Food

Lemonade. That's what Iris is. Here are the lemons: a space that has been home to dreadful or dreadfully performing restaurants over the last decade; a restaurant owner (Susie Priore) who fled to California to get a master's degree so that she could join the Peace Corps and teach English in Morocco; a Peace Corps mission that was soured by the prospect of a blond American woman in a Muslim country post-September 11; a Dallas restaurant mission spawned to pay off the loans used to acquire the master's degree to service the Peace Corps mission. What kind of person opens a restaurant to get out of debt? Someone who knows that the best restaurants are comfortable, engaging neighborhood haunts with food that intrigues but doesn't frighten. Chef Russell Hodges is a down-to-earth chap who comes up with dishes like a shrimp cocktail composed of two shrimp as thick as sumo wrestler thumbs surrounded by bread points, salmon carpaccio and a cleaved hard-boiled egg. Delicious foie gras, too. And rack of lamb. Don't forget the pan-seared sea bass with cannellini beans.

Readers' Pick

George

7709 Inwood Road

214-366-9100

The browning of a chicken is an essential skill; just ask Julia Child. (Well, you could have asked her until a few months ago, anyway.) Mom told us the keys to a well-browned bird: Use quality olive oil, enhanced with butter; let the pieces warm to room temperature so they brown evenly; and dry the skin first with paper towels. Got that? Now we don't know exactly what Ali Baba Cafe does to concoct its "Golden Chicken"; we just know it's the most excellent chicken, a minor poultry miracle. The menu describes it as rotisserie chicken, but it's nothing like the squishy-textured stuff you get at fast-food joints. It's a half-chicken, and the skin, finished under the broiler, is perfectly crisp and spiked with garlic, lemon and spices; beneath it, the tender flesh is bursting with the flavor of...chicken. Yeah. Some chicken does have flavor. Try it with a side of fluffy rice pilaf or hummus; just get it when it's hot, because it isn't quite the same when it's steamed for a while in the takeout box.

As if we have the dough for dinner at Pappas Bros. Steakhouse ($75 per person, minimum) or other such expense-account establishments. Nope, that wouldn't be us. Still, we do appreciate something a cut above your local Outback, with the waitstaff's forced familiarity, those stupid commercials and the decent but not great steaks. That's why we keep going back to Culpepper Steakhouse, just 25 minutes from downtown on the other side of Lake Ray Hubbard. We admit we have a soft spot for hunting-lodge décor; must be our Northern roots. We like the stone walls, the dark wood trim, the taxidermy menagerie and the Holstein hides. And we love the steaks--mesquite-grilled to perfection, like it was 1990 again--and available in a delicious array of "tops" and "bottoms," sauces such as the caramelized shallot, herb and Dijon compound butter. Add to that the best mashed potatoes in the area; delicious, skinny, fresh-cut fries; and professional, non-snooty service, and this is a steak house where you get excellent quality and value.

We watched for months as that place slowly went up off Highway 67. When they put up the sign, when cars started appearing in the parking lot, we started the calling. Are you open yet? OK, but when will you open? At last, a Pappadeaux opened in Southern Dallas--specifically, in Duncanville. It instantly became the No. 1 dining destination for us South-siders. In fact, if you go there on a Sunday, when the church crowds arrive in a steady stream, four generations at an extended table, you'll glimpse a perfect cross section of Dallas County's upwardly mobile black middle class. The Baptists come in the first wave, then the holy rollers at 1 p.m. or 2 p.m., all decked out in fancy hats and colorful suits. It couldn't be a happier place: Though there's usually a wait, everyone leaves satisfied after filling up on Pappadeaux's exquisitely fresh, generously portioned seafood plates. We like living in Southern Dallas. Now, we finally have a reason to dine there, too.

"No lard, no MSG, no freezer"--that's what Baja Fresh advertises above the order counter. They go further than that, with a good selection of low-carb and low-fat menu items that taste like they're full of the stuff. Don't hold it against them that they're owned by Wendy's; Consumer Reports recently cited Baja Fresh for turning out some of the tastiest, relatively healthful fast food. On the low-fat, lower-calorie side, we like the enchiladas verano, two charbroiled chicken enchiladas with grilled peppers and onions in a tangy verde sauce. They come with pinto or black beans, pico de gallo and rice. Another good choice is the "Bare Burrito"--a bowl of flavorful chicken, grilled peppers, onions, rice, pinto beans, pico de gallo and salsa verde. Don't miss the terrific freshly made salsas, especially the mild, totally addictive Salsa Baja. Baja Fresh has a few Dallas-area locations, but the one on Knox Street is the only one centrally located.

Never mind that there seemed to be a preponderance of overweight middle-aged men on our recent visit. Texas de Brazil, with restaurants in Dallas, Addison and Fort Worth, is a carb-counter's paradise. You probably know the churrascaria concept: Guys in baggy pants (and a few ladies) tote around skewers of roasted meat and carve you a hot slice of whatever you want--various cuts of beef, lamb, pork and chicken. There's also a lavish salad bar, with roasted peppers, blanched asparagus, smoked salmon, bacon chunks, imported cheeses, lobster bisque and lots and lots of other stuff. OK, so there's a little rice tucked away somewhere in the salad bar, and the "cheese bread" served with each meal is fairly irresistible--that's about it. You're barely exposed to temptation. Just meat and veggies, meat and veggies all the time. And that meat: melt-in-your-mouth leg of lamb, tender filet mignon, savory picanha--the house specialty, sirloin chunks roasted in a coating of rock salt--and at least a half-dozen other offerings that we saw making the rounds. You might avoid carbs altogether, but you'll still end up ingesting about 2,000 calories.

Everything at Cuba Libre goes down easy, from the (pretty 'spensive) pitcher of mojitos to the elegant desserts to the eye candy that fills this Knox-Henderson joint late at night. But, to paraphrase an old Nate Newton commercial, when we are hawngry, which is most of the time, we like to pig out on this dish. A huge salad with dollops of blue cheese and covered with the most succulent chicken tenders you've ever sucked down your gullet, Cuba Libre's TC-CCS is one of our guilty-pleasure (read: post-hangover) meals. Warning: A 20-minute nap is required after eating.

Soup is a tough call. There are winter stews, summer gazpachos, even autumnal bisques. Chicken noodle is good year-round, but that's too easy. We want a soup that's tasty but not too rich. One that's smooth and substantial. Greenz, the Uptown eatery that specializes in salads, impressed us with something else green. Their creamy asparagus soup is velvety and luscious. Each spoonful slides down the throat, leaving a fresh taste on the palate and an instant craving for the next. Gouda sprinkled on top adds texture without getting too clumpy or distracting from the asparagus' bite. Greenz offers two sizes--the cup is a perfect amount to accompany any of the salads; the bowl is a filling option all on its own. This concoction combines two favorites: soup and asparagus. And all without the notorious asparagus effect.

Readers' Pick

La Madeleine

Various locations

Give us fried potato in any form and generally, we're happy. We praise the inventors of the tater tot, french fry and hash brown. And we felt really bad for our arteries when we discovered a new addiction: Jerk Frittes from Cuba Libre. The thin little gems are crispy, golden and seasoned perfectly with an herb blend that is undoubtedly the product of training in the culinary arts, i.e., making people drool. The damn things are even good soggy and straight from the doggie bag. The real key to these taters, though, is their partner in crime, the bacon-avocado ranch sauce that offers a cooling touch to their herby crunch. The restaurant's sandwiches come with the frittes, but if a sandwich isn't calling your name, check out a side of the perfect potatoes with a taco platter or even as an appetizer. They'll definitely change the way you look at the common drive-thru fry.

Readers' Pick

Snuffer's

Various locations

In the Tex-Mex state, salsa has a lot to prove. Heat (as in spice) must make itself known but not so strongly that a full glass of water is needed after each bite. For us, the tip-off to a perfect salsa is a reaction after the initial taste of wanting to pour it on everything we order. But we weren't even thinking about salsa when we dipped that first chip at Margarita Ranch. That changed instantly as we tasted the warm, smoky near-puree. We wanted to drink the entire bowl. We would've rolled in it, it was so good. Forget whatever entrée we ordered, because it ended up drenched in the mix of peppers, fine bits of tomato and garlic. It's sweet and sultry lava that eases down the throat.

If there is a single dish that represents the idea of comfort food, it's shepherd's pie. It's warm, meaty and soft, and there's no worry of combining bites or elements since that's already been done for you. We've been known to tuck into some welcoming shepherd's pie, and in our experience, the Tipp's is the best. The ground meat is slightly peppery, the peas aren't watery and the mashed potatoes make for the perfect cloud topped with a crust of cheddar cheese. It has to be the best, actually, because no matter how full we get, the dish turns on the "glutton" switch in our head and we keep trying to finish...until the waitress is kind enough to take it away before we explode.

Ziziki's, the Travis Walk restaurant owned by Costa and Mary Arabatzis, has just celebrated its 10th anniversary, and with its record of outstanding quality, we expect another 10, at least. Ziziki's has won this award before--no great suspense here--and after trying the range of Greek restaurants in the area, we see no reason to dethrone it now. Though it would be more accurately described as Greek-inspired, Ziziki's uses top-notch ingredients and adds a dash of invention to Mediterranean favorites. We like it for the French feta cheese, the best we've ever tasted; the tender lamb souvlaki; the excellent children's menu; and, most of all, a sublime Australian rack of lamb.

Readers' Pick

Ziziki's

The perfect sweet treat is indulgent, both cakey and gooey, and self-contained: the cupcake. Why people bother with slicing up a big hulking cake is a mystery, especially when the Cupcake Kitchen and their enorma-cups are just a phone call away. A one-dozen minimum is required for delivery, but there are no limitations to the complete satisfaction one achieves with a bite of, say, the Triple Chocolate Threat or the You Got Chocolate in My Peanut Butter! For the fruity, there's the Mellow Yellow or The Creamsicle. And there are still more to taste. The cupcakes come in regular (large) size or Li'l Cakes, and each dozen can be made up of three varieties. Of course, you could bake your own damn cupcakes, but after partaking of Cupcake Kitchen's moist cake, rich-but-not-too-rich icing and delectable flavor, who needs to? Currently Cupcake Kitchen is open only for weekend delivery service.

At the risk of never getting a table again, we'll impart our knowledge of a supreme lunch special. Monica Greene and her gang offer one of the most affordable lunches in town without skimping on flavor or quality ingredients. For a teensy $4.99, lunch patrons can have their pick of various enchiladas, Cha-Cha burritos, quesadillas, cheeseburger, Mexican lasagna (filling and flavorful) or, our favorite, Greene Pasta made with spinach jalapeño pasta. The portions aren't measly or humongous--just right for midday when there's still office work waiting. Monica's provides chips and salsa as well, so there's no leaving hungry. Even with a beverage and tip, the tab is still under 10 bucks.

Readers' Pick

Sumo Steak & Sushi

7525 Greenville Ave.

214-987-2333

Pretty much everything on Joel Harloff's menu at the Melrose Hotel's signature restaurant is stunning. It's set up in courses instead of the more prosaic appetizer/salad/entrée arrangement. Most diners will focus on second or main course standouts. Among the initial offerings, however, is a simple broth. Now, broth is the sort of thing a cranky old man slurps down when the grandkids have "borrowed" his false choppers for a quick game of street hockey--an easily digestible soup consisting of water, for the most part. Yet Harloff's version, created from the roasted remnants of pheasant, stands out as one of the most exquisite first-course offerings in Dallas. The flavors of wild game and smoke linger with unexpected intensity. A few slivers of shiitake mushroom, a sparse handful of diced roma tomatoes and a slight swirl of pumpkin-seed oil add texture and enhance the natural wildness of the broth. Otherwise, it's a dish true to the heritage: mostly water and very simple. It's just about perfect, in other words

Crisp, crunchy, cool, hot and soft are all words that can describe a banner bacon-lettuce-tomato sandwich. But the bacon is the clincher for a good BLT. It has to be two things: perfectly crispy with no chewy parts and hot. One without the other just won't cut it. The lettuce must offer a cool, thin crunch against the bread, and the tomato must be firm and fresh. These all sound like obvious requirements, and ones easily met, but most anywhere, a BLT is hit or miss. Except at the Lakewood Landing. The Landing stands out time and again for the toasty goodness. The mayo has appropriate zing, and the toasted bread doesn't overwhelm the sandwich innards. The Landing's BLT is blue-ribbon material.

Nothing fancy here. No avocado, no chutney, no heirloom veggies. TABC just creates a good, honest bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. Their only nods to upscale pretension are homemade bread and apple smoked bacon. So whence the accolades? Well, unlike most restaurants, which pile on lettuce and tomato then lay a couple of greasy strips across the top, these guys stack the thing with bacon while skimping on lettuce. Oh, and not limp, soggy bacon either, but thicker pieces fried to a near-burnt crisp state of perfection. They understand the only thing that matters in a BLT is the B part. Want a pile of lettuce doused with mayo? Order a salad at any DISD lunchroom. .

Go ahead, ask him anything. Is it acceptable to drop a few ice cubes into wine--even red? What's the best thing for less than $30 that pairs well with steak, fish and salad? Is there really a difference between Australian and New Zealand wines? He answers all questions with an unflappable grace and a frightening level of knowledge. Yep, frightening. He can pair wine within any price range and with any dish on the menu. Even when patrons argue over red or white, he manages to find a compromise suiting all parties. Press him on product from any region or vintage and he's likely to launch into a lengthy discussion of vineyards, soil, weather, fermentation technique--stuff you'll forget in a matter of minutes but wish you could remember the next time you stop by Sigel's. Wine, after all, changes from year to year, and to keep up requires an astounding level of devotion. For wealthy patrons, he builds wine cellars and stocks them with collectible vintages. For the rest of us, Lincicome happily points out value items, great-tasting wines for a decent price.

If you want to support Deep Ellum but don't dare want to stay up past your bedtime, here's a good way to do it: Set up reservations for you and your honey, take 'bout $160 and make reservations at this DE staple. Here's what that covers: four courses of food and wine for each of you, each dish chosen by the chef based on what's freshest/bestest in the kitchen that day, that hour, that minute. If you have an allergy, tell 'em. If you prefer to start with the fantastic mussels (steamed in champagne with spinach, mushrooms, ginger and chili flakes), tell 'em. You prefer red meat to fish, tell 'em. Then sit back, drink from a fantastic wine list and eat some of the most sophisticated, hearty fare you'll find in town. Suggestion: Plan on taking a cab home. Most likely, you'll be stuffed and loaded when you leave.

Jesse Moreno and his family are among the few proprietors still producing truly handmade tamales in Dallas. They roast the pork, grind the corn, spread the masa harina de maiz (corn flour) by hand in the husks and cook the tamales themselves. The Morenos use all the best-quality ingredients, no lard, all vegetable oil. During the holiday season, La Popular is so popular, you have to call in your orders several hours in advance, maybe even a day. There's always lots of chitchat along the front counter: Jesse Moreno Sr. is an avid community volunteer with long service to the Dallas school system, and Jesse Jr. will probably show up on the city council some day. So in addition to selling great tamales, La Popular is an interesting place to visit.

Sometimes the servers can be snooty. Sometimes the prices are over the top. But this is the way things are in the world of Michelin star restaurants. You can't feed those suffering from wallet obesity unless there's a little condescension. Yes, the rich may like to belittle their bilingual Toro jockeys when they accidentally puree the azaleas, but they absolutely adore being sneered at by those who snicker when they slosh and make their noses run red with expensive Burgundy while trying to remember the tasting ritual. Anyway, Chef Avner Samuel--the kind of man you pray would prepare your last fried chicken-and-cottage fries dinner should you ever find yourself with a serious appointment at Huntsville--has created Dallas' first and only Michelin star-quality restaurant. There is no flavor here that doesn't make your toes curl like popcorn shrimp, or your wallet trim down like a waist on a carb countdown. So sneer all you want. We can lick our plates without ever showing our tongues--unless the food goes rude.

Readers' Pick

III Forks

17776 Dallas Parkway

972-267-1776

We wanted to give this award to someone else; we really did. "Best Tortillas at Taco Cabana? Why not just give Best Hamburger to effin' McDonald's?" we think, angry with ourselves. But then we sigh, and our fists unclench as our thoughts turn to the pliable, pillowy flatbreads that are just 19 cents apiece at that familiar pink-and-green-stucco drive-thru. Plus, you can even see the tortilla-making machine right behind the counter, so you know they're going to be warm and fresh. And they pass the true tortilla test: They're great when filled with beans, cheese or rice but can also stand on their own. Cue the drool; we just can't help it.

After a several-month hiatus, Tipperary Inn is back in business, serving traditional Irish fare in the pub's old location at the corner of Skillman and Live Oak streets. The Tipp's environs are made for comfort--including dark woods and roomy seating areas--and so is the food. The menu is a little on the heavy side, but you can't miss the shepherd's pie or the fish & chips or the bangers & mash. Avoid the booths, though; they're so big and comfy, you may be tempted to curl up for a nap after you're done.

Il Mulino is cloaked in a jacket of elegance. The waiters have them. Even you are supposed to, except in the summer when wearing a jacket turns even the noblest, most mannered fellow into a sweating plow horse. At Il Mulino, waiters sport crisp tuxedos and move with impeccable precision and graceful warmth. They serve from the left and bus from the right. Or do they serve from the right and bus from the left? We can't remember, because we're usually seated next to a post or are crammed into a banquette sandwich where left and right have no meaning. Here it is open, and the servers are prompt and keen, clearing away course-worn flatware, deploying reinforcements in seconds. Sure, it's dark and hard to read the designer labels, but the servers dispense penlights. And they know the menu, right down to the gory details, which mostly involve prices. But then again, professionals who can distinguish right from left do not come cheap.

Readers' Pick

Lucky's Café

3531 Oak Lawn Ave.

214-522-3500

Why Hooters? On Saturdays, kids 12 and under eat for free--so put that in your Happy Meal and play with it. It's a deal so good that, let's face it, it makes Hooters the new McDonald's. Only better. It has more options for the little ones--they can choose between a hot dog, a burger, wings, chicken strips, a corn dog or a grilled cheese sandwich--and you're not parting with any cash. Nor are you stepping on any toy in your bare feet on Sunday morning. Plus, if you want, you can have a beer at Hooters while they eat. Name one McDonald's like that. Another plus: The waitresses have really big...um, never mind, we're talking about kids here.

If you want a tasty, crispy spinach salad, Greenz can fix you up, but their specialty is more creative inventions, like the Bar None, a salad festooned with steak, tomatoes and mixed nuts and served in a pretzel bowl. Other fanciful salads include warm pear and goat cheese, BBQ Texas slaw and spicy panko shrimp. Every visit has included fast, helpful service and the opportunity to try delicious extras like creamy asparagus and ancho tortilla soups.

It's all about payback, or so we've heard. Maybe that's why La Madeleine, wherein some of the best breads on earth are made, fills a handy yet surreptitiously placed rack with homemade slices or half-loaves several times a day. On a little shelf, the bread fairies also put out pats of butter and little bowls of fruit preserves. The preserves have earned the right to be called something other than jelly, since they appear to be real, fresh fruit that has been simmered with a bit of sugar long enough to soften up, break down and then thicken to a pleasing, goo-like consistency. This simple buffet runs by the honor system. La Mad's idea is that diners--that is, people who have actually purchased something from the menu--can help themselves to more bread to go with the meal as they need it. People we've known who always run out of money before payday can usually spring for a cup of French roast at La Madeleine; then, with only a smidgen of guilt, help themselves to six or 12 bread, butter and jelly sandwiches, on the house. It's the best free breakfast in Dallas.

It's not hard to get good cheeseburgers or cheddar fries around here (Snuffer's is terrific on both of those fronts, but they employ a service system that tends to screw up your order and try your patience). Still, Fat Daddy's has about the best combination. Their half-pound cheeseburgers are as good as they come (they also have a full 1-pound burger for the especially hungry), and the cheese fries are loaded with artery-clogging cheddar. Plus, when you walk in, the staff screams, "Welcome to Fat Daddy's." A good burger, good cheese fries and a cheery welcome. That's service.

Wolfberries are believed to be good for the eyes and enhance energy. Gingko seeds are swell for memory enhancement and urination promotion (not the same as urinal advertising). Lychee nuts are good for the skin. Gingko Tree China Bistro employs all of these healthful ingredients in its menu so that we can cease being forgetful sloths with eyesight that blinds us to our own bad skin. Plus we don't pee enough, or maybe just not in straight enough streams. That's why Gingko serves delicious dishes like lychee nut shrimp and gingko shrimp seasoned with seeds from the gingko, a Chinese ornamental shade tree. Gingko is Nuevo Chinese, in effect. It acknowledges that the great regional cuisines of China--Cantonese, Fukien, Honan, Szechwan, Peking-Shantung--are blurring, with aspects of some absorbed by staples of others. Gingko fare is designed to reflect the shifts in this hoary cuisine stirred by modernity. There are nods to the past, such as ants climb tree: rice noodles infested with stir-fried ground pork, bell peppers, scallions and tiny broccoli florets. There are crafty desserts such as fire on ice: seasonal fruit surrounding a scoop of house-made vanilla ice cream that's doused with Everclear squirts and set ablaze. Desserts like this simply underscore the need for proper bladder health.

Readers' Pick

P.F. Chang's China Bistro

Various locations

Hamburger Mary's is so gay--and we mean that in every sense of the word. The décor includes bejeweled high heels and all the colors of the rainbow. And the staff is about the friendliest we've ever seen. It's almost as if they're happy to come to work. Kinda weird. But not too weird, especially considering that Hamburger Mary's atmosphere is all fun, including drag shows on the weekend and movie nights that have included such titles as Steel Magnolias. (See? Gay.) This Uptown joint was imported from San Francisco, and it specializes in gourmet burgers that are as big as your head, with names like the Queen Mary and Buffy the Hamburger Slayer. (See? Fun.) There's also a pretty wide selection of salads, wraps, appetizers and sandwiches.

For the unrepentant carnivore, nothing can compare with the cardiological time bomb that is the prime rib. If it's to be perfect, let it have been chosen and aged by experts and roasted in a manner that lets its enzymes caramelize into an ephemeral sweetness while its flesh remains firm but tender. Let it be well-trimmed with just a little interior marbling. Make it seasoned on the outside and juicy throughout, cut so broad and thick that a single slab can be rare near its massive bone, medium rare across its great plains and verging on medium well at its peppery borders. Let it smell as lordly as it looks. Such perfection exists in Dallas. Only at The Palm.

We keep hearing that Deep Ellum and the West End are dead. Funny, we see plenty of young black and brown people in Deep Ellum and lots of pasty white tourists packing the West End. Oh, we get it: They're dead because the only good homogeny is white liberal homogeny. Now that we've cleared that up, we can tell you that you should brave the baby strollers and farmer's tans you'll find in TWE if you want a damn good hunk of meat at a reasonable price. We sampled four dinners (ours and three friends') there, and each cut of meat was perfectly cooked--seared outside, reddish-pink and tender inside--and dripping with flavor. We've been to several better-known steak houses in Dallas and received lesser-quality meals at 2.5 times the price.

Come for the fried cheese, stay for the coffee. See, this venerable Middle Greenville Avenue eatery is one of our favorite places to go for the Greek food--loads o' lamb, fistfuls of dolmas, that wonderful spinakopita stomachache (mmmmmm). But our favorite part of the meal is the cup of coffee that comes afterward. It may be small, no bigger than an espresso thimble, but it packs a Superman punch; you know the stuff's strong when you're halfway done and already down to the sludgy grains that cover your teeth and coat your tongue and have you tasting the stuff hours later. Starbucks ain't got jack on this place.

Readers' Pick

Starbucks

Various locations

Steam injected or boiled? A debate rages about the proper way to cook a bagel. What's the Einstein Bros. method? Dunno. Don't care. What matters most to us is the taste and texture, and this chain scores on both points, offering a wide variety of flavors--from garlic to cranberries and pumpkin--and doughy pillows that are light and chewy without that dense, clay-like demeanor that afflicts lesser bagels. Plus, the bagels here are saucer-sized, so just one--with either a smear of cream cheese or dressed up with toppings such as smoked salmon--makes a full and filling lunch.

Readers' Pick

Einstein Bros. Bagels

Readers' Pick

Snuffer's

Various locations

If you insist on pounding your plumbing with a 2,000-pound laser-guided porterhouse, you must follow such precision with a lithe dessert. Actually, you should always follow dinner with confectionary brevity. Dinner is, after all, the domain of the savory, and every square inch of digestive real estate should be reserved for the salted, the herbed and veal-bone reductions hopped up on truffle mud. Dessert is a stepchild, which is why Old Hickory's lemon cannoli is so vitally important. Whisper-thin, flaky pastry scrolls are filled with smooth, transcendental stretches of citrus cream that sweep over the tongue with a quietly luxurious, cleansing tang.

Readers' Pick

Cheesecake Factory

Various locations

Somehow Dee Lincoln exists in a city rife with staid steak houses straining for elegance, with smiling maître d's and hushed dining rooms. There's never a dull moment with her around. When she holds forth in "Havana Dee's," the piano bar at Del Frisco's Double Eagle Steakhouse in North Dallas, the mood shifts from upscale to frat-house blowout. In a good way. She may fling herself on the makeshift dance floor or encourage others to embarrass themselves. Her raucous laughter explodes across any room and never fails to lift a dour group. Good-natured teasing, cajoling, prodding, whatever; if it's necessary to stir up a group or create a party, Lincoln will try it and succeed. And all of this behavior occurs within close proximity to food and wine, refined service, evening dress and all the stylish elements of a Dallas steak house. Cool.

No one tops Al Biernat in the meet-and-greet. But Michel etc. comes as close as any restaurant host possibly can. Like Biernat, he (yes, he--Michel is as masculine a name as they have in France) flashes a genuine smile at each guest, throws his arms in welcoming gestures and directs people to their tables with a fluid grace. He is charming without being overbearing. Gracious without too much obsequiousness. Plus he understands the ways of fine dining and--more important--fine drinking. During his stint at Paris Vendome, BdG would spend time patiently explaining to American novices the rules of upscale European alcoholism, which basically involved downing many drinks, but in a specific order (aperitifs before dinner, that sort of thing). His talents are probably lost on the cruise-ship crowd (walk in, glance around, you'll understand what we mean) at Popolos, but what the hell. He makes it worth a visit.

The philosophy of fine Dallas restaurants tends toward the overblown. We adore The Mansion, but aren't the flowers kinda humongous? Aren't the walls a little peachy? Aren't the waiters a little fawning? Jeroboam has the opposite tack--it's sleek and understated, furnished with classic woods and black-and-white photography. The waiters are knowledgeable and helpful without making us feel like Dudley Moore to their Sir John Gielgud. Of course, that means we have to wipe our own chins, but a college education has prepared us for these tasks. What Jeroboam reminds us of more than anything is Manhattan, where sophistication and smarts are prized above all else and a proper martini can make the difference between success and failure. The only thing about this New American restaurant that doesn't remind us of Manhattan is the thinning crowds; it's a sad commentary on downtown when such a superlative restaurant doesn't fill up on a Friday night

This Lakewood hole-in-the-strip-center-wall is, now that Dan's Lakewood has shuttered, the finest hangover breakfast in town, which means that by its very definition it is the best greasy spoon around. They are one and the same. You wake up after being overserved, you need eggs, bacon, pancakes, sausage, hash browns, et. al. In fact, we may tie one on tonight just so we can have an excuse for eating a plateful of this tomorrow. Our favorite, actually, is the huevos rancheros, eggs and chorizo and refried beans topped with a green chile sauce and served with hot tortillas. Even the coffee is good here. Just be prepared to wait in cramped quarters for a table during peak hours. Worth it, though.

Readers' Pick

Metro Diner

3309 Gaston Ave.

214-828-2190

An icy Jarritos of any flavor--lime, fruit punch, guava, plenty more--is enough to win you over from the laboratory and focus-group flavors of most Norteamericano sodas. The fresh, clean fruit taste of Jarritos is a blast of beach and jungle rolled into one. Fiesta Mart offers a variety of Mexican brands--Goya, Victoria, Topo-Chico, along with Mexican versions of some U.S. drinks. But the very best is the Jarritos orange. It actually tastes like an orange! Imagine: naturally occurring flavors! What a concept. Other stores stock the brand, but Fiesta is one of the few places where you can buy Jarritos in plastic 2-liter bottles, after you get the habit.

Let's be honest here: There are no great Indian restaurants in Dallas. So with that premise established, let's examine the most interesting entrant in this mediocre ilk. Mantra is a stab at modernity; an incremental tweak of traditional Indian cuisine. Mantra attempts to preserve the rich, heady complexity of Indian cuisine while casting it as wily and deft, in a contemporary sense. Many culinary trend peepers have been predicting Indian fare would be "the next big thing": mainstream dining tickled by mint chutney and tandoori chicken. If that's true, Mantra is poised to pounce. Mantra is Indian lithe. Gone are the soupy dishes like chicken masala and lamb curry. Indestructible sauces able to survive hours of agony on buffet tables are also no-shows, as are the buffet-table torture chambers. Exhibit one: tomato broccoli soup. It's thick. It's smooth. It vibrates. Conclusion: Mantra's dishes are not only seasoned with more subtlety; they're actually a different set of centerpieces gently framed in Indian influences. Exhibit two: crepes stuffed with things, from vegetables, scrambled eggs, onions and potato to chicken, shrimp and lamb, all adorned with lush Indian spices. Conclusion: Keep your eyes peeled for the sweetbread mulligatawny. It's the next big thing.

Readers' Pick

India Palace

12817 Preston Road

972-392-0190

We get it, all right? Yes, the word "Johnson" is synonymous with penis. Has been for--what?--a thousand years. Good job, P.D. Johnson's Dog Day Deli, for incorporating the joke into your menu and onto the T-shirts you sell and the paraphernalia that lines your restaurant's walls. Ha ha, funny stuff, a sophomore-ish bit, but the problem is...the problem is that it's not...well, to be honest, the real problem is that it's tough to stay mad at P.D. Johnson's for its crassness. The sandwiches are too good. The signature sub, the Hot Johnson, piles roast beef, oven turkey, bacon, barbecue sauce and two kinds of mayonnaise--"cheddar" and "horsey"--between two thick slices of warm bread. Order the grande--the regular is 6 inches, the grande 8--and it's amazing what happens. You leave the table wanting more--the sub's that tasty. Plus, P.D. Johnson's serves beer. Plus, you get to pull your beer from a tub of ice before twisting off your own top. Domestic bottles are only two bucks. Suddenly, this place has charm.

Purists may scoff and pick, oh, Big Easy New Orleans Style Sandwiches up north or something farther east...say, in New Orleans. But this venerable Deep Ellum eatery has never let us down, whether we needed our café au lait-and-beignet fix at 8 a.m. or our muffaleta-and-fries jones satisfied at lunch. The gumbo and étouffée are extraordinary--the roux's particularly rich, like Mark Cuban--and the sandwiches wonderful, and if we feel the need to dock this place points, it's ditching the booze, which is fine most afternoons save those occasional lunches after the boss tells us if our Best of Dallas items are late again, there'll be no raise. Need a Dixie after that. Make it a case. Instead, we'll just have the oyster po' boy.

Readers' Pick

Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen

Various locations

What's at stake with steak? In Dallas that's a foolish question. Our existence depends on it. Without steak, Dallas is just Six Flags and Big Tex. The former isn't even in Dallas, and the latter doesn't go very well with a first-growth Bordeaux. So you know how important steak is. And there's a lot of bad steak out there. Trust us. We've had the leftovers. (No matter how unfortunate a steak might be, you still can't afford the misfortune of not bringing it home after you've spent a fortune on the dang thing.) Fortunately, you're virtually guaranteed a flood of drool at Pappas Bros. Steakhouse. Pappas has its own dry-aging locker on the premises, which is ostensibly loaded with the one thing missing from most prime steak houses: rich, dry-aged prime. It has all of the succulence, the robust flavor that you'd expect from the type of steak Dallas swoons over. This is special. Juices gush. Whatever cut you have carved, the flavor spectrum is broad, right through to the lingering finish. No leftovers tomorrow, just a messy T-shirt.

Readers' Pick

Bob's Steak and Chop House

4300 Lemmon Ave.

214-528-9446

What makes Pappadeaux's Greek salad the best? Absolutely fresh lettuce, not a brown leaf in the bunch; a tangy, well-balanced lemon vinaigrette dressing; a generous sprinkling of high-quality feta cheese; and all the other ingredients--capers, scallions, tomatoes, celery, pepperoncini--mixed tableside so nothing ends up soggy. The huge creation, available in portions for one or two, is garnished with a single boiled shrimp and finished with a squeeze of lemon. Other places in town turn out a praiseworthy Greek salad, such as The Metropolitan Cafe at 2032 Main St. and Ziziki's, but none of them equals Pappadeaux's.

Oishii mixes Japanese and Vietnamese with a little Chinese. The latter two are closely linked, while the former is more distant. Does this sound confusing? It shouldn't. OK, sushi is a little hard to square with kung pao chicken. There's lemongrass tofu, too, which is hard to square with anything. Yet the sushi is good. And the pork ribs in spicy salt and shaken beef are stellar, as are the Vietnamese spring rolls. But pho, that ceremonial, aromatic soup that's ladled for every meal among the Vietnamese, is how you test the spine of Vietnamese fare. And it's here where Oishii goes over the top. When pho is good, it's all minimalist guts and glory, the Dalai Lama of soups. Slurping pho is like having your soul breast-fed. Pho is loaded with feathery hints of lushly sweet aromas and carnivore brawn. Tangled there among slick and supple rice noodles are square scraps of beef as thin as pounded sheet metal plus beef tendon as tender as noodles (you can get it in chicken duds, too). From a separate plate heaped high with green and white flora, you add cilantro clippings, dark green basil leaves, bean sprouts, jalapeños and squirts from lime wedges. Pho is sense-surround soup: You breathe in billowing gusts of perfumed steam while spray stings your wrists from the splashes of noodles, sprouts and beef slipping off the spoon as you try to cram its addictive warmth into your mouth. Can your kung pao do that?

Readers' Pick

Green Papaya Cafe

3211 Oak Lawn Ave.

214-521-4811

Pretty much any event that combines two of our favorite pastimes--food and setting things aflame--will win our rapt devotion. Dislike bananas, like bananas Foster. Loathe the French, adore crêpes suzette. So, any dessert that brings a butane torch into the kitchen, namely crème brûlée, is tops on our list, especially when it's the coffee-tinged crème brûlée served at Cuba Libre. The rich, firm mocha custard mingled with the crunchy caramelized sugar topping is a smooth, luscious counterpoint to Cuba Libre's spicy entrées.

This is one of those no-win categories: Everyone has his favorite barbecue joint, be it some tiny roadhouse in Taylor or Sonny Bryan's on Inwood Road or even Sammy's, which is great but could be better if someone tweaked the sauce just a little bit. But we're sticking with this Highland Park hang, because the meat's as lean as a supermodel, the sausage is as smoky as our grandfather, and the ribs are as tender as a Gershwin ballad. The sauce, too, is as good as it gets, particularly the spicy variety, which doesn't cover up the meat so much as complement it; it's best when sopped up with a piece of Texas toast, of which we can never have enough. The sides are stars in their own right, particularly the cole slaw, but the real highlight is the fried pie for which you must save plenty of room. Or the bread pudding. Or both. At the same time.

Readers' Pick

Dickey's Barbecue

Various locations

"We eat here every Friday because Norma's is Oak Cliff," said businessman and community activist Ralph Isenberg. Norma's is that and much more. It's an archetypal Southern breakfast and lunch spot, a place that feels familiar from the first visit, and, best of all, it's a living time capsule of a long-gone Dallas. Opened in 1956, Norma's has defied modernization. As a result, the effect is that of having ventured into one of the black-and-white photographs that crowd the walls. As you wander around the two spacious rooms you see neither the crumbling Texas Theater of today nor the already seedy hideout for Lee Harvey Oswald, but a glamorous and spiffy movie basilica with Gable and Harlow on the marquee. The staff provides a similar window on the easy, unstudied friendliness of an earlier Dallas.

It's French, which helps, but what sets La Madeleine apart from other food-court stops is the tastefulness of the place. For one, the food at La Madeleine is flat-out better than anywhere else in the mall: The tomato basil soup is the best; the pesto pasta salad is light yet alive with flavor; and just try to stop at one cup of strawberries Romanoff. Secondly and, to be more accurate, amazingly, the procession to place an order and receive food has the ease of a fast-food line without the feel, once in line, that we're all orphans in a Charles Dickens novel, food trays extended, waiting for our gruel.

Cosmic Café is the one vegetarian restaurant where we can go knowing our carnivore friends aren't going to leave us alone at a table for four while they go down the street to a burger place. The converted house is funky but not too scary (unless you find murals of monkeys, sitar music and a fish tank scary). The same goes for the food. Indian-inspired veggie-based dishes with funny names (Buddha's Delight, Herban Renewal, Sufi Special) are zesty and fresh but not tofu/textured vegetable protein/Quorn terrifying. The less adventurous have options, too. There's also cake, smoothies, beans and rice, ice cream, and peanut butter-and-banana sandwiches (served on nan, not on white bread, of course). The ultimate test: We took our small-town, steak 'n' taters, falafel-what? mom, and not only did she find something to eat, she liked it and asked to go back. Vegetarians don't have to eat alone!

Readers' Pick

Cosmic Café

This is really no contest. How do we know? Because our wife is the margarita-drinkin'-est fool alive. You think you're a 'rita fool? You couldn't out-fool her on the foolingest day of your life if you had yourself an electrified fooling machine. We're talkin' 'bout a fool. And when she first stepped her fool foot in Iron Cactus, she ordered herself a house margarita and quickly proclaimed it the best she'd had that year. Potent but not overly tequila-ed, tart with a hint of sweetness, this drink alone makes it worth trying to find a parking place downtown. And, most likely, deciding to hitch a ride home after downing more than one of them.

Readers' Pick

Mi Cocina

Various locations

God knows how many times we found ourselves on Lower Greenville on a Saturday night in the mid-'90s with a woozy tummy in need of filling. Happened every weekend, it seemed, and always we'd sprint (or wobble, whatever) over to chef Teiichi Sakurai's Teppo, which was awesome not only because of its location but because it served up some of the best sushi in the city. Six years ago, Sakurai opened up this hoity-toity companion restaurant, and it remains the best Japanese joint in town; come for the Kobe steak, stay for the fried soft-shell crab and marinated sea bass and quail on a stick (the latter of which used to be our nickname in high school). And in between, have the gentlemen behind the counter hand-roll you a little sumpin-sumpin. It'll get you high.

Readers' Pick

Blue Fish

3519 Greenville Ave.

214-824-3474

What do Madonna and Mike Modano have in common with dozens of other celebrities and athletes and thousands of ordinary citizens who love good food? According to Chris Walter, Midwest regional partner, all have serious vittles--cooked and uncooked--delivered to their homes by Horizon Foods. "Our trucks pull up to the door, and our representatives put the food right in our customers' freezers." In business since 1979 and in Dallas since 1997, Horizon provides a wide array of seafood, steaks and poultry, as well as dozens of other items including soups, pizzas, hors d'oeuvres and desserts. All uncooked items are trimmed and individually wrapped, and every item comes "guaranteed to your palate. If you don't like it for any reason, we'll happily exchange it," Walter says.

Old-fashioned drinks require a certain atmosphere. Not necessarily a clubbish dark wood and leather, billowing clouds of cigar smoke, British accents type thing, mind you. Cocktails like the negroni or the mint julep or the old-fashioned call out for a bar. That is, a room dominated by a long counter backed by rows and rows of alcohol--the kind of place your grandfather frequented back when the greatest generation led this country through Prohibition, the Depression, war. You know, the good old days. The Meridian Room is such a place. Sophisticated without being fancy, it's a throwback in time listing a number of classic cocktails on the bar menu.

Yeah, yeah, we know. This is Tex-Mex, not true Mexican cuisine. With food this good, though, why be so persnickety? This tiny restaurant in a brightly painted converted house on Maple Avenue has all we expect in a Mexican joint--tasty, cheesy enchiladas, fiery salsa, creamy guacamole and rich tortilla soup--plus it offers something we don't expect. You can actually eat a full meal here and walk away without that heavy lump in your stomach that we call Tex-Mex belly. Lighter on salt and grease than typical Tex-Mex fare, Avila's food nevertheless is full-flavored and rich. Try the chicken enchiladas with tomatillo sauce--even avid calorie counters won't feel too guilty. The recipes are variations of the dishes Anita Avila and her husband used to cook for their houseful of guests, says son Ricky, who works there along with his mother and brother Octavio. A mother's touch--that must be what makes the food so special.

Readers' Pick

Luna de Noche

Various locations

We have this aunt. Her name is Lena. Well, technically she's a great-aunt, as she is our grandmother's sister. Anyway, her schtick is that she's always cooking. You walk in her house, any time of the day past 11 a.m., and there is a huge cast-iron skillet full of chicken frying sitting atop her stove. And the smell is unbelievable. So you would make up excuses to go there--"Gotta take Aunt Lena some Aquaman comics, so see you later!"--just so you could eat this juicy, sumptuous, peppery fried chicken. And when we moved away, we were sad, because we didn't think you could find fried chicken like that. And then one innocent day, we ordered fried chicken from Brothers. And we ate so much we got sick. And we cried on our bones and called Aunt Lena that night just to say hi. What we're saying is the chicken here is damn good.

Readers' Pick

Circle Grill

3701 N. Buckner Blvd.

214-324-4140

Why is Pogo's a great place to shop? It's not because it covers just about every wine region in existence, or because it has low-riser wine racks instead of those floor-to-ceiling high-rises with Bordeaux avalanche insurance, or because it has a friendly staff who tell you what the heck's up with the Lois Gruner Veltliner from Austria. It's not even because it has a broad selection of wine half-bottles or because it stocks Hanger 1 Vodka Buddha's hand citron at eye level. It's not even because it carries accessories like martini olives, corkscrews and specialized beverage glasses. No, it's great because it carries stuff like that often harsh grape sludge spirit known as grappa with varietal labels such as Dolcetto, chardonnay and pinot noir.

Readers' Pick

Goody Goody

Various locations

The Dream Cafe has one of the best cheap lunches in Dallas. It's called "The Cheap Lunch." It costs six buckaroos. It's mighty tasty. Whether you love red meat and consume dead animals on a regular basis or whether you're vegan or some form of vegetarian, you will love this lunch. If you're into low carbs, high fat; low fat, don't count carbs; low cal and low carbs--whatever. It's a bowl of organic black beans and brown rice with some truly amazing spices, topped with jack cheese, sour cream and sprouts. They serve it with corn chips, so it's a homemade warm, cheesy bean dip experience. It is the best damn lunch. Only, it's no longer on the menu. A recent shrieking phone call to Christopher Sanford, Dream Cafe manager, went something like this. "Hey, have you really taken The Cheap Lunch off the menu?" "Well, yes and no," Sanford says. "The Cheap Lunch is off the menu, only we have The Global Dinner on the menu, and it's the same thing." Only bigger. Same price, though. So, Dream Cafe has the best cheap lunch in Dallas, only it's called "The Global Dinner," and you could say they now have the best cheap lunch and the best cheap dinner--and both of them are larger than they were before, for the same price.

When you order fresh-squeezed orange juice, you don't want it from a plastic jug labeled "now with extra pulp." You want to know that someone actually crushed the rind between his fingers to force that last drop into your glass--just like at Grandma's. Landmark Restaurant in the Melrose Hotel is a place to break from tradition and enjoy an artery-clenching fest. Among the modern and Southwestern creations, diners find nods to the past. The standout: real old-fashioned steak and eggs. Remember those classic World War II movies where wimp-ass 4F actors who were a bit too precious to enter the armed services would sit in a soundstage foxhole and moan about Mom's steak and eggs? That's the stuff we're talking about. And Landmark has it.

Original Pancake House

There are two other locations in town--on Lemmon Avenue and Belt Line Road--but this is the one we go to most often...and from the looks of it on weekend mornings, it's your favorite, too, since the line seems to go to the Albertson's across the parking lot if you don't arrive before, oh, 9 a.m. (And on weekdays, too, it's pretty crowded; get there early or you're stuck eating at La Madeleine, which isn't a bad option, but it just ain't the same.) Every table usually has a little one in a high chair--the dollar-sized pancakes make this a parent's fave for the little ones--so if you're partial to reading the paper in the quiet, maybe you oughta go to Breadwinners or the Metro Diner in Preston Center or stay the hell home. But this place is especially worth it for the corned beef hash, which you should order with eggs sunny-side up, and, of course, the pancakes. Coffee's also really good here, but beware the tiny cups; on busy days you'll have trouble getting a waiter, who's always sorry he hasn't been there earlier, but, well, it's the best breakfast in town, and people tend to get busy. We understand.

Readers' Pick

Cafe Brazil

Various locations

The appetizer is traditionally a thing you eat before the headliner. You know, salad, foie gras, fried calamari, frog legs in aloe vera. But sometimes appetizers can be meals instead of just tongue-whetters or fodder for the grazing trough. This is what Café Modern's smoked mozzarella-stuffed risotto cake is. It's a bronzed baseball--with the bronzing provided by panko bread crumbs--resting in a bath of "light tomato sauce." This alone makes it a museum piece. But when you add that it tastes good, it makes it double-plus fine. It's layered with overlapping wilted leaves of baby spinach. That bath is smooth and brisk, crackling with delicate acids. The ball crunches when pierced, exposing a steaming network of risotto grains--not creamy but breadlike in consistency. Plumb further and you unleash a core of molten smoked mozzarella that flows like slag through the risotto webbing, turning the whole thing into creamy, messy goo that steams. Now you're ready to view the art at The Modern.

Readers' Pick

Snuffer's cheese fries

Various locations

So we're having lunch at Taco Diner in the West Village. One in our party--the one who is washing down his lunch with shots of Patron and bottles of Negra Modelo--says, "OK, who wants dessert?" We all shake our heads and moan. Who eats desserts these days? They're full of carbs and sugar and sin. We all want to be skinny when we die. Look good in the casket. This gentleman then likens us to female genitalia--not in a complimentary way--and proceeds to order slices of the pastel des tres leches (cake of the three milks) for the table. Not to go all metrosexual on you, but oh...mah...gawd. Moist, slightly sweet, creamy. With a cup of coffee, to die for. And he almost did, on the way home, but that's another story.

Sliced in smallish rounds, lightly breaded, served on a sour cream sauce sprinkled with diced chives, these fried green tomatoes offer exactly the right combination of garden freshness with batter-fried flavor. Somehow, in spite of all that preparation, these succulent mouthfuls manage to stay firm at the core. They are a perfect expression of the South--juicy but fried--with a sophisticated Bishop Arts flair.

The concept is simple: swap hoofs with fins. Well, maybe it's not that simple. Most people wouldn't go for a bone-in halibut. Still, the Oceanaire is bulging with fat and fresh succulent seafood, just like steak houses throb with triple-bypass beef. The Room offers roughly a dozen different oysters with names like Pemiquid and Hog Island. And it hits you with the vigor of a steak-house fist, which is perhaps the only way seafood can come across in Dallas. Sides are big, too, with all of the regulars: asparagus, potatoes, iceberg lettuce wedges and creamed corn. Desserts tickle. There's baked Alaska, pecan balls, and warm milk and cookies. Milk and cookies? What could be better after downing live sea urchin?

Readers' Pick

Oceanaire Seafood Room