Best Of :: Food & Drink
With chicken-fried oysters and spicy fried lobster on the menu, it might appear as though chef Blythe Beck turned Central 214 into the State Fair, but her innovative creations have instead transformed it into one of the city's finer restaurants. Even for someone who isn't much of an oyster fan, it's worth the 14 bucks for the appetizer to try Beck's unique creation. Once the six breaded oysters are served, the feeding frenzy begins. A few extra dips in the creamy lemon mustard garlic sauce could cost you a shot at the final one if you're not alone. If only you could take a ride on the Ferris wheel as a consolation prize.
Crisp pastel meringue filled with vanilla, pistachio lavender or raspberry paste, these are macaroons from heaven above. Nothing wrong with traditional macaroons, but the macaroon can be so much more than a wad of coconut. Every country has its own variation. Be glad you're not a Scot (think in terms of leftover mashed potatoes). Now, Oak Cliff has its own signature macaroon—one so delectable it might knock the coconut kind off its throne one day. Shop Rush Patisserie online, or, better yet, visit the store and tempt yourself with all sorts of artisanal delights—breakfast pastries, quiche, chocolate and fresh fruit confections, cookies and cakes.
James Thurber once said "One martini is all right. Two are too many, and three are not enough." And we couldn't agree with him more. This year's top pick for best martini goes to Inwood Lounge, part of the art deco Inwood Theatre off West Lovers Lane. Why? Well, it just happens to be a full-service martini bar. Wait. That's not all. Gin. Vodka. Vermouth. The Inwood Lounge has it all, and the bartenders know what they're doing when it comes to concocting everything from a classic martini to a chocolate one. We suggest attending one of the Midnight Madness movie showings, and while you're waiting, order up a dirty martini and slowly sip it while relaxing at a table by the cascading water wall. Oh, and you might want to hold onto the olives because the only food here is popcorn.
Dallas has no shortage of great burgers, and we've eaten most of them—The Stodg at The Porch, Twisted Root, Wingfield's...we could go on and on. But for sheer consistency, the half-pound Angry Dog Burger gets the nod every time. It's always there for you. No bullshit lunch-only hours, no Sunday and Monday only availability (we're looking at you, The Grape), and no wussy health restrictions—you want it medium rare, you're getting it medium rare, and piled high on a perfectly toasted bun, to boot. And at $6.75 with fries—which we like to douse liberally in the Dog's spicy seasoning salt—it's still one of the cheapest destination burgers in town.
You get the feeling that many of the regulars at Barbec's have been coming there since Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson first played "Sunday Morning Coming Down" together 30 some-odd years ago. It's a testament to the East Dallas mainstay's good old-fashioned, no-frills country-style breakfast. No frills, that is, until you take the first bite of Barbec's famous beer biscuits. Washing down the sweet, buttery biscuit with that first cup of coffee is the perfect way to warm up a hungry stomach just before ordering the "Double Barrel Breakfast." The popular platter features two eggs, two pancakes and bacon or sausage, and it's certain to satisfy any hunger—or hangover.
The Sixth Floor Museum has expanded into the 501 Elm Building across N. Houston Street from the museum, with administrative offices upstairs and a really cool new café and store on the ground level. The café, with food from La Duni and excellent coffee, looks out on the site of the city's great shame, the event that labeled us "The City of Hate," which means that French tourists can sip lattes and despise us in air-conditioned comfort. This has to be good for the economy. Meanwhile, the store offers work by local artisans and Fair Trade/Eco-Friendly manufacturers, some with references to Kennedy, some of it more about the Kennedy era and Dallas. Name another city that has turned its worst disability into a profit center.