Market

If you’re an organic gardener, Texas-style, a trip to Cedar Hill will be time well spent. Looking for that perfect Abelmoschus moschatus (silk flower) or Rudeckia Herbstsonne (with giant lush leaves like you won’t believe)? This is the place. And, if it’s a backyard water garden or pond you’re wanting to fill with plants, the folks here will tell you whether their lilies or Horsetail or maybe even a little Cork Screw Rush is what you need. They’ve also got the basics, from cedar mulch to herbs and helpful landscape designing. Even gardening guru Howard Garrett sings this place’s praises.

What makes this Preston Center location a veritable institution for children’s walking wear are soft-sell salespeople, a snazzy selection and all the lollipops you can grab as a reward for good behavior. That’s your kid’s, not yours. A small play area with toys and TV can entertain those extra children who have been momentarily put on hold. Or plan for a kid haircut with Ginger et al., before or after the actual shopping. Be prepared to wait on weekends and back-to-school days.

Chain stores are a lot like chain-smoking. They are as addictive as hell. That’s why it’s great to celebrate an independently owned establishment that has found success and is not the Gap. Carrying tried-and-true clothing lines like Flapdoodles as well as funky, pint-sized versions of clothes mom and dad wear, this North Dallas business does amazing business with its end-of-the-season sales, which reduce the price of its merchandise by as much as 75 percent. Its partner store–The Biz–has found a niche in pre-teen girls, those Britney Spears wannabes who must look cool but lack the body mass to fit into grown-up sizes.

It may not have all the amenities of the Big Bs (Borders and Barnes & Noble), but if you parents can defer your double espresso cravings until you get to Starbucks, there’s a little shop around the corner that can service your children’s literary needs without the faux community atmosphere of one of the book chains. The shop’s mom and pop, Jennifer and Will Anglin, know their merchandise, promote local kid writers and entertainers and do much in-store programming such as puppet shows, kid camps and author visits. Although it is truly “of the community”–Lakewood–its stellar reputation has spread throughout the city.

Skip the chains and find something unique for your young’un. They have both educational and the just-plain-fun variety of playthings at the museum’s colorful store. If you take the tykes, you’ll have to steer them clear of the fine blown glass and objets d’art. But you might even inject a little culture into their pea-sized brains at the same time as supplying their expensive toy habits. And isn’t that nicer than Barbieland or Gameboy speak?

They come in more sizes, colors and hairstyles than your average Deep Ellum clubber. Some even sleep in their own custom-designed, hand-woven silk hammocks. Plus, you can teach them to fetch crickets–available by request.

Open to the public, this enthusiastic group of mystery readers gathers on the third Sunday of each month (3 p.m. to 5 p.m.) to explore every creepy nook and cranny of the mystery genre. There are visiting authors, book reviewers, collectors, forensic experts and literary agents who drop in to share their expertise and love for a good mystery. The group has been gathering for 10 years and doesn’t appear to be anywhere near running out of whodunits to discuss. Admission is free.

While bringing home a brand-new kitty or pup is always joyous, the task of finding one usually requires grim trips through various shelters, in which brown and green eyes beckon, “Buy me or I die” from behind steel bars. Of course, the animals at the city’s shelter and the SPCA are worthy of saving, but buying a pet there simply opens up a cell for yet another death row inmate. That’s why Operation Kindness is the best alternative. It is a “no-kill” shelter, which means that its animals are safe, and, for every one that is bought, a new safe space is open for some other unlikely fella. But the best attribute of this nonprofit shelter is its management: A team of volunteers and employees follows strict policies in handling the animals and, more important, their future owners. Don’t be surprised if you go there, only to be turned away because a background check revealed that your landlord doesn’t allow cats.

From the soft, soothing voices to the plush robes and slippers, scented foot mists and cups of herbal tea, everything in this quiet, peaceful spa is first-class. Offerings include a three-hour aromatherapy “double body treatment” featuring exfoliation, body wrap, scalp treatment and full-body massage, or go for the all-day, six-hour respite that compounds these pleasures with a facial, sports manicure and pedicure and a little spa cuisine for the appetite. Either way, this place dishes out extreme pampering.

The Ole Moon has some of the most inspired hand-crafted jewelry you’re likely to find anywhere. Constructed of silver, gold and semiprecious stones, this collection of bewitching baubles, bangles and chains is designed by skilled artisans with a sharply focused eye toward distinctive display.

If you’ve got Scottish blood and find yourself in dire need of the lowland “tuxedo” of your native land, all you need to do is call Barbara and Charlene McGowan and schedule a visit to their in-home shop in Arlington. Their kilts, commissioned from a kilt-maker in Scotland, are the real deal and come with all the accessories–the sporran (leather purse) and the sgian dhu (the small dagger traditionally worn in the sock). The entire outfit can run as high as $1,000, but who’s counting? In business since ’91, the McGowans annually hold a July 1 bash to commemorate Scotland’s repeal of the ban against kilts back in 1782, serving up food from the homeland and a contest to determine which kilt-wearer has shown up with the best knees.

Let’s say little Junior just won’t sit still for that pricey photo session you’ve arranged with Gittings. Let’s say you decide to give it one more try and you drop into Kiddie Kandids, where walk-ins are always welcome. Junior is wowed into stillness by one of their many backdrops and props–an oversized flowerpot, a neighborhood fence and a bevy of beach balls. And the photographer begins clicking away, not on some large format camera that will require negatives and contact sheets. But on a digital camera, which flashes its photos on a large computer screen so you can select the first one that works before little Junior breaks down with his third tantrum since breakfast. There is no sitting fee, and in only an hour you have a quality portrait, a gift for any occasion. Now if you can only figure out what the hell to do with little Junior the rest of the day.

Been wanting to say to-hell-with-it-all and hit the open road on your Harley? Not a good idea until you’ve had the Motorcycle Safety Foundation-approved course taught by certified instructors Andy and Doll Long. For $145 you get three hours of classroom instruction on a Thursday evening, then an all-day Saturday and Sunday session in the parking lot of a nearby high school football stadium. “We go from, ‘This is what a cycle looks like,’ to balance and swerving,” says Mrs. Long. Bikes and helmets are furnished, and the classes are held on all weekends except during the Christmas to New Year’s holidays. You’ve got to be at least 15 to enroll. The oldest student taught thus far was a 92-year-old who said he thought being a biker would help him get chicks. (OK, I made up the part about getting chicks.) According to statistics provided by the Texas Department of Public Safety’s Motorcycle Bureau, the skill level the course provides is equal to three years of riding experience. And, if you think an advanced course might be a good idea after a few months, it will last nine hours and set you back another $65. Classes are generally booked up two months in advance, so be patient.

When Converse announced it would no longer be manufacturing its Chuck Taylor All-Stars in the United States, we immediately began scouring the Internet for boxes of optical-whites size 13, lest we end up wearing inferior imports. Turns out we need only drive to this Academy location, off Forest and North Central Expressway, which stocks dozens of pairs for a mere $18–a real bargain, considering the versatile veteran of the athletic-shoe world is damned near extinct. The other Academy locations probably stock the shoe as well, but the Forest store–which carries a wealth of affordable athletic gear, from bikes and free weights to swimsuits to hiking boots–is loaded with Converse All-Stars in all sizes and colors. We picked up some blue high-tops and off-white low-tops, just so we’d never run out. And we’re going back tomorrow to get some more.

There are lawyers you hire to negotiate your way out of a bad situation and lawyers you hire to fight your way out; Chris Weil definitely falls into the latter category. Within the legal community, some attorneys believe Weil only knows one speed: pit bull. But the truth is he is legally astute, a fine orator, and he mostly gets malicious when it is calculated to gain some advantage for his client. Small wonder the State Bar has hired him to represent the grievance committee in its disbarment suit against Catherine Shelton, accusing her of 19 counts of misconduct toward her former clients. Shelton is the lawyer suspected by Dallas prosecutors of being an accomplice in the murder of her former employee’s husband. She has also been a suspect in at least one other murder and has a conviction for aggravated assault. The State Bar rightly figures that if there is anyone who won’t be intimidated by the likes of Shelton, it’s got to be Chris Weil.

This is the real thing. An original. In business for more than 100 years, Rudolph’s looks like a meat market should–big and echoing–and has enough fine aged beef and sausage on hand to gag a tiger. In the long L-shaped counter are strip steaks and made-on-the-premises sausages that are wholesaled to barbecue joints across the state. The filet mignons–cut as thick as you want at $18 a pound–bring your backyard grilling up to four-star standards. The hot dogs and spicy sausages make you swear you’ll start working on that diet next week.

After you sign your apartment lease, do not pass go and collect $200. Instead, point your large automobile toward Deep Ellum and cruise over to Home Concepts, the one-stop shopping location for futons, CD racks, couches, lights, computer desks and whatnot. The eclectic and large selection of merchandise is very affordable and not at all stodgy. Also good for decorating the college dorm room or (shudder) the condo.

There’s no downtown-area grocery store, a major albatross for development hopes in Dallas’ near-abandoned skyscraper zone. Adventurous urbanites downtown and in Deep Ellum must slog the distance to faraway groceries to stock their fridges and pantries. At least there’s Henry Street Market. Lacking the requisite beer, lotto or cigarette come-ons in its front windows, you may overlook this humble Deep Ellum storefront. But inside are goodies you need in between shopping forays–Tostitos, toothpaste, pickles, cake mix, fresh fruit, Maxim magazine–and a few dry goods not normally partial to quick-stop joints: candles, picture frames and something called Ayurvedic soap.

Just the right size (pretty darned big but not overwhelming), owned and run by a family, easy to get to (Abrams and Gaston), the right mix of staff (grown-ups who know stuff, kids to load your car): Lakewood Hardware is still the best. You will almost never leave without the gizmo you need. You will never leave mad. Some people never want to leave at all.

This mixed-use development is a strip of über-contemporary industrial design with an angular vertical emphasis containing luxury lofts, shops (Virgin Megastore, Urban Outfitters, pictured above, Bath & Body Works and more), restaurants (Cafe Patrique, Cafe Express, Rockfish and more) and the eight-screen Angelika Film Center & Café that features art films. This is a strip mall urban village industrial collage jumble that’s just plain cool.

Good Records is exactly what you’d expect from a store run by a bunch of local musicians: the latest indie label offerings, early-release copies of local records and the entire catalogs of seminal artists. From imports of alternate versions of Radiohead’s latest to the aural history of Bedhead, they’re all carded on the yellow shelves lined with colored lightbulbs. And if it’s not on hand, the staff happily obliges special orders. But don’t expect to find CDs here you could pick up at Target for $12, such as the back catalog of Metallica, which, allegedly, a fan hoping to snag a CD to be autographed by a band member dining in nearby Deep Ellum found out the hard way. “Good records” to him was just a matter of opinion.

Sure, you’ve got your young bucks, trying to get to the top of the courthouse food chain, winning trials and making names for themselves on the backs of baby prosecutors who are still cutting their teeth on DWI cases. But there is something reassuring about choosing George Milner to represent you. No one can evaluate a case as well as Milner; no one can analyze the collective passions and thought processes of a jury as well as Milner. What he lacks in flash and youth, he makes up for in finesse and wisdom. If you are in big trouble and you have big money, he is still the man in town to see.

No place in the metroplex, maybe the universe, has the selection of buttons that you’ll find at Pursley Discount Fashions. From designer to your everyday plastic, all sizes and shapes, ranging from 2 cents up. There are tens of thousands to choose from. If you sew and are looking for notions, this place is like a trip to Disneyland. While you’re there, you’ll also be impressed with the selections of designer fabrics at discount prices and ladies’ sample clothing.

For those of you who don’t know how to cook, we understand why getting invited to a potluck dinner couldn’t be more of a pain. Oftentimes, dessert seems like the best course to bring: After all, you can only bring chips and dip so many times, and there’s no way Ramen noodles are going to make the cut as an entrée. But bringing dessert is no picnic, either. Baking is hard and hot, which leaves buying a dessert as your only option. And then what? You go to Albertson’s or Tom Thumb where you are limited to bag candy, gooey day-old cookies or some Bert and Ernie cake that tastes as synthetic as it looks. Here’s your solution: Call Dallas Affaires Cake Co. and order up one of their cakes. They’re great. Actually, they’re beyond great. They are sinful. Our favorites include the orange cake, the white chocolate cake and the standard white cake with Italian icing. But there are plenty of options to choose from. Of course, Dallas Affaires is also the best option for birthdays, anniversaries, retirements and other standard affairs.

Other than during the “Tour Olive,” when they give ’em away, this well-established market asks $6.99 a pound for any of its 24 or so varieties, mixed as you like. A few favorites: Alphono marinated in wine; Catalan with fennel and lime; pitted Nicoise, and pitted Greek kalamatas.

Seeing as how Dallas is landlocked, it makes sense that the owner of TJ’s is from Virginia Beach. Caren Alexis and her husband, Peter, bought the joint two years ago (it has been in operation since 1989). TJ’s offers a regular daily menu of 17 varieties of fresh, raw fish, including sushi-grade tuna and swordfish. If there’s something else with gills or shell you want, chances are Caren can order it for you. Shipments of live Maine lobsters arrive three times per week, with Caren discounting what she has in the tank on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Her quality control and customer service make Caren a fishmonger not to be trifled with. As she says, “I look at everything that comes through the door.”

For 19 years at this location, David and Pat Harris have made us happy to be a carnivore. We pay about $10 per pound for rib eye, about the same as we’d pay at our local grocery store, but the rib eye from David’s delivers a flavor beyond compare. That’s because he sells choice, corn-fed, aged Iowa beef (the stuff at the grocery was likely fed alfalfa grass). David also makes 17 kinds of sausage at his shop. Smoked Polish sausage, hot and sweet Italian sausage, bratwurst, Cajun andouille, East Texas hotlink and Mexican chorizo. As David himself has told us, this makes him a dying breed, “like the Texas horny toad.” We’ll take David’s word on it.

We took French in high school and regret it. Because while finding someone who speaks English at our favorite tamale shop is a hit-or-miss proposition, finding someone who speaks French is damn near impossible. No matter. We can usually hold up our fingers or clop our hooves to indicate how many beef, chicken and pork tamales we want. These are made fresh daily. Other fillings become available as they strike the proprietor’s fancy. All are made by hand and steamed in corn husks to perfection.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. We know. The Stoneleigh P has a better jukebox; says so in our 1997 “Best of” ish. So does the Metro Diner just down the street from the Elbow, at least if you like Muddy Waters with your coffee and smokes at 3 a.m. So do half a dozen other joints around town. It all depends on what you like, what you feel like hollering over, what you feel like grooving to before you land that pickup line with the precision of a spastic gymnast. Whim dictates we give this to the Elbow, just because it’s the last bar we visited with a jukebox worth the ones and fivers we kept feeding it like a hungry beast with a bottomless appetite. There’s just something about being able to listen to Chet Baker, Elvis Costello, Bob Dylan, Miles Davis, Sammy Davis Jr., Johnny Cash, John Coltrane, Howlin’ Wolf and Ronnie Dawson over a couple of Maker’s on the rocks that makes some nights (or afternoons) more special than others. It’s hard not to feel a little cocky with the Clash pouring out of the speakers; it’s hard not to cry into your beer when George Jones leans over your shoulder and moans his sad somethin’s.

Back when the Trading Co. first opened its doors some two years ago, it was possible to peruse its racks and stumble across the rare and valuable oddity–say, the Criterion Collection This is Spinal Tap or The Usual Suspects, which was then out of print. It’s a little harder to find such gems now that everyone, including your mom, has a DVD player; there’s always someone digging through the bins, looking for a collectible to keep or sell on eBay. These days, we value the Movie Trading Co. for these reasons: For a few bucks, you can rent any disc in the store (just-released or very old) for five whole days (take that, Blockbuster); and the videotape bins are overflowing with odds and sods we never knew existed (a few months ago, we picked up hours’ worth of Captain America and Captain Marvel serials dating back to the 1940s, and not long before that, we found a highlight reel of the New York Giants-Cleveland Indians 1954 World Series, and our pops was plenty pleased). It’s kinda like Half Price Books: You walk in looking for one thing, and you walk out with five things you didn’t know you needed.

As the organic health-food business becomes increasingly corporate (see Whole Foods’ shareholders), the real thing is alive and well in the heart of Oak Cliff. For 24 years, Ann Munchrath has dispensed vitamins to undernourished Cliff dwellers. In 1998 she, along with son Matt and other family members, took a leap of faith and opened an organic grocery store that is the only thing of its kind south of the Trinity. The custom-built store is stocked with a healthy selection of rice cakes, whole grains, a mind-boggling selection of soy and rice milks, frozen dinners and just about every other organic food a health nut could want. Fruits and vegetables, bought from the Farmer’s Market, are restocked daily. The meat section, though small, includes such rarities as Texas-raised lamb and bison. There is also a café that serves up smoothies, fresh juice, frozen yogurts and a chicken sandwich that will keep you coming back for more.

If Fred Flintstone needed to redecorate the cave, this would be the first place he’d try. Huge rough-hewn log beds, dressers that look like nicely stacked woodpiles, candlesticks made out of hefty iron spikes. The cowboys ‘n’ Indians air of the place and the mixture of cabin, ranch, cottage and Southwest styles give this Park Cities veteran a lighthearted, on-vacation feel. Great for adding a casual touch to a room or two.

Our experience with other stores that sell used CDs has been drought or flood, depending on who’s been in lately to sell or trade. CD World’s selection may not be of ark-requirement proportions every visit, but we’ve yet to leave empty-handed. The racks are divided by category and are in alphabetical order by artist with new, used and import CDs all together for quick comparison shopping. The local section is likewise well-stocked with both new and used (and we don’t mean 10 copies of Deep Blue Something’s Home and David Garza’s entire back catalog).

Still the best video rental joint in Dallas, no one compares to Premiere Video–which is what makes it, duh, premier. The staff is knowledgeable and helpful, the store is easy to browse, and there’s a good chance they have the hard-to-find video for which you’ve been jonesing ever since that artsy dude at the office embarrassed you by saying, “Oh, my, you’ve never seen blankety blank?” While chain rental stores mostly trade in current releases and let their back catalog languish, Premiere is fully stocked in a plethora of genres including film noir, Hitchcock thrillers and BBC drama series. Interested in Brigitte Bardot’s lesser-known films? Busy exploring Willem Dafoe’s oeuvre? It’s all there. The store is rapidly building its DVD collection as well.

Jim DeNoyer isn’t the original live-action Fan Man. Think of him as playing Dean Cain to the George Reeves who started the business back in the late ’70s. DeNoyer didn’t don the tights and cape until 1994, when he bought the business. Now The Fan Man carries more than 400 antique, restored and reproduction fans in his modest Lakewood shop. A reproduced 1912 Gyro fan goes for $2,500. A restored 1930s-era metal-blade desk fan might run $300. And The Fan Man is one of the few people in the entire country to whom you want to bring your old-fashioned fan for restoration. He is truly a man of steel.

One weekend last spring, we were riding our bicycle around White Rock Lake with our faithful wife and our sometimes faithful toddler son when we chanced to see a well-made sign standing in the grass, along the lake’s shore. The sign read, “Free Advice.” Near it sat two men in comfortable lawn chairs. Between them, on the ground, was spread a blanket. We stopped, thinking it was some sort of performance art. Turns out, Roderick MacElwain and Neal Caldwell have been doing this most Sunday mornings, weather permitting, since 1996. And it is not performance art. MacElwain and Caldwell are gainfully employed, somewhat eccentric, very thoughtful fellows who enjoy giving advice on subjects from plumbing to marriage to large-animal veterinary medicine (all fields, by the way, in which they do have experience). We and our wife that weekend wound up posing a question that can be summarized as, “What should we do with our lives?” We were not disappointed with the advice we received.

A few months back, the fine owners of Zeus Comics and Collectibles in Turtle Creek Village took umbrage at our insistence that Titan Comics is “the only comics shop that matters.” Hey, we can see why they’d be a little unhappy–you don’t advertise in a paper expecting it to label your establishment a moot point–but hear us out. Now, Zeus is a fine place to buy brand-new (or close to it) comics, and it’s an excellent store for those in search of action figures, high-priced Barbie dolls and other geek errata (count us in on all of it). It’s a dilettante’s paradise, actually. But the hard-core collector–the fetishist who still lives with Mom or the fanboy with a wife and mortgage–spends his days and long green over at Titan, tucked away in a predominantly Spanish-speaking shopping center across from Bachman Lake. Jeremy Shorr and his knowledgeable girl wonders (as always, it’s refreshing to find women behind the counter in a comic-book shop) preside over a store filled with nothing but comics, many of which date back to the Silver Age and beyond (Shorr recently began purging the action figures at bargain prices). Titan’s got what the purist craves: a staggering smorgasbord of boxes filled with bagged-and-boarded back issues, a wall of trade hardbacks and paperbacks, cases crammed with history books about the oft-maligned medium and two walls papered with new and current issues. It doesn’t discriminate between DC, Marvel and, oh, Fantagraphics: You can find Chris Ware’s hypnotically clever work mixed in among the latest Marvel (ironically named) Ultimate title, and you’ll find old Neil Adams’ Green Lantern-Green Arrows alongside Kevin Smith’s recent take on the subject. Fact is, we’re thinking of moving in…or applying for a job when this journalism thing doesn’t pan out. It’s the dork’s home away from home, and we couldn’t be more delighted to pay some of the rent.

Bridget Barfield was a teacher for many years but quit her job over frustration with her administrators. Eventually, she found herself at one of those career counseling services that uses a personality test to recommend what course in life for which one is best suited. The test said she should sell shoes. And that is how Heart and Sole came to be. It is the only all-Birkenstock store in town. Barfield opened the store with her daughter Brooke a little more than a year ago. We are very particular about our favorite, hard-to-find model of Birkenstock. Heart and Sole carries it, along with about 400 other styles.

Awhile back, we got it into our heads that we would enjoy a small pond in our back yard. Maybe a modest waterfall. A couple of fish. Surely, we figured, even a klutz like us could handle a simple project like that. Well, we were wrong. Weeks later, after multiple trips to Home Depot, we were enjoying a black, fetid bog that produced all the mosquitoes we ever could have hoped for. So we found our way to Creative Water Gardens, and, for a couple of hundred dollars, they held our hands (both of them) and set us straight. Not only do they offer the largest selection of koi in the area, from a simple $5.99 version to a 3-year-old costing $2,000; not only do they have the widest selection of aquatic plants, 250 varieties at last count; not only do they carry all the pumps and filtration gadgetry and chemicals and food we needed; but they also have a resident kitty cat who rubs against our leg every time we visit. (Please note: The kitty is as yet unnamed. Suggestions are welcome.)

We’ve had plenty of arguments about whether or not Zeus is the best comics store in town, and we still think if you’ve never read a comic book before or haven’t since you were a kid, this is the best place to start. Owner Richard Neal and the staff don’t sit around engaging in impenetrable fanboy discussions, like who was the better Green Lantern: Hal Jordan or Kyle Rayner? (Dude, Hal Jordan. Come on.) They might have an opinion, but they know the Marvel zombies and fans of their Distinguished Competition will come in anyway, so it’s best to cater to the people who’ve never stepped inside a comics store. Maybe the people who just saw Ghost World at the Inwood and want to read the Daniel Clowes comic it was based on, or the people who saw the yanked Spider-Man trailer and want to read about the wall-crawling superhero they forgot they loved as a kid. Part of catering to that audience means stocking their store with bright and shiny baubles that remind you of being a kid, sometimes literally. Not only does Zeus traffic in new action figures–which have more points of articulation than most humans–they also have plenty of the original toys you remember from childhood. An old Aquaman doll? Got it. Ronald McDonald, the Hamburglar, Mayor McCheese and the rest of the McDonaldland gang? Got those, too. It’s like going on eBay without having to outbid someone. They’ve got it all, new and old, from comic book to Star Wars characters to WWF superstars to an entire wall of Barbie dolls for the ladies. If you want it, they probably have it. And on the slim chance they don’t, Neal probably remembers it and will reminisce with you as a consolation prize. Come for the toys, stay for the comics. You’ll be glad you did.

Imagine being a child again, only with money of your own. No more allowance; no more begging Mom for a dollar. No more promising to go to bed on time, do the dishes, take out the trash…Now just whip out the credit card and start filling your adult-sized arms with everything you wanted as a child. Froggie’s 5 & 10 has super bouncing rubber balls, yo-yos, gliders, finger puppets, funky keychains, glow-in-the-dark stars and toothpick-dispensing birds. It also fills the needs of grown-up pranksters with hand buzzers and whoopee cushions and collectors of classic TV items with bobbing-head dolls, metal lunch boxes, T-shirts, cookie jars and mouse pads. And you can eat yourself sick with wax candy lips, Nik-L-Nips (wax soda bottles filled with fruity liquid), Necco wafers and candy bracelets, necklaces and cigarettes. There are also racks and baskets full of Pez dispensers. Froggie’s counterpart, Tadpoles, has books, games and toys to suit first-time kids, too.

If there is any truth in advertising, it certainly would apply to Darrell’s Sensational Pies!, a wholesale pie company that distributes 32 flavors of these single-serving treats through 18 Dallas locations including Two Sisters Catering, Snappy’s Catfish and Burger House. From the traditional apple and cherry to the more exotic pumpkin pecan and chunky peanut butter chocolate, these tidy four-and-a-half-inch minis cater to the gluttonous among us who believe that fat can be fun when delivered in small portions. Yet Darrell, a third-generation baker, tips his crust to the health-conscious, damning all use of additives or preservatives. For the small-waisted or the calorie-unconscious, a 9-incher can be ordered on demand through these retail outlets. Call Darrell direct to find the pie nearest you. Or wait six weeks until he opens his own retail store in North Dallas. Then try the blueberry and chocolate chip brownie. They’re sensational!

You know how these big new bookstores do us. They open with all kinds of promise; they’re fancy; they have real book people working there. That lasts about six months. Then it goes downhill; they hire idiots, and it’s like everything else: Nobody knows nuthin’, they ain’t got it; go back to Amazon.com where you came from. The difference here is that the huge new beautiful bookstore at Mockingbird and Airline, a few doors down from La Madeleine, is a joint venture between B&N and the SMU bookstore. There’s a big section at the back for faculty authors. There is some oversight by the university. Maybe the connection with SMU will be enough to preserve the store’s literate soul.

We are not talkin’ anything but registered massage therapy here–the kind that can promote circulation, reduce stress and possibly build the immune system if your belief system will take you that far. Rose Ernst has been quietly plying her trade in Lakewood for the last 20 years, using aromatherapy, a deeper variation of Swedish massage–whatever works to get more flexibility in your body and greater awareness in your mind. Her $85 sessions are supposed to last an hour, but with the stress levels she sees, with the misalignments she readjusts, you’re done when she’s done. So shut up, lie still and enjoy it.

The downtown farmer’s market has more to offer than picking up fresh fruit, browsing potted plants and gawking at expensive wooden furniture. Several of the shed vendors also sell potted herbs ready for planting in the garden or in a terra-cotta strawberry jar. From lemon mint to Italian cilantro, single pots to gallons, the herbs are healthier and less expensive than the chain nurseries. The selection’s better, too. And you don’t need to be Martha Stewart (or have her support staff) to grow herbs for cooking, making potpourri or just to prove you can actually nurture a plant. No hydroponics needed.

Er’Go’s outlet just off Stemmons and Motor Street proves there’s never enough of a good thing. Only open on Saturdays, the candle retail company’s outlet offers a variety of sizes and scents at about 50 percent off store prices. Though not all scents are available on a given day in every size, it’s still the easiest way to find a favorite flavor, be it a travel version in a tin cup, a free-standing pillar or ball or a poured candle in a cut glass jar. The outlet recently moved across the circle from its old location to a larger space, which means more room for browsing and, hopefully, even more candles. It still won’t be enough.

Almost every inch of the sidewalks around the tiny space inside Marioly’s shop is filled with fresh cut flowers available by single stem or in bushlike bouquets. It’s like a flower market scene from My Fair Lady only without Audrey Hepburn singing “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly.” And though carnations, roses and the like are available in florist quality at about grocery-store prices, our favorites are the slightly exotic bunches featuring tiger lilies, snap dragons, spider mums and gerber daisies. At about half the price a florist would charge, you’ll have enough spare change to buy a vase or basket you’d like to actually use again.

Hidden among the lox and bagels and knishes and white fish salad and potato pancakes and a dozen other dishes that are done New York-right here is a sandwich that only repeat customers at Gilbert’s are menu-savvy enough to order. It’s the meatloaf sandwich, and it must be ordered on rye bread with brown gravy on the side. It’s tender, it’s juicy, it’s flavorful–it’s all you could ask from a piece of meat that is not exactly steak. Add fries and try not to feel guilty. You’ll be in true cholesterol heaven. The Gilbert family has been serving authentic deli delights since 1987 at its Preston Forest location. Come early next year the three Gs will be headed north to their new Addison digs on Belt Line Road. No problem for us–as long as they bring the meatloaf.

Dinner parties are stressful enough without worrying whether some bozo is going to break one of the Depression glass goblets you inherited from Great-Aunt Nona. Save the worry for the menu and restock your pantry with discontinued and overstocked glassware from Crate & Barrel. The prices are minuscule compared to the chain’s regular merchandise (we recently picked up some classic martini glasses for a buck apiece). We’re not promising you won’t be upset if one ends up broken and ground into the dining room rug, but at least you won’t have to explain to Mom about the now incomplete set of family heirlooms. That is, unless the rug was part of your inheritance. In that case, Crate & Barrel carries cheap, yet chic rugs as well.

Want a stove with enough oomph to melt your pots and pans? One with a door so stout you can stand on it? Industrial-weight kitchen stuff is, er, hot, and great for reheating leftover takeout food. These guys have it in spades–refrigerators that look like they’ve been yanked out of catering services, dishwashers so quiet you have to put your ear up to them to make sure they’re running, vent hoods that will muss your hair and suck up that two-alarm fire in your omelette pan. In short, manly machines.

There’s more than one way to juice a lemon. And watching the plethora of culinary programs on KERA and Food Network, you can glimpse them all: the old-fashioned glass citrus juicer, Martha Stewart’s wooden reamer, Stephan Pyles’ aluminum Mexican lemon juicer. All are available at Sur La Table, as are tons of other gadgets used daily by the celebrity chefs on the tube (and, maybe, monthly in noncommercial kitchens). The large brick store on Travis Street just off Knox houses tiny ginger graters, olive forks, steel cocktail whisks, sheets of bamboo for rolling sushi, butter warmers, pie dough weights, zesters, ice crushers, cookie presses, mandolins, mortars and pestles, dozens of sizes of pastry brushes, sake sets and even wine glass charms so drinkers can find their own glass even if they’ve already indulged a little. Sur La Table also has a huge selection of cookbooks and a popular culinary arts program, so you can learn to use these little gadgets you’ll no longer be able to live without.

Smaller specialty stores have better and more thorough wine selections, and froufrou grocery stores have more eclectic stocks of microbrews, but two things count in a good liquor store: convenience and sauce. That’s why you can’t go wrong with this Sigel’s location across from Old Town. An empty bottle’s throw from Central Expressway, this ample store thankfully arranges its stock according to alcohol’s two primary colors–clear and amber–making it easy to find what you’re looking for. Should you require, there’s plenty of mixers to be had, and for those big, bad, cherry-popping voodoo daddies who like to party like it’s 1995, you can stock up on cigars as well. And perhaps best of all, it’s only a short stroll from the Lovers Lane DART station, for those out there who need a designated driver during the day.

Follow rabbit trails through mountains of used monitors, rows and rows of pre-owned processors, stacks of second-hand software, all of it at ridiculously great prices. There are even barrels of brand-new modem cards at a tenth of what they would cost at the big places. And at the other end of Tran Computer is a fix-it department. A window on the future, when computers will be junk like everything else? This place is worth a visit if you don’t spend a dime.

A friend dragged us to the new Virgin Megastore, which opened in September. In the parking lot, we boldly declared to everyone within earshot that we’d never buy a CD in that unholy place. No, sir. We were far too cool to shop for our Sleater-Kinney in a theme park. Down with The Man. And so on. Then we stepped through the glass doors and beheld the promised land. The Virgin store consists of 25,000 square feet of aisle upon aisle overflowing with reasonably priced digital milk and honey. CDs and DVDs and video games as far as the eye can see (not really, but we’re on a roll). On a busy weekend, perhaps 20 Virgin helpers are at your disposal. Yes, they wear too-baggy pants. But they will find what you’re looking for and do it with good cheer. And you can try it before you buy it. There are so many listening stations at Virgin that when asked, employees underestimated the number by half. While an exact figure was difficult to determine even after a phone call to a manager, we can safely say there are more than 100 listening stations, some of them called Megaplay Stations, which allow you to grab most any CD or DVD off the shelf, scan its bar code and listen to or view it. Does our purple prose make us uncool? No matter. We will gladly forfeit our coolness for such hyperstupendous megaselection.

Jack Moore doesn’t care whether you call him “chef” or “cook,” so long as you use the word “tasty” when describing the pies he’s been cooking for 35 years. He does them all–chocolate, apple, pecan, coconut and a variety of cobblers–but his specialty is his sweet potato pie. “Been cooking ’em for a long time,” he says, “and have never had a complaint.” And what’s to complain about? They’re sweet, smooth and made from scratch. You can order a piece from the menu. Or, better yet, fork over $12 and take a whole pie home with you. And, yes, the Old Mill Inn is open daily.

We aren’t picky about where we get our hay or our burlap sacks. We’ll buy our pot-bellied pig chow from any Tom, Dick or Harry who stocks the stuff. But fox urine is an entirely different matter. We won’t buy it from just anyone–mainly because just anyone doesn’t carry it. Fox urine is one of those commodities that can only be found on the shelves of stores run by women with names like Dodie, which happens to be the name of the woman who runs the Mesquite Feed & General Store. Dodie is not a city girl. If you ask her, she will be pleased as pie to explain why you might need fox urine. Bless your heart.

We troll all over town for steals and like this place best because of the high quality of the resale items. The staff is pleasant, un-pushy. The atmosphere is clean. The prices are reasonable. Make sure to negotiate at the front desk, because they’ll usually knock off 10 percent just because you had the nerve to barter.

The next time an occasion arises, order a basket of plants and blooms from this shop. Neither you nor your recipient will be disappointed. The arrangements offer the most expressive, lasting value for the money.

For those of you who wouldn’t think of squirting even every now and then from a bottle of WeedBGon, this is the store for you. They know how to do everything the right, organic way. Compost your hearts away, and pick up your ladybugs and a few good plants while you’re at it.

You can try all the discounts and chains. But when you have cleaning residue mucking up your carpets, call these guys. They don’t stop until the water from their machines runs clear and your carpets are clean. And, well, that’s what rug cleaners should do. Right? Clean your rugs. See the reason they are designated “best”? Good. Then have your rugs cleaned. So there.

Anybody can sell you a toilet seat. But what if you have special toilet seat issues? What if you’re looking for a certain retro toilet seat palette? Only at Teter’s are you going to find an entire rogue’s gallery of Toilet Seats of Yesteryear. They’ve got toilet seats in “Manchu Yellow,” “Surf Green,” “Aegean Mist,” “Twilight Blue,” “Bermuda Coral,” you name it. At Teter’s, you can find the one toilet seat that is perfectly matched to your temperament. One person goes with “Spice Mocha.” But the next one chooses “Fawn.”

If you’re going to go ahead and drive around all day like that, then you need to go and get yourself a good CB radio. The Smokey and the Bandit stuff is ancient history. CB’s serious now. With a halfway decent setup, you can listen to serious truckers talking about the road, and you can talk to them yourself, seriously. Of course, they’ll know right away that you’ve got a four-wheeler accent. Maybe if you go by Bonnie & Clyde’s and get yourself a decent rig with enough reverb, you won’t sound so much like a damn lawyer.

A recent expedition in search of some comfortable sandals uncovered something that was otherwise unavailable elsewhere: a sharp-looking new design from Ecco, a British company that specializes in shoes made to be walked in. (Imagine that: women’s shoes that are meant to be walked in for sale, here in Dallas!) The helpful salesman said the shipment was brand-new and in the store because this is the place where Dillard’s tests new designs. Think of it as a year-round Detroit Auto Show for feet: If a design goes over well here, Dillard’s will sell it at all of its stores nationwide. All this means that Dallas women can go to Dillard’s, buy the latest design and actually help set a national trend. Oh, what fun!

Looking for a place where a friendly staff actually reads the books they sell and will suggest something other than what’s on The New York Times‘ best-seller list? Maxwell Books has been fighting the good fight against the warehouse chain stores and cluttered used book places since 1986 and is alive and doing quite well, thanks. The selection of hardbacks, paperbacks and children’s books is good, and if they don’t have exactly what you’re looking for, they’ll order it and give you a call in a couple of days. Check the shelves for personal notes written by staffers who critique many of the books in stock. You can also choose from a good selection of magazines and greeting cards. And watch the store’s schedule of visiting authors who stop in to speak, read from their works and sign autographs. Additionally, you can buy gift certificates that will be honored at other independent stores throughout the country.

Why not dump the SUV (where’s the “sport,” anyway?) and buy a scooter? No sudden rollovers. No history of tread separation. No sneering looks or cards on your windshield asking, “Why is your vehicle so big?” or unwanted stickers on your bumper saying, “I’m ruining the planet, ask me how!” Stop the highway arms race and hop on a cool, Euro, high-mileage Aprilia scooter, the modern-day Vespa. Those weird Italian clothes are strictly optional. This shop carries five models, in retro and sports styles, starting at $2,600.

This is a fine, folksy-eclectic gift store in the thriving Knox-Henderson area. Most of everything is in pastels or unadorned metals. Be sure to check out the store’s unusual chess, backgammon and Chinese checkers sets, plus oddball items like a brightly colored grandfather clock (or was that a grandmother clock?) and dressing-room mirrors bordered by hippie slogans. It’s a good place to shop if you want to add life to a dull apartment or house. Not to say your taste in design is lacking. Heavens, no. But, eh, about that poster of The Rock in your living room…

It’s hot in Dallas. Duh. And, even running from air conditioner to air conditioner, it’s still tough to beat the heat. Best way? Shave your head. This is good for the ladies, too. We hear the Sinead O’Connor look is making a comeback. When you get around to it, make sure to stop by the Lakewood Barbershop, a throwback to the days when your dad used to drag you to chop your mullet. They’ll treat you like a king, lather up your head and even shave your noggin with a straight razor if you like. Plus, for no extra charge, they’ll make sure your beard matches up. No upper-lip hair for the gals.

Forget the $45 styling jobs. The $12-$22 cuts at this Park Cities mainstay are sharp enough for the Perots, Hunts and Meyersons, so why not for the junior exec who needs a weekly trim, or out-of-work dotcommer who needs a real job? In business since 1972, the shop’s 15 barbers offer a dry clipper cut for $12, a layered cut for $18 or a shampoo and cut for $22. “Doctors, lawyers, real estate people, we have a variety,” says barber Keith Gibson. As with shops of old, they have the revolving pole, but alas, no straight-razor shaves. Culwell’s staff hung up the straight razor in the ’80s for health reasons. These days they do it with injector blades.

One client calls it “a party every time you go.” This hip salon, which recently moved to a new location, offers a calm, relaxing atmosphere and never a bad haircut. The stylists work with long- and short-haired patrons to get the best fit even if you don’t want to go with the most extreme look of the day.

Walk into this 6,000-square-foot mecca to good men’s design with no particular longing to keep your billfold intact. For $1,600, you can get yourself in head-to-toe (we’re talking shoes, too) Ermenegildo Zegna, the store’s top-of-the line Italian designer who is based in Milan. For the younger man without so much cash on hand, the store has off-the-rack merchandise starting at $600. Either way, you’ll walk out a better-dressed and (with the store’s tailor who boasts 20 years’ experience) better-fitted man than you went in.

Let’s get right to the point. You will find no Escada here. For those of us who have tired of that Dallas (think Highland Park) look–brightly colored suit, big hair–we want to commend any retailer who has tried to inject some style into the Dallas fashionista’s mindset. At the 8,000-square-foot store, about one quarter of which is devoted to women’s designer ready-to-wear lines, you’ll find garments produced by Marc Jacobs, Viktor and Rolf, Joseph and Helmut Lang. The financially unendowed can pick up a T-shirt for $30, while those whose fortunes remain intact can find cashmere coats for more than a grand. The store is expanding its shoe selections but right now carries Alaia.

Stuck in between a Kroger food store and a Mama’s Pizza, the adventurous can pick up a little Armani sweater for a fraction of the original price. Sometimes, the garment hasn’t even been worn. The owners of this place have a good eye. They arrange sleek threads in a way that even the not particularly skillful shopper can spot a tailored deal.

Why do we drive two hours round-trip to Prosper, Texas, to buy a couple of dozen eggs every month? Because we have too much time on our hands, frankly. But also because we like our eggs fresh. Know the following: Mahard is family-owned and the 10th-largest egg producer in the country, with something like 3 million white leghorn hens busily cranking out the stuff for our omelettes and soufflés. We do not have to deal with the unpleasant smell of 3 million white leghorn hens when we visit the tiny outlet in Prosper. The hens proper are located elsewhere. We can buy Mahard eggs in the grocery store down the street, but those eggs might be three weeks old. As of press time, we could get a dozen extra large at the outlet in Prosper for 70 cents. And those eggs would have been inside a hen fewer than 24 hours prior.

Like our high school prom date, A Jewelry Place isn’t much to look at, but it gets the job done. And quickly. We have visited this 3-year-old store on several occasions with watches in various states of disrepair. Each time, the problem was solved while we waited and so inexpensively that we had to ask twice to make certain we’d heard correctly how much the fix would cost. It’s also possible that we had to ask twice because the staff is from Vietnam and more facile with jeweler’s tools than with the king’s English. In fact, on our most recent visit, to have a pin in a watch band replaced, they took the time to explain that the pin bent because we wear our watch too tight, then refused to be paid at all.

With its huge selection, its reasonably nice shopping environment and half-decent coffee in the restaurant, this is the place to try before Amazon.com., which, by the way, is a great place to find used books. The last time we hunted for an out-of-print gem, Sebastian Japrisot’s One Deadly Summer, even Amazon couldn’t deliver. But there it was on one of Half Price’s endless shelves, an unread paperback copy for $5.95. On the way to the check-out, we passed on the recycled Blue Oyster Cult albums, but the selection looked pretty deep.

The thing we like most about Mark & Larry’s Stuff is the vast selection of unusual greeting cards. We were particularly delighted to find one that featured a medical-like photograph of an anus. It was perfect for the boss. It also carries cool magnets with bizarre cartoons, political statements, film icons (including scenes from John Waters’ films). This store also offers a large selection of artsy or unusual gift items, including custom jewelry, odd toiletry items, unique books and picture frames.

The Nest is tangled with pricey whimsy crafted by local and other artists. You’ll find dazzling blown glass ornaments, painted furniture that should only be approached under black lights with the aid of hallucinogens, iron/steel works (things to stick in the ground and all that), candles that smell like a grandmother’s dressing table and magic wands that don’t vibrate. Plus, they have daffy table chess sets that serve as metaphors for nature’s most virulent struggles: fish vs. fishermen; cats vs. dogs; and rockers vs. country crooners, among others. We’re waiting for Rottweilers vs. Rugrats.

So much of this “Best of” business is subjective, but about Bobbye Hall’s we can objectively state the following: Bobbye Hall’s Hobby House is the best hobby house owned by a 92-year-old woman named Bobbye Hall who still comes to work every morning at 9. Additionally: Hall’s is the only full-service hobby house in the city. Other places may stock more model trains and what have you, but only Hall’s carries the full range of remote-controlled model vehicles and rockets and kites and paint sets and so on. Hall’s has stood at the corner of Bryan and Fitzhugh for 55 years. Every time we drive by it, we’re amazed it’s still open for business, that area of East Dallas not striking us as housing a high concentration of hobbyists. And every time we drive by, we promise ourselves we’ll stop in when we have more time. Maybe this weekend.

The best place to shop for ski clothes in Dallas is in McKinney. Has been since 1979. That’s when Doug and Lynda opened what their son and current owner Brad now claims is the largest ski shop in the area (13,000 square feet) dedicated solely to winter sports (skiing and snowboarding). With skiing so damn costly, the shop caters to the average skier, forgoing the high-end lines for popular brands at reasonable prices. But don’t expect to find any summer bargains here; the place will be locked shut. It’s only open from September 1 to April 1, packing a year’s worth of business into seven months, seven days a week. Hey, it works for them.

Two condom stores sit nearly side by side at the intersection of Greenville and Lovers Lane. While Condoms to Go is a Greenville Avenue mainstay, Condom Sense popped up more recently. What does it say about your neighborhood when two condom/sex-toy stores go mano y mano there? We’re not exactly sure but definitely prefer to have condom stores than strip clubs as our neighbors. While others fear they represent Times Square-style blight, we think these stores add to the spice of life in the neighborhood. Where else can you get soap on a rope shaped like an oversized phallus, or gift bags that say, “Happy Birthday, you sexy bitch!” We also want to know: Should competition heat up between the two condomeries, will a prophylactic price-drop follow?

Paul Frank, that is. Don’t know who he is? Ask any teen or young woman. The designer of apparel and home décor is the beloved creator of Julian the Monkey and other cute cartoon creatures such as giraffes, frogs and elephants. He may sell his T-shirts, backpacks, anklet socks, journals and purses to several sources–Fast Forward, Gadzooks, Pacific Sun and catalog company Delias all carry selected items–but Gifted has everything. And if something’s not in stock, Gifted can special order. Owners Michael and Rebecca even promise that if Frank still makes it, they can get their hands on it. We just hope that includes the “animal crackers’ parade” shirt we saw three years ago in Kansas. It was just the absolute cutest.

If you’re too lazy to schlep to all the various thrift stores in town and don’t mind spending $10-$15 on an old T-shirt, Ahab Bowen is your place. People acted as if it were the second coming when Urban Outfitters moved into the upscale Mockingbird Station strip center, but a better and cheaper alternative has been on Boll Street for years. The selection is unbeatable (say, a Willie Nelson tour shirt from the ’70s, with the Red-Headed Stranger on the front in his full outlaw glory), the prices are better, and you can pick and choose in the casual atmosphere of a yard sale, since Ahab Bowen is located in an old house. Go to Mockingbird Station to see a flick at the Angelika or grub up on a bowl of bread pudding at Cafe Express. Get outfitted at Ahab Bowen.