Restaurants in Downtown

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If you've ever lived south of the East-West Expressway, in the vicinity of Lake Davis, you probably remember El Rincon, a beer-in-a-bag kind of market at the corner of Mills Avenue and Gore Street. If your timing was good and you caught the place when it was open, which was frustratingly rare, you might find a loaf of white bread and a copy of the paper to go with your tallboy. But only the foolhardy would actually order a sandwich from the place.

How things have changed since Jim Ellis and Nick Massoni took over in September. El Rincon is now the 903 Mills Market, and it is the heart of a quickly gentrifying neighborhood. The once-dark grocery with bars on the windows is now brightly lit and inviting. You can have lunch or a beer at one of the outside tables and watch the traffic on Mills whiz by. Or sit inside and chat with neighbors as they come and go.

How things have changed since Jim Ellis and Nick Massoni took over in September. El Rincon is now the 903 Mills Market, and it is the heart of a quickly gentrifying neighborhood. The once-dark grocery with bars on the windows is now brightly lit and inviting. You can have lunch or a beer at one of the outside tables and watch the traffic on Mills whiz by. Or sit inside and chat with neighbors as they come and go.

903 Mills serves breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the food is worth a stop. I have yet to eat breakfast there, but the sandwiches are creative, tasty and huge (the "Grateful Bread," a combination of turkey, blue cheese, stuffing, onions and cranberry mayo on sourdough is a personal favorite); the dinner blue plates don't disappoint, and there's always a kettle of soup on.

903 Mills serves breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the food is worth a stop. I have yet to eat breakfast there, but the sandwiches are creative, tasty and huge (the "Grateful Bread," a combination of turkey, blue cheese, stuffing, onions and cranberry mayo on sourdough is a personal favorite); the dinner blue plates don't disappoint, and there's always a kettle of soup on.

Tipplers will appreciate what has to be one of the best beer selections in town. I've never seen He'Brew, Dogfish Head, Flying Dog and White Hawk together in one place before, let alone in a single cooler in a tiny neighborhood store. Wine heads (as distinguished from winos) will dig the monthly tastings.

Tipplers will appreciate what has to be one of the best beer selections in town. I've never seen He'Brew, Dogfish Head, Flying Dog and White Hawk together in one place before, let alone in a single cooler in a tiny neighborhood store. Wine heads (as distinguished from winos) will dig the monthly tastings.

In the age of the 7-Eleven, community grocery stores are a rare and wonderful thing, and this one is a gem.

Sushi and noodles are all the rage at this cool lunch spot. Handsomely presented "torch rolls" with conch, scallops, salmon, tuna and sriracha are luscious, while spicy red tobiko proffer a proper pop. Bento boxes run the gamut and a bonanza of boba awaits tea-totalers.

Restaurants are organic things. Like the tide, they ebb and flow. Owners and names of places change at a dizzying rate. And, in a town where good chefs are a bankable commodity, it can be challenging to keep track of who is cooking what where.

Who's in the kitchen? It could be a chef from Disney, a woman trained in France or a guy who was managing an Arby's last week. A change can come because someone wonderful becomes available; sometimes it's because someone just left.

Sometimes it's both. When The Boheme opened in the Westin Grand Bohemian Hotel downtown, Chef Todd Baggett had the enviable job of matching a menu to the expansive art collection and opulent-looking setting that surrounds diners. And mostly he succeeded. When he moved on to Wolfgang Puck's, the vacuum was filled by Robert Mason, former chef at the famous Vic Stewart's steak house in San Francisco and the California Café at Florida Mall. Mason promises he will take the restaurant "to a new level."

There aren't any changes in the room itself. Same dark woods, massive columns and burgundy accents, same eclectic and sometimes puzzling art.

As for the kitchen, the highs and lows suggest that Mason's reign also is organic. Our waiter, a bubbly chap, promised that the new fall menu was "more flavorful." I didn't see massive differences between the pre-Mason era and now. The menu still has seafood, and hefty chunks of Angus beef in several incarnations. The "au Poivre" with garlic-pepper crust ($26) is very "flavorful," though not quite as tender as I had expected. Breast of Muscovy duck ($25) and lobster still find their way to the table, and it was good to see the large a la carte vegetables available (order the "exotic mushrooms" -- in fact, order two and you may not need an entree).

The new dishes fit in with the scheme. A pan-roasted chicken breast, stuffed with vegetables and served atop spaghetti squash ($19), is tender and good; the herb sauce made from the drippings is extraordinary. Combine that with a deceptively simple "Boheme salad" ($6) and its irresistible Gorgonzola vinaigrette dressing, and you'll leave the table happy. But "Shrimp 2 Ways" was four shrimp that tasted almost the same "way," and didn't seem worth 12 bucks.

A new jazz brunch on Sunday allows you to eat roast turkey, omelets and waffles while hanging out around the $250,000 Imperial Grand Bösen-dorfer piano. Take an extra napkin.

Aesthetically, this 22,000-square-foot tapas factory, one of the anchors of the re-revitalized Church Street Station entertainment complex, is as grand and enticing a restaurant you’ll find in the city. The ambience, rich in fine details and accentuated by a gleaming bar, tile mosaics, sumptuous lighting and a cathedral ceiling, would’ve had me quoting Shakespeare, but my memory (or lack thereof) foiled a display of frivolous pretense. For what it’s worth, the passage I was groping for – Her beauty makes this vault a feasting presence full of light – is a fitting one. This Spanish beauty of a restaurant will ultimately capture your heart, but not before seducing your stomach.

The advantage in dining at a tapas joint (particularly one offering a whopping selection of 100 small plates from which to choose) is that you’re sure to find something you like. A miss will most surely be countered by a hit, with plenty of in-betweens thrown in for good measure. Ceviche doesn’t reinvent the tapas experience, but what it does, it does relatively well.

Sampling ceviche, a delicacy originating in the former Spanish colony of Peru, was practically a foregone conclusion, and the ceviche de atun ($11), a martini-glass assemblage of citrus-marinated tuna, red peppers, jalapeños, garlic and onions, made a cool introduction to the meal. Nothing awe-inspiring, but the dish was tangy, refreshing and had just enough kick to jump-start the affair. Our waiter assured us the Iberico ham ($8.50) was top-quality, and while I couldn’t confirm if the jamón was solely acorn-fed, my dining companions both agreed the thinly shaved meat, served on a crunchy baguette and topped with a triangle of aged manchego cheese, was melt-in-your-mouth perfect.

Another dish that had us cooing was the wonderfully gooey portobello relleno ($8). Wilted spinach, shallots and manchego stuffed the corpulent ’shroom, with contrasting brandy and sherry cream sauces providing a sop-worthy complement. The floral notes and fruity finish of a glass of velvety-smooth Wrongo Dongo Monastrell 2006 ($5.60) proved to be an even better complement to the tapas vegetales.

But not everything was wine and roses, a pointed example being when our accommodating (though somewhat forgetful) waiter mistakenly served us a plate of aromatic salmon a la gaditana ($9). The fish was remarkably bland, and the accompanying saffron sauce with leeks was equally insipid. Bacalao Bilbaina ($11) looked promising, the plump loin of cod glistening with olive oil and garnished with garlic cloves and fire-roasted peppers, but the flavor gave me an idea as to what a wet, chewy sock might taste like.

Luckily, I was able to cleanse my palate with oxtail (I don’t get to say that too often). Fall-off-the-bone tender rabo de toro ($11) is slowly braised in a red wine reduction and served atop cushiony potatoes: absolutely delicious, and the hit dish of the evening. Skewers of nicely seasoned chorizo were the hit of the banderillas mixtas ($8.50), which also came lanced with chewy tenderloin and ho-hum chicken, though repeated dips in the garlic aioli elevated each meaty bite.

Both desserts we sampled were outstanding. The creamy-drunk tres leches meringue cake with fresh berries ($7.50) won over more sweet-tooths than the trilogia de chocolates ($8), a moussey drum of white, dark and milk chocolates. Just about ready for a siesta, I ordered a double espresso, and while the brew did its part to recharge, the taste fell flat and the crema was nonexistent.

On the way out, I took a gander at the cold tapas bar, a centerpiece fixture that drew my eyes upward to the dangling gams of hams. Each lovely shank vied for the attention of patrons already bedazzled by the vault’s feasting presence.

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.

Defying the demise of so many soul-food kitchens of late, Chef Eddie's steps up and represents with arguably the best comfort fare in the city. Smothered pork chops, saucy oxtails, chicken and waffles, chunky mashed potatoes, jalapeno crackling muffins - all will eliicit superlatives, And there's nothing healthy about the gravy-drizzled friedn green tomatoes atop cheesy grits, but man they;re good. Closed Mondays.

Slick and boisterous Orange Avenue sup-spot offers expertly prepared dishes like lobster fritters spiked with jalapeno and red snapper with lobster risotto cake, proof positive of the kitchen's competency. The din can be deafening, but the joint's got that asphalt-jungle verve that trendsters dig.

Just what you've been looking for -- a new hangout. The Eola Wine Company opened its vintage-laden doors a few months ago, offering bottles from distinctive vintners like Royal Tokaji from Hungary and Firesteed from Oregon.

As a true and very welcome wine bar, Eola Wine offers its wares by the glass or in 2-ounce sampler "flights." If something grabs your fancy, racks of bottles line the walls. There are also beers from England, Belgium and Germany.

As a true and very welcome wine bar, Eola Wine offers its wares by the glass or in 2-ounce sampler "flights." If something grabs your fancy, racks of bottles line the walls. There are also beers from England, Belgium and Germany.

Eola Wine hops until 2 a.m. most nights, with a menu of grapes and brews that changes every few weeks, along with desserts and what co-owner John Walsh calls, "appetizers for before-dinner or after-dinner." Try the baked Brie with a glass of Riesling.

Eola Wine hops until 2 a.m. most nights, with a menu of grapes and brews that changes every few weeks, along with desserts and what co-owner John Walsh calls, "appetizers for before-dinner or after-dinner." Try the baked Brie with a glass of Riesling.

This is one of the few places to find everything from the very hip Trappist Chimay aged ales to a bottle of Thierry and Guy "Fat Bastard" Shiraz.

Psst – I'm about to let you in on a secret. What's the cheapest theater ticket in town? Answer: Gino's Pizza & Brew III on Orange Avenue, just north of Church Street. No matter what the hour, the guys behind the counter launch into a kinetic, gritty version of Hell's Kitchen performance art every time the front door opens and a fresh horde of hungry seekers pin themselves against the counter. At night, the neon sign glows garishly over Orange Avenue, as the late-night crowd mixes with horn-rimmed yuppies. All this atmosphere for the cost of a slice of pizza? Now, that's entertainment.

“Do you want crunchy or creamy peanut butter in your shake?”

“I’ll take crunchy,” I said as I watched the man behind the counter at Goff’s Drive In cut up a banana into vanilla ice cream for my peanut butter-and-banana shake ($3).

Next time I’ll order smooth, as those nutty bits ended up clogging my straw when I tried to sip the last part of the shake. When I got home, I scooped the last of the peanut pieces from the bottom of my Styrofoam cup.

A longtime customer of the store told me that he’s been coming here since he was a little boy, and he’s 53 now. “They have the best shakes in town,” he said. “You should see the line after church on Sundays.”

Goff’s has been in the same freestanding cement-block building on OBT between Church and Jackson streets since 1948, its white paint now slightly dingy. Faint yellow letters spelling out “Goff’s” on the side could be overlooked by those not looking for it. There isn’t any place to sit except maybe the hood of your car or the tarmac, surrounded by industrial blight, but I’ve always had good service and some interesting conversations while waiting in line. (Last time I was there, a hooker who was walking by started bickering with one of the guys waiting in line. That probably doesn’t happen on Sundays.)

The menu is consistent with other ice cream stands, with dipped cones or sprinkles covering swirls of vanilla or chocolate or both and sundaes with all kinds of different toppings. My shake maker told me that Goff’s doesn’t serve chocolate on Sundays. Why? They serve so many sundaes on Sunday that they need to keep all the vats full of vanilla.

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.

Years after the landmark San Francisco diner shut its queer-friendly doors at the turn of millennium, Hamburger Mary's has re-emerged in cities across the country, finding new life through franchising, while continuing to market its fare to 'open-minded people.â?� And given Orlando's rep as a gay-friendly hamlet, setting up shop in the heart of Church Street seems like a perfect fit for this ol' burger queen. Sure, it's a campy retread of a '50s-style diner, and the swaths of bright turquoise, hot pinks and lime greens make you feel like you're dining inside an acid-drenched Beatles flick directed by Paul Lynde, but at no point can you say the place is dull. Not when a waiter shoots a bit of sass your way, or when their plasma screens air videos from Nu Shooz followed by Ladytron; it all serves to enhance the mood, as does the lively cocktail scene. (Hamburger Mary's is fully licensed.) Still, diners with toddlers and hetero carnivores will feel as welcome here as the nanciest of patrons ' while diversity is key to Mary's clientele, her menu is unquestionably all-American.

A variety of finger foods, comfort staples and (what else?) burgers dominate the offerings here ' nothing particularly fab, but all sufficiently satisfying. Mary-mac & cheese balls ($7.95) were more triangles than orbs, but addictive little buggers nonetheless. In keeping with the kitsch, the menu is replete with cutesy names ' this particular 'appeteazerâ?� came with a tangy 'Mary-naraâ?� sauce. Crispy caramel chicken salad ($5.95) will 'leaf you greenâ?� (my words, not theirs). The caramel drizzle on the fried chicken was sweet enough, but lathering the mixed greens in ranch dressing created a clash as resounding as Charles Nelson Reilly's wardrobe.

Ranch dressing reared its creamy head once again in the 'spicy Maryâ?� burger ($8.95), this time meshing well with the melted jack cheese, jalapeños and mojo sauce. The lower bun proved too weak to sustain the gloppy half-pound Angus beef patty; the top bun, flecked with sesame seeds, was fabulously poofy, however. The side of seasoned fries was better than average, and much better than the runny mashed potatoes. Mary's meaty meatloaf ($10.50) can be had as an entree or as a sandwich ($7.95), and if you're a meatloaf lover, you'll be pleased with the slabs of turkey-beef mix. I chose the latter, with a side of onion rings ($4.95) that came with a ramekin of that ubiquitous ranch dressing, this time spiked with chipotle that was just plain awful.

Desserts here are caloric juggernauts. If you're the type to test your ticker at meal's end, fried Twinkies ($5) will vitrify your ventricles; one bite was certainly enough for me. An enormously dense square of banana-nut bread pudding ($5) had plenty of hot nuts, but it was big enough to share among the group. Mary Tyler S'mores ($6.95), roasted tableside, will turn your world on with a gooey, sticky smile.

If, at any point during your meal, you feel the room resonate, chances are the source is a passing train, though a parade of bellowing drag queens isn't out of the question. (Should it be a choo-choo, $3 tequila shots will be tendered, a la PR's Taco Palace.) In keeping with the restaurant's flamboyance, the campy coup de grâce arrives in the form of a red patent-leather shoe containing the check, allowing diners, gay or straight, a chance to foot the bill in style.

Having indulged in my fair share of cottage pies at Jimmy Mulvaney’s charming, unpretentious Irish boozer Claddagh Cottage, I was more than a little intrigued when word came that the pub owner (along with wife Kathy and food-service veterans Lisa and Rick Boyd) had taken over Scruffy Murphy’s once-future home to open an upscale gastropub fronted by a cordon bleu chef. Given Mulvaney’s deft skills as a bar proprietor, I was less concerned about the “pub” than I was the “gastro,” but as it turned out, the kitchen ultimately held up its end of the deal.

The “gastro,” it should be noted, is segregated from the “pub” next door and showcases Mulvaney’s skills as master artisan. Not only did he lay down the hardwood floors and take care of the wiring, Mulvaney junky-to-funkied the wooden desks left behind by the previous tenants and transformed them into beautifully crafted (if slightly upright) seating booths done in a rustic 1900s-era style. The quaint interior, with its low ceiling and exposed piping, is reminiscent of Claddagh Cottage, only decidedly classier and, at least on this Saturday evening, significantly quieter. If it weren’t for the catchy riff of “Day Tripper” and other Beatles classics being piped over the sound system, I’d likely be able to make out conversations in the kitchen. As a result, an unrivaled level of personalized service prevailed which, at times, bordered on intrusive, but it was understandable given the dearth of patrons.

And given chef Cody Patterson’s blue ribbon status, the menu, understandably, leans heavily on French cuisine. I was hoping for Irish soda bread inside the complimentary carb basket, but no such luck. Instead, it was beef and barley soup ($4) that offered a small taste of the Emerald Isle with its generous mélange of carrots, corn, green beans, peas and potatoes. Too bad the beef was lacking, and the few miniature morsels I did manage to sift out were ground, not cubed.

“Stop light prawns” ($9), so named because the trio of accompanying sauces resemble a stoplight, fared a little better. The fried plump curls were a smidgen greasy, but a dip into the olfactory-retarding wasabi mayo sauce proved to be the ultimate redeemer, while sweet mango chutney and zesty cocktail sauce were just as exceptional.

The Harp house salad ($4) left me wanting more – more brie, to be exact. The one negligible piece of warm soft cheese is a cruel addition to the mix of tomatoes, field greens, red onions and croutons. After all, no fromage-lover could eat just one small bite of brie; I’d rather they serve a significant slab of cheese with a berry compote, and let the greens be an adjunct to the dish, even if it meant an increase in price.

The two entrees I sampled were, conversely, flawless. Lamb persillade ($22) featured two racks of two chops each rubbed with honey mustard and rosemary, grilled, then roasted for a crisp finish. Creamy saffron risotto and grilled zucchini were ideal sides, but gnawing the utterly luscious flesh off the bone was what made this dish a truly enjoyable feast. The 10-ounce Angus beef filet ($33) was a tad overdone, but a superbly flavorful and prodigious cut nonetheless.

Desserts aren’t prepared in-house as yet, but don’t let that prevent you from indulging in the fabulous chocolate bombe ($6). The dome-shaped confection envelops airy dark and white chocolate mousse and rich chocolate ganache. Call me picky, but I didn’t care much for the raspberry drizzle, nor did I care much for the key lime pie ($4) which

This November, Kres gets its proverbial star on the Red Meat Walk of Fame when it joins the ranks of other Orlando steakhouses celebrating 10 years in the business of beef. Quite the accomplishment for a high-end chophouse that a) opened in the heart of a bar- and club-infested strip, and b) had the audacity to shun the established practice of possessive nomenclature. In the world of Ruth’s and Linda’s, Morton’s and Charley’s, Christner’s, Shula’s and Vito’s, Kres is the odd man out, and that suits this downtown boîte just fine.

From the onset, Kres looked to draw a more urbane and sophisticated clientele, and, save for the smattering of pre-clubbing 1-percenters, this tactic, even 10 years later, appears to have worked. The turn-of-the-21st-century decor feels slightly dated and perhaps a redesign is in order, but Kres is still worthy of being housed inside one of downtown’s most architecturally revered buildings – not just for its bill of fare, but also for its throwback focus on customer service. From our initial phone call to make reservations to the genial farewells on our exit, the staff here made us feel prized – as prized as, say, an expensive foie gras. No: foie gras crowning a tenderloin of elk! Yes. And that just so happened to be one of the dishes in which we indulged: an 8-ounce cut ($35), to be exact. Cooked to a perfect medium-rare, the lean elk loin was made instantly rich with that buttery tiara of foie ($13). Nary a hint of gaminess; no dental-displacing sinews; just a perfect cut married perfectly with that buttery epicurean delight. Our prime 18-ounce rib-eye steak ($39) may have been a tad undercooked, but that just made the leftovers all the better the following morning in their rebirth as steak and eggs. The rib-eye’s marbling was sublime, and its flavor more so. Steaks and chops are served a la carte; our choice of greens and starch sides were grilled asparagus ($8) and cheddar-rosemary mashed potatoes ($7). Though both served their respective purpose, we would’ve rather ordered another side of foie.

Prior to all that luxurious richness, we started with an old-guard staple – oysters Rockefeller ($15), baked with a properly herbaceous butter sauce. Our impeccably trained server also suggested a nontraditional starter to break up our Gatsbian feast, namely “Aegean style” lamb ribs ($14). The ribs are marinated in kalamata olive oil, spicy mustard and herbs, then braised to a soft succulence before being zested with caramelized lemon wheels. It’s a difficult dish to eat delicately, but then again, steakhouses don’t exactly play to the genteel side of dining.

Our server’s suggested wine pairings were admirable, though in-house sommelier Rob Christie patrols the red-velveted space offering recommendations for serious wine drinkers. Red velvet didn’t find its way to the dessert menu, but white chocolate bread pudding ($9) did. The meal-capper was sumptuous, ample enough for two, and hooched with enough panther sweat to bring back the Jazz Age.

As you exit the restaurant and take in the grand space, the original art, the triple-crown and dentil-crown molding, one thing becomes exceedingly clear: Kres naturally exudes a verve and panache that other steakhouses can’t match. If flair is as important as your filet, Kres is the place.

While there is a host -- nay, horde -- of sushi bars within walking distance of Lake Eola, we haven't seen very much Thai food downtown, which is odd considering how much pad Thai can be found elsewhere.

One of the places known for that sweet, sticky rice-noodle dish is Thai Cuisine on Edgewater Drive. This was where my partner and I had our first chicken sate and spring rolls together, and I remember the food cooked by its original owners (since changed) quite fondly. Those owners, it turns out, were the parents of the young people who opened Sawadee Thai on Kirkman in 2001, a restaurant I quite liked. Now those (still) young folks, lead by Odum Ketsatha and his wife, Kanjana, have moved to Pine Street and brought the flavors of Siam to the old Le Provence building in the form of Napasorn Thai.

One of the places known for that sweet, sticky rice-noodle dish is Thai Cuisine on Edgewater Drive. This was where my partner and I had our first chicken sate and spring rolls together, and I remember the food cooked by its original owners (since changed) quite fondly. Those owners, it turns out, were the parents of the young people who opened Sawadee Thai on Kirkman in 2001, a restaurant I quite liked. Now those (still) young folks, lead by Odum Ketsatha and his wife, Kanjana, have moved to Pine Street and brought the flavors of Siam to the old Le Provence building in the form of Napasorn Thai.

Not much has been changed inside, aside from a new color scheme for the two-level room, a new bar and a complete overhaul of the kitchen, run by Ketsatha's Uncle Damri. ("Thai cooking is very different from French," Uncle Damri tells me.) The menu isn't 100 percent Thai, with smatterings of Chinese (a dark-brothed and savory wonton soup with plump dumplings for $3.50), Japanese gyoza and a good but not stellar sushi menu.

Not much has been changed inside, aside from a new color scheme for the two-level room, a new bar and a complete overhaul of the kitchen, run by Ketsatha's Uncle Damri. ("Thai cooking is very different from French," Uncle Damri tells me.) The menu isn't 100 percent Thai, with smatterings of Chinese (a dark-brothed and savory wonton soup with plump dumplings for $3.50), Japanese gyoza and a good but not stellar sushi menu.

Appetizers are both authentic and jazzed-up. The crispy spring rolls ($3.95) are stuffed with ground chicken and a coleslaw-like shredding of vegetables, both crisp and mellow. The "cheese roll crisp," on the other hand ($3.95), finds cream cheese and tiny bits of shrimp inside the wrap, and I'm still not sure if I liked it or not, but it's different. Most traditional is "sate gai" ($5.95), rich, peanut-sauced chicken slices on a skewer.

Appetizers are both authentic and jazzed-up. The crispy spring rolls ($3.95) are stuffed with ground chicken and a coleslaw-like shredding of vegetables, both crisp and mellow. The "cheese roll crisp," on the other hand ($3.95), finds cream cheese and tiny bits of shrimp inside the wrap, and I'm still not sure if I liked it or not, but it's different. Most traditional is "sate gai" ($5.95), rich, peanut-sauced chicken slices on a skewer.

My favorite carryover from the Sawadee days is the basil duck dish ($15.95), a savory combination of dark duck meat and spinach-like basil leaves that now features mushrooms and peppers added to the lime-and-basil flavored sauce. Also a treat is "garlic and pepper meat" ($9.95), your choice of beef or chicken ($2 more for seafood) with a tang of spicy garlic, spicier black pepper and even spicier sauce that sneaks up on you until the sweat is pouring. I wasn't as impressed with the "madsa mahn" curry ($10.95), a dish from Islamic south Thailand that is usually loaded with potatoes which here seemed to have cooked down to a thick paste. Still, the combination of roasted peanuts and tender chicken was enjoyable.

My favorite carryover from the Sawadee days is the basil duck dish ($15.95), a savory combination of dark duck meat and spinach-like basil leaves that now features mushrooms and peppers added to the lime-and-basil flavored sauce. Also a treat is "garlic and pepper meat" ($9.95), your choice of beef or chicken ($2 more for seafood) with a tang of spicy garlic, spicier black pepper and even spicier sauce that sneaks up on you until the sweat is pouring. I wasn't as impressed with the "madsa mahn" curry ($10.95), a dish from Islamic south Thailand that is usually loaded with potatoes which here seemed to have cooked down to a thick paste. Still, the combination of roasted peanuts and tender chicken was enjoyable.

Napasorn is both a welcome addition to the downtown food scene and a chance to eat Uncle Damri's great cooking a lot closer to home.

It may not have the sophisticated ritz of a SoBe nightclub, and some of the clientele look like characters right out of Andy Warhol's Trash, but the unpretentious vibe is precisely why the sprawling Parliament House Resort is widely lauded as the premier GLBT ' and, some would even argue, straight ' night-life destination in town. The clubs and bars scattered throughout the complex attract throngs of revelers and come Gay Days, it's raining men.

But even bear cubs and chicken hawks get peckish, and if you've ever traveled the North OBT thoroughfare, you know the pickings, insofar as food is concerned, are slim. So, as you'd expect from any decent resort, an on-site restaurant offers the kind of satisfaction only a full-service kitchen can provide.

And in keeping with the resort's fraternal and down-to-earth disposition, the Rainbow Café's humble digs are as relaxed as its waitstaff. The walls of scarlet stucco and the soft red hue imbuing the square space have something to do with it, as does the fare, which is on-par with dishes served up at any big-box eatery.

This isn't a place to dine on foie gras and sauternes; it's a patty melts'and'buffalo wings ($5.50) kinda place, the latter being a satisfying-enough appetizer ' moist and saucy, but with too vinegary a finish to qualify it as outstanding.

I didn't know what to expect from the cheeseburger chowder that accompanied the chicken marsala ($9.95), but it proved to be a comforting bowl of thick, creamy goodness, with plenty of beefy morsels. The chicken marsala, however, looked like it could've been served straight out of a Stouffer's frozen dinner. The edges of the shrunken breast halves were hardened, likely because they were sautéed too long, and the side of veggies (cauliflower, broccoli, green beans and carrots) tasted as though they had just recently been thawed out of a bag.

At $15.95, the 8-ounce filet mignon was a decent value, but the circular slab was served more medium-well than the desired medium, and those bland veggies just put the dish closer to the Perkins end of the flav-o-meter. Admittedly, though, I picked my baked potato clean.

Mirrors on three of the restaurant's walls, I soon came to notice, are conducive to man-peeping, which serves to liven up the atmosphere as eyes, sometimes sheepish, sometimes gazing, dart from mirror to plate, then back to mirror. Taking in this reflective exercise can be interesting, if not entirely voyeuristic, so when my waiter entered the scene, I peeled my eyes away from the mirror just in time to see a plate of the bartender salad ($7.95) set before me. The strips of teriyaki chicken on a bed of field greens completed my chicken three-way for the night (cue the gasps), but alas, the teriyaki sauce was too sugary for my liking, and the soggy greens didn't help elevate the dish in my eyes.

Swoon-worthy chocolate cake ($2.95), served with a dollop of cream, was gooey-fabulous and one of only two desserts on hand, the other being carrot cake.

Beginning on the Wednesday prior to Gay Days weekend, the café is expected to be 'slamsville,� as my waiter put it, with the restaurant staying open 24 hours from Friday to Monday evening.

Apologies if I came across sounding like a dining diva, but I couldn't help it � the Rainbow Café brought it out in me.

Priced for worker bees, this West Church Street addition offers plenty of possibilities. Pastas, panini and salads cost under $9, and pizzas range from the usuals to specialties like the "pollo pesto." Leave room for desserts like chocolate ganache cheesecake.