If cuisine were weaponry, the Germans and the Poles would rule the world, so frightening is their grub. Yet once they ruled it, they'd have to contend with the Irish, a people whose cuisine is the equivalent of an indigestible doomsday bomb. Yet their grub can be civilized. Stumbling around Dallas for more than 10 years, The Tipperary Inn shut down for several months last year to have new pub guts transplanted and a new refined temperament installed. It now features an Irish bar lifted from a Dublin mayor's one-time domicile, a phone booth and stained-glass windows installed in snuggly booths. It even has bookcases with actual books, for those who like to keep track of their intake via gradually collapsing literacy. Plus, The Tipp has an upscale menu, if that is possible in the world of rashers and boxty. The Tipp serves oysters on the half-shell squirted with Guinness, grilled quail, damn good fish and chips, and grilled filet mignon.

Impeccable execution is the key to superb sushi. That, and a disciplined reverence for presentation and service. Teppo, which means iron cuisine, embraces all of these things. Teppo sushi is briny, cool, firm and moist--from the sea urchin to the octopus. The Teppo roll is a glorious thing of fleshy vibrancy. The core is a rich rose of salmon mingled with cucumber and carrot threads. The exterior is draped with sheets of yellow tail and sections of avocado with the edges punctuated with sesame seeds. It's a sensory barrage of balanced flavor and textural elegance. And it's no doubt rich in iron, too.

Its plush and cutting-edge tones are choreographed with dramatic angles, jarring plunges and hard surfaces softened by sloping ceiling soffits, rounded angle points, rich wood, deep reds and sumptuous fabrics. And chef/owner Kent Rathbun's food employs as much dipping, lunging, sloping and breathy sweeping as the atmosphere, albeit with more aroma. Rathbun draws from a variety of influences--Asian, New American, Southwestern--stirring them in his state-of-the-art kitchen to craft atypical compositions that astonish without alarming. To keep things graspable, Abacus embraces consistency: The food is uniformly clean and top-notch, while the hectic décor follows an endlessly repeated design cue: squares tucked within squares. Everything in this restaurant is just a little offbeat, and perhaps no other presents unusual opulence and elaborateness as shrewdly. The bathrooms are clean and well-appointed, too. Fancy that.

It's gooey, buttery, crunchy, tangy and warm. It's all of the delicious things your mother used to do to baked dessert that no professional can duplicate. And it feels so much better going down than that other buckle mother used to dish out.

If it swims, dips, dives, plunges, splashes, surfs, crawls or propels, chef Tom Fleming and his kitchen crew will steam, sauté, broil, sear, poach, grill and shuck it until it sings all the way down and hums all the way out.

Even those who cringe at the thought of reading the list of ingredients on a package of hot dogs should feel at ease with Angry Dog's namesake, an all-beef hot dog served with mustard, chili, onions and cheese and a side of fries. And with all the toppings, the perennial question of why hot dogs and hot dog buns aren't manufactured to be the same length won't come to mind, either.

Though the menu is more a Med hybrid than straight Greek grub, the food is clean, colorful and voluptuous. The wine program is excellent, and the brunch is terrific. Greek brunch? Yeah, and it isn't just a bunch of breakfast cereal characters standing in for Greek gods, either. Ziziki's brunch buffet slings eggs with feta cheese, croissants, bagels, muffins, slices of roast lamb and Greek salads. Plus, they serve a little champagne and orange juice for the Sunday bacchanalia. Ziziki's

Monica Green's (of Monica's Aca y Alla) Mexico City flourish is a bold departure from typical Tex-Mex breeds. It's well-bred, tailored cuisine from the town known as México, D(istrito) F(ederal). Created by chef-partner Joanne Bondy, the food is refined, colorful, imaginative and tasty. Yet the food has an earthy streak, too, with musky and hearty undertones. The décor is a mix of rustic chic and contemporary dazzle, the latter illustrated by a large cigar room buoyed with masculine heft (brown leather couches, wrought-iron pedestals, etc.). This is Mexican food as perhaps you've never had it.Nuevo Leon, 2013 Greenville Ave.

Nick's is to breakfast what an ox is to basic transportation: It's big, docile and will keep you inching indefinitely on very little money. Nick's will invade your gullet, make building materials out of your digestive system, climb out through your ears and leave you smiling the whole time. How many meals in Dallas (or anywhere) have all of these features? All of Nick's servings are the size of Jerry Jones' ego, which means you generally have to shoot them before you can open your mouth to appreciate their intrinsic worth. Nick's has great fluffy pancakes, corned beef hash with two eggs, hash browns (cooked anyway you like them...well, maybe not flambé) or grits, biscuits and gravy or toast. And they have lots of meats to load up on in addition to bird embryos: bacon, sausage, ham, hamburger patties, gyro meat, pork chops and steaks. Whether you're hung-up or hungover, Nick's is a great way to begin your day. Or end your night.

La Duni not only has a variety of fresh egg creations with Latin twists; it also has breakfast tacos, orange brioche waffles, rum banana nut waffles, skillet baked upside-down cake and an assortment of house-baked breads and pastries. La Duni has a medley of fresh squeezed juices--orange, grapefruit, tangerine, grape, carrot--you won't find anywhere else. Watch out before they make breakfast juice out of brussels sprouts. Plus, they have a large assortment of espresso and coffee drinks, as well as house blend teas. If that isn't enough, this brunch is served on Saturday and Sunday. With a doggie bag, you can even have it on Monday, though leftover sunny-side-up huevos rancheros might be a little weird.