When my father came down from NJ for the week, I decided it was a prime time to finally visit the much-buzzed about Houston’s in Coral Gables. When we arrived, we were met by velvet ropes, an hour wait and too many Miami power couples dressed in too-expensive Prada mini-skirts and electric blue two-piece suits.

Down the road a bit, at 2415 Ponce de Leon, we discovered a quaint French restaurant called Les Halles. After a short 5-minute wait, we were promptly seated in one of the wooden tables. We were surrounded by people and slightly squashed, seeing as noisy tables all around us (including a retirement party) were making it a strain to even hear our waitress.

The place itself had confusing decorations, Mexican-like paintings of French locales. It was only one room without any type of partitions or walls. This added to the claustrophobia, and I’m sure the retirement party was also a factor, though perhaps it’s not usually like that.

To make up for this minor disturbance, the food itself was just perfect. My entree, a grilled vegetable plate, was bursting with sweet flavor.

Each vegetable was grilled with just the right seasoning and for just the right amount of time to bring out maximum flavor. The caramelized onions melted in my mouth, and the moist zucchini (a vegetable that has a habit of tasting plain) was just as sugary. A side salad’s dressing complimented the overall abundance of moist sweetness perfectly.

My friend raved about her Chicken Caesar salad, calling it “delicious” and giving compliments specifically to the dressing. My quite simple, unsophisticated dad (though I do very much love him), when asked about his steak said, “It’s a steak.”

The final exclamation on the dinner came in the end, with dessert. I had almost had my fill, yet still ordered vanilla ice cream filled puff pastries with chocolate sauce on top. The waiter brought over the dessert and poured the chocolate sauce at the table. It looked so scrumptious that it seemed a crime to taste it, but of course I dug right in.

“Perfection” was the first word that came to my mind. My friend muttered “incredible” while gobbling down a bite.

And our sentiments were not hyperbolic in the least. The small, flaky pastries filled with a small dollop of vanilla ice cream were fine by themselves, but it was the chocolate that really stood out in the dish – it was as sinfully delicious as chocolate gets. It’s always wonderful when dessert tops an already excellent meal.

The service was only so-so, however. This is Miami, so drinks refills are expected to be long delayed, but “They’re leaving me high and dry” is a phrase I used frequently. Moderately pricey, a meal for one should come out to about 25 dollars, a meal for two perhaps 40-50.

In The Dinner Party, Neil Simon places people who would rather not come anywhere near each other in the same restaurant with others in the same predicament. It is a recipe for disaster – or not, if one has Simon’s light touch of wit and humor and gift for tackling a thorny issue like divorce.

Albert Donay, a rental car dealer who considers himself at heart a born painter, has had two divorces. That is fairly common, but it ceases to be standard fare when one learns that both divorces involved the same woman. The first time was better than the second, or else they wouldn’t have tried again, goes one line in the play.

Claude Pichon, a rare book dealer, married a woman who got half of all he had after their divorce. At one point he wishes he had divorced Albert as that would have been cheaper. The two are the first to arrive at a party they think was arranged by their divorce lawyer. Slowly the plot thickens and makes Simon’s concoction savory. As the other guests arrive they realize they have a lot to talk about.

The Dinner Party is a play with particular ingredients that could only have come from the boiling pot of hearty humor from Neil Simon’s kitchen. The playwright situates the action in Paris at a fancy restaurant. The characters are French. It would seem that he wants to pay homage to MoliEre, the inventor of bourgeois comedy, but in truth his attempt at sophistication lacks pretentiousness.

This is evident when one of the characters speaks of French authors like Camus and Sartre as if reading from a very American grocery list. It is a play with hints of MoliEre but wholly in the style that made Neil Simon famous. It is not a subtle play, nor is it surprising. However, it captures the bittersweetness of a broken vow.

It rings true because Neil Simon, after five marriages, knows what he is talking about. People say, “If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.” Simon apparently thrives in this kitchen.

It is a traditional play with Neil Simon’s trademark witty lines and comic characters that are exaggerated in their goofiness, echoing Charlie Chaplin and Jerry Lewis. What is not so traditional about the play is the absence of an intermission.

The action flows without interruption, in a real-time fashion where groups of characters with particular issues exchange their repartees or sardonic remarks, then leave the stage for another group to come and do their thing. It is well-timed, allowing for the plot to unravel gracefully, without jaggedness and with plenty of laughter.

In an outstanding theatre department performance, director Bruce Miller and his cast breathe life into the pages of Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters, doing justice to both the masterpiece and the genius behind it.

Set in provincial nineteenth century Russia, Three Sisters explores Chekhov’s recurring themes of the passage of time and the hope and grief that come with loss, endurance, love and life itself through the trials and triumphs of three strong women: Olga, Masha and Irina Sergeevna.

Throughout the five-year time span of their story, the sisters and the military men surrounding them live their lives in direct opposition to their innermost feelings, which are seldom freely expressed, and their real desires, which go unfulfilled.

Portraying the intent behind Chekhov’s play was a formidable task for Miller because its most meaningful aspects are disguised in philosophical dialogue and what goes unsaid as opposed to a climactic action, event or emotion. Because the play is not confined to the cliche plot outline of the rising action, climax and falling action, more emphasis was placed on its more subtle aspects.

The actors, whose command of their roles was superlative, accomplish this goal with sophistication and grace. Caitlyn Loesch, Kat Lower and Jessica Delbridge individually capture the essence of their respective characters Olga, Irina and Masha; while, at the same time, collectively share a chemistry that makes their sisterhood authentic.

Douglas Ghizzoni naturally transitions his character through the years from the once soft-spoken only brother Andrei to father, husband and victim of an unhappy marriage. Marcos Sanchez’s portrayal of Fyodor Ilich Kulygin is moving as his pathetic attempts to accept his failed marriage evoke both pity and admiration. Brad Bauner, who plays the father figure to the sisters, conveys beautifully the frustration of the misunderstood, aging doctor.

Next to the acting, award winning set designer Kenneth Kurtz served an equally important task and executed it with both simplicity and creativity. Employing the resources of scenery and the layout of the Ring Theatre, the entire theatre was used as a stage, with actors entering and exiting from different places throughout, taking the action into the audience.

With an audience of mainly Ring Theatre patrons and supporters, student attendance was heavily lacking. Though performed for a high-brow, older crowd, Three Sisters has an appeal to all ages. Realizing the need to incorporate the student body, the Friends of the Theatre have established a student membership for $35 for the season.

Director Bruce Miller wrote, “For a director, finding the action hidden on the page, and making it come alive on stage is both the challenge and the joy.”

This joy was passed on through his work to the audience as Chekhov’s challenge was met and mastered.