It’s just before noon on a Sunday, and I am on a fast-moving Orlando brunch crawl with Netflix star Phil Rosenthal, who these days is famous for being fed.
If you don’t know “Somebody Feed Phil,” which premiered back in 2018, it is equal parts travelog, wondrous and immersive, and food porn so sophisticated — glistening skin, tender flesh, flowing juices — it blurs the line between elegant and explicit.
At the center of it all: Rosenthal, who has described himself as “exactly like Anthony Bourdain – if he was afraid of everything.”
It is a charming, funny line from a charming, funny guy. Precisely the man you’ll see on the show. That said, Rosenthal isn’t afraid of anything. Not on the plate, anyway. He approaches food with enthusiasm and zest and childlike curiosity. He greets the world and everyone in it with a bright, open smile.
That’s how he greeted me, too.
I was supposed to be at a Yankees spring training game that Sunday, but my collision with Rosenthal, admittedly, seemed like kismet.
Last day to get tickets! ‘Somebody Feed Phil’ Orlando dinner event: Here’s how to attend
We’d met the night before, in a dressing room at the Plaza Live, where I was to moderate “An Evening with Phil Rosenthal,” the Orlando stop on his book tour. My boyfriend was there. So was Rosenthal’s nephew, Jeremy. They brought dark chocolate peanut butter cups. We kibitzed — about New York, about family, about food.
They told me some of what they’d seen and eaten since being in town. They asked me about the food scene. And before I hit the stage that night to introduce him — which was terrifying, by the way — they asked if I’d show them around the next morning.
And so the first thing I ate during my impromptu adventure with Phil was a pair of Yankees tickets.
On March 1, Season 7 of “Somebody Feed Phil” drops, including an episode entitled “The REAL Orlando,” featuring stops that go from East End Market to Eatonville, from Mills 50 to the Milk District, from Parramore to the Michelin-starred Capa at the top of the Four Seasons.
Rosenthal, who says he was skeptical, is now among the enlightened.
“[Orlando] is a fantastic food scene and cultural hub, and that was such a joy to find! You really have a condensed version of New York or L.A. right here. And you would never think of it because the theme parks are so dominant in the narrative of Orlando.”
Matt Hinckley would likely agree.
“There are a lot of people who are breaking their asses in this town to make the food scene better, operating in the shadow of The Mouse,” he says.
The case at Hinckley’s Fancy Meats is usually pretty sparse on Sunday mornings, but following our midnight text volley last year, Hinckley put in a couple of extra pre-dawn hours to have it full for Rosenthal’s visit.
“I’m not a person who likes to be on screen,” he tells me. He usually turns down offers from competition and reality shows.
“But, Phil’s show filled an important gap when Anthony Bourdain left,” says Hinckley, who spent years living from his backpack in places like East Africa, New Zealand, Alaska and the Caribbean, “and that is the importance of travel and food culture … highlighting different ways of life, different foods from different regions. It’s a little bit ‘slow food,’ a little bit of getting to know the people sitting across from you.”
I sat across from Phil in East End’s courtyard, snapping food pics of him snapping food pics in a moment of social-media “Inception.”
We’d taken a spin around the market before sitting, scouting the stall of La Femme du Fromage and the line at Gideon’s Bakehouse. We spied the baristas at Lineage and the brunch hordes at Domu. We peeked through the doors at The Neighbors.
We headed to Sampaguita for a sampling Rosenthal would revisit for the series in a segment featuring State Rep. Anna Eskamani, during which they discuss Orlando’s incredible diversity.
Sampaguita co-owner Marie Mercado admits she didn’t know who Phil was when she got my late-night text, but she was wide awake and working overtime. The shop had only recently opened.
“I was up until about 4 a.m. that night,” she tells me. “I’d heard of ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’ (Rosenthal is the Emmy Award-winning show’s creator and executive producer), but I’d never seen it … but the idea of welcoming someone new into our space was really exciting.”
“Hello, hello!” says Rosenthal, enjoying a bite of Sampaguita’s heavenly halo halo with its colorful accouterments.
“It means ‘mix mix,’” says Mercado, imparting the frosty Filipino dessert’s Tagalog translation.
Rosenthal isn’t a know-it-all, and that’s kind of the point. None of us is. We go to new places. We try new things. We stuff this new knowledge into our satchels as we make new friends whose experiences are different from our own. And it is wonderful.
“In every culture, food is a story to be told,” says Eskamani. “We think about things our mom cooked for us, a family recipe — it transcends politics. It’s a powerful tool of connectivity.”
She saw the connection firsthand between Rosenthal and those who greeted him, asking for a picture, wanting to shake his hand.
“He’s a uniter,” she says. “And it was nice to see how meaningful it was for people to see him in our neighborhood.”
During his time here, Phil met with activist Brandon Wolf, a survivor of the Pulse nightclub shooting, breaking bread (biscuits, really) over several of chef Trina Gregory’s over-the-top Southern plates at Se7enbites.
“This might be the happiest place on earth!” he quips.
He did a tasting with the student entrepreneurs of Black Bee Honey, a program that’s operated here since 2017, one which has not only moved the needle on “food desert” communities like Parramore and Holden Heights but raised money for scholarships, programming, college applications and more as it sells its product in farmer’s markets and to local restaurants.
Featuring local nonprofits is the norm on “Somebody Feed Phil,” says showrunner/executive producer (and Phil’s brother) Richard Rosenthal.
“It’s a reciprocal thing,” he says. “I know we’re putting a nice lens on the city, but we’re still doing a show …you also want to give back to the place that’s hosting.”
Part of the thrill of going to Orlando, says Rosenthal, was the challenge of perception.
“That was the thing. We weren’t going to do it unless there was something there.”
One of Orlando’s most compelling narratives, both Rosenthals tell me, is its immigrant story, a thread that runs throughout the episode, a subject brought home during a segment at Mills 50’s Tien Hung Market, where Phil shares goodies with Tasty Chomps’ Ricky Ly.
The area, he says, has been transforming as third- and fourth-gen businesses continue to emerge.
“Tien Hung is one of the oldest Vietnamese markets in Orlando, having been founded in the 1980s,” Ly told the Orlando Sentinel.
“It’s not only home to a mean roast pork belly bánh mì at their Bánh Mì Boy counter, but also, in the coming days, we will see the market transforming into a new concept as the older generation begins to retire. It’s a story of Orlando and a story of America.”
When Yamuel Bigio made the move from Puerto Rico to open Crocante, he had a goal in mind: “to represent Latin and Puerto Rican cuisine and take it to a level that could be appreciated by everyone,” he says.
His restaurant batted clean-up that Sunday and — as evidenced in one of the Season 7 teasers — the porchetta proved a Louisville Slugger.
Bigio wheeled out the roast, tapping on its bark-like exterior before sawing off a steamy slice. Phil took video of his plate, the rotisserie and more, sending it all to his brother in real-time.
“He’ll probably be crying by now,” he joked over the potential FOMO, but Richard caught up months later when they came back to shoot.
“We had it very easy,” Richard Rosenthal said, “because how many people have you met who say, ‘There’s a food scene in Orlando?!’ I was blown away by the porchetta at Crocante. Domu may be the best ramen we’ve had anywhere. And Kook’n with Kim? Thai-influenced soul food? That’s crazy!”
Phil’s scene on the porch at Kim Middleton’s Eatonville eatery features not merely meatloaf money shots but generous portions of gentle humanity.
“The best part of the experience for me is not even the food, as much as I love it,” says Phil. “It’s meeting the people. It’s making new friends.”
For the team at Visit Orlando, who’d been courting the show for some time, it’s “part of a greater plan,” says chief marketing officer Danielle Hollander, citing VO’s work in bringing both James Beard and Michelin to the city.
“One of the areas where Orlando really had a challenge compared to other competitors was the dining side,” she says. “And as it evolved — and certainly, it needed to — to [now] be able to say we’re a Michelin city, you don’t really have to say a lot more.”
Shows like Rosenthal’s and others on which Orlando has recently been featured, she says, put the city on the world stage.
“And the other great thing about Netflix is that it’s there for a very long time, so that gives us exposure for years to come.”
For the indie locals, that exposure is everything.
“Already went and checked out Crocante in Orlando. Amazing!” a commenter posted beneath the YouTube teaser. “Had cod fritters, fried cheese and the classic roast pork.”
Bigio confirmed, days before the episode dropped, that he’d already seen a small spike, which felt like a bit of magic.
That’s what Rosenthal found on his visits.
“My favorite thing that I get to say is ‘Yes! Go to Disney World! Go to the theme parks and have a wonderful day or two, but the real magic kingdom is the real world just outside.’ That, to me, is a revelation.”
Find me on Facebook, TikTok, Twitter or Instagram @amydroo or on the OSFoodie Instagram account @orlando.foodie. Email: amthompson@orlandosentinel.com, For more foodie fun, join the Let’s Eat, Orlando Facebook group.
Last day to get tickets! ‘Somebody Feed Phil’ Orlando dinner event: Here’s how to attend
