Restaurants

Game for game? Serious about service? And awash in alliteration? Clearly, Black Orchid Café fulfills all implied requirements. This elegant restaurant has produced consistently for the past six years, thanks to chef-proprietor George Telles’ know-how and experience. Classic technique dominates the preparations — the au poivre sauce deserves an award of its own — and allows the conservative culinarian to remember those days when an exacting Hollandaise sauce wasn’t all that unusual. And the back page of the menu, which lists exotic sustenance ranging from wild African pheasant to buffalo carpaccio to lobster tails from crustaceans raised in rice paddies, offers adventurous gastronomes the chance to expand their collective subconscious. Sure, you’ll pay for such pleasures, and both your scale and your wallet may require some penitential time via diet and budget. But dinner here is still a worthy lark of crime.

Let’s be honest. You’re cheap, and you always will be. So you might as well put on the plaid pants and baby-blue blazer and go for the early-bird special at Spoto’s. Between 5 and 6 p.m., the upscale raw bar in downtown West Palm Beach throws in a salad, dessert, and drink for the price of your entrée. That’s a value of about $20, which, you might as well admit, is more than you spent on your mother’s last birthday present. The deal includes a spicy tomato, mozzarella, and red onion salad with a well-aged vinaigrette. It’s a good complement to the onion-crusted yellowtail snapper at $21.75. Or pair the house salad, with its wheat-beer vinaigrette, with the bouillabaisse, which includes a half-pound lobster, clams, mussels, and nearly still-swimming chunks of fish. Eat quick and you can be in bed by 8.

The Floridian’s popularity could be due to the free Tootsie Rolls at the cashier’s counter. Or the politicos and wannabe politicos strutting around as if they own the place. Or maybe it’s the establishment’s willingness to give the back room and a highly experienced waiter to nonprofit groups for their meetings. Or it could even be the after-club boys mixing with the men in suits early in the a.m. Or maybe what fills the restaurant’s seats is the fact that one can order breakfast, lunch, dinner, or dessert 24 hours a day in a room with a whole lot more atmosphere than any Denny’s. While the rest of Las Olas is filled with high-priced haute cuisine and your waiter may have more attitude than the haughtiest diva, the Floridian is basic food, without too much grease, and a comfortable atmosphere where no one will rush you to vacate your table. Customers know to tip well; the servers treat them accordingly. You won’t find anything with kiwi on the menu; instead, you’ll recognize every item: omelets, hamburgers, sandwiches, salads made with iceberg lettuce, though you can also get a veggie burger on a toasted bun. No one will try to take the French out of the fries in this establishment, but if you listen carefully, you’ll hear about the next crazy idea some local politician is hatching weeks before you read about it in the Sun-Sentinel.

You might not think so come summer, but for at least three seasons of the year, this venue has the fresh, sea-air edge. Or, at least, the dock. Located just a tad northeast of the Swimming Hall of Fame, Forté couldn’t be set more in the Atlantic than Atlantis. Though elegant and ritzy enough inside to appeal during 95 percent humidity, it’s the oceanside tables and generous tiki hut-style bar that attract customers for a night of eavesdropping on lapping waves and fish thumping against unyielding hulls. It doesn’t hurt, naturally, that there are also plenty of martini-lapping and fish-thumping-against-plate options. After all, there’s more to outdoor dining than sweating. There’s being tremendously satisfied by all four measures — location, fare, service, and price — whether you want a vibrant, loud experience for a group or a pianissimo night for two.

You’ve got the music factor — live blues, funk, groove, tribal, rock, and jazz bands nearly every night of the week. Not teeny-bopper local acts either but nationally acclaimed artists such as Pat Travers and Rosco Martinez, who no doubt agree to play here in exchange for bowls of the award-winning gumbo. ‘Cause that’s the other part of the equation for a sum of popular outcome — the truly high-end bar food like Kilmo’s killer chili, oyster po’ boys, and sautéed or deep-fried gator bites. But then AA goes a step further toward customer satisfaction by also purveying a wide range of microbrewed beers, and damn if that doesn’t help lubricate the awards process as smoothly as a warm hand on a trombone slide.

“Shake your booty” takes on a whole new meaning here. Namely, wiggle those hips, gyrate that middle, raise some arms, snap your fingers, and love that jiggle. The belly dancer who performs nightly in this North African restaurant-nightclub is neither shy nor modest, as befits a woman who is an expert with the navel maneuver — and we’re not talking the armed forces here. And after she’s done performing, it’s your turn. Who cares if you look like a scene from Aladdin gone wrong? Not the old ladies playing their finger cymbals in the corner. But don’t worry — if anyone does jeer, the music is simply too loud for you to hear them.

Yes, it’s a chain, and of course, this publication often takes shots at such bastions of the Establishment. But sometimes you just have to acknowledge that, to do things right, one needs a certain amount of money and booze. See, it takes the right number of dead presidents to hire a food-and-beverage director or sommelier who has trained his or her palate for years, teetering on the edge of poverty, just to be able to tell us if that Bordeaux has aromatics of glove leather or tobacco and flavors of menthol or tar. It behooves a corporation to court, by sponsoring winemakers’ events and fundraisers, the savviest purveyors and distributors, who can maybe come up with that last case of limited-production cult Cabernet that was purportedly sold out. Most of all, an excellent wine list requires the capital that is needed to lay down an extensive cellar, a good third of which needs to bottle-age before it is even sellable to the dining public. Judging by its 175-bottle list, ranging from New World Sauvignon Blancs to Old World Burgundies, Morton’s got not just the bucks but the props.

If your two key words when it comes to steak houses are cheap and good, then Beef Eater is for you. This Argentine meatery distinguishes itself in a variety of traditional ways, from steak empanadas to steak Milanesa to sirloin, all of which console the carnivore’s palate with terrific beef flavors and textures. But if you’re a skirt-steak cheapskate, then you’re just as pleased with the price: No dish over ten dollars. Even the specials, “tango’s sirloin” (a strip draped with a pair of fried eggs) and the assorted “gaucho’s grill,” come in at $9.95. Which is why we’re happy to provide Beef Eater with a new slogan, free of charge: “Beef Eater, the Short Rib Stop for a Ten Spot — Not Including Tax and Tip.”

Yup, it’s true. We’re biased. We’ve been fans of the Gourmet Diner since it was located in a wooden shack in North Miami so close to the railroad tracks that it shook every time a train roared by. We followed it across the street to a shinier outfit, then stayed with it when the original owner sold it to Sia and Nicole Hemmati, and we started frequenting the Gourmet sibling when it opened in Weston. And still we dine. That’s because they took the Gallic diner concept and kept it alive and so far haven’t renamed anything to include the word freedom. Which means we can still get classic Dijon vinaigrette for the vine-ripe tomatoes and shallots; onion soup gratinée, snapper française, and steak au poivre, among other items, just the way we like them — à la française.

It doesn’t advertise. It doesn’t have an outside phone number. Its entrance is literally hidden at the back of the gifts department on the second floor of the Neiman Marcus store in the Galleria Mall. And yet, every day at lunchtime, every seat at the twin curved counters of the Little Mermaid is occupied, and more eager patrons are queuing up in front of the cash register, waiting to pounce on any vacancy in this cramped, wood-paneled nook. How to describe these patrons? Well, to overgeneralize, they are mostly women of a certain age (50s and up — sometimes way up), a certain income level (likely big, big fans of eliminating dividend and estate taxes), and a certain social station (their day planners are full of words like foundation, fundraiser, and gala). Their fashion sense can best be described as expensive casual: Yes, many are wearing slacks or even jeans, but the crisp blouses, tailored jackets, gleaming purses, and the glint of a brooch make it clear that these ladies like to shop at… well, Neiman Marcus. And what could be better to fuel yourself for an intense afternoon of shopping than a smoked turkey Reuben with homemade Thousand Island dressing? Or a ham-and-hogwash sandwich (hogwash being a tangy-sweet, horseradishy sauce) on grilled egg bread? Or perhaps one of the Mermaid’s salads: Niçoise, cobb, or caesar — the latter available with grilled chicken or shrimp? The homemade soups are always excellent, so one can’t go wrong with the Mermaid Sampler: a cup of soup, half a sandwich, and fresh fruit. Ladies who really know their lunch always order a side of the orange soufflé; it may look like a Jell-O mold, but trust us, it’s much, much more. And if a lady just wants tea — including a warm scone with crème fraîche and those little sandwiches with the crusts cut off — does she have to wait until 4 p.m.? Hell, no! Says right there on the menu: “Tea Time Anytime.” The cakes certainly look tempting, but a full slice is huge. That’s why these ladies almost always travel in pairs: the better to split a slice of deliciously moist carrot cake, my dear! Now, let’s have a look at those new hats that just came in.

Although Ferdos bills itself as “the home of the kabob,” the restaurant could crow about nearly anything else on the menu, plus a few side items that aren’t. Everything from the hummus to those aforementioned kabobs is cooked up just like Mom used to make — assuming your mom hails from the eastern shores of the Mediterranean. Plus, Ferdos is one of the only places north of Tantra in South Beach where you can get a hookah delivered to your table. Nothing beats a nice, long drag off a hookah after a hearty Middle Eastern meal. Choose from a variety of fruity flavors — rather like smoking a pack of Skittles.

Il Mulino has great food, good prices, and terrific service, but it’s not well-known outside of the Victoria Park/Middle River Terrace/Coral Ridge area, so you can get a table in less than 30 minutes during season. Our bottom line for an Italian restaurant is garlic rolls that would kill a vampire, and Il Mulino is definitely unsafe for any of Anne Rice’s creations. With pasta dishes all in the $9 to $11 range, pizzas under $10, and only three specialties that will cost you more than $15, you can still afford a movie at the neighboring Gateway Cinema after the meal. Some of our favorite dishes are a Caprese salad with more fresh mozzarella cheese than most pizzas, an appetizer called fagottino we like just because the name makes us laugh, and six versions of anelli, a concoction of anything from artichoke hearts, asparagus, and sun-dried cranberries to chunks of filet mignon with mushrooms, roasted peppers, and mozzarella inside a crusty baked dough. Traditionalists can get eggplant parmigiana, veal marsala, or linguine with clams, but don’t expect the fish-flavored broth they serve in lesser establishments. Here, your linguine will be prepared with Little Neck clams, basil, wine, and, of course, the garlic.

It’s no secret that Chinese takeout isn’t always healthful. But there is hope. Wingloon’s lengthy menu features all the traditional Chinese-American fare; sweet and sour chicken, moo goo gai pan, beef lo mein, among others. But this drive-through and takeout restaurant is looking out for today’s health-conscious consumer. In addition to a vegetarian menu including broccoli and mushrooms with garlic sauce, and sautéed string beans, any of their chicken or beef dishes can be prepared with tofu, and they will omit salt, sugar, or cornstarch. You just have to ask.

Call it Florida French if you’d like. It bears only a passing resemblance to fares you’d find on Paris’ Left Bank. Likewise, the Caribbean-inspired décor at Sugar Reef does not evoke scenes from snooty bistros and pretentious cafés. But the food… ah, the food. Oui, it is decidedly French — French-Caribbean, that is. Open for nearly ten years and run by husband-and-wife team Patrick Farnault and Robin Seger, Sugar Reef takes the best of France, dusts it with island and Asian accents, and serves it all in a tropical dining room where nearly every table has an unobstructed view of Hollywood’s beautiful beach. The beachfront casual atmosphere is perfectly offset by the elegant and inventive menu, and Parisian native Farnault has no reservations about reconstructing Continental classics with New World spices. The food selections are accompanied by Sugar Reef’s substantial wine list, which features a number of selections from Farnault’s homeland, offering ample ways to wet a dry palate.

Kids love stories, and the history of this place is quite a tale. Why are the men’s room walls 16 to 18 inches thick? Because they are part of an old vault used by gamblers. See, the Rainbo opened in 1933 and was, until the 1950s, a casino that hosted gangsters including — and this is documented — Al Capone. It was closed until 1990, when Jim Durfy first unlocked the doors. In Rainbo’s modern incarnation, scenes from the film Cape Fear, with Robert DeNiro, were shot here. Then there’s the 124-year-old potbellied stove and the sitting area that Durfy has established in the front window. Our kids love wandering around the joint. They also get a kick out of the life-size dancing Santa Claus that Durfy, who is 70 years old, places outside the door every Yuletide. Our kids especially like the fact that there is no kids menu. If you are a clueless parent, you might not have realized that kids hate kids menus. Makes ’em feel inferior. But just a word to the waitstaff here and they will whip up kid-size portions. For breakfast, a pancake shaped like a rabbit goes for a mere $1.25. At lunch, a hot dog and fries sell for $1.95. But the real reason the Rainbo tops this category has little to do with any of this. Rather, it’s that all of Durfy’s nine children, as well as four of his grandchildren, work here. If he can deliver this many kids to this downtown Hollywood institution, then you should bring your tiny brood too. The place is open from 6:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. every day except Christmas.

A few months ago, executive chef Nick Morfogen placed an order for a pound of truffles. To his extreme surprise, not to mention his great pleasure, he received his order in a lump sum — a black Perigord truffle that weighed one pound. Being the savvy cook that he is, Morfogen immediately set about devising and advertising a menu that would highlight this rare treasure to its fullest potential, rather than exchanging the truffle for smaller ones that he could parcel out pasta by pasta. The customers who were fortunate enough to sample the truffled dishes that week were indeed impressed. This type of inspired opportunity-taking is only one of the reasons why 32 East has the edge on the competition, not just on the avenue but in the county. The others? Oh, just the usual: Morfogen’s outstanding technique and great imagination, stellar service, and superb wine pairs. If the East stands for all things rising, then we can expect 32 East to continue to grow in stature — even without the benefit of a one-pound truffle.

This place ain’t much to look at, but try finding a joint in these parts with tastier Jamaican food. Run by two sisters from Jamaica, Dutch Pot is part of Westgate Plaza at Broward Boulevard and 441. There are only three tables in the triangle-shaped dining area, and service is negligible, but the food is great and, judging by the high percentage of island clientele, quite authentic — and not overspiced in an overcompensating, American sorta way. You’ll find all the usual suspects — jerk and brown-stew chicken, stewed chicken, oxtail, rice and peas, escovitched fish, curry goat, jerk pork, steamed veggies, plantains, dumplings, yams, boiled bananas — in all their succulent glory. Best to just order ahead, pick it up, take it home, and enjoy.

With the advent of this year’s Oscars, the Moulin Rouge obsession may be publicly overshadowed by a fascination with Chicago. But the “gay Paree” theme survives at Satine, where the luxe atmosphere is slightly wicked and the Caribbean-French fusion fare is a trifle sinful. So live a little. What makes this restaurant surprising is not that veteran executive chef Donna Wynter’s food is so darn good or that its afterhours nightclub fetes are so well-attended but that Satine is located in the lobby of the restored Diplomat Hotel. If the can-can heralds a new age in hotel dining, then do-do book us a room.

It’s one of the truly wonderful things about living in South Florida: the ready availability of genuine island-quality jerk chicken. God help us, we love it so. The restaurants can be found in strip malls all over town, but our favorite happens to be in the center of the county, on the northwest corner of State Road 7 and Broward Boulevard. Donna’s comes with the classic Caribbean food counter, where you watch as they take a cleaver to succulently spiced meat, lay it down on a delicious bed of red beans and rice, and smother it in delicious gravy. Then comes the standard spare salad (finely chopped lettuce, carrots, and a tomato slice) and some of the best-tasting, sweetest plantains you’ve ever had. For eight and a half bucks, you get a meal that is generally too much for one big man and quite enough for two 110-pound women. If you don’t want jerk, go curry. And if you don’t want chicken, get the oxtail, goat, or fish. There are a few tables if you’d like to dine there, but we suggest you take it home — and make sure to save some for breakfast.

Q: Ever watch reality-TV shows?

A: I watch absolutely no TV. I work every night.

Q: Never?

A: All right, Monday. My day off. On Monday, I have to watch Fear Factor because my 10-year-old daughter, Margeaux, insists on it. It’s kind of fun to watch with her. She’s always comparing herself to the girls on the show. She says, “I could do that.”

Q: Are there parts of the show you don’t like?

A: When they eat slugs and things like that. I’m not crazy about that.

Q: Is that the restaurateur talking?

A: Not really. That whole segment of the show — I usually walk away from it. It’ll definitely kill your appetite.

Q: How about your daughter?

A: She can stomach it a little better than I can.

Q: Is the show in any way real?

A: It’s interesting to see what people will do for $50,000. Is that real? I don’t know.

Q: Can you learn anything from Fear Factor?

A: Jeez, I don’t think so. It’s kind of like a strange sports game.

Q: What does your daughter get out of it?

A: Just the sensation of it, I think. She’s very competitive, very athletic. A major soccer player and a junior lifeguard. I think the competition is what she enjoys, especially when the girls are competing against the guys. That’s Margeaux.

Given the crowd you’re likely to see gathered around the entrance of Galanga on any given night, you might not expect much attentiveness once seated. But the energized waitstaff at this stylish establishment seems to thrive on its patrons’ food lust. They bob and weave about the tables — and around one another — at a healthy gait. Like Siamese royalty, you’ll likely have two or more servers waiting on you during any given meal and another troupe of young men whisking away dirty dishes with military precision. The service bonus: a tiki bar outside the front entrance that makes any wait for a table a bit more palatable.

Mancini’s has a voguish-looking interior with a huge, bristling chandelier, like a cluster of giant pods. But it’s on the broad sidewalk outside, where the restaurant has staked out an impressive chunk of Las Olas Boulevard with a couple of dozen linen-swathed tables, that you’ll see the deals being made. All the usual suspects are there, the same folks who used to frequent Mark’s on Las Olas (which has decided not to serve lunch during the off-season): politicians, developers, well-heeled tourists, the yacht crowd, and the occasional celebrity. The ambiance has a certain European feel to it, including the service, which is, oh, a half-step slower than that in some of the clattering establishments a block or two farther south. (I mean, are you here to suck down food or to eat?) For their epicurean indulgence, patrons get savory, steamy food with all the requisite olive oil and garlic. A caesar salad goes for $7, a tasty linguine alle vongole, $14, a slice of fresh grilled salmon adorned with greens, $16. Good and somehow entrepreneurially satisfying. As the waiter serves the cappuccinos, that condo tower project you’ve been talking about with the guy across the table should really start coming into focus.

Given the lack of a written menu in this trendy, eat-what-they-serve Italian bistro, prices are an equally unknown entity. Allow us to give a general guideline — they’re high. Really high. You just don’t know it till the bill arrives. Which is why it’s always wise to be supping with someone whose favorite phrase is (insert South Philly Italian accent) “Lemme take care of that.” When it comes to chef-owner Steve Martorano’s establishment, where gangster movies play ad nauseam and the scenes where characters get beaten down get turned up by The Man himself, trust us: There’s no forgot-my-wallet, dishwashing option here.

If you’re an epicure, you probably yen for that yuppie Cuban cuisine, maduro soufflés and the like. We hate that stuff. What we like is Black Beans. What we like is Felix Pereira, who arrived from the island in 1956 and has run restaurants virtually since the first day. What we like is lamb stew with savory raisins, succulent pork roast, and enormous, whole, fried snapper that comes with the head on. What we really like is the prices at this nondescript but scrupulously clean joint of 14 tables that opened the day after Christmas in 1993. At lunch, there’s almost nothing that costs more than six dollars. Breakfast is similarly cheap. Two eggs, toast, and potatoes go for $1.55. Dinner’s cheap too. Pereira, you see, followed the path of others in Broward County’s community of exiles from el exilio. He and his wife, Herenia, spent almost three decades running a small restaurant in Miami, bought a bigger one in North Miami, then moved even further north to Hollywood “because Miami was getting really bad, and Hollywood is a nice, small town.” This guy is dedicated. He raised his three kids in his restaurants and still works at Black Beans seven days a week from 8:30 a.m. to 10 p.m. He’s 72 years old, so he needs a little more sleep than he used to — and there’s an air-conditioned room in the back. But he expects to be serving up moros, batidos, and tres leches for a very long time. So, hey, stop in, sip a cortadito, and tell him how you like real food cooked by a real macho!

If your idea of kosher consists of that deli down the street or food made by Hebrew National, it’s time to try the upscale cuisine at Eilat Cafe, which calls itself the best kosher restaurant in the country. The Boca Raton eatery has an eclectic menu spiced with Middle Eastern dishes including baba ghanouj and Turkish salad but also features a range from Oriental stir-fry to Cajun linguine. Best of all, the rabbi’s blessing won’t cost you 10 percent of your salary. Most lunch items are under $10. At dinner, pasta dishes are less than $15, and the seafood dishes, all below $20, include medallions of salmon and dolphin in a spicy banana rum sauce.

Judging by the dearth of Vietnamese restaurants in these parts, it seems that South Florida hasn’t been the first choice for emigrants from that Southeast Asian nation. At the very least, that’s a culinary pity. Maybe it’s the French influence, but Viet cuisine is a refreshing, light affair compared to, say, its Thai cousin, which usually comes slathered with rich sauces and big hunks o’ meat. Take, for instance, Pho Nam’s house specialty, the Vietnamese pancake: a thin, crispy crepe stuffed with onion, yellow beans, bean sprouts, and finely minced bits of shrimp and pork. At $7.50, it’s about the most expensive thing on a menu of meals that average about $6. The spicy beef salad, a $7 specialty that won’t leave you feeling bogged down after dinner, is made of thinly sliced beef, tomato, cucumber, basil, and ground peanuts over lettuce. You won’t find fancy décor at Pho Nam, which lies just south of Commercial Boulevard, but you will see a steady stream of Vietnamese customers.

Aptly named, indeed. You don’t have to dress like royalty or haul around bodyguards, but the kingly fare will make you feel as if you’ve got the right to consider hiring some robes and rogues. Or at least a personal trainer. Along with standard chutneys, pakoras, and naan, you can feast on zesty crab masala, creamy butter chicken, and tandoori salad, a combo of onions, peppers, and mushrooms marinated in rock salt and vinegar and then roasted. Among the pleasant elements here include a nicely appointed dining room, bistro-chic and contemporary; a decent list of wines and beers; and a party room where princes and princesses of all ethnicities can get their ghee on.

The focus on Spanish food these days seems to be all about the avant-garde gelatins and foams with which the young chefs, many from the Basque region, are playing. Imagination has its place, but so does tradition, which is why we’re grateful to chef-proprietor Jorge Luis Fernandez. Where other Spanish chefs are taking paella and putting it in the blender, Fernandez is serving the rice dish as it should be, though he is hardly ignorant of progress and process — the vegetarian paella, for example, is made up of organic roots and vegetables with the rice and saffron. Fernandez has as firm a handle on international flavors as he does on his classic mustache. Thus, you can get anything from Australian lamb chops to French cuts of meat. But keep in mind that the tapas, including sautéed cuttlefish or pickled white anchovies, are generally so good that it’s all too easy to fill up on the first wave.

The delicious smells emanating from this place tell the complete story — the fare here is elegantly prepared, flavorful, and satisfying. Granted, you won’t be finding jellyfish and sea slugs on the menu, nor will you see shark’s fin soup or tripe. But while Jasmine might stick to regional basics such as yu-hsiang lamb, lobster Canton, and shredded beef Szechuan-style, you can rest assured it’s also sticking close to quality control — the lamb is succulent, the Maine lobster fresh, and the beef fiery. An array of noodle dishes also yields items like the sesame chicken lo mein, an item more readily available in Boston’s Chinatown, which makes sense when one considers that the sibling restaurant to Jasmine stems from Andover, Massachusetts. No matter its origins, though, what you can depend upon is results, and like the night-blooming jasmine itself, you can bet this place reaches its peak every evening.

Out of sight, out of mind. If you want to disappear with that special someone from your office without your co-workers finding out, you’ll find ready concealment here. Many of Punjab’s tables are located in the center of its open and airy dining room. Around its periphery, however, await a dozen or so lace-shrouded alcoves. Seating up to four, these six-by-five-foot niches are a shelter from prying eyes and ears. For you romantic types, these cubbyholes of love are private enough for confessions of love and kisses that need not be stolen.

Competition has become tough in these parts for Argentine steak houses. There are just so darn many of them. That’s why it’s the ones that stay tender — like Argentango Grill — that win out. But juicy, marinated steaks and grilled sausages aren’t the only reasons this place rules the Latin roost. Argentango also presents delicious South American and Italian options ranging from excellent empanadas to superior pastas, tangy shrimp ceviche to succulent Caprese salad, and grilled sea bass to caesar salad. The result is that you feel neither energetic nor sexy enough to follow a meal with what the name of the restaurant implies, but at least your palate will be dancing in delight.

Take into account the décor, dotted with memorabilia and photographs. Consider the manner of service, warm and hospitable. Above all, note the menu, dotted with dishes like “Grandma Kay’s farfalle,” “pollo alla Alfred,” and “Ginny’s shrimp fra diavolo.” Clearly, the quintessential Italian family is alive, well, and cooking in Pembroke Pines. Indeed, Bruno’s claims that it is “proud to celebrate the time-honored traditions of La Familia Italiano… shar[ing] love, laughter, and of course, the most wonderful food.” In turn, we’re just as proud to honor this family restaurant for permitting others to partake of the love, laughter, and especially the lasagna.

Remember the good ol’ days, when chain restaurants like TGI Friday’s were good enough to inspire hour-long waits for tables? Those days are here again at Houston’s, and it’s due in large part to the quality and consistency of the largely wood-grilled, American food. This is the place to count on for an accurately cooked steak, a juicy piece of chicken, a tender rack of ribs, and a decent and fairly priced bottle of California Cab to wash it all down. It helps too that the atmosphere is buzzworthy, that the bar is an ideal place to either take or pick up a date, and that no one throws peanut shells on the floor, wears silly buttons on their uniforms, or sings obnoxious songs in honor of some patron’s tenth birthday. In short, Houston’s is a chain restaurant for our inner adult, a part of ourselves we all must learn to understand and indulge.

If you think all Thai food tastes alike, then you obviously haven’t been to the Beach. In this second-story walkup restaurant that features an unexpectedly bright view of the Atlantic, authenticity and originality reign, resulting in locale-suited dishes such as “Thai on the Beach Seafood Stir-Fry,” the region’s freshest scallops, mussels, calamari, and crab encased in a garlicky pepper-ginger sauce. Or Thai shrimp scampi, jumbo crustaceans sautéed scampi-style with mild curry sauce and ground peanuts. And rock lobster pad Thai, one of chef-owner Wannapa Eapros’ most popular specials. Then, of course, there’s the spice factor — the heat in these chili-laden dishes can challenge the South Florida sun. A fact to which we respond the same as any dedicated sun-worshiper: Burn, baby, burn.

Go ahead, write in to the editors. We know that technically, this isn’t a new restaurant. The Sundy House, where De La Tierra is located, was restored about five years ago and has since undergone various menu and design changes. But the most recent transformation, which took place at the end of summer last year and continues in its evolution to date, is the one that has truly made Sundy House a dining destination of national note. The truth is, we could have given the De La Tierra restaurant any number of awards — Best Outdoor Dining for its tables poised under fruit trees so ancient they could have inspired Adam and Eve to sin with a mango instead of an apple. Best Organic Fare, not just in terms of the lack of pesticides that many of the tropical, locally grown ingredients boast but in the sense that the New World dishes derive naturally from the very land on which they are served. And let’s not forget Best Chef on the Fast Track for a James Beard Award, Johnny Vinczencz, who migrated northward from South Beach and has recently been tapped to cook at the James Beard House in New York City. So you might prefer the word reinvented or maybe even renovated. But we’ll stick with new, not just because this eatery has been so dramatic in its turnaround but because that’s how we feel — new as a just-born, subtropical, martini-lovin’ babe — every time we dine there.

Every year, it has become a challenge not just to find a truly fine Mexican establishment to rave about but to find the one that will topple chef-owner Eduardo Pria’s long-running institution from its near-permanent number-one position. The obstacles for newcomers are many — they have to visualize items like fresh diver scallops that have been dry-rubbed with Mexican herbs, skewered on sugar cane, pan-seared, and finished with a smoked chipotle aioli. Or learn to make empanadas like the ones filled with duck and topped with a green chili-toasted pumpkin seed sauce. Or become such an expert with chili peppers that pistachio nut-crusted pan-seared Keys yellowtail spiked with guajillo chili sauce is simply par for the course. So far, the only real competition has been Anita’s — and that Coral Springs restaurant is Eduardo’s sibling. But we’re begging you. Isn’t there any chef worthy to take up the blue crab-stuffed Gulf shrimp with pickled jalapeño tapenade gauntlet?

The best part about eating at Yíasou comes when you order the flambéed cheese appetizer. A slice of the salty saganaki cheese comes sizzling to tableside in a shot of vodka that’s quickly set on fire. That’s cool, but what comes next is even better: The owner, or another family member working at this quaint restaurant, yells out “yíasou,” the Greek word for “hello,” as the alcohol sends flames to the ceiling. You might be thinking this sounds as genuine as the “Happy Birthday” songs at chain restaurants, but the sincerity of the gesture is indicative of this family restaurant. Follow the saganaki with the chicken Mykonos, a stuffed breast filled with spinach, feta, onions, and tomatoes. Finish with the unpronounceable galaktobouriko, a custard pie in honey-glazed phyllo.

Last year, this treasured restaurant took two Readers’ Choice categories — Best Restaurant in Broward and Best Restaurant When Someone Else Is Paying. This year, the venerable spot became a victim of unsettled times. Citing heightened security that kept diners from easily accessing Port Everglades — a direct response to terrorist actions and threats around the world — the owners decided to disband the 18-year-old establishment. The last supper was served in June, and as the eatery’s been gone-and-departed for almost a year now, no doubt this will be its last tribute.

With so many Europeans living, breeding, and cooking in our midst, South Florida eaters expect ethnic authenticity at our ethnic restaurants. In this regard, Old Heidelberg exceeds on every front. From the voice and smile of the hausfrau hostess, the spaetzle that tickles going down, frost-rimmed glasses of Tucher Weissbier or Diebels Alt, to the dark pine and leather interior, Old Heidelberg’s old-country charm is far from forced. The owners’ names are Dieter and Heidi, for crying out loud. Almost every night, Ingo Froehlich transforms the accordion from the second-most-hated instrument into an oompah-pah sine qua non. Bavarian comfort food is succulent and sizably portioned, so this means you’ll leave completely stuffed, possibly from the pork tenderloin with a crisp layer of fat just as crunchy as a chicharron. Maybe from roast suckling pig or the bratwurst platter. Maybe from that final, ill-advised bit of Black Forest cake. But at least your indigestion will be well-earned.

Drive east on Atlantic Boulevard and evidence of the Brazilian enclave of more than 20,000 leaps out at you, from flag symbols on hair salons, cafés, and newsstands to the Saturday special called feijoada served up by Panorama Restaurant. The eatery has been preparing top loin steaks such as picanha e alcatra panorama, picanha a cavalo, and other favorites such as oxtail stew and tripe for a largely Brazilian clientele for nearly a decade. The only other thing that may divert your attention from the waft of seasonings coming from the kitchen is the large-screen TV in the front that broadcasts the jogo bonito — the beautiful game that is Brazilian soccer.

When you’re in Mulberry Street, do as others do: Order as many courses as you think you could possibly eat. Then, after you tuck into the first dish, order three more, making sure to drip whatever it is you’re eating onto the menu. That way, diners who come in after you can follow in your knowledgeable, if greasy, thumbprints. The desire to sample a wide variety of the delicious fare is by far the biggest reason Angelo’s has been launched into the “expensive” category. In other words, things tend to add up, especially if you ask for a bottle of the Ornellaia Super-Tuscan to drink with dinner. But in the end, the quality and value of the portions jibe so right with the Little Italy pedigree of the restaurant that chances are you’ll remember the meal and “fuhgeddabout” the final bill.

For Indian food regulars who want to avoid those awkward moments of ordering beef curry from a Hindu waiter, the simple way is to go vegetarian. Bombay Cafe has powerfully tasty vegetarian dishes that’ll make most carnivores forget about the lack of animal flesh. The chick peas in the chole-bhatura are cooked perfectly al dente in a potent tomato-based broth, and the plain uttapam combines the simplicity of a poster-sized rice pancake with aromatic lentil soup. Everything at this simple restaurant is made on-premises, even the yogurt, which flavors the sweet lassi so well, and the roti, an oven-roasted bread. Best of all, your vegetarian feast will set you back only about $5 — not a bad price for a clear conscience.

If the name seems like a mouthful, well, the large servings of fresh fish and shellfish justify it. A retail seafood market on one side and an attractive, casual dining spot on the other, Waves isn’t all foam and froth like some of its trendy contemporaries. Yet its preparations are still modern — Asian shrimp-noodle soup, coconut shrimp, lump crab “fingers,” shrimp scampi with roasted tomatoes. Feeling traditional? Waves also offers lobster dinners à la beach parties in Cape Cod, with a Maine steamed lobster, mussels, clams, ears of corn, and new red potatoes. Best of all, your belly may make you feel as if you won’t be riding any waves too soon lest you get a cramp, and your wallet won’t be much lighter — Waves is as reasonably priced as it is filling.