The West End. That master-planned pit of money-generating quicksand was originally Dallas city planners' answer to a mid-'80s, shadowy Deep Ellum. Build a nightlife-shopping resort, pave it with snappy red brick, erect a mall as its central attraction, and stock the area with mounted police. Not the most culturally enlightened area of Dallas, unless you count chain restaurants and a pavilion of "nightclubs" (a.k.a. bars at which tourists blow their weekend wad) as culture. That may be misguided judgment on my part, since last time I hit the West End I was about 15 and a Lubbock band called the Nelsons were playing a free show on an outdoor stage. No, not Ricky's platinum-tressed progeny. The other Nelsons, the new-wave band with ultra-pop, ultra-obscure single "I Don't Mind." The lead singer tossed me his harmonica after he blew a "solo" through it, spit and all. I still have... More >>>
You're looking at a few tons of prime beef. Yummy.