Restaurants

Upscale potato soup

While visiting Australia a few years ago, my battle cry  became “Don’t ruin my hamburger with that stupid beet.” I feel strongly that you shouldn’t mess with such a perfect food by piling weird things onto it. A slice of cheese, a tomato, lettuce, bacon, onion, a pickle and you’ve maxed out the list of acceptable toppings.

But last night, I added something weird to that list. A fried egg.

This story actually starts nearly a year ago when we tried to get into the new Fireside Brewhouse on County Line Road and couldn’t even get a parking space in the lot. We’ve driven by several times since and waived off just by eyeballing the sheer number of cars in front of it. Then last night, with  rain pouring down, we saw a spot open right next to the door.

That was as good as an engraved invitation to me.

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La Mela in Little Italy

I was all for eating at a grocery store in Little Italy when we arrived in New York City a day early for the Carnival Dream inauguration last week. But my friend, who is a bit more of an upscale person, asked the concierge at Morgans Hotel for his recommendation.

This question, in my experience, usually gets you something far more expensive than ziti with marinara sauce from a deli counter.

“La Mela,” he said without hesitation as he pulled out a subway map and showed us how to find Mulberry Street. “It’s not overly expensive and still has the red-checked tablecloths on the table. Very charming, real Italian food.”

Well, so is the fare at my spot on the corner, but whatever. It’s only money, right?

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Look! A round chimichanga

It took me less than 24 hours to find the weak spot in iPhone’s GPS app,  Co-Pilot.

Sure, it could tell me there was a Mexican restaurant in Kennesaw, Georgia. It could talk me there turn-by-turn off the interstate. But it couldn’t give me a clue as to whether this was the same-old authentic menu I’m heartily sick of seeing in Mexican restaurants. (Pssst, Uptake: we need an iPhone app!)

So my husband and I cautiously followed Lee’s disembodied voice to Los Reyes Mexican Restaurant and sat in the parking lot a few minutes assessing the situation. We finally agreed it looked more like a steakhouse from the outside, so odds were good we had stumbled on an original instead of an authentic.

We were greeted with a colorful interior complimented by sombreros nailed the wall (ought-oh … sure sign of THAT menu) but with big-screen TVs tuned to ESPN scattered around, and clowns and magicians walking among the tables to entertain the kids. The signboard announced open mic hours, so perhaps we were safe after all.

What the hell. We asked for a table for two.

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Zaxby's serves unusual sides

Here’s an odd confession for you: I’ve always wanted to stop at a Zaxby’s. And if I had a self-preserving bone in my body, I’d say it’s because I once interviewed their executives for an article about improving drive-thru times and was impressed with their knowledge and friendliness.

But no. It’s because I am attracted to the name Zaxby. It reminds me of the coolest signature in Congress, Senator Saxby Chambliss. Say it a few times, let it roll off your tongue, try out a few foreign accents with it. Suddenly, you’re in the mood to call up the queen mum for tea and crumpets, aren’t you?

Which has nothing to do with the cartoon rooster logo at this fast-casual chicken chain, but I thought I should try to explain the quirkiness that made me pull the SUV into their parking lot somewhere along I-75 in Lake City, Florida. It’s OK … my husband didn’t quite follow the logic, either.

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Homemade pasta makes your mouth water

It’s a sad fact of life: My husband will never be as crazy about an escape to Hollywood, Florida, as I am. The second he stepped off the plane, he began sweating — and then he walked outside to meet me pulling up to the curb. He opened the door, threw his bag in the back seat and started right in on the topic nearest and dearest to his heart.

“I forgot about the damn humidity down here.” Hi to you, too, honey.

Pre-vacation he talked about sitting under a beach umbrella with me (as long as he was wearing his t-shirt and slathered in Bullfrog sunscreen, of course), listening to my iPod beach tunes and reading a book. After he arrived, he hung out in the bedroom at the Manta Ray Inn, right underneath the air conditioning unit, with said book. I was shocked when he actually ventured out onto the sand while the sun was still in the sky to bring me a bottle of water from the fridge on the last day.

But at 5 p.m. every night, he did a Jekyll and Hyde turn-around. There’s nothing like dinner to change my man’s attitude for the better — and I’m well-endowed with a list of restaurants to tempt him even further into a good mood.

My most successful recommendation: Mama Mia Italian Ristorante.

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Latin Cafe 2000 snapshots

Some food simply doesn’t need an atmosphere to improve it.

While hanging out in South Florida before and after a conference (held on the Carnival Imagination no less, which reminds me of that classic Dire Straits song lyric “that ain’t working. That’s the way you do it.”) I managed to stumble into two different groups of attendees who invited me to dinner … at a Cuban restaurant.

This Midwest meat-and-potatoes gal had images of chicken heads floating in the chicken noodle soup, mainly because that’s what the waitress put in front of my friend the last time we ate off the beaten cultural path in Miami. I’ve considered counseling to erase the image from my mind.

But when you’re the organizer for a 3-day group event, you go along to get along on these issues. So I said yes, and hoped I passed a drugstore to stock up on Snicker bars in my room back at the Doubletree Grand Biscayne.

In Miami, we pored over recommendations here at Uptake, and wound up choosing Latin Cafe 2000 local franchise — my friend because the concierge recommended it, and then I nodded yes because it was close. I dislike driving our SUV in the first place, and downtown Miami doesn’t do a thing to improve that attitude. And remember, I figured I was headed toward some kind of voodoo dinner to boot.

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Mamacita's guacamole

A stranger named Jimmy is my new best friend.

Back in June, when I wrote about Cancun Mexican Grill in Hollywood, Florida, Jimmy suggested I also try Mamacita’s Mexican Bar & Grill on the Broadwalk. I agreed to stop in the next time I was in town.

I’m not a gal who takes such written commitments lightly, so finding this place was on my first night’s agenda. And since I had my husband along on this trip, he enthusiastically endorsed the idea after he heard the words “Mexican food” — even if I did have to talk him through how to drive a mile straight down Ocean Drive, turn right on Johnson Street and find a parking space with a meter. Duh.

I was excited to see the location: all tables at Mamacita’s have a wonderful view of the Atlantic Ocean, and we were ahead of the crowd so we could take our pick. Chips, salsa and the sea are really all it takes to make my soul content. My husband, however, contained his excitement until they handed him a menu, and then his eyes bugged out of his head.

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The surprising Creolina's, now in Davie

The first day one of my best friends found out I like to vacation in the Fort Lauderdale/Hollywood area, she asked if I have ever eaten at Creolina’s.

The answer was no.

And, I’m sorry to say, even with the 10 trips I’ve made since she first brought it up, I never managed to look it up on Mapquest and drop in. I had lots of excuses: the spring breakers I was with didn’t want Creole food. I might get lost. Parking is a pain in downtown Ft. Lauderdale.

Pretty lame, huh? Especially now, after she and I were actually in Broward County together this week, and she personally drove me to Creolina’s Dixie Takeout new location in Davie for lunch. I have to admit, you could have knocked me over with a feather for the next hour.

I mean, seriously: This hole-in-the-wall strip center restaurant with an Old Western font sign too tiny to see from the frontage road is THE Creolina’s? The one the South Florida media goes nuts over? The place where the mayor eats and business people hang out? No. Way. Creolina’s is an elegant French bistro where you dress up for lunch and hope not to drop gravy on the white linen …  or so I imagined.

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Cody's Original Roadhouse

I am grateful I’m not a shy traveler. Unlike a lot of folks in my family, if I’m on the road and need a break, or hanging out at the hotel and hungry for a meal, I’m not relegated to drive-thrus at burger joints. I’ll walk up to the hostess at any sit-down casual dining restaurant and ask for a table for one. No book tucked under my arm, no pad of paper to look busy.

Which is how I wound up having dinner at Cody’s Original Roadhouse in Ocala, Florida. I was prowling around looking for a meal in the middle of the afternoon — hanging out at La Quinta Inn and Suites would mean working — and passed this unusual building with an old Chevy truck in front. I figured it for a regional chain right away, but it’s not a chain we have, so it was instantly cravable.

It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out they really like the word “original” to describe themselves, even though both Logan’s and Texas Roadhouse share the Roadhouse label in their names. According to their website, original in this case means “an era gone by, when things were simpler, more casual and definitely relaxed.”

Route 66 pattern

Which explains why I walked in and saw that their booth fabric is the same cloth someone used for a Route 66 purse, carry-on luggage and vest I own. That pretty much sums up casual for me. And lucky me strolled in during happy hour, when I could get a chopped sirloin steak, baked potato, rolls, and a salad to look at for $8.98. Oh, and don’t forget the all-you-can-eat peanuts at the table.

Like I said, they share a lot in common with other national chains we know.

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Captain D's two-piece fish

Apparently my emergency excursion to Long John Silver’s earlier this month has set off seismic cravings for cheap, greasy fried fish sticks, because this week I found myself in the parking lot at Captain D’s Seafood.

I tried to excuse my new habit by saying it was only fair that I review both competitors in the interest of good journalism technique. The problem with that lie is I’ve never really stopped eating at Captain D’s over the years, especially if they had a coupon. Still, I could objectively compare the chains’ quality and experience just as I did Moe’s and Chipotle, right?

Wrong. You see, to my complete surprise, I have yet to figure out the difference between my meals.

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