There is no smoking allowed at Sparrow, but if it were to be tapped for a film shoot, the sexy slow burn of the place would fit a slick-suited smoker to cinematic perfection.
Forties-era chalk stripes. Mod ‘fits a la ’60s London. The wide lapels and flared trousers of the ’70s. Any would work, because Sparrow feels timeless.
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Swively leather barrel chairs ooze chic comfort amid wood and stone. Deep greens and warm browns complement the natural tones and textures. A checkerboard floor breaks it all up, channeling Hollywood and Mid-mod glamour with each click of my chunky heels.
A clandestine nook of a bar in the back corner makes a quiet spot to survey this kingdom, far smaller than any of the Good Salt Restaurant Group efforts that came before, but one that restaurateur Jason Chin’s been enjoying immensely since its doors opened back in May.
For he and his wife, Sue, co-owners and James Beard Award finalists, Sparrow’s intimacy is by design.
One could walk right past its tiny nest in Orlando’s North Quarter and not even realize it’s there, a feature they prized while visiting some of New York City’s best boîtes for inspiration.
“There are so many little spots you could walk past on your way to work for years and never step inside,” he says. “And then you do and you think, How did I miss this place?!”
Gorgeous red endive concealed the rest of this heavenly salad, a special that night, beautifully dressed with rice wine vinegar. (Amy Drew Thompson/Orlando Sentinel)
Elder Good Salt siblings, Seito Sushi Baldwin Park, The Osprey, The Monroe and Reyes Mezcaleria next door, all loom large, with vast, soaring windows’ worth of frontage through which to gawk.
Sparrow is a blink-and-you-miss-it nook.
Petite plates match its lower square footage, but this bird is mini and mighty. And believe me, Sweetie, she’s got enough to feed the needy.
If you get that reference, you can add Biggie Smalls to the roster of cool characters, real and imagined, that’d fit right in here, quite comfortably in one of those generous club chairs, which swallowed me whole, and deliciously so, on my first visit.
Smalls’ smooth East Coast hip hop could have preceded the slow funk on the system as I slid into that luxe lowrider, feeling my hips in my dress, my dress against the leather.
A killer martini was in the plans early on, says Sparrow owner Jason Chin. This house brine-infused beauty comes complete on its own silver tray with edible “bird seeds.” (Amy Drew Thompson/Orlando Sentinel)
They brought me a Sparrow martini ($20), featuring olive oil-washed Mahon gin and a house brine, served on a silver tray. It was still early, but the drapes on the windows obscured just enough daylight.
I closed my eyes and took a sip: flavor in my mouth, my sinuses, my ears. I opened them and took another long, cool pull on the visuals.
Sparrow is a deep, warm, oiled bath with candles, a bespoke cave where friends can connect, relax.
It is the anti-phone screen.
Sparrow is a love nest. For whatever sort of love you need.
Chef/partner Wendy Lopez, who splits time between the new spot and Reyes via a tunnel that runs between them, says Sparrow became what the neighborhood revealed itself to need.
“For the longest time, we were almost the only ones here,” she says of the apartment-heavy North Quarter ‘hood. “We took a little time to see how the neighborhood developed, what people were asking for.”
What they landed on was magic.
Beneath the feathery presentation, chewy croutons, cubes of young Manchego and candied nuts make this endive salad one that eats like charcuterie. (Amy Drew Thompson/Orlando Sentinel)
“Someplace cool to be an adult, where you could forget you were in downtown Orlando, or even that you’re in Orlando at all. An oasis.”
She credits much of what Sparrow is to Sue Chin’s always-brilliant design. I do, too.
With each new venue, I see Chin-created spaces in which I want to live.
But Sparrow? I never want to leave.
Lopez’s menu has something to do with that, too.
Arroz negro evokes the same feels as a huge pan of paella in a small plate with inky Calasparra rice, incredible prawns and shrimp oil to infuse even more savory sea flavor into textures both tender and crisp. (Amy Drew Thompson/Orlando Sentinel)
Spanish-leaning in many of its flavors, as well as its tapas-style format, it melds different parts of her backstory.
Her great-grandfather, a Spaniard, married a Mexican — a woman whose curiosity in the kitchen drove her to recreate some of his favorites in the one that they shared. Filtered down in the DNA, dishes and ingredients — paella, octopus, others — were a part of Lopez’s formative years.
There are also the years that predate Reyes, when Lopez ran the show at I-Drive’s Tapa Toro, where the classic pulpo a la gallega was a favorite.
Sparrow’s own version ($18) is an homage to the classic, trading the boiled-on-boiled charms of the original for fried hunks of potato paired with house-made octopus conserva. Forked together, it’s a blissful, perfect bite.
Housemade octopus conserva with patatas fritas: earthy, easy, ridiculously good. (Amy Drew Thompson/Orlando Sentinel)
Binchotan-roasted eggplant on pan frito ($12) studded with tangy piquillo and piparra peppers, sweet onions and edible blooms may look like a Frida Kahlo painting, but abandons the Mexican cooking for which Lopez has become known for another place on her timeline.
“My background, the earliest part of my cooking, is French.”
Sparrow’s sole meunière ($46), a hit since Day One, is a dish Lopez learned at age 17, while doing an internship at a Winter Park country club. She’d already learned to filet Florida’s beautiful grouper and snapper, but for Lopez, the pan-flat sole was a marvel of anatomy to conquer — and to cook.
“I have carried that dish with me for the past 20 years,” she says. “It’s something I’d always wanted to put on a menu, but it never fit. This was the perfect place.”
Lopez is delighted to bring it to customers outside the exclusive setting where it was mastered, and she hasn’t changed a thing.
Lemony, buttery sole meunière was a Sparrow house hit from go. If this sounds like your jam, don’t sleep on it. (Amy Drew Thompson/Orlando Sentinel)
“As chefs, we often want to do our own spins … but as I have gotten older, I’ve realized that sometimes it’s nice to keep things the way they were meant to be.”
Like several of the dishes on Sparrow’s menu, she says, the sole brings nostalgia.
“It brings me back to being a young cook. It teaches so much technique. It’s perfect in every way for me. There’s so much joy. And now I get to pass it on.”
Brown-buttery perfect, its base something close to savory lemon caramel, the lightly floured filet is plated elegance (even more so if you tack on the $14 caviar butter enhancement), but the loungey setting — playful jazz or roller-boogie disco, a Manzanilla sherry-spiked highball twinkling around its glassy ice spear — makes it a shareable, as all the dishes here are meant to be.
Liquid depth: Sparrow’s highball, featuring olive oil-washed gin and Manzanilla sherry, is a revelation for fans of the fizz. (Amy Drew Thompson/Orlando Sentinel)
Sparrow, with Chic’s “Good Times” on the speakers, is a fondue party with a Halston makeover, from the dreamy mushroom “pâté” ($12) and its incredible foie-ness of being, to the inky Calasparra of the arroz negro ($26), with two towering prawns as its Neptune’s crown.
I didn’t interview Sue Chin for this piece, but was hardly surprised to learn she had a hand in the dark and dapper Sparrow chocolate cake ($16). Inside, it’s all thin opera-like layers — almond sponge, coffee liqueur, chocolate mousse. Outside, it’s a Ring Ding on the Lido Deck, proferred by a good-time cruise director in a one-shouldered gown. And its midnight glaze reflects marvelously if you happen to catch Rhonda while you’re there.
Sparrow’s disco ball (the staff calls her “Rhonda”) imbues the space, already dripping with chill chic, with Studio 54 magic. (Amy Drew Thompson/Orlando Sentinel)
Who’s Rhonda?
Lopez laughs.
“I hear the name and imagine a showgirl grabbing a smoke break between numbers,” she says.
But Rhonda is Sparrow’s team-christened disco ball, a fever-dreamlike addition that struck Sue Chin amid a late-night design binge.
In its soft-open stage, says Jason Chin, they went a little crazy with Rhonda, lighting her up each night at sunset. Now, it’s more of a when-it-happens thing. A Bigfoot sighting. If Bigfoot did the Hustle.
Sparrow’s signature chocolate cake is nuts, literally, with its almond sponge cake and hazelnut crunch amid coffee liqueur and chocolate mousse. (Amy Drew Thompson/Orlando Sentinel)
I haven’t seen her since that first visit, but now, each one is a bingo card waiting for its last inky stamp.
And by the time it doesn’t shake out, there’s been martinis and music and memories made, so who cares, really?
I ended up pairing Rhonda with Donna Summer’s “Heaven Knows” in an Instagram reel, post-visit and now the two are inexorably locked, as is my fondness for this marvel of a food-lover’s lounge. Maybe it’s the NYC feels they’re invoking that makes it feel so much like home, but honestly? I don’t think so. It’s just a vibe.
This place is special.
Jason Chin had hoped Sparrow would have just that kind of charm, he says.
“Because when you discover a place like that, you feel like you’ve found a treasure.”
Want to reach out? Find me on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram @amydroo or on the OSFoodie Instagram account @orlando.foodie. Email: amthompson@orlandosentinel.com. For more fun, join the Let’s Eat, Orlando Facebook group.
If you go
Sparrow: 807 N. Orange Ave. in Orlando, 407-203-8524; sparroworlando.com
https://www.orlandosentinel.com/2025/09/04/sparrow-soars-in-downtowns-north-quarter-review/
