Seafood in Disney

My friend had a theory: The walls were bugged at the Flying Fish Cafe. We couldn't figure out how else the waiters seemed to read our minds when we had dinner at the restaurant at Disney's Boardwalk. As the wait staff roamed through the dining area, stopping by this or that table to bring food or answer questions, they always seemed to wind up at our table at the precise moment when we were thinking of asking for more (and more) of the moist, rich and chewy sourdough bread or wondering, "What's in this sauce?"

It's rare to find a restaurant staff that anticipates your needs without becoming a distraction or invading your space. But Flying Fish Cafe has this one down. And the menu – new American cuisine with a seafood spin – is creatively and attentively prepared, though most of the entrees are in the $20 range. This is luxury dining that becomes affordable by virtue of the quality and value. Cooking guru Julia Child had visited two days before we were there, and she proclaimed it the best restaurant in Florida, our waiter told us.

Located along the waterfront collection of clubs, shops and restaurants, Flying Fish has a whimsical atmosphere inspired by the golden age of rollercoasters, the 1920s. There is a faux ferris wheel and a collection of fish sculptures parachuting from the ceiling. The colors throughout the dining area are watery blues and oceanic greens.

The menu changes daily to reflect what's indigenous and in season in the United States, which amounts to a constant logistics challenge for head chef John State. He consistently and successfully pulls off his synchronized fresh selections.

For appetizers, we chose the "Flying Fish sampler" ($11) and had "snapper escabeche," which was cured in a spicy vinaigrette of olives and capers. There also was a chilled "rock shrimp roll" of sushi rolled up with wasabi, scallions and mayonnaise. But our favorite was the "peeky toe crab cake." It was so packed with premium crab meat, and just enough peppers, onions and parsley to bind it, that we wished we'd ordered this one as a full appetizer ($10-$20). Meanwhile, we stayed busy with a delicious bread basket that was so alluring we couldn't stop dipping in.

The evening's entrees included pan-roasted golden tilefish ($23), a Florida fish that takes its sweetness from swimming deep and living on shrimp and lobster. Teamed with a subtle chervil créme fraèche, which had anise undertones, it was a real treat. Another entree, the red snapper ($24), is so popular that it has become one of several standard items on the menu. It was gorgeous in its presentation: The moist, flaky fillet was delicately wrapped in a crisp potato casing and served with leek fondue and cabernet sauvignon reduction.

Desserts were equally impressive. We took the waiter's advice and had "banana Napoleon" ($7), a concoction of cinnamon crème brûlee, caramel sauce and whipped cream. Also delicious was a warm crepe filled with hazelnut praline and Granny apples, topped with vanilla-bean ice cream ($7).

A tall crystal mug of Spanish coffee warmed our bones, thanks to a shot of Tia Maria. It was a perfect end to a perfect dinner.

Casting into the pool of local seafood restaurants has always yielded an uncertain catch – water, water everywhere but not a decent broiled flounder to eat. That's what made a recent trip to Fulton's Crab House – the former Empress Lily gone Huck Finn – seem all the more like a fish tale. Were it possible, our dinner should have been stuffed and mounted, a trophy from a high-priced adventure.

A Saturday morning call secured a table for 8 o' clock that night. Fashionably late, we were whisked through two checkpoints to an upper-deck booth with a sunset view.

A Saturday morning call secured a table for 8 o' clock that night. Fashionably late, we were whisked through two checkpoints to an upper-deck booth with a sunset view.

With excellent service and insights provided by our waiter, we browsed the exhaustive menu over spicy Bloody Marys ($4.95) and the house crab dip and crispy lahvosh. The horseradish thickness in the drinks prompted an order of the oyster sampler platter (half-dozen $8.95, dozen $16.95) harvested from the Pacific Northwest. Other than names – Spencer Cove, Kumomoto, Malpeque, Penn Cove, Snow Creek and Quilcene – the twist on this succulent sampling was an awakening jalapeño Tabasco ice. We took our waiter up on the suggestion of Manila clams ($8.95), a deep bowl of tender clams steamed in a soy sauce and scallion broth, enhanced by a round of fragrant thyme-onion rolls.

With excellent service and insights provided by our waiter, we browsed the exhaustive menu over spicy Bloody Marys ($4.95) and the house crab dip and crispy lahvosh. The horseradish thickness in the drinks prompted an order of the oyster sampler platter (half-dozen $8.95, dozen $16.95) harvested from the Pacific Northwest. Other than names – Spencer Cove, Kumomoto, Malpeque, Penn Cove, Snow Creek and Quilcene – the twist on this succulent sampling was an awakening jalapeño Tabasco ice. We took our waiter up on the suggestion of Manila clams ($8.95), a deep bowl of tender clams steamed in a soy sauce and scallion broth, enhanced by a round of fragrant thyme-onion rolls.

Alaskan red king crab claws ($34.95) was the winning selection from the crab and lobster offerings. The Cousteau-worthy specimens neatly yielded meaty portions for dipping in drawn butter. Though the boiled red-skin potatoes were perfect, I found myself thinking of spicier versions on the menu, like roasted garlic and pepper whipped potatoes.

Alaskan red king crab claws ($34.95) was the winning selection from the crab and lobster offerings. The Cousteau-worthy specimens neatly yielded meaty portions for dipping in drawn butter. Though the boiled red-skin potatoes were perfect, I found myself thinking of spicier versions on the menu, like roasted garlic and pepper whipped potatoes.

From the fresh fish and seasonal specials came Alaska's Copper River king salmon – charcoal-grilled, served with field greens, roasted jalepeño tomato vinaigrette, corn salsa and rice ($22.95). This work of art and nature was best enjoyed like a sophisticated salad, scooping together petals of salmon with delicate greens and the chunky piquant salsa.

From the fresh fish and seasonal specials came Alaska's Copper River king salmon – charcoal-grilled, served with field greens, roasted jalepeño tomato vinaigrette, corn salsa and rice ($22.95). This work of art and nature was best enjoyed like a sophisticated salad, scooping together petals of salmon with delicate greens and the chunky piquant salsa.

The sun was down by the time we sipped cappuccinos ($2.95), savoring the divine sour cherry pie ($4.95) and milk chocolate crème brûlée ($3.95). But there's nothing like the sight of tourists throwing money around to help you loosen up and enjoy such a costly yet memorable indulgence.

Have you been to the town of Celebration? It's so ... clean. And planned. And it has those "Neighborhood Electric Vehicles" (with reserved parking spots that you al-ways pull into before seeing the "NEV Parking" sign).

The Celebration planning extends to food as well. If anyone can afford fabulous chefs, Disney can; yet the cuisine at the immaculate Plantation Room is good but unimpressive.

The Celebration planning extends to food as well. If anyone can afford fabulous chefs, Disney can; yet the cuisine at the immaculate Plantation Room is good but unimpressive.

Although Café D'Antonio, Columbia and the Market Street Café -- the more visible dining spots along the main drag -- were packed, Plantation Room, ensconced in the Celebration Hotel, was eerily quiet on both midweek evenings I visited. It's more of a special-occasion kind of place than somewhere to go on impulse. The room itself is gorgeous, alive with the subdued sparkle of crystal glasses and good china. And the background music of 1930s' jazz is fun. But The Plantation Room misses the goal of a well-manicured dining experience: a spectacular dinner.

Although Café D'Antonio, Columbia and the Market Street Café -- the more visible dining spots along the main drag -- were packed, Plantation Room, ensconced in the Celebration Hotel, was eerily quiet on both midweek evenings I visited. It's more of a special-occasion kind of place than somewhere to go on impulse. The room itself is gorgeous, alive with the subdued sparkle of crystal glasses and good china. And the background music of 1930s' jazz is fun. But The Plantation Room misses the goal of a well-manicured dining experience: a spectacular dinner.

Head Chef Jean-Louis calls his creations "New Florida Cuisine." Well, they're new and in Florida, but nothing cried out "Sunshine State" except for the sweet and spicy fruit salsa, full of mango and pineapple, which flavored the crab-cake appetizer. And covering firm escargot with an overpowering cream sauce did nothing for the flavor or Floridaness of the wee mollusks (both $8).

Head Chef Jean-Louis calls his creations "New Florida Cuisine." Well, they're new and in Florida, but nothing cried out "Sunshine State" except for the sweet and spicy fruit salsa, full of mango and pineapple, which flavored the crab-cake appetizer. And covering firm escargot with an overpowering cream sauce did nothing for the flavor or Floridaness of the wee mollusks (both $8).

The filet mignon ($28) was one big honkin' piece of meat, a good 4-inches thick; unfortunately, it was served in a much-too-salty mushroom sauce. Salt also was the villain with the breast of duck ($19) that was tender and darkly tasty, but a little too far removed from the oven to be as crispy as it should have been. The accompanying and impressive tower of crisp sweet-potato slices filled with mashed sweet potatoes was delicious, though.

The filet mignon ($28) was one big honkin' piece of meat, a good 4-inches thick; unfortunately, it was served in a much-too-salty mushroom sauce. Salt also was the villain with the breast of duck ($19) that was tender and darkly tasty, but a little too far removed from the oven to be as crispy as it should have been. The accompanying and impressive tower of crisp sweet-potato slices filled with mashed sweet potatoes was delicious, though.

Sweet potatoes (if it's a plantation, this must be the crop) showed up flavoring grits around the grouper ($22), a nice combination. In fact the fish was the best taste of the evening, lovingly uncomplicated and cooked to firm and juicy perfection, served with baby bok choy. So why was the whole dish covered with threads of deep-fried scallions? The selection prompted my companion to ask, "What am I eating here, grass?"

Sweet potatoes (if it's a plantation, this must be the crop) showed up flavoring grits around the grouper ($22), a nice combination. In fact the fish was the best taste of the evening, lovingly uncomplicated and cooked to firm and juicy perfection, served with baby bok choy. So why was the whole dish covered with threads of deep-fried scallions? The selection prompted my companion to ask, "What am I eating here, grass?"

Even though we ordered both the cherries jubilee and bananas foster, neither was flambéed at the table -- and that might tell the whole tale of the Plantation Room. The bits are all there, but nothing really lights a fire.

Even if you're one of those chow-time populists whose bullshit sonar starts pinging whenever a "name" chef opens another high-concept, decor-forward eatery, you'll feel your cynicism melting away upon contact with Todd English's bluezoo, the upscale seafood restaurant -- sorry, they prefer to call it "coastal cuisine" -- newly located in the Walt Disney World Dolphin Hotel.

A motif of mannerly sophistication asserts itself the minute you're welcomed by the courteous reception staff and led past the glowing blue bar to your table. The darkened dining area -- coolly stylish yet far more comfortable than the typical modern-art project masquerading as a restaurant -- is peppered by overhead fixtures with sculpted waves that simulate the feeling of being "under the sea" (to employ the Disney vernacular). The hostess places a napkin in your lap -- letting go at exactly the right moment to forestall a cry of "Hey, now!" -- and you're off to the submarine races.

A motif of mannerly sophistication asserts itself the minute you're welcomed by the courteous reception staff and led past the glowing blue bar to your table. The darkened dining area -- coolly stylish yet far more comfortable than the typical modern-art project masquerading as a restaurant -- is peppered by overhead fixtures with sculpted waves that simulate the feeling of being "under the sea" (to employ the Disney vernacular). The hostess places a napkin in your lap -- letting go at exactly the right moment to forestall a cry of "Hey, now!" -- and you're off to the submarine races.

On a recent visit, our waiter proved knowledgeable, outgoing and endlessly patient, even when we took a seeming eternity to decide on our order. Even his belief that just about everything on the menu merited some usage of the adjective "phenomenal" came off as endearing rather than obnoxious.

On a recent visit, our waiter proved knowledgeable, outgoing and endlessly patient, even when we took a seeming eternity to decide on our order. Even his belief that just about everything on the menu merited some usage of the adjective "phenomenal" came off as endearing rather than obnoxious.

As it turned out, he was awfully close to correct. We started with an order of lobster chive dumplings ($13), big and filling, with tender lobster in a wonderfully flaky shell (though the mango pico de gallo, green lentils and red-curry "spill" was a pleasant challenge to our waiter's assertion that almost nothing on the menu is particularly spicy). The salad of roasted beets ($9) quickly earned plaudits for its superior greens and avoidance of an over-oiled texture.

As it turned out, he was awfully close to correct. We started with an order of lobster chive dumplings ($13), big and filling, with tender lobster in a wonderfully flaky shell (though the mango pico de gallo, green lentils and red-curry "spill" was a pleasant challenge to our waiter's assertion that almost nothing on the menu is particularly spicy). The salad of roasted beets ($9) quickly earned plaudits for its superior greens and avoidance of an over-oiled texture.

As an entree, the "fish grilled simply" ($29) was a must-have, both as an example of the lower-priced range of the menu and because it sounded downright spiritual. ("Grill fish simply, so that others may simply grill fish.") From among the day's choices, we selected the mahi-mahi -- not the most adventuresome option, but we're the people's paper, remember? The fish was wonderful in its oaken flavor, and we thought we had landed a real trophy -- until we sampled miso-glazed Chilean sea bass ($32), whose buttery consistency (and hint of maple, we thought) made it slap-the-table delectable. We immediately doused our mahi-mahi with the accompanying sauce of warm crabmeat, Dijon mustard and chives (one of three sauces offered) in a vain attempt to achieve parity.

As an entree, the "fish grilled simply" ($29) was a must-have, both as an example of the lower-priced range of the menu and because it sounded downright spiritual. ("Grill fish simply, so that others may simply grill fish.") From among the day's choices, we selected the mahi-mahi -- not the most adventuresome option, but we're the people's paper, remember? The fish was wonderful in its oaken flavor, and we thought we had landed a real trophy -- until we sampled miso-glazed Chilean sea bass ($32), whose buttery consistency (and hint of maple, we thought) made it slap-the-table delectable. We immediately doused our mahi-mahi with the accompanying sauce of warm crabmeat, Dijon mustard and chives (one of three sauces offered) in a vain attempt to achieve parity.

An experiment with side dishes yielded mixed results: The spicy shrimp cole slaw ($6) impressed with tender shrimp and a peanut dressing that balanced richness with dashes of the slightly spicy Chinese radish daikon. But the "shake & bake fries" ($6), topped with grated Parmesan and crushed garlic, was no more than the sum of its ingredients. The dessert of warm chocolate cake ($10.50) was prepared with malted cream and cocoa sorbet, yet in a blind taste test, it could have been confused with an ordinary fudge brownie. Still, given the excellence of the entrees and the ambience, complaining that bluezoo's supplementals were inconsistent would be like attending a "Lord of the Rings" movie and coming out disappointed that the trailers didn't look like much.

An experiment with side dishes yielded mixed results: The spicy shrimp cole slaw ($6) impressed with tender shrimp and a peanut dressing that balanced richness with dashes of the slightly spicy Chinese radish daikon. But the "shake & bake fries" ($6), topped with grated Parmesan and crushed garlic, was no more than the sum of its ingredients. The dessert of warm chocolate cake ($10.50) was prepared with malted cream and cocoa sorbet, yet in a blind taste test, it could have been confused with an ordinary fudge brownie. Still, given the excellence of the entrees and the ambience, complaining that bluezoo's supplementals were inconsistent would be like attending a "Lord of the Rings" movie and coming out disappointed that the trailers didn't look like much.

When it was time to settle up, we noticed that we had mistakenly been charged for two sides of fries. Our waiter promptly corrected the error, and while he was at it, he also comped us for the cake, which he felt had taken too long to reach our table -- a classy move that fit the overall excellence of the entrees, the ambience and the service. The prices won't make the place a weekly destination for most folks, but splurging whenever you can afford to is great way to feel like king of the sea.