3.25) further demonstrates the kitchen’s consistency, and while the tempered use of fish sauce suggests a less-is-more approach, a cluster of baby corn, snow peas, broccoli, carrots, mushrooms, scallions and cabbage refutes the notion. Even unadventurous fried spring rolls ($2.95) stuffed with glass noodles and assorted minced veggies show a fastidious commitment.

A complex confluence of flavors comprises the more than 50 available entrees, but none more so than chili red snapper ($26.95). The enormous, impeccably crisp fish is served whole atop a slather of chili-laced hot and sour sauce jeweled with diced red and green peppers. It’s the sort of dish that gets you lost in the moment and makes raising your head a challenging endeavor.

Lime juice and chili sauce provoke the palate in the tiger tear steak ($12.95), a marinated strip loin served sizzling on a hot plate. The hiss of the fat dripping from the meat gives the dish its weepy name, and you’ll cry for more once you’re done. Two sauces – a lip-smacking dip of garlic, rice powder and crushed chilies, and a sweet “American-style teriyaki sauce,” as my waitress put it – enhance the succulence of the beef.

Refreshing coconut and slightly bitter mango ice cream ($4.95) set atop gelatinous sticky rice brings the meal to a tropical finish and provides some much-needed oral relief. I couldn’t get enough of buttery Thai donuts ($3.95) tinseled with a glimmering honey drizzle. If you’re like me and melt at the thought of any butter-filled confection, this is the capper for you.

The glut of Thai restaurants in town has given rise to an ever-growing legion of devotees, many of whom have cultivated a discriminating palate for all things Siamese. SEA Thai certainly belongs in the category of restaurants worthy of a visit, its loyal following being a testament to the kitchen’s proficiency and the jolly disposition of its staff. My waitress seemed to be perpetually beaming which, as I learned when I made my way back to the car, ultimately proved infectious.

From the specialty styles of South Carolina and Alabama to Kansas City and beyond, you can have barbecue every which way in this town. With the arrival of Smokey Bones BBQ across from Fashion Square, there's another option: Rocky Mountain-style.

The restaurant's origins go back to the late '60s, when the founder built a smoker out of an old section of the Rocky Mountain pipeline. As legend has it, the makeshift cooker produced the best barbecue anyone had ever tasted.

The restaurant's origins go back to the late '60s, when the founder built a smoker out of an old section of the Rocky Mountain pipeline. As legend has it, the makeshift cooker produced the best barbecue anyone had ever tasted.

But we found that the menu is less inspired by the Rockies than is the atmosphere: Smokey's looks like a cross between a sports bar and a mountain lodge, with rugged wood furniture and stacked slate walls. Televisions are positioned around the bar, always tuned into a game. In general, the barbecue is the same as what you could find at Sonny's or Fat Boy's. But in some cases, it's better. One thing is certain, this is a great place to get a lot of food for not much money. Barbecue sandwiches start at $4.59, and that includes a mess of fries.

But we found that the menu is less inspired by the Rockies than is the atmosphere: Smokey's looks like a cross between a sports bar and a mountain lodge, with rugged wood furniture and stacked slate walls. Televisions are positioned around the bar, always tuned into a game. In general, the barbecue is the same as what you could find at Sonny's or Fat Boy's. But in some cases, it's better. One thing is certain, this is a great place to get a lot of food for not much money. Barbecue sandwiches start at $4.59, and that includes a mess of fries.

The trick is careful selection. Some items range from generic ("crunchy chicken fingers") to scary ("BBQ chicken pizza toast"). Our cup of beef and bean chili ($1.99) was a good choice. Loaded with tender cubes of beef, it had a rich, aromatic, spicy broth that wasn't the least bit greasy. Try spooning it over a plate full of spicy cheese fries ($2.99) that are already smothered with melted cheddar cheese dotted with pieces of jalapeño peppers.

The trick is careful selection. Some items range from generic ("crunchy chicken fingers") to scary ("BBQ chicken pizza toast"). Our cup of beef and bean chili ($1.99) was a good choice. Loaded with tender cubes of beef, it had a rich, aromatic, spicy broth that wasn't the least bit greasy. Try spooning it over a plate full of spicy cheese fries ($2.99) that are already smothered with melted cheddar cheese dotted with pieces of jalapeño peppers.

Even in the higher price ranges, there are good deals. The "50/50" combo ($13.99) made our mouths water: A half rack of baby back ribs were smoked until the meat could barely hang onto the bone. They were teamed up with a slab of meaty spare ribs which were delicately charred on the outside.

Even in the higher price ranges, there are good deals. The "50/50" combo ($13.99) made our mouths water: A half rack of baby back ribs were smoked until the meat could barely hang onto the bone. They were teamed up with a slab of meaty spare ribs which were delicately charred on the outside.

Another good choice would be the combo platter which comes with lean cuts of sliced pork and beef that are plenty tender, and a link of flavorful smoked sausage ($9.99).

Another good choice would be the combo platter which comes with lean cuts of sliced pork and beef that are plenty tender, and a link of flavorful smoked sausage ($9.99).

The only thing that disappointed us was the garlic toast. It was dry and withered, having spent too much time under the broiler. Everything else was up to par, including a creamy slaw and beans that were so thick we ate them with a fork.

The only thing that disappointed us was the garlic toast. It was dry and withered, having spent too much time under the broiler. Everything else was up to par, including a creamy slaw and beans that were so thick we ate them with a fork.

The fresh-baked apple cobbler a la mode was an impressive hunk of dessert, so hot and bubbly we had to let it sit for a few minutes. But it tasted like something reclaimed from a deep freeze ($2.79).

The fresh-baked apple cobbler a la mode was an impressive hunk of dessert, so hot and bubbly we had to let it sit for a few minutes. But it tasted like something reclaimed from a deep freeze ($2.79).

Smokey's appeared to be overstaffed, which was a good thing. Open for only a couple of weeks, Smokey Bones is up to a 90-minute wait for tables on Saturday nights. But with plenty of friendly, efficient staff to look after us, we were in and out in less than an hour.

Through April 30, TooJay’s Deli is donating 10% of gift card sales to a special fund created for team members. In addition, TooJay’s will contribute matching funds. Employee discounts have also been increased and the company is adding driver positions to offset loss of hours in other positions. The restaurant won't be offering dine-in options for Passover on April 8-9 but delivery, pickup and curbside pickup options are still in place. See this year's Passover menu.