Out of Many Street + Sol Kitchen spins Caribbean-inspired plates | Review

I didn’t know it when I finished (every last bite of) my snapper at Out of Many Street + Sol Kitchen, but the place — which had charmed me with its pre-hipster-Brooklyn vibe — was essentially a dead man walking.

Chef/co-owner Alexander Gonzalez had been hustling in the modest space in what’s considered part of the West Lakes Main Street Program for a little more than a year but losing the battle despite the success he’d seen as a pop-up.

“We started with small events,” he tells me. “Farmers markets. Bar events. Places like Broken Strings Brewery and Milk Mart. It’s been a really nice mix of people.”

And quite a few of them found his eventual brick-and-mortar, which my colleague and I hit for lunch on a weekday about five seconds after Gonzalez turned the locks on the door.

The space was simple, light and airy, with hip-hop on the speakers and a local artist’s mural on the cinder block. It felt like a place I’d have happened into hungry on Seventh Ave., back in the early ’80s, when Park Slope was showing signs that the Brooklyn Union Gas’ Cinderella Project was going to do what it had intended.

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Back then, some of the neighborhood’s signature brownstones were still boarded up, but on the corners, artisan bakeries and fusion taco joints were popping up. Out of Many Kitchens (yeah, the name is long) fits the bill. Gonzalez, the son of Uruguayan immigrants, began cooking at his mother’s feet in New Jersey. However, when the family relocated to Central Florida and both parents began to work, he and his brother became latchkey kids.

“We were really dependent on one another, and for me, it was making sure we always had food.”

He found early success with a stuffed French toast recipe from one of his mom’s cookbooks.

“It had peanut butter, banana and bacon,” he recalls. “It was a power breakfast. You’d eat that, and you could get all the morning chores done.”

A band kid who played clarinet and wrote music, Gonzalez thought music might be a career option but caught the cooking bug in college working at TGI Fridays in Waterford Lakes.

“They were still cooking from scratch back then. Even the chicken tenders and mozzarella sticks were hand-breaded. So there was a lot of learning going on.”

From there, Gonzalez moved to the Rainforest Cafe at Disney’s Animal Kingdom. It was a busy time. He learned how to work high-volume.

“That’s where I really began to understand how much I enjoy that atmosphere and energy, and that I’m not a fancy-plate kind of guy. I appreciate that level of artisanship, of seeing beautiful things on the plate for people to eat, but I really enjoy producing food that people can dig into and enjoy doing it quickly, affordably. I want to feed everyone.”

While this informed the foundation of his philosophy, it would be some time before the pandemic-spawned popup came to be. Gonzalez moved on to concepts like PF Chang’s and Calexico, which necessitated a bit of travel — New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York City. Eventually, he’d return to Central Florida and the flavors of his wonder years.

“I grew up in a neighborhood with a lot of Caribbean people — Puerto Rican, Jamaican, Haitian, Dominican. We went to each other’s houses. We ate each other’s food. We’d go to reggae concerts, or a festival, or a party where 200 of my friend’s family members are playing music and dancing, and there’s rum being poured. And I just loved it all.”

It’s love you can taste on the jerk plates.

When we happened in, Gonzalez was happy to explain the heat levels. My dining partner’s chicken sandwich was juicy, and the spice levels mild. My fish, equally tender, was tailored incendiary, but beautifully balanced. It’s a rarity for jerk fish plates, where too often, the spice overpowers the protein.

“I love fresh fish,” says Gonzalez, who gets his from Ocean Fish on Washington Street, then filets it into sizeable portions for a bath in housemade jerk marinade — green onions, garlic, ginger, Scotch bonnet peppers and a host of spices — along with citrus and vinegar. The heat was pronounced, but the freshness and flake of the snapper were right there beneath a layer of smooth, emulsified heat.

The rice side here leans Latin, with red beans as the understudy for the more traditional pigeon peas. However, the flavor stays in its coconutty lane, and this side eschews chicken stock. It’s 100 percent vegan, as is the snappy, citrusy slaw. Maduros get a hot-sugar sauté and a special kiss from Scotch bonnet powder before serving. The crisp sugary crust, sexy with heat, gives way with a satisfying crack, revealing the melty plantain beneath.

Yuca fries were well-cut and beautifully seasoned. And the curry chicken, Gonzalez tells me, leans Trinidadian, a nod to the many friends whose homes and families were a second version of his own growing up.

“I’d definitely come back here,” my co-worker told me, polishing off his plate. I was happy. And Gonzalez, extra attentive for a fast-casual (there weren’t many customers, though more would file in soon), took my card to run as a courtesy. He saw my name, and though it doesn’t happen often, I was made.

“At least we got to eat first,” my friend joked.

Indeed, lunch was over and my takeout was already prepped. But the find I’d hoped to share, it turned out, was gasping. Even with new folks popping in after reading Google reviews, even with delivery, Out of Many was on the edge of closing.

Kiboshing the story was a heartbreaker, particularly when so many of late have been send-offs for beloved locals. So, when Gonzalez DM’d with news that they’d had a stay of execution, I buoyed.

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“We have acquired a new investor who is providing financial and physical support,” he told me. They are covered for four more months, planning a final hard push toward sustainability.

Instead of a send-off, let this be an invitation 11 a.m.-9 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday. Out of many kitchens — Uruguayan and Trini, Puerto Rican and Jamaican, Dominican and Haitian — comes simple, fresh, solidly done grub. Give it a go.

If you go

Out of Many Street + Sol Kitchen: 202 S. Orange Blossom Trail in Orlando, 407-286-2846; outofmanykitchens.com

Want to reach out? Find me on Twitter, TikTok or Instagram @amydroo or on the OSFoodie Instagram account @orlando.foodie. Email: amthompson@orlandosentinel.com. Join the conversation at the Orlando Sentinel’s Facebook food group, Let’s Eat, Orlando.