American in Orlando

Mimis Cafe is new construction trying to wear an old-world face. Sitting on Millenia Boulevard, on the fringe of our most popular consumer mecca, there wasn't anything authentic or quaint about it.

Actually, Mimis is exactly the kind of restaurant I hate. Don't get me wrong, the food is fine. Not great, but good enough. What I hate about this kind of restaurant is the jumbled, unfocused menu of more than 100 items. Mimis features everything from comfort food to New Orleans jambalaya to diner fare to brunch to pseudo-Asian to middle-of-the-road Italian – all of it trying too hard to unexceptionally please the masses. Also distasteful are the bright, prefabricated rooms filled with assembled paraphernalia – a fake 2-foot wrought-iron porch hosting a phony candlelit table hovered over our table. When dining at an establishment like Mimis, one can't help but think of the market surveys and trend magazines that must have inspired it.

The ruling theme at Mimis is New Orleans, although one can't help but wonder why. I searched and searched for an answer. Was the founder/CEO Tom Simms from New Orleans? No. Did he spend a lot of time there? No. Was his muse Mimi Cajun? No.

"We used to be more French countryside," the PR representative told me. "But we found that the New Orleans theme had BROADER APPEAL." Say no more.

So Mimis has nothing to do with New Orleans, despite the décor, and even the proprietors do not consider it a New Orleans-style restaurant. Mimis, in fact, started in 1978 in Orange County, Calif., as a place that served hearty portions of freshly prepared food at reasonable prices. And that mission is what Mimis continues to do moderately well. The only problem is that when you see a New Orleans theme you mouth-wateringly expect Cajun or Creole dishes, which are sparse on their bloated menu. We tried the pasta jambalaya ($12.29), an oversized dish of penne with chicken, shrimp, sausage and pork tossed in a lightly spicy sauce. It was good enough to finish, but lacked depth. The other Cajun-style offerings on the menu included popcorn shrimp ($8.99), a Cajun chicken sandwich ($8.79) and a rather large portion of bread pudding with whiskey sauce ($4.79). Clearly, none of these dishes were made by that breed of New Orleans chef who has the flavor of the "holy trinity" (green peppers, onions and celery) running through his or her veins.

As for comfort food, I tried the barbecue meat loaf ($9.99), which is made fresh daily. The meat was tender and flavorful, while the sauce was a sticky, sweet concoction that seemed a cross between pan gravy and Texas-style barbecue sauce.

We tried the soup special, corn chowder ($3.99), which was a little on the thick side but was spiked with fresh red peppers and sweet kernels of corn.

As of last July, the Bob Evans restaurant company has owned Mimis Cafe, and they are expanding (like every other chain outfit). By next spring they'll have gone from zero to six restaurants in Florida alone. A new store already opened in Altamonte Springs on Feb. 15 and I have to wonder: Will Orlando's local market take to it as well as tourists have?

Fill your belly at Mimis, yes. But if you really want to eat – in the sense of engaging in a transcendent journey of culinary sensations – head somewhere that is run by passion rather than market surveys.

It's pretty amazing what's happening on the west side of Winter Park. Avoiding for the moment the social and economic implications of the area's growth, I'll just say that on the dining front, we're getting a lot more choices.

Some choices didn't work. The East India Market, an upscale and rather tony shop, has given way to the latest location for O'Boys Real Smoked Bar-B-Q, and for the most part it's a change for the better. (Although as far as I'm concerned, you just can't have too many places that sell walnut vinegar.)

Some choices didn't work. The East India Market, an upscale and rather tony shop, has given way to the latest location for O'Boys Real Smoked Bar-B-Q, and for the most part it's a change for the better. (Although as far as I'm concerned, you just can't have too many places that sell walnut vinegar.)

O'Boys -- which sort of sounds like another teen band -- has been a longtime fave at its West Colonial location near the O-rena. I mean the TD Waterhouse Centre. It's a step or two up from the level of roadhouse-shack smoker joint (which we all love) and many steps below the themed, expensive, "barbecue is an art form" establishment that dots the tourist landscape. You know the ones: all smoke, no flavor. O'Boys, on the other hand, definitely has flavor. It's a nice, comfortable place, nothing fancy about it, with booths around a small bar and a pleasant outdoor eating area. And it sure smells good.

The menu offers enough variations to satisfy most folk, including Caesar, chef's and green salads liberally topped with chicken or turkey, and a wide range of sandwiches and burgers. But we came here for barbecue, and by gum, we got it.

The menu offers enough variations to satisfy most folk, including Caesar, chef's and green salads liberally topped with chicken or turkey, and a wide range of sandwiches and burgers. But we came here for barbecue, and by gum, we got it.

Specials after 3 p.m. are "all-you-can-eat," and if you're lucky enough to come on a Saturday, you can chose beef, pork, chicken or ribs. Otherwise, I'd suggest the "sampler platter," which includes a huge amount of everything for $10.95. The short ribs are moist, and the sliced beef and pork are quite wonderful, slightly pink on the edges with just the right smoked flavor. I have to say I wasn't all that happy with the chicken. It's not as smothered in sauce as some places insist on doing, but the white meat was rather dry. I don't like to have to work quite that hard to chew. I did like the thin-sliced smoked turkey -- tender, with a nice hickory flavor.

Dinners come with salad or a finely chopped slaw, baked beans and garlic bread, which is nice as long as you eat it when it's hot. Avoid the uninspired french fries; wait until after 5 p.m. and have a baked sweet potato instead. Yum.

The boys of O'Boys pride themselves on their secret-recipe sauces, and three are offered at the table: a vinegar base, a lovely sweet-and-warm mustard and the Red Bottle. Red means "warning" -- this stuff is hot!

The boys of O'Boys pride themselves on their secret-recipe sauces, and three are offered at the table: a vinegar base, a lovely sweet-and-warm mustard and the Red Bottle. Red means "warning" -- this stuff is hot!

O'Boys is a local favorite, and rightfully so. Grab a rack and dig in.

One of the city's better beer bars sits, unexpectedly, on a forgettable strip of Colonial Drive, with 40 beers on tap and more available by the bottle – but the meaty bar bites, inventive burgers especially, are what sets this place apart from the rest. Don’t overlook crisp battered-and-fried items or tater tots with house-made ketchup. Oddly enough, vegan and vegetarian options are plentiful.

Is Orlando ready for another upmarket seafood joint, especially during these splurge-unfriendly times? Cameron Mitchell, Ocean Prime owner and current chairman of the Culinary Institute of America, thinks so, but if you trawl Sand Lake Road, you'll find plenty of fish in this proverbial sea. Noteworthy seafood restaurants on the strip include Bonefish, Roy's and Moonfish, all within a quarter-mile of his gleaming retro 'supper club,â?� and with many area restaurants reeling from recessionary disinterest on the part of diners, you have to wonder if all the grabbing hands are crumbling the pie. But confidence has its place in the business world, and Ocean Prime's undeniable swagger is what sets it apart from its fish-mongering neighbors.

The restaurant aims to channel the appeal of dining's glory days, and there's no doubt OP's the big fish when it comes to style ' aesthetes will marvel at the gossamer drapes, curvilinear design and dreamy nautical décor. If the restaurant were judged on flair alone, it'd receive top marks. If its service, fare, presentation and intangibles were as polished as its interior, it would certainly attain the lofty heights set by Orlando's other seafood supper club, the Oceanaire Seafood Room. As it stands, there's some work to be done. To wit: When asking for our water preference, I'd expect a server not to slur his speech; I'd also expect a server to remember to bring a bread basket (the sourdough-honey wheat bread was lovely when it finally arrived, minutes before we ordered dessert); and when entrees are served, I'd expect the server to clear the table area instead of gesturing with head nods and eye movements for me to do it. If this sounds like nitpicking, it is, but for a restaurant of this caliber, high expectations are justified.

I was disappointed to hear that the Alaskan red king crab legs were removed from the raw bar menu (it's available as an entrée), so I opted for the 'chilled colossal crab meat cocktailâ?� ($16) instead and found that there wasn't anything colossal about the meat, the serving platter or the flavor. Happily, the prime beef carpaccio ($14) was outstanding, and the side of beef short ribs stuffed inside a pipe bone was a nice touch.

Prime steaks range from a 7-ounce petite filet ($31) to a 22-ounce porterhouse ($48), but we were in a particularly piscatorial mood and tried the featured Alaskan halibut ($32). The fleshy fillet, dusted in Mitchell's own seasoning, was properly moist and sat atop a buttery champagne vin blanc sauce, but from essence to presentation, the dish just seemed uninspired. (I had the same fish at J. Alexander's during lunch and it was far superior, and half the price.) Though its edges were crisped, the Florida black grouper ($30) fared much better, and a la carte add-ons of jalapeño au gratin potatoes ($9) and sesame stir-fried snap peas ($8) were thoroughly devoured. Desserts, like the towering baked Alaska ($9) and the chocolate peanut butter torte ($8), are toothsome triumphs big enough for sharing.

Behind the stunning floor-to-ceiling wine repository, live music resounded from the cocktail lounge ('80s detritus on this particular night) and let me just say that nothing beats listening to 'Congaâ?� and 'Girls Just Want to Have Funâ?� while trying to enjoy a refined meal. Still, Ocean Prime has all the makings of a destination dining spot, more than just another posh see-and-be-seen joint littering the strip. Chef Todd Baggett (the Boheme, Manuel's on the 28th, Beluga, Moonfish) has the chops to raise the bar in the kitchen, and if the front of the house makes the necessary tweaks, the restaurant will flourish. For now, Ocean Prime isn't quite ready for prime time.

Take a peek at the "Steaks" heading in Orlando Weekly's 2004 edition of BITE, and you'll see that this town is up to here in steakhouses. From Linda's La Cantina, to Kres (you say steakhouse, they say chophouse, let's call that whole argument off), to Ruth's Chris, to Sam Seltzer's, to Vito's, if you can't find a big platter of beef with a side of garlic mashed potatoes within minutes of where you are right now, you're not really trying.

So why would yet another steakhouse venture into this already crowded field? Good question, and one I can't answer after a recent visit to Omaha SteakHouse.

So why would yet another steakhouse venture into this already crowded field? Good question, and one I can't answer after a recent visit to Omaha SteakHouse.

The first thing to know about the new kid on the block is that, yes, it is the restaurant manifestation of Omaha Steaks, the mail-order and retail meat folks. Getting a cooler full of cuts in the mail has always been kind of cool, and Omaha Steaks has a deserved reputation for their beef. They still claim it's their corn-fed cows that make for such good eating.

The first thing to know about the new kid on the block is that, yes, it is the restaurant manifestation of Omaha Steaks, the mail-order and retail meat folks. Getting a cooler full of cuts in the mail has always been kind of cool, and Omaha Steaks has a deserved reputation for their beef. They still claim it's their corn-fed cows that make for such good eating.

The second thing to know about the new kid on the block is that it is hard to find. There are only seven Omaha SteakHouses in the country so far, so you'd think they'd want a big, splashy location that screams "We're here!" But you'd be wrong. The restaurant is located in the Embassy Suites Orlando North, an outwardly generic (though inwardly posh) hotel set back from the gash of commerce that is Altamonte Drive east of I-4. I drove by it twice before finding it. Even when you find the Embassy Suites, there is precious little signage letting on that you've also found Omaha SteakHouse.

The second thing to know about the new kid on the block is that it is hard to find. There are only seven Omaha SteakHouses in the country so far, so you'd think they'd want a big, splashy location that screams "We're here!" But you'd be wrong. The restaurant is located in the Embassy Suites Orlando North, an outwardly generic (though inwardly posh) hotel set back from the gash of commerce that is Altamonte Drive east of I-4. I drove by it twice before finding it. Even when you find the Embassy Suites, there is precious little signage letting on that you've also found Omaha SteakHouse.

Maybe they were thinking that the beef is so good they can hide and still draw a crowd. But from my experience (and the fact that the place was almost empty), I'm thinking not.

Maybe they were thinking that the beef is so good they can hide and still draw a crowd. But from my experience (and the fact that the place was almost empty), I'm thinking not.

Don't get me wrong: The food was good to excellent, the service was low-key and impeccable, and the atmosphere was refined and relaxing. I could say the same, however, for almost every other steakhouse in Orlando.

Don't get me wrong: The food was good to excellent, the service was low-key and impeccable, and the atmosphere was refined and relaxing. I could say the same, however, for almost every other steakhouse in Orlando.

We started with the crab bisque ($4.95), which proved as smooth, savory and delicious as its burnt-orange hue suggested. That it came in a bowl big enough to serve as a washbasin only added to my enjoyment. Another appetizer, three-cheese quesadillas ($7.25), was generous enough to serve as a kids' meal.

We started with the crab bisque ($4.95), which proved as smooth, savory and delicious as its burnt-orange hue suggested. That it came in a bowl big enough to serve as a washbasin only added to my enjoyment. Another appetizer, three-cheese quesadillas ($7.25), was generous enough to serve as a kids' meal.

For entrees, we ordered up the Roquefort and chive encrusted top sirloin ($18.95), and the 7-ounce "private reserve" filet mignon ($23.95). The former was a touch dry, and I wouldn't exactly say it was "encrusted"; more like the Roquefort was plopped on top. Nonetheless, the cheese added needed moisture to the meat, complementing it beautifully. The filet, on the other hand, was fork tender and flavorful all on its own, a near-perfect cut.

For entrees, we ordered up the Roquefort and chive encrusted top sirloin ($18.95), and the 7-ounce "private reserve" filet mignon ($23.95). The former was a touch dry, and I wouldn't exactly say it was "encrusted"; more like the Roquefort was plopped on top. Nonetheless, the cheese added needed moisture to the meat, complementing it beautifully. The filet, on the other hand, was fork tender and flavorful all on its own, a near-perfect cut.

The sides were not as successful. I'd like to formally lodge a complaint against all steakhouses that charge $20-plus for a piece of meat and skimp on (or do away with) any vegetables on the plate. The steak-on-a-stark-white-plate aesthetic has had its day. At Omaha, your meat comes with a side of mashed potatoes that, in our case, came out cold and crying out for salt.

The sides were not as successful. I'd like to formally lodge a complaint against all steakhouses that charge $20-plus for a piece of meat and skimp on (or do away with) any vegetables on the plate. The steak-on-a-stark-white-plate aesthetic has had its day. At Omaha, your meat comes with a side of mashed potatoes that, in our case, came out cold and crying out for salt.

I only ate half my steak in order to save room for dessert, and frankly I've had none finer that I can recall. Omaha's "big New Yorker cheesecake" ($6.95) was worth the trip itself; fluffy and dense at the same time, the epitome of New York-style cheesecake.

I only ate half my steak in order to save room for dessert, and frankly I've had none finer that I can recall. Omaha's "big New Yorker cheesecake" ($6.95) was worth the trip itself; fluffy and dense at the same time, the epitome of New York-style cheesecake.

Perhaps we are so Atkins crazed that any steakhouse is a guaranteed success these days. But I have to say that I left Omaha SteakHouse thinking they have a struggle ahead of them to make it in this market. Step No. 1: Get yourself a bigger sign.

At some point in any discussion of the new Palm Restaurant at the Hard Rock Hotel, the 75-year history of the original and its 22 other branches are bound to come up.

Yes, the first Palm, circa 1926, was opened in New York as a Northern Italian restaurant, and, yes, the corporation is still run by descendants of the original owners. It's impressive that the business is still thriving, but I want to be wowed by the food, not the resume.

Yes, the first Palm, circa 1926, was opened in New York as a Northern Italian restaurant, and, yes, the corporation is still run by descendants of the original owners. It's impressive that the business is still thriving, but I want to be wowed by the food, not the resume.

Notwithstanding the celebrity caricatures stenciled seemingly everywhere on the walls, Palm describes itself as a "white tablecloth restaurant." What goes on the tablecloth is a mixture of fine, uncomplicated dishes and slight near-misses. Try the "Monday night salad" ($8.50) to start. The name came from whatever was left over from Sunday getting finely chopped and served on Monday, and it's a great blend of tomato, ancho-vies, pimentos and greens in a perfect balsamic dressing. Save some bread for spreading.

Among the appetizers, a sampler combo of "shrimp Bruno" and crab cake ($12, but not listed on the menu) was not as successful: The plentiful serving of sweet lump crab was way too loose to qualify as a cake. As for the breaded fried shrimp served with mustard sauce, I liked the shrimp and the sauce but could have done without the breading.

Among the appetizers, a sampler combo of "shrimp Bruno" and crab cake ($12, but not listed on the menu) was not as successful: The plentiful serving of sweet lump crab was way too loose to qualify as a cake. As for the breaded fried shrimp served with mustard sauce, I liked the shrimp and the sauce but could have done without the breading.

In a day when chefs like to layer flavor upon flavor until it's impossible to tell what you're eating, Palm sticks to simple combinations. The mackerel ($30) -- one of that night's specials -- came sitting atop a smooth and subtle lobster velouté sauce and dressed with spicy fresh tomato and cilantro salsa. The fish was moist and mild, perhaps seconds from being overcooked but certainly enjoyable.

In a day when chefs like to layer flavor upon flavor until it's impossible to tell what you're eating, Palm sticks to simple combinations. The mackerel ($30) -- one of that night's specials -- came sitting atop a smooth and subtle lobster velouté sauce and dressed with spicy fresh tomato and cilantro salsa. The fish was moist and mild, perhaps seconds from being overcooked but certainly enjoyable.

If you like a good cut of meat, Palm is up there with the best. The double-cut lamb chops ($29) are done to perfection and, like everything else, come in a very large serving. Steaks are enormous and, with true New York daring, are served with a side of Hollandaise.

If you like a good cut of meat, Palm is up there with the best. The double-cut lamb chops ($29) are done to perfection and, like everything else, come in a very large serving. Steaks are enormous and, with true New York daring, are served with a side of Hollandaise.

This isn't the most expensive place in town, but it ain't cheap either. Entrees can run up to $60 for the 36-ounce New York strip "double steak," designed to serve two, and side veggies are priced separately.

The original Palm always had a reputation for waiters with attitude; although efficient at bringing your dinner, they weren't always happy about it. I don't know if that's still true in New York. But service people at Palm Orlando are quick, pleasant and well trained, with a level of casualness that is more friendly than intrusive. And in a break from standard Universal fare, free valet parking is right at the door. Don't be put off by the rock-memorabilia theme of the hotel environs; the Palm's well-prepared food is worth checking into.

In theory, it's an interesting concept ' offer diners the very best street food the Americas have to offer, and do so in a place where most of your patrons are from other countries. That's the thought behind Pleasure Island's boisterous Paradiso 37, the latest initiative by E-Brands, the restaurant conglomerate that brought us Timpano Chophouse, the Samba Room and Salsa Taqueria. The '37â?� in the restaurant's appellation is a reference to the 37 countries in the Americas, though that figure may or may not be entirely accurate. And if you're expecting to find at least one dish from each of the 37 nations, better lower your expectations. It was difficult to hide my disappointment when my beloved Canadian poutine was nowhere to be found on the menu. If French fries lathered in gravy and cheese curds is too exotic for Downtown Disney, then any hopes of finding Trinidadian bake-and-shark, Puerto Rican bacalaítos or Jamaican beef patties in coco bread are all but dead.

Still, the restaurant's menu did pose some interesting options, like Central American 'crazy cornâ?� ($7.99). The quartered cobs of sweetness were made muy loco with melted cheese, spicy yellow pepper sauce and zesty lime. I surprised myself by polishing off the whole dish. Also decent (though not spicy as advertised) were the chorizo-and-beef skewers ($14.99), a starter big enough for a meal and nicely flavored with cherry tomatoes, caramelized mushrooms and onions, served with doughy rolls of chimichurri pita bread.

From the list of mains, I bypassed the burgers from North America and settled on the Colombian-style whole crispy hen ($17.99), which was about the size of my fist. The skin was crisp, to be sure, but the meat, marinated with onions, garlic and lemon, wasn't as flavorful as I'd hoped. The accompanying arepa and roasted vegetables were fine. From the Mexican section, be sure to skip the trio of soggy enchiladas ($13.99) stuffed with beef and weighted down by a guajillo sauce that tasted like it came out of a can. The only redeeming item on this platter was the cilantro rice. You're better off downing a pint of the world's coldest beer ' a temperature gauge reading '30.1°F� dangled above the beer kept below, and I was assured it would get down to a frigid 29 degrees. Those with a predilection for tequila will be impressed by the towering display of tequila bottles behind the bar; needless to say, margaritas are a specialty here.

On the sweet side, the chocolate stack ($7.99) felt like it weighed five pounds, and cutting into it required some modicum of effort. This is one dense, thick wedge of chocolate overload, not to mention that it sits on a bed of warm caramel sauce and is crowned with vanilla ice cream and rainbow-sprinkled whipped cream. A trio of tres leches ($5.99) towers was more thick and spongy than milky, which is the way I like it. The meringue topping was a nice touch, though, as was the serving of finely diced seasonal fruit.

Sadly, Paradiso 37 is but one of many restaurants on Disney property that are decent enough to visit once, but not offering a compelling reason to return.

I had a hard time pinning down what kind of food it is namesake chef Justin Plank turns out of the kitchen of this renamed venture in a tenured Park Avenue location, so I went to the restaurant's website and came up with this gem: "New Euro Florida cuisine with a retro flair led by Mediterranean flavors with a slight Pan-Asian influence." In other words, they're not really sure what they're cooking either. had a hard time pinning down what kind of food it is namesake chef Justin Plank turns out of the kitchen of this renamed venture in a tenured Park Avenue location, so I went to the restaurant's website and came up with this gem: "New Euro Florida cuisine with a retro flair led by Mediterranean flavors with a slight Pan-Asian influence." In other words, they're not really sure what they're cooking either.

The line sounds like description by committee, or a new stab at reviving the "fusion" label, and it does a disservice to what Park Plaza is about: reliably good, innovative dishes served with style and flair in an atmosphere that does justice to the Park Avenue address. The place has casual-yet-refined feel to it; you can hang out on the sidewalk café and watch the poseurs pass by, you can take a seat at the renovated bar, or you can sit down for a full meal and enjoy the outdoors-indoors feel of the patio/restaurant. That's not trendy, it's just cool.

The line sounds like description by committee, or a new stab at reviving the "fusion" label, and it does a disservice to what Park Plaza is about: reliably good, innovative dishes served with style and flair in an atmosphere that does justice to the Park Avenue address. The place has casual-yet-refined feel to it; you can hang out on the sidewalk café and watch the poseurs pass by, you can take a seat at the renovated bar, or you can sit down for a full meal and enjoy the outdoors-indoors feel of the patio/restaurant. That's not trendy, it's just cool.

We went for the full-meal treatment, kicking it off with "Chef Justin's risotto" ($9), an appetizer easily big enough for two that featured cubes of roast duck and mango. While the duck was cut too small to add much to the dish, the mango imparted a sweetness that proved an excellent complement to the texture of the risotto. Another appetizer, "The Plaza wedge" ($7), was just as ambitious, if less successful. It turned out to be a hunk of iceberg lettuce topped with Gouda cheese, a slice of prosciutto and cherry tomatoes in herbed balsamic vinaigrette. Iceberg lettuce is always a problem at this price point, and the vinaigrette was too sweet. On the other hand, I'll sing the praises of "Chef Justin's five onion soup" ($6) to the rafters; it may well be the best bowl of onion soup on the planet. This hearty, intoxicating mixture of red, green and yellow onions, shallots and chives, topped with provolone, is the antidote for anyone who thinks onion soup has to be a thin, salty broth with slivers of white onions and bread cubes floating around in it.

We went for the full-meal treatment, kicking it off with "Chef Justin's risotto" ($9), an appetizer easily big enough for two that featured cubes of roast duck and mango. While the duck was cut too small to add much to the dish, the mango imparted a sweetness that proved an excellent complement to the texture of the risotto. Another appetizer, "The Plaza wedge" ($7), was just as ambitious, if less successful. It turned out to be a hunk of iceberg lettuce topped with Gouda cheese, a slice of prosciutto and cherry tomatoes in herbed balsamic vinaigrette. Iceberg lettuce is always a problem at this price point, and the vinaigrette was too sweet. On the other hand, I'll sing the praises of "Chef Justin's five onion soup" ($6) to the rafters; it may well be the best bowl of onion soup on the planet. This hearty, intoxicating mixture of red, green and yellow onions, shallots and chives, topped with provolone, is the antidote for anyone who thinks onion soup has to be a thin, salty broth with slivers of white onions and bread cubes floating around in it.

When the entrées came, I was a bit reluctant to dig in to mine – an herb-crusted roast pork tenderloin on a bed of root vegetables ($26) – because it looked so darn pretty arranged just so and topped with a hibiscus bud. It proved as good as it looked; the pork was as tender as quality beef with an infused smoky sweetness. The sauce also picked up sweetness and texture from the cranberries and cashews, and overall the dish was polished and satisfying.

When the entrées came, I was a bit reluctant to dig in to mine – an herb-crusted roast pork tenderloin on a bed of root vegetables ($26) – because it looked so darn pretty arranged just so and topped with a hibiscus bud. It proved as good as it looked; the pork was as tender as quality beef with an infused smoky sweetness. The sauce also picked up sweetness and texture from the cranberries and cashews, and overall the dish was polished and satisfying.

A seafood bouillabaisse ($36) came to the table looking every bit as gorgeous, filled as it was with mussels, giant prawns, clams, fish and half a Maine lobster tail. I had high expectations, given the price, and was a bit disappointed. The lobster and prawns were grilled before being added and were a touch dry, while the clams and mussels did get a chance to stew in the juices and benefited from it. The stock was hearty and fishy, with a subtle curry flavor Chef Justin himself attributes to his use of star anise and Pernod. The trouble was that the spicing just didn't seem to make its way into the larger chunks of seafood.

A seafood bouillabaisse ($36) came to the table looking every bit as gorgeous, filled as it was with mussels, giant prawns, clams, fish and half a Maine lobster tail. I had high expectations, given the price, and was a bit disappointed. The lobster and prawns were grilled before being added and were a touch dry, while the clams and mussels did get a chance to stew in the juices and benefited from it. The stock was hearty and fishy, with a subtle curry flavor Chef Justin himself attributes to his use of star anise and Pernod. The trouble was that the spicing just didn't seem to make its way into the larger chunks of seafood.

Service was courteous to a fault, attentive without being annoying, in keeping with the Continental atmosphere of the restaurant. But overall the experience felt pricey. When entrees get into the $30 range, they'd better be something to burst into song about. Chef Justin's Park Plaza Gardens had me humming a tune, but not quite ready to dance on the tables.

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.