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It is said that the same yardstick used to critique the arts can be applied to reviewing restaurants: mood, tone, theme, setting, and harmony. The Restaurant's elegant setting is defined by its sweeping arched entrance, which is flanked by palm trees, a fountain, and tropical flowers. Once indoors, you'll find a refined tone set by colored marble in shades of creamy beige, columns of textured stone, breathtaking floral arrangements, and hand-painted silk Chinese murals. A classical mood is provided by the pianist's mellifluous notes floating from the Champagne Lounge at the far end of the room. And the epicurean theme orchestrated by Hubert Des Marais is a brilliant take on Southeastern regional fare, which includes influences from the Deep South, Caribbean, and South and Central America. Marais' tendency is to start with such stirring preludes as a salad of Florida lobster with mango, avocado, plantain, and essence of truffle or seared foie gras with starfruit johnnycakes and scotch-bonnet mango caramel, then segue into larger, richer, more luxurious movements, like char-grilled veal chop with crispy foie gras potatoes and deep morel reduction or his signature guava-braised short ribs of beef with truffle-scented cress salad. A light seafood interlude of yellowtail snapper with watermelon relish, lemon thyme, and tangelo sauce shows off the maestro Marais' versatility as well as his surprising knack for being utterly original. An underlying theme is the reliance on local products like passion fruit, mangoes, goat cheese, Okeechobee frog legs, and Indian River she crabs. A big, brassy wine list hits all the right notes. The meal rises to a crescendo with the soufflé overture, soon after which the crowd offers its accolades and files out contentedly. Readers' Choice: 32 East
Don't be scared away by the Paradise Beach Resort setting. Forget the hotel-lobby furnishings. Never mind the hokey music. Focus instead on the sparkling, Hellenic-like beachside, the festive table-dancing until 5 a.m., the warm, home-baked loaf of bread that is delivered to each table, and the fish bar filled with pristine seafood on glistening ice. Choose a whole yellowtail snapper ($17.95) and the waiter will whisk it to the kitchen, then bring it back impeccably grilled and delectably dressed in lemon juice and olive oil and served with vegetable and rice or potato. Chicken souvlaki ($14) is equally impressive, juicy, and perfumed with enough aromatic spices to make Socrates swoon. Service is amiable, prices are moderate, and on Saturday and Sunday evenings, Taverna Milos turns into a music-filled bouzouili, which, loosely translated, means a big, boisterous Greek party.

Turkey. Turkey dull. Still, turkey good. Turkey tries. Could be better. Turkey meets rye. Turkey improves with mustard, oil, and vinegar. Turkey makes good with usual lettuce, tomato, pickles, and olives. Then turkey tackles pepper. Hot pepper! Sweet pepper! Green pepper! Cherry pepper! Banana pepper! Turkey tastes tangy, tantalizing, titillating. The hyperactive hots! The salacious sweets! And it comes in a hulking, fist-tall wad of a $7 sandwich that only a hippo could bite through in one chomp. Oh, if only lunch came more than once a day!

Liz Taylor will wear colored contacts before you'll have a bad brioche at Bonjour. Here we have le vrai McCoy. This sliver of a bakery just east of the Bimini Boatyard again proves that if you have what people want, there's no such thing as a poor location. Whether wolfing a Napoleon at a table next to one of the fabulescent Art Institute students who love this place or settled into a lounge chair for a quick croissant, café, and an eyeball of Le Monde, you can't go wrong with Chef Alexandre Rohfritsch's handiwork. Order a delivery of a sugar-paste dessert for your next affair, or hunker down on-site with a baguette stuffed to order with field greens, cornichons, and brie and you'll ditto the words of M. Chevalier: "C'est magnifique!"

Great service in a restaurant is about making you feel as though you belong. Some dining establishments have an easier time of this than others. Diners, for instance, would seem the perfect choice to make you feel at home. They are informal, unpretentious, low intensity. But at the palatially elegant L'Escalier, the wait staff manages to treat every customer like a regular -- a regular member of royalty, that is. Dining here is like having your own personal butlers for a few hours. Food is placed on the table, and removed, with the quiet precision of a Swiss -- or Japanese -- watch. A master sommelier advises on wine with the assuredness that you'd like to experience with your stockbroker. Should you retire to the restroom, your chair will be dutifully pulled, your napkin crisply refolded. Service is smooth, sweet, formal, and thoughtful. Most refreshingly, no member of the wait team will ever interrupt your dinner conversation with a chirpy "How is everything?" It is assumed that if anything is needed, you'll let them know. Amazingly, this professional and elegant service is provided without a hint of pretension. Even the best of butlers have a hard time pulling that off.

As you probably know, bread was invented by the Duke of Sandwich, who was looking for something to put around his bologna. Unfortunately for the duke (or was he an earl?), creating bread was more difficult than he thought, and as the endless baking experiments bankrupted his beloved Sandwich, the angry peasants of that territory rebelled and exiled the duke to Hallandale, where he continued his attempts at forging a food from flour and water. After many years, the desperate duke finally succeeded and even came up with the idea of adding eggs to make an exceptional challah, though, sadly, by this time, he had become too impoverished to afford bologna. After the duke's death, his recipe for bread spread far and wide, and though an infinite number of bakeries have produced many a fine loaf since, few have mastered the art of baking like the Bakehouse. Since 1996, this retail/wholesale shop has offered a mind-boggling variety of artisan breads: honey wheat, whole wheat, onion rye, pumpernickel raisin, kalamata olive, sourdough, and, of course, the duke's challah. All breads are natural and made by hand -- no preservatives, no sugar (except for the chocolate cherry bread, available at Christmas), and no fat (except in the jalapeño-cheddar loaf). Loaves weigh up to one and a half pounds each and run $3.75 to $5.95. The bread here is, in fact, unbelievably good.

Local heirloom tomato salad with herbes de Provence: $13.

Sirloin burger with foie gras and black truffles on parmesan bun: $29.

Truffle-braised snapper with Vichy carrots, pea shoots, and pommes croustillantes: $36.

Bottle of DeLille Cellars' Chaleur Estate Meritage, 2000: $140.

Warm upside-down chocolate soufflé with pistachio ice cream: $13.

Dinner at Cafe Boulud when somebody else is picking up the tab: Priceless.

Morning has broken, the sun is up, and it's time to check in to Flakowitz Bagel Inn, the deliciously bagel-heavy breakfast restaurant in eastern Boca Raton. Flakowitz's bagels are homemade in the Boynton store, and its selection includes a diverse dose of doughy delight, such as cinnamon raisin, egg, rye, bialy, marble, and pumpernickel. Take your pick, and add some cream cheese ($1.45 per quarter-pound for regular, $1.60 for fat-free), scallion or veggie cream cheese ($1.70), or nova spread ($2.19). Like any good breakfast restaurant worth its weight in dough, Flakowitz is hardly a secret. Once noontime draws near, the waiting line stretches clear out the door. But don't be intimidated by the numbers; you really won't wait that long. Despite the crowd, not everyone's there to dine inside. The walkup window around the side of the building is an added convenience for a quick bagel to go. Flakowitz Bagel Inn is open 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Saturday and from 7 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Sunday.

One of Delray Beach's most distinctive dining venues has hooted, tooted, and whistled for the final time. Built to take advantage of a location adjacent to railroad tracks, Hoot offered the Orient Express, an old-fashioned wood-and-tile "dining car" with large, comfy booths, life-sized picture "train windows," and a few choo-choos outside for added ambiance. The menu was a throwback of sorts as well, the juicy Delmonico steak and thick grilled pork chops a welcome antidote to the fussy Florribean fusions of today. Sadly, just as all things must pass, nostalgic replicas of all things must pass too.

After a late night out on the town, it's hard to just say good-bye and go home -- especially when the sun's already well ahead of you. Plus, all that partying creates quite an appetite, and all that alcohol needs something to absorb it -- that is, unless you enjoy a hangover. You could go to Taco Bell; but remember, you're trying to avoid being stuck in the bathroom. You're better off heading over to Sande's Restaurant for a quick bite before you lie down for the day. Open at 6 a.m., Sande's has several breakfast combinations like the number one (two eggs, bacon or sausage, and hotcakes or toast, $3.50), number two (two eggs; bacon, ham or sausage; potatoes or grits; and toast; $4), or the number three (Western omelet with toast, $5.50). For groups, there's the Family Breakfast ($19.50), which includes eight scrambled eggs; home fries, hash browns, or grits; four bacon strips; two sausage patties; two sausage links; two orders of toast; two biscuits; four hotcakes; two French toast slices; and a bowl of sausage gravy. It's sure to soak up whatever alcohol lingers in your beer-drenched belly. While time may be the best cure for a hangover, a little greasy food ain't bad either.

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