Food & Drink

The Oak Cliff restaurant caught everyone's attention by offering a menu that changed daily based upon whatever a slate of farmers brought in. They also earned some notice because of their refusal to buy such conveniences as a deep fryer. But we really didn't care about any of that once we tried Bolsa's flatbreads—essentially cracker-crust pizzas, only far more expressive. We're talking about smoky bread covered in spicy Jimmy's sausage or basil that explodes on the palate, local and very fresh cheeses, tomatoes that taste as if they were picked that very day. They're just really damn good.

Long before tapas, small plates and shared plates became trendy, the Spanish grabbed simple bites at the bar to tide them over until 10 or 11 p.m., when dinner is served. Cava's piquillo peppers appetizer is like an homage to that simple tradition. They merely sauté the peppers in olive oil (a lot of olive oil) with some garlic. That's it—nothing fancy, but the flavors roil from earthy, bitter and herbaceous to piquant, even sweet. In a city where chefs put a lot of time and effort into starters, Cava's basic dish stands out.

For decades Dwight Harvey held down a real, corporate-type job, cooking barbecue on the weekends. He and his son eventually turned this into a casual catering venture and, finally, a full-fledged barbecue joint. The Harveys are particular about their wood, using pecan to slow-cook brisket, ribs and the other usual suspects. Their rub lends a strong, sweet-spicy character to the meats. If there's a downside, it's the cramped space. A set of tables out front provide seating, but you must force your way to the counter to place orders, especially during the lunch rush. There's a large contingent of downtown cubicle dwellers who frequent the place. For those who want to run the south-side-after-dark risk, Off the Bone stays open late—as in 2 a.m. late—on weekends.

Generally, when you see two restroom doors in a restaurant, they lead into two different restrooms—you know, boys and girls, cowpokes and cowgirls, damas y caballeros, etc. Not so at Cowboy Chow, however, where both doors lead into the same communal restroom. Sure, everyone gets their own individual walled-off stall with a full door, but it's still awkward when you run into your date at the communal sink. And considering all the delicious Navajo fry bread, red pepper brisket, homemade chocolate chip ice cream and (especially) sweet watermelon tea you'll be consuming, there's no way you'll be able to avoid it.

First the chefs at AVA, one of whom worked at the Green Room, brought back that long-lost restaurant's mussels recipe. Then the man himself announced his return. Years ago Marc Cassel guided the little Deep Ellum bar/restaurant to greatness. His style? Collision cuisine—the happy smashing of contrasting flavors and techniques into something that worked, and magically so. In July, Dallas' prodigal chef returned, opening Park on Henderson Avenue to almost instant success. The Dallas Morning News reported guests raising toasts to Cassel's chicken-fried steak. That's big news.

Phil and Janet Cobb you know from the Black-Eyed Pea chain (Phil's doing) and Mi Piaci (Janet), as well as some other once-famous stops. The name Chris Andrews is associated with Holy Smokes, a once well-regarded barbecue place. And then there's Dotty Griffith, former restaurant critic for The Dallas Morning News. All of these familiar names have come back to life and converged, like culinary zombies, on a small bit of real estate in Carrollton. The meat's pretty good. The names behind it are impressive as hell.

Sure, you could argue it's a bit pricey for these trying times, but there is value in them there eggs—especially the way Bread Winners serves 'em. You got your three-egg "scrambles" like the Southwest migas and the healthful veggie. There is a to-die-for egg sandwich, three kinds of eggs Benedict and several egg dishes with Tex-Mex accents (burritos, enchiladas and breakfast tacos). And don't get us started on the pancakes and French toast, and the baked goods—breads and muffins and cookies, oh my—baked right on the premises, with bits of them brought to your table free before you even order your morning coffee. We love the McKinney Avenue location (not to disparage the Inwood Village and Plano locations) with its French Quarter feel and friendly service.

Ever since our college days in Austin, we've found Dallas severely lacking in the breakfast taco department. Sure, you can find them, but they rarely live up to the expectations one is burdened with after living in the Breakfast Taco And Live Music Capital of the World. The Taco Joint does the breakfast taco right, however, serving up eggs and cheese with bacon, sausage, potatoes, chorizo or beans on flour tortillas along with delicious homemade salsas that tickle the palate but don't annihilate your taste buds with heat. Most important, they serve them till 10:45 a.m. on weekdays and 2 p.m. on Saturdays, which makes them the perfect breakfast for late-rising, hung-over-and-on-the-go Observer writers.

No one does a plain old Caesar salad anymore. Well, Bella does, but few others. Instead, restaurants toss on a lot of fancy stuff—lobster nuggets and such. Kent Rathbun's new place dresses up the salad right: kernels of parched corn, toasted pepitas, crumbles of Mexican cheese. Yeah, sounds like just another gussied-up Caesar, except that all the ingredients work so beautifully together, the mound of lettuce becomes like a carnival, with flavors and textures swirling and twirling, yet starting you from one place and bringing you back to the same spot. Hell, if you're gonna order greens, why not have fun with them?

What can we say? There's a lot of half-assed gumbo sold in this town, but Alligator Café ladles out a rich, reeking stew that oozes bayou. Their red beans and rice remind you that this was never meant to be an elegant dish, but something to fill working-class bellies. And, of course, there are mudbugs in season and gator meat if you wish to venture in that direction. Their fried green tomatoes feel like they were made in some old skillet by some old grandma. It's a straightforward, down and dirty, messy festival of Louisiana-ness. We don't know how to put it better.

The black walls and dark carpeting of this two-room restaurant explain the reputation as a hole in the wall. But don't be fooled by the drab decor. The fish is so fresh! And it's a fraction of the price compared with the raw fish served at more upscale Japanese joints, like the Blue Fish up the street. The staff bangs a gong when you come in and again when you leave. The place is BYOB, but we were served sake one Saturday night when no other customers were around. Our favorite specialty roll is the New Zealand, which combines tuna, salmon, cucumber, avocado and cream cheese for $11.99. And the 10-piece tuna roll is just $6.99.

We were worried...a little bit worried...several years ago when Cindi's New York Deli, that quintessentially Dallas landmark on North Central Expressway, began rolling out to multiple locations, everywhere from downtown to Carrollton. How do you replicate such an oddly and perfectly Dallas institution—a Jewish deli that looks and feels more like a Denny's, owned by a Vietnamese lady? And everybody—from Jewish to Vietnamese to Denny—loves it! Veeery carefully, it turns out, carefully and well. Our own favorite is the one downtown, in spite of its proximity to the Belosphere. And the chicken and dumplings on Mondays? They're the best Jewish, country-and-western, Vietnamese, let's-go-shopping chicken and dumplings in America.

We don't frequent Al Biernat's often, but it has nothing to do with the quality of the food and everything to do with sucking sound we hear from our bank account after paying the bill. With lunch entrees running up to $25 and salads topping out at $23, we only tend to stop by on special occasions. But after trying their grilled chicken sandwich at lunch recently, we're thinking about increasing our visits, even if it means cutting back on expenses like, um, electricity. Yup, it's that good. Succulent slices of chicken breast sit on toasted bread, topped with pepper jack cheese, crisp bacon, avocado, lettuce and tomato. We just love when cheese and bacon are added. Heck, bacon should always be added as far as we're concerned. Biernat's creation is the best we've had, and at $12, it's one of the cheapest lunch items on the menu.

You'd be hard pressed to find better fast-food chicken than what they're serving up in the Dallas branches of this Guatemala-based chain. If you're used to KFC and Church's, the pressure-cooked fried chicken is a revelation, from the crispy, nearly greaseless batter to the juicy, tender meat within. Unlike many chicken chains, Campero also does rotisserie chicken well, with hints of citrus tang hinting at the restaurant's "secret formula" marinade. Served up with a couple tortillas and some Campero beans (pinto beans stewed with bacon, sausage, tomato and onion)—on real, actual dinner plates if you dine-in—this pollo is easily one of Big D's best fast-food offerings.

If you like Shanghai cuisine (a little richer and more complex than other Chinese food), you will find what you're looking for at Shanghai Restaurant. Try the preserved duck, jellyfish with radishes, yellowfish soup or seafood in beer sauce casserole. Everything here is good, and a lot of the fare is excellent. This restaurant on the edge of the vast Dallas-area Asian community serves as a family gathering spot on weekend nights. It's mid-formal—white tablecloths beneath clear plastic. And, of course, the Asian-American children don't run around the restaurant screaming and throwing food, which makes them almost bearable. The waitstaff is happy to explain unfamiliar dishes to first-time visitors. It's a happy, open place with food you won't soon forget.

Don't tell food critic Dave, but we stole the bag of Bolsa Blend that landed on his desk a few weeks back. Because, see, we finished ours in a week—should have gone much longer, damn our addictions! And, truth told, we'll drink any of the blends poured by Shannon and Jenni Neffendorf; we've had them all, in no small part due to the roasted-on date stamped on the back. (So sorry, Central Market, and your big barrels of who-knows-how-old beans.) But something about the Bolsa blend—available, um, at Bolsa, natch—hits us just right: smells like cocoa, tastes like blueberries, but it's never so overpowering that you're thinking, "This is way too sweet." A drop of milk, a hint of sugar and it's like caffeinated candy best served before breakfast or after dinner or any other time you're awake and alive and...really need to stop drinking this.

Each cupcake is a sugared jewel that's so beautiful it's almost a shame to take a bite. Until you do. And then you quickly have no problem gobbling down the rest. Try the vanilla stuffed cupcake with Key lime filling for $3.25 each (or a non-stuffed cupcake for $2.50). The 9-inch red velvet cake for $43 feeds 12 to 15 friends and makes a gorgeous display at the table after dinner. The two locations of this dessert shop and paper boutique are owned by two adorable sisters, chef Kristen Rahal and graphic designer Stephanie Weibring, who opened the first candy land in 2004.

When Wolfgang Puck came to Dallas, he did so in a big way—erect, throbbing with passion and...OK, he put Five-Sixty in Reunion Tower and we can't resist the phallic commentary. Whatever you think about celebrity chefs overseeing from a distance, this rotating restaurant is impressive. Sleek, modern décor? Check. Attention-grabbing view? Check. Spacious bathrooms of glazed tile? Um, no. There's hardly room in the tower for amenities other than a cool bar and solid kitchen staff serving dishes to match the glitter. The menu changes from time to time, but imagine suckling pig with a crispy skin and crackling citrus-sweet sauce. Or arctic char, impressive under a veneer of skin as light as a feather. Even cutesy items like General Tso's quail will leave you mesmerized.

Some people won't touch the stuff. Cruelty to feathered things, they say. Fine—let them eat liver and the rest of us can dine luxuriously on the earthy, meaty, buttery delicacy that is foie gras. Or should be, anyway. Too often, kitchens push it too far, putting more effort into the sides and dressing than the liver itself. Or they fail to treat it with the care it deserves. But chefs Gilbert Garza and Jeffery Hobbs are old hands at this sort of thing. The last time we tried their foie gras, our friends couldn't stop talking about it. In fact, they called the next day to continue the conversation. It's that good.

When you really think about it, any one of chef-owner Brian Luscher's dishes could be up for an award. Hell, Texas Monthly awarded him best burger, and that was for the entire state. So why do we focus on his french fries? Because he's one of the few chefs in the city who bothers to do them right, that's why—taking the time to blanch them, letting the batch sit, sometimes overnight, before dumping them back in the fryer. This creates that crisp, golden shell and fluffy inside that we dream about...when we dream about fries, that is. And it just adds to the experience when you chomp on those things with a bottle of wine in The Grape's country French dining room.

Chef-owners Jose and Norma Vasconcelos grew up in Mexico but trained for culinary careers in France. In fact, both ended up working for Michelin star restaurants in surrender-monkey country before heading for the swagger of Dallas. In an often overlooked storefront on Henderson, they've brought birth and training together in a fusion of French and Mexican traditions. That means poblano stuffed with duck confit, mixed greens with tortilla strips or their spectacular escargot on a bed of pureed tomatillos. Because Mexican cuisine was influenced by both Spanish and French techniques, the idea works. The intricate French and native Mexican flavors blend together into something, well, let's just say you wish someone had thought of this sooner. Fantastic stuff.

Please don't get mad, Angry Dog, if we call you a greasy spoon. We mean that in the best possible way. Oh, sure, we haven't stopped by as much as we used to—about three times a week—since the Observer's office moved away from downtown, but we still love you and your chili-smothered Angry Dogs, your hamburgers that taste like beef, not bun, your spicy fries and your club sandwiches that make us want to join whatever club created them. And did we mention your wide selection of draft and bottled beers? Oh, yes, we still feel the love. And so does our gallbladder.

You know what our problem is? We can't make a decision when it comes to ordering food. We'd like some of this, some of that and a bite of what you're having, thanks. We want that salad, but could we please have a couple of dressings? Indecision is the bane of our servers' existence. And yet, at State & Allen Lounge, they feel us. Like, they really feel us. The Silver Bowl, or "The Original" as it's noted on the menu, is a hearty salad that looks rather modest at first glance. But its bowl holds magic within: romaine, bacon pieces, red grape halves, mandarin oranges, tiny diced red bell peppers, savory marinated chicken with a little kick, and—get this—two dressings. Two! A tart balsamic vinaigrette and a creamy Caesar that are drizzled separately but come together in perfect harmony. There's enough fruit and veg we feel like we're diet-right, and enough meat we can grunt a bit and protein up. Plus, since State & Allen is all up on the green scene, we can get that silver bowl in a corn-derivative biodegradable to-go container if we need lunch on the fly. Or, if we can't decide, we might eat half there, half back at the office.

Walk in, turn right toward the bakery, go to the cooler against the wall where they have prepared foods in plastic tubs. Look for the green Deli Fresh Salsa made with tomatillos, cilantro, salt, onion and garlic. This sauce is so spot-on Mexican authentic that it has caused some diligent homemade salsa cooks to stop making their own. Why bother? For $1.50 you can get three-quarters of a pound of delicious fresh green salsa, and you don't have to slice up any of those pesky little tomatillos yourself.

Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's been a fro-yo explosion going on around town. No, it's not some '80s frozen yogurt redo of your dad's TCYB—it's something a hell of a lot tastier, and it's good for you too. It's kinda California, kinda New York and plenty delish. We had a hard time choosing, what with devotees dedicated to Yogurtland and Natsumi and Yogilicious and Orange Cup—all tasty probiotic treats (assuming you're into eating live active cultures). But we're putting our money on I Heart Yogurt, with its 16 flavors (love the peanut butter and the Irish cream) and its 24 toppings (fresh bananas and blueberries are great), which can be mixed, matched, hand-designed and self-served at 22 calories a yogurt ounce. The possibilities are limitless. Some people even call it lunch.

Sure, it's five miles from downtown, and, no, it's not fast food. But, man, is it worth it. A Wingfield's hamburger is one giant and extremely juicy fistful of beef on a big fluffy bun with fresh makings and that hot, right-off-the-grill taste with just a touch of singe—not frozen patties from Sam's and relish out of a can. The place itself, a few blocks south of Illinois Avenue, is postage-stamp small with a skimpy parking lot out front, so at busy times you may have to park half a block away and walk. The etiquette is to squeeze in the door, place your order, squeeze back out the door and wait 15 minutes or more. Then squeeze back in and check. They don't come get you. This is one you need to go get for yourself.

Normally it takes 45 minutes, the guy on the phone told us, but we can get it there in 25. Pretty damn bold to make such a promise, especially considering the NYC gridlock that can build up on Lemmon and Oak Lawn. Yet the driver—piling over curbs, cutting through yards, running down children...Well, we don't know how he managed shaving five minutes off the promised time. Now that's service. And for home delivery, the food's not bad, either.

Just behind Munger Park in East Dallas' Junius Heights Historic District, fresh herbs and vegetables are served, which might not sound all that unusual until we elaborate on "fresh." At the Garden Café, fresh means it came straight from the beautiful garden in back. In addition to its unique atmosphere, the café occasionally doubles as a hotspot for book signings, photography shows and poetry readings. Owner Dale Wootton has everything covered, including plenty of available parking, seating in back to enjoy the garden and a menu featuring favorites such as meatloaf, chicken-fried steak, catfish and homemade desserts. Want a chance to see a future meal grow? Head over to the Garden Café for an experience you'll tell your friends about.

Brandon and Susan Pollard have bee hives in places you might never suspect—the roof of Bolsa, the trendy Oak Cliff eatery, for example, or maybe in your next-door neighbor's back yard. Their bees are marching out across the city, relentlessly, like a Japanese horror movie only not horrible. In fact, the honey their hives produce is wonderful, flavored by local flowers, trees and shrubs, good for local allergies and absolutely free of the chemicals, antibiotics and toxins found in too many imported, commercially produced honeys. Visit them at the Yellow Shed on Saturday or Sunday. They're also very interesting on the whole topic of urban farming and local food. Buy some honey, chat them up.

Ah, the power of a warm, fresh-from-the-oven cookie. It has the ability to comfort, satisfy, inspire...and provide a sugar-boost when it's about 3 p.m. and all signs read: "We're Not Gonna Make It Until 5. Population: Everyone in the office." But the little cookie delivery company that could is here to help. Once rising to meet the needs of midnight oil-burning UT Austin students out of an overused home oven, Tiff's Treats has become a dual-city treat titan with pro gear and seriously craveable recipes. Place an order online, set the time for delivery (if you're in the deliverable areas) and wait for that magic box with the blue ribbon to arrive. Inside, the snickerdoodles, chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies or whichever flavor you pick (they all hark back to Grandmother's masterful creations) will still be warm and oh-so ooey-gooey. Suddenly, the rest of the day will instantly seem less harrowing. And yes, milk is also available.

There's only one man who serves up a Chicago-style dog with a side of big Texas personality in downtown Dallas. And that's Vincent Navarro, better known as Uncle Vinny, who can be found at his cart parked somewhere along Main Street, looking out at the world through yellow-tinted shades. Vinny and his sister run the business, Sidewalk City Dogs, out of a warehouse suite in Garland. However, you'll find them vending in downtown. Ask the vendor for the Uncle Vinny special, and he'll take care of you, loading your dog with neon green relish, all the condiments and fresh tomatoes and lettuce. Find a wall to lean on and enjoy your $3 dog.

As it says on the label, "It's gun barrel hot," which translates to darn tasty for those who enjoy a little spice in their lives. This locally jarred goodness can be found at Whole Foods and other area grocers, so you don't have to spend a lot of dough at fancy Mexican restaurants to get your hot 'n' spicy fix. Whether for dumping on a plate of enchiladas or a bag of Tostitos, keeping some in the fridge is a must for any junkie. So head out and grab some Gun Barrel Hot Sauce, but make sure to have a drink handy because it couldn't have stuck around for 20 years if it didn't have some kick.

This is a slightly different spin on traditional Indian food—it's order-up-front as opposed to the more formal sit-down-and-be-served atmosphere, and there's no buffet. Yet for a reasonably-priced Indian meal that's delicious and served in a modern dining room, you can't beat it. They have fantastic lunch combos complete with dessert, delicious chicken tikka masala and navrattan korma (garden veggies with nuts and raisins in a cream sauce), and excellent mango lassis. And in case you're super hungry or just a huge fan of the food, you can opt for the Texas-sized portion of any entrée.

It's not like we have some kind of Little Italy around these parts, from whose neighborhood confines an indigenous Italian restaurant might spring up. So we have to take our Italian food as we do much of our ethnic fares, one restaurant at a time. This time, we bestow the honor of Best Italian Food on Villo-O, a trendy, Travis Walk venue where everything is made from scratch and at a good price point. The "O" in Villa-O stands for three things: organic, original and oddly enough, oceanic, which comports with the yacht-like feel of the place, all dolled up nicely in rich mahoganies and the blue and white décor of an Italian seaside cafe. You'll quickly forget the seafaring scheme, recalling instead a great patio for imbibing and the great food. You'll remember the brick oven pizza—light, not overly cheesy and, well, original; the fried calamari and the mussels marinara, both cooked to near perfection and, well, organic; and the variety of sauces—among them, Wagyu beef Bolognese, puttanesca, vodka tomato—that flow through the many pasta dishes, nothing heavy, nothing overdone, just a delicate balance of flavor that is downright oceanic.

Whether the purpose of your visit is a picnic, dinner party or just an excuse to try a new bottle of wine, Jimmy's selection of Italian wine, cheese, meat and olives is like a veritable trip to the streets of Rome, or at least to Little Italy in New York. The family-owned store has been at its present location since 1966, and family recipes for meatballs and fig cookies lend the place an intimate and historic feel that's impossible to capture at a chain deli or market. In 2006 the store added a special wine room, which is used for tastings and dinners, complete with visits from Italian vineyard owners and winemakers who share with customers their process and product.

Jazz is music that's supposed to be felt. And brunch is a meal defined by leisure and taste. So why not marry these sensory experiences and enjoy some weekly decadence at Brooklyn Jazz Café? Every Sunday from 11:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m., enjoy the soulful sounds from a full-piece jazz band while you enjoy classic eggs Benedict or a giant waffle. The restaurant also has started featuring lunchtime jazz performances Tuesday through Thursday from 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. So grab your sweetheart, enjoy a romantic lunch, or gather the whole family to share some good food and experience great music.

So you live in North Dallas, and it's the weekend, and the Houston's in Preston Center is slammed with Highland Parkies, and the sidewalks seem to roll up before you can say, "Hell no, not again" to the late-night Wendy's drive-through. Well, there is a new choice in town, a future contender for Best Deli if it weren't so new (opened in July) and there weren't still several kinks in the cuisine to be worked out. But it's open until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays and though that's not Deep Ellum late, it's late for folks with baby sitters paid by the hour or clock radios set to go off at 6 a.m. for a White Rock bike ride. Anyway, the bagels are tasty and toasty, and the prices are right, and the Reuben sandwich—the best indicator of deli done right—is done right. The portions could certainly be bigger, but there is no need to eat that heavy in the later hours. For a nosh after a movie or a ballgame, it's a great way to wind down a weekend night in North Dallas.

We're gonna be honest. There's really just one reason why we're naming the Landing for late-night grubbage. And, truly, while the Landing's regular menu rocks, if you've had the late-night corndogs, you really only need one reason. Every night, from 11 p.m. to last call, magical sticked and battered dogs become fair game for the hungry. And they're not your basic corn dogs. No, come midnight these pups can drag a man from his couch and bring a carload from Oak Cliff, with their hearty center care of Rudolph's and a homemade jalapeño batter that isn't too spicy but holds just enough kick to make things interesting. For $2 each, the Landing's corn dogs are the perfect way to end a night out drinking...or a fine reason to head out for a corn dog and cold beer nightcap.

Yes, of course, stop by Creme de La Cookie for the decadent OMG cookies, the "Private Reserve" cookie and the assortment of cupcakes. But while you're there, don't pass up novelties such as the cakeballs, the Nutella brownies, whoopie pies and, best of all, the screamin' O's. This little, single-bite goodie is a crazy concoction of chocolate flavors, including fudgy brownie, creamy ganache and jimmies with just a hint of coffee. Stimulating and relaxing at the same time, this tiny treat really lives up to its name.

Always among the contenders for best burger, Snuffer's has so many good ones that it's hard to pull the trigger. Do you stick with the classic? Add cheese or bacon? Or do you consider the green chili Swiss, mushroom Swiss, pizza, barbecue, blue cheese bacon, turkey or veggie burger? And if you're not in the mood for a burger, there's always our favorite: the spicy chicken strips. With a menu full of tough choices, including their famous cheddar fries, and one of the city's most attentive waitstaff, there's no better place to seek hangover relief from a night on Lower Greenville than Snuffer's.

This is not to say that, in our lives, we haven't enjoyed our fair share of greasy slices from Sbarro and cups of Orange Julius. Just saying that, though the mall may be the quintessential high-schooler hangout, those of us who are aged do crave food slightly more sophisticated than Cinnabon (sorry, Cinnabon). NorthPark, which for so long resisted the mall "food court," finally gave in and brought us an "international food plaza" when they built their addition in 2006. Of course, you still have a few traditional outlets—Chick-Fil-A, Auntie Anne's pretzels—but NorthPark classed it up with Paciugo, Which Wich, Snappy Salads, Tin Star and The Original Soup Man (still the only restaurant location in Texas). Other area malls have tried to be as fancy-schmancy, but have essentially failed, due in part to catering (pun intended) to the high school palate. But NorthPark's still keeping it real tasty. Thanks, guys.

After we watched Fort Worth's Tim Love on Top Chef Masters, he truly earned our respect. He made an impressive trio of dishes—in a dorm room—with accidentally frozen ingredients. But it's away from the cameras and back in the Stockyards kitchens where Love really impresses. His flavor profiles aren't overly complex combinations that shock the palate; they're simple, thoughtful and—when it comes to his Love Shack burgers—oh-so savory. Love grinds fresh daily half prime tenderloin and (a thousand times yes!) half prime brisket for the patties. They're cooked to order on the outdoor grill and, if you order wisely (the Dirty Love Burger), there'll be a fried quail egg atop the American cheese, veggies and Love sauce. The result is tender, juicy, unbelievably messy and perfect. But then, we'd hope the guy who led a trail drive all the way to New York to collect his James Beard Award would know how to cook a good sloppy burger.

So everybody in Dallas orders vodka instead of gin. And the shaken or stirred question never comes up. At least Sevy's understands that, when you deign to order a real (gin) martini, the proper end result requires a balance of spirit and vermouth. And they don't let you get away with uneducated calls. Say "Bombay" and they're likely to ask "regular or Sapphire." You gotta respect a place that respects a martini.

Fogo de Chao is where animals voluntarily surrender to become part of a magical dining experience as opposed to the next Happy Meal. It's where meatatarians—if there was such a term—gather and rejoice that somehow their vision of what meals will be like in heaven has been realized here on Earth. Sure, there's an impressive salad bar with jumbo asparagus available, but true carnivores know to avoid filling up on the leafy crap and turn their place card from red to green, signaling the staff that you're ready to begin your feast. Then it starts. Two kinds of top sirloin are brought to the table followed by lamb, filet mignon, chicken, pork loin, beef ribs, sausage, filet mignon wrapped in bacon, pork ribs, rib eye and chicken wrapped in bacon. Is it worth it at $48.50 for dinner and $32.50 for lunch? You betcha. If only the bill was wrapped in bacon too.

Afghanistan, as a geographic entity, was well-situated to benefit from the Mediterranean's culinary breadth, as well as the unique flavors from the mountainous areas. Spice flowed through the region as early traders traversed the land. And it all winds up here in Dallas, as densely flavored meats, exotic platters, thick and pasty servings of hummus, the beautiful variety of dumplings. Afghan Grill can be one of the most rewarding nights out the city has to offer, especially if you're a fan of things bold and garlicky.

Certainly there's something really odd in cruising past Prada and Fendi displays on your way to a burger counter. And it is that—a wraparound counter shoved into one corner of the Neiman Marcus NorthPark mall location's café...which means you may also encounter women in silly hats on their way to lunch. No matter, the jaunt is worth it, and not only for the burgers. The joint mixes one hell of a shake from two ingredients: Häagen-Dazs ice cream and milk, topped with real whipped cream. Nothing fancy, just a shake rich in flavor, thick enough to suspend a spoon and easy to sip through a straw. Pretty near perfect, in other words.

Everyone knew chef Nick Badovinus could cook. They knew it from his time with Cuba Libre and Hibiscus. But he also has—or had, rather—a penchant for going way over the top. This time, he opts for overt simplicity. He buys mussels from Blue Hill Bay in Maine and steams them in a broth based on white wine, but drawing its complex pungent, sherry-like kick from shallots and roasted tomatoes. To the side he plants slabs of crusty bread. That's it, nothing special...except you want to slurp the broth like a soup and the bread is so thoroughly "at one" with butter, you don't want to let it near the bowl. Or any of your friends near your side of the table. The mussels, the bread—they're good, just as they are.

When we lunch at Angry Dog, we hardly ever move past the appetizers page of the menu. After all, why mess with perfection? Get the Angry Dog nachos—and don't mess around with the half-order; you're gonna want the platter-size full order. When they bring out this massive plate, you'll notice that the chips get a little toasted around the edges, but the center of the pile is dripping with cheese, refried beans, sour cream, guac, and your choice of chicken or beef—or skip the meat, which we sometimes do, and revel in the pure cheesy deliciousness.

Sadly, there seems to be a dearth of decent restaurants in Dallas that are open around the clock. But BuzzBrews, the deliciously quirky little diner next to the Best Western on Central Expressway and Fitzhugh, has opened a new location on Lemmon Avenue. Much larger, with its own parking lot and a nice little bar with rare wines and beer selections, the new restaurant retains the original's character and reliable menu (for breakfast, you can't go wrong with the migas, nopales or French toast and for dinner we recommend the chicken chimichurri) while affording a more spacious and comfortable place to use the free Wi-Fi and get some work done, eat dinner or grab a late-night snack after hitting the bars.

She came to Dallas from Minneapolis at the behest of Wolfgang Puck. In fact, she ran the kitchen at his outpost there, so the big guy has a lot of faith in her work—as well he should, for her range is tremendous. Curry dishes show the subtle layering of flavors that first made such Indian creations popular. When asked to lay on Asian accents, she does so smartly, never allowing one impression to dominate. Even when it comes to whimsical items, such as General Tso's quail, she manages to create something special. Wow factor with balance...not many chefs can pull that off.

We thought we'd miss Bill Addison, the smooth-writin', easy-going gentleman food critic. But Leslie Brenner came storming in from the West Coast (Los Angeles, to be precise) and began kicking some serious ass—as far as daily papers will allow ass to be kicked, anyway. Just look at the way she stripped The Old Warsaw of its faded glory. Sure, there are some points we disagree on. Such is life. Brenner gives the thinning paper back some of its...we were gonna say balls, but we'll stick with attitude.

If one talented chef is good, two will be even better, right? Seems to be the theory behind this far north gem, teaming elder statesman Gaspar Stantic and young (but accomplished) Jean-Marie Cadot, late of Lavandou. The kitchen works in touches of classic French, hints of pan-European and a lot of New American into their creations, to the benefit of diners. The duck terrine can legitimately be called brilliant, studded with pistachios and soothed by truffles. Sauteed escargots rival any in Dallas and the halibut with Champagne sauce, the soufflés...we could keep going. Despite the high-toned menu, this is a casual destination. Wear shorts. Sit back. Relax. Indulge.

A couple years ago, Teiichi Sakurai did something that at the time seemed downright dimwitted. He ditched two stellar restaurants—Tei Tei and Teppo—and headed to Japan to learn about cooking. He's one hell of a student, judging by his new One Arts Plaza venture. Tei An specializes in Japanese noodles: soba and udon, but especially the former. Hand-made, nutty in flavor, when dipped into one of his broth selections (ranging from traditional Japanese to a Texas pecan) they become something exquisite. Tei An is memorable dining and a contender for best new restaurant. Guess in retrospect, he wasn't that dumb after all.

Any place billing itself as "the finest Mennonite restaurant" in the area and handing out matchsticks labeled "Mennonite flashlight" deserves some recognition. But the fact is, this quaint mom-and-pop place stuck in a Garland strip mall serves some damn good (can we say that?) Pennsylvania Dutch/Canadian food. Yes, you read that right. The cook (the mom) is a Mennonite, originally from Canada. Hence the great pies, simple but hearty meals and heaping plates of poutine, that strange Canuck sensation where they drench French fries in gravy and cover the lot with cheese. Really, it's better than it sounds.

As much as we love ice cream dripping with fudge and all manner of other artery-clogging ingredients, occasionally we just need a palate cleanser. What's that you say—fruit? Hmm, if there was only a way to combine delicious frozen treats with fruit...enter Yogilicious. Unlike some frozen yogurts, Yogilicious' brand isn't overly sweet in an attempt to imitate ice cream. Instead their rotation of flavors—from green tea to chocolate to coconut to strawberry—comes off as refreshing, not cloying. Continuing the healthy theme, Yogilicious offers fruit toppings such as pomegranate and blueberry or nuts such as almonds and pecans. Or if you need a little deviousness in your yogurt, veer toward toppings such as Oreos, Fruity Pebbles or sprinkles. While you're there, hang out and play some Wii Sports or Rock Band till you build up a hunger for more fro-yo.

If you've burned yourself out on Café Brazil (and let's face it, we've all done it at one time or another) the Dallas branch of this Southern chain is a more than adequate substitute, serving up everything from Southern crab stacks (a grit cake topped with homemade crab cakes, shrimp and andouille sausage cream sauce) to bananas Foster pancakes. We're slowly working our way through the menu ourselves, but the Hey Ricky!!—a Spanish omelet complete with avocado slices, green chiles, onions and cheese—is easily our favorite so far and probably the best omelet we've ever had 'round these parts. Add a little chorizo and it's even better. Throw in an English muffin, country potatoes and a side of crispy baked bacon and you've got yourself a breakfast to dream about.

The New England-style seafood shack has been around for a while, but they're not afraid to take chances—chances like dumping every kind of shellfish they can think of on some rice and calling it paella. Two small lobster tails, several scallops, some shrimp, mussels and clams. Geez. This is a tour of New England, the equivalent of an all-you-can-eat seafood feast for about $20. There's nothing Spanish about it, but who really cares? If it's on the menu and you think you're up to the task, do it.

OK, so it's a cram-packed little joint. So it doesn't take reservations, and there's no comfortable place to wait. And maybe Campania suits your tastes better. But there's just something about the crust at this tiny SMU destination. Owner Charlie Green supposedly plucked chef Salvatore Olivella from a New York establishment because he refused to start a pie until the wood-fired oven reached the proper temperature...which he checked by reaching in with a bare arm. This kind of care (or monomaniacal lunacy) leads to pizzas set on beautifully charred, smoky, crisp but chewy rounds of dough. So what if they cure their own mozzarella and find the best ingredients? The crust—it's all about the crust.

There's no-man's land as in that boggy space between British and German lines along the Somme and there's the real no-man's land, that gap you speed through when going from Knox-Henderson to West Village, or vice versa. Restaurants don't live very long on this treacherous ground unless they cling stubbornly to such basics as spot-on cooking and reasonable pricing. Helps if they have some back-up too—such as one of the best bartenders in the city. Salum is still there, tucked along Cole, after five or so years. You just never see it.

Behind a high white fence in a leafy little corner of East Dallas is the immaculate freezer plant where the city's best popsicles are made. Sold only from handcarts at a buck apiece by guys who rarely speak English, La Princesa's popsicles are made from fresh fruit and natural flavors only. In fact, if you drop in on the plant someday, you'll see big containers of watermelon, lemons, bananas and other produce trucked in the door to be turned into arctic-cold popsicles. Manufactured according to the best sanitary standards, La Princesa's popsicles stay rock-hard on dry ice in those handcarts. In fact, you want to be careful to give your popsicle a few minutes to warm up before you stick your tongue on it, or you'll wind up with a bad case of Minnesota-tongue, and what a terrible irony that would be in Texas.

Is there anything wrong with giggling a little bit when ordering lunch? Ever tell your co-worker that he has a little sauce on his shirt from his Nooner? Frankly, it's liberating, and it's in no way actionable as long as you've ordered from, or are sitting in, P.D. Johnson's Dog Day Deli. Even though it's owned by two sisters, the place has dick jokes coming out its buns. Bonus? There's nothing like taking a new employee to lunch and not warning them before stepping up to ordering position. "I'd like the Hankie Pankie." Or better yet, "I'll take an average Bone." "A Hot Johnson looks good, but I can only handle a shortie today." But it wouldn't be much fun if the sandwiches weren't any good. They are, though, so joke all you want while you try all manner of Johnsons to determine your fave, you sandwich slut.

Chefs Randall Copeland and Nathan Tate go shopping almost every day. Sometimes they bring in produce from their own gardens, but always they work with local farmers committed to such concepts as "free range," "seasonal" and so forth. Of course this means dishes change constantly. One day they might plate a pork chop with grits. They next, it comes with a salsa and gastrique from local peaches. They even kick things off with an amuse bouche whipped together from their farmers market haul. Local, seasonal, sustainable have become much abused buzz words lately. Whatever—this is a restaurant where you can use those words (and others, like "expressive") to describe every single menu item.

It's a testament to the obsessive persistence of owner Michael Vouras that he could plant his culinary flag on the iffy eastern landscape of downtown Dallas nearly nine years ago and grow his small mom and pop (and grandma) shop into a destination restaurant for so many downtown lunchers. Then again, the food didn't hurt either. Vouras dishes out family recipes that once graced the tables of the high-end Chateaubriand (1958-1982). Wednesday is reserved for crab cakes, and you'd best come early if you want to catch a pair; it's sided with black-eyed peas and coleslaw, which when combined create their own unique great taste. Other daily specials include meatloaf, taco salad and Greek chicken—all good. Soups are all-natural and healthy—culled from grandma's 21 authentic recipes. She also makes the mouthwatering cakes and pies. And with the downtown law school likely opening up next year, and weary law students seeking a quick coffee buzz and breakfast sandwich, the Metropolitan's future seems assured.

This is one cool layout, ya gotta admit. There are two patios, one always covered, the other in full "be seen" view of passing traffic. The building's doors swing open to allow the outside to spill in (or the inside to spill out, depending on one's perspective). This is why you live or hang around in Uptown, right? Of course, you can't really grab one of those great patio tables without arousing the ire of the pretty poseurs. They are everywhere—the bar, the patio, upstairs—crowding you with 36 inches of plastic, knocking you accidentally aside with their Canali-clad elbows. It's why you avoid Uptown too.

There are some downsides...besides the dead shopping center in Frisco part. You pay extra for the fries, first off. And the fries aren't that great. The burgers, on the other hand, rise far, far above Dallas-area standards. Thick, meaty, with a trace of smoke, served on quality bread—this is America on a plate. Their shakes are straightforward good stuff (and they will do you an adult version too). Best of all, you can annoy a spouse or soon-to-be-former girlfriend by pointing to all those Animal House quotes on the wall and replaying the entire scene, verbatim.

Red velvet is the best kind of cake ever—and not because of the 1989 appearance of the armadillo-shaped groom's cake in the film Steel Magnolias. There's something about the cacao-tinged flavor and the rich sweetness of the creamy frosting that's absolutely irreplaceable. Which is why you'd expect a high-quality red velvet cupcake at a high-quality cupcakery like Sprinkles. The bakers there—with their fancy-schmancy designs and pretty accoutrements—know just how to do the Southern specialty right. The taste of their delicious, deep red confections is tough to put into words, but suffice it to say that the Steel Magnolia set would certainly approve.

Red velvet is the best kind of cake ever—and not because of the 1989 appearance of the armadillo-shaped groom's cake in the film Steel Magnolias. There's something about the cacao-tinged flavor and the rich sweetness of the creamy frosting that's absolutely irreplaceable. Which is why you'd expect a high-quality red velvet cupcake at a high-quality cupcakery like Sprinkles. The bakers there—with their fancy-schmancy designs and pretty accoutrements—know just how to do the Southern specialty right. The taste of their delicious, deep red confections is tough to put into words, but suffice it to say that the Steel Magnolia set would certainly approve.

The new-ish Quadrangle space has three key things going for it. First is location, obviously. Second is their no-reservations policy, forcing incoming guests to loiter around the bar until other diners clear out. Finally—and most important—owners Robert Petrie (not the one played by Dick Van Dyke) and Tony Porcaro, who once held sway at Nick & Sam's. Many steakhouse bar patrons seem to have come along with the pair, as weekend evenings are a mix of dinner guests, well-heeled gents, top-heavy babes and, um, professional women. It's Nick & Sam's, only with more light and a smaller age gap.

Who ever heard of Randy Morgan? The Dallas Fish Market chef got his start in Seattle and worked the kitchen at Oceanaire, back when it was good—but no one really mentions his name. Still, few chefs have as much respect for fresh seafood. For the downtown restaurant, he sources the best stock from wherever he can find it: Prince Edward Island (mussels), Alaska (crab), Maine (lobster), Hawaii (swordfish), Louisiana (redfish), the Columbia River (sturgeon) and so on. He not only cooks the stuff, but presents his own take on sushi. Which is all meant to say there's something for every sort of fish lover here—and we're not the only ones who think so. Bon Appetit placed Dallas Fish Market at No. 5 in their list of the nation's top seafood spots.

No doubt there is something magical about the number 3: In rhetorical flourishes (life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness), in religion (the Holy Trinity, the Three Patriarchs, the Three Holy Cities of Islam), in nuclear accidents (Three Mile Island). Now that same magic has spread to the culinary rage known as the slider, which is most often served in threes. Derived from White Castle hamburgers and named for the ease with which the greasy treats slide down the gullet, these mini-burgers have been reincarnated into high-end gourmet globs, using salmon, fried oysters, crab, etc. to make their point. We feel the Porch makes that point better than most, with its chopped brisket sliders, an appealing appetizer of barbecued beef, creamy coleslaw and horseradish-infused pickles served on a small bun. No need to dip into the side of barbecue sauce, which seems like an embarrassment of riches. Instead you'll be searching for adjectives to describe this sweet, tangy, mouth-watering concoction. There, that's three.

Note we didn't say most authentic—'cause in this case we don't much care about authenticity. Green Papaya's version of the Vietnamese staple is big (as Texas) and hearty (as a motherf...never mind). There are fancier soups out there too. But the Oak Lawn restaurant's pho is simple and satisfying, which is all you really want. The broth itself sends warm shivers of meatiness down your spine, but you can add a choice of beef, chicken or meatballs (try the latter). Spiked with onion and cilantro and full of noodles, it's more than just a modernized, Texafied pho. It's a meal.

With some 500 seats to fill, the kitchen at Pappas Bros. has to work hard, not just to meet the demands of a dinner rush, but to create that demand, as well. They do it with cuts—slabs, rather—of prime beef they age for up to 40 days and grill to a rare perfection. That sheen of pan juices and seasoning burned onto the skin, the oh-so-delicate rare center...this is meat heaven. More than that, really, for they employ several wine stars to find the right match for your meal and furnish one of the city's most extensive cellars. Yes, it's an expensive place. But, damn, the memory of those steaks will stay with you for a long time after.

The Grape is the kind of place you want to huddle in on a Sunday: low-key, casual atmosphere with great food...and unlike Denny's, it's dark enough inside no one can see your bloodshot eyes. But really, it's all about the food. You can go meaty, with steak frites. Need something old-fashioned and hearty? They serve oxtail hash. If you're in the mood for a fancy meal, then you can order rainbow trout. But if you want something Denny's-ish (only prepared by a great chef), they'll whip up griddlecakes, waffles, or bacon and eggs too.

Lest you think there's only so much one can do to improve a slice of raw fish, allow sushi chef Kiyomi Sano to set you straight. Yeah, there's the whole attitude thing. The place is consciously hip, to say the least. But Kenichi has thrived through Victory Park's death throes thanks to delicate fish, chef Bodhi Durant's "badass" tuna tacos (we told you—attitude) and, most of all, the sake know-how of sommelier Hung Nguyen, who gained Level 2 certification from the Sake Educational Council of Tokyo, making him the leading expert in Texas and one of only 40 or so Level 2 masters in the world. His assistant, by the way, holds Level 1 status. So, piece of fish, great sake, perfect pairing—we're in.

The best part of shopping at this Whole Foods is that when you inevitably get hungry at the sight of all that food, all you have to do is mosey over to the bar once you've filled your cart. The salad fixings are broad and varied, from healthy greenery to hard-boiled eggs and at least three different kinds of tuna salad. The hot food bar offers a number of different things depending on the night, from home-style meat and mashed potatoes to Indian, Asian or North African. And once you've made your selection, you can enjoy your meal on the patio or inside while gazing at the big, bright tropical fish tank.

You can make an argument for Asian Mint, of course, but Royal Thai takes its regal title seriously. And it's not easy to depose a king when they turn out perfectly balanced pad Thai. Look beyond the world's go-to Thai noodle dish, and you'll find odd, fierce and refreshing combinations like pla goong, full of lemongrass, mint and burning peppers. There's even Texas-pleasing cuts of flank steak. Service is solid, the cooking consistent and the restaurant well-deserving of its longevity.

Prepare yourself, because the next few sentences might make you grab your car keys and take a drive to Uptown. Have you ever wondered what's better than artery-clogging bacon? Artery-clogging bacon that is wrapped around chicken. What's better than artery-clogging bacon wrapped around chicken? When the chicken is stuffed with Monterey Jack cheese and jalapeños on a skewer, with sides of ranch and cayenne sauce for your dipping pleasure. Keys in hand yet? You can find this mouthwatering dish, the Baja Chicken, at Mattito's in Dallas. It's an Uptown favorite on the corner of Routh and Cedar Springs. Go. Go now.

We were sitting there, staring at the menu, thinking about just what we wanted to order. But a steady stream of bartenders from nearby establishments kept walking in, ordering "mushroom toast" to go. OK, we'll bite...and damn, are we glad we did. Warm, bittersweet points of charred bread slathered in goat cheese peek through a sauce supreme laden with mushrooms. Then their warm bread salad shows up: butter-soaked cubes tossed with greens and nice, salty ham, covered with a fried egg. These are salads on steroids, salads major league players from the '90s would love. Filling, meaty, fatty friggin' meals. Old bread and some other stuff. Who'd have thought it?

Blythe Beck, chef at this ground-level space in the Hotel Palomar, doesn't believe in treading lightly. There's no 2 percent milk in her kitchen, no low-cal dinners on her menu. And no way in hell will she even go near I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. Nope, she fries just about everything. And in her sauces—every one of them—she piles in either real butter, whole cream or both. The resulting sauces are outrageously decadent. Tasting them, you realize why the old French chefs put such stock in heavy ingredients: They are so damn good. They also stick—to the food, to the roof of your mouth and to your ever-growing hips.

Ah, the musty, oily, stringy character of goat meat. For some reason it hasn't caught on in, you know, the civilized world. But a sample of Inca's seco de cabrito might have you second guessing first-world values. Yeah, it's all that we said—musty, oily, stringy, with bits of bone and gristle thrown in for that extra oomph. Still, there's a rustic, gamy quality that keeps drawing you in, as a good stew should. And although the fibers fall into long strands, they are tender and thoroughly marinated, providing dense, earthy notes that match well to sides of beans and steamed yucca. In the end, it's not at all gruff.

In Dallas, the lychee is quite the underrated, underused fruit. It's fragrant and sweet, tender to eat and fun to free from its bumpy red rind. Normally it's sold in Asian markets—where people are familiar with what a cool ingredient it is—and rarely lauded elsewhere as it is on the drink menu of Lumi Dumpling & Empanada Kitchen. The Lumi Lychee, for instance, combines mango rum, lychee and tart cranberry for a sweet treat whose strength sneaks up on you just when you decide it's time to pry the floating lychee out of the martini glass with your fingers and eat it. The lychee mojito is also deceptively sweet, but adventurous with its exotic twist on the usual mojito recipe. Girl drinks perhaps they are, but it's nice to see the lychee get some play around these parts. And since it's high in vitamin C, it might actually help with its own hangover. Hmm, we might need more research for that...

This small, mostly outdoor eatery (albeit with plastic covering and stylish décor, including crisp white tablecloths) specializes in vegetarian, raw and vegan dishes, and their salads and faux-lasagna don't disappoint. Yet the most intriguing attraction is the "elixirs," which the Web site describes as "medicinal liquid potions" complete with phytochemicals and antioxidants. We're not sure what all that means, nor were we sure what to think when we opted for a drink called, "Rainforest Bliss: Chocolate Bliss with rainforest rush peak cell function booster" (it was a toss-up between that and the "Cosmic Dharma Latte: A full-on medicinal cinnamon explosion that lifts you up and rawks your day!") The cacao-filled wonder was different and delicious—with hints of orange and vanilla flavors. Whether or not its health-enhancing powers are as great as the menu claims, this is no doubt a scrumptious departure from the average beverage menu.

The first time you pull up to the dump that is Mai's, you think, "No way in hell I'm going in there. I'm too young to die." Oh, but once you actually risk it...Yes, there are plenty of authentic hole-in-the-wall spots in Garland serving great pho or bun mang vit. But Mai's is across-the-board wonderful, from rich noodle dishes, steaming clay pot creations, the delicate rolls, the fiery spices to, well, everything on the menu. There's a reason the place has become a Dallas dining mainstay. And a reason we keep coming back, again and again.

It's one thing when servers show proper deference and reach in from the correct side. What sets the staff at Coast apart has little to do with such mannerisms. Although they are tidy, there's nothing special in their approach. But when we asked about a dish, these guys knew the details. When called upon to repeat specials, they did so without hesitation. When they recommended something, it turned out to be very much worthwhile. And, most important, they made no mistakes on our visits. Hope they keep it up.

Web extra: Hear from some of Dallas's new and unheralded chefs in our video feature.

It's cliché to paint Dallas as a city that likes things big. Whether it be stadiums, scandals or the name recognition of chefs at the restaurants we flock to, size has always mattered in these parts. We cheered Kent Rathbun, chef-owner of Abacus, not only for his achievements on the television hit Top Chef, but also for hoisting a moose head with his bare hands during the course of that series. And it was only a couple years ago when venues opened by a couple of the area's most famous kitchen celebrities-Stephan Pyles and Dean Fearing-took turns capturing popular fancy.

They still hold sway, these big-name chefs. But since the moose incident and the glitzy grand openings, a group of nobodies began poking giant holes in our starry facade. As Dallas Fish Market neared completion, the owners tapped Randy Morgan to head the kitchen, and he quickly turned the downtown space into the city's finest seafood restaurant. Young Julian Barsotti arrived and his place, Nonna, quickly put a stop to all that "Dallas has no good Italian" talk. Then along came Graham Dodds at Bolsa, an Oak Cliff destination dedicated to fresh, local and seasonal ingredients-and last year's hottest new establishment.

This year has been much the same. Nick Badovinus' return to the scene caused considerable buzz and two-hour waits for dinner at Neighborhood Services. More recently, Marc Cassel stepped back into the kitchen after a two-year hiatus, stirring much the same frenzy. Yet at the same time, the unknown (in this market) Sarah Johannes filed into the other much ballyhooed new restaurant, Wolfgang Puck's Five-Sixty. Almost immediately critics began mentioning her work alongside that of Anthony Bombaci (Nana) and Avner Samuel (Aurora). Jean-Marie Cadot worked quietly in North Dallas' Lavendou for quite some time, drawing little media attention. In 2009, he joined with chef Gaspar Stantic, setting up Cadot-a contender for best new restaurant. Out in Rockwall, Randall Copeland and Nathan Tate's AVA followed Bolsa's local-seasonal lead.

"I think there's been a grassroots movement for four or five years now, but people weren't necessarily aware of it," Copeland says of the so-called "locavore" trend, which has allowed some of these new chefs to break into the culinary spotlight. "The guys at Bolsa had no idea the people that would come-it's working."

Many of these new restaurants have adopted the local-seasonal-sustainable mantra to some extent. They've also been willing to discard the perks of a once pretentious scene, refusing to accept reservations, welcoming diners clad in non-designer jeans or even shorts, packing tables close together and so on. Unlike the 500-seat steak palaces that dominated fine dining in the late '90s boom, these guys think simple and small. Bella in Uptown boasts room for perhaps 50 guests. Lumi, the fun Asian-Brazilian dumpling spot on McKinney Avenue, allows for about the same, but parking for maybe 15 cars. Bolsa doesn't even offer valet parking. One of the owners, Chris Zielke, encourages new arrivals to pull up on the sidewalk. "Hey, this is Oak Cliff," he says, deliberately shrugging at big-city niceties. By consciously breaking traditional Dallas rules ("I grew up here and didn't know there were four seasons," Copeland points out, explaining the city's reluctance to join the "slow foods" movement), these chefs have eroded the tiers that defined nightlife for so long. One now sees ballgame attire at Bob's and Al Biernat's, while almost every restaurant with aspirations for success touts organic dishes.

For his part, Barsotti eschews over-engineered dishes. "When I go over there [to Italy]," he says, "I come back inspired to be simplistic." David Pedack even took a step back, opening a bar on Henderson-Blue Collar Bar-featuring mid-century blue plate items, such as Salisbury steak.

The big boys have, of course, taken notice. Rathbun followed Pedack's lead with a more extravagant Blue Plate Kitchen. And Pyles is ready to throw open the doors on an "international small plates" destination called Samar.

However fresh these faces may seem to the local dining crowd, the rising stars have spent considerable time in professional kitchens. Copeland served as sous chef at the Green Room and then in Las Vegas before AVA. "It took me a good couple years-watching, asking questions," Morgan says of his seafood apprenticeship, which included a stint with Oceanaire. "There are so many ways and combinations to do fish." Christopher Short of the outstanding Bella served as executive chef for the Crescent Court and for The Mansion's private dining program. "It's not as glamorous as people think," he says of restaurant life. "You gotta have strong legs under you, because the day is long and the weeks get longer.

"True enough. But their work is changing the way Dallas perceives both dining and celebrity. For the first time in quite awhile, smaller is better.

Our Yiddish mama told us we'd never get a good bagel in Dallas—not until H&H moved down here from NYC, hah! But a few months back we stumbled across the most extraordinary thing: a hot everything bagel straight from the Central Market ovens. It was a revelation—not because it was H&H awesome (someone once wrote of those offerings that they taste like hot marshmallows...mmmmm, hot marshmallows), but because it was so crispy-perfect on the outside and steamy-moist on the inside and needed not a smidge of cream cheese to make it palatable. Seriously. Central Market. Don't believe us? We'll meet you there tomorrow morning. Bring your empty stomach. And, sure, some lox.

From the '20s to the '50s—a golden age if you ignore depression, war, racism and gray flannel suits—traveling businessmen lived on the blue plate special, a diner's issue of a meat and two sides for one low price. The institution died out, thanks to the proliferation of even cheaper fast-food stands...that is until economic tides turned and guys like David Pedack recognized an opportunity. The owner of Blue Collar Bar built his small kitchen (it's a bar first) around the blue plate special concept. Hey, mashed potatoes, green beans and Salisbury steak? In times like these, that's living.

For 21 years the garden on Fitzhugh has been a key element in the very soul of East Dallas—three-quarters of an acre of raised beds cultivated by people who came here in the 1980s as refugees from war and pogrom in Southeast Asia. Even now on any Saturday morning after 9 a.m. you can wander in through the front gate and feel suddenly suffused with the calm and dignity of a far place and time. You can also get the best deal in town on a great big bunch of basil—a fat brick of it for a buck. Same for lots of other spices and produce. It's worth the trip just for the scenery, but all the way home, your car will be perfumed by the serene scent of fresh-cut greenery. No phone at the garden, but you can call Don Lambert of Gardeners in Community Development at 972-231-3565 or e-mail him at [email protected].

Chefs sometimes try too hard with these little critters. The trick, however, is to let the flavor of the oysters course through everything else—the crust, the dipping sauce, even through the beer you wash it down with. Hence the genius of the fried oysters at this massive Las Colinas shed. The shell releases a crispy-sweet background and the sauce...oh, the sauce: just a dollop on each, exploding for a moment in bright tomato, yanked to earth by root vegetables, scored by pepper—and then it all subsides, leaving you with the taste of shellfish. Nice.

OK, let's get this out of the way: Gas station food scares us. It just seems like food preparation is the last thing the guy behind the counter is concerned about, which is why we generally stick to buying packaged snacks. So when 7-Eleven last year introduced a menu of hot foods including pizza, chicken wings and chicken tenders, we were skeptical to say the least. But desperation makes you do funny things sometimes, and one day we pulled the trigger on a slice of pizza. Was it Campisi's good? Hell no, but it was good. We mixed in some chicken taquitos and other items here and there throughout the year, further allaying our fears. Eventually we determined that when you throw in the snack selection and Slurpees, 7-Eleven isn't such a scary place to pick up a quick meal after all.

For anyone who's tasted the gelato in Italy, coming back to the United States and settling for the gelato here feels like cruel and unusual punishment. That is until we found a gelato in the States that we actually liked, and it turns out it's made right here in Big D. Talenti, which can be found at Whole Foods, Sprouts, Tom Thumb and Kroger, uses freshly pasteurized milk, extra fine pure cane sugar, fresh fruits and ingredients from Belgium, Papua New Guinea, the Philippines and Argentina. Additionally, Talenti gelato is crafted by hand in small batches as opposed to manufactured in a large industrial plant. It's this attention to detail that brings us back to Italy, if only until we take the last bite.

This Bishop Arts District restaurant put everyone interested in Greek food through a scare earlier this year when they abruptly shut down. Fortunately, chef Kelly Hightower reopened his café a few days later. Times are tough, especially for chef-run joints. But one taste of his spanakopita or souvlaki or juicy strips of gyro meat and you'll wonder why the place encounters such trouble. Hightower learned his trade at places like The Mansion and Tei Tei—and you can tell. Wood-fired pizzas, extraordinary octopus carpaccio...we only hope it's around next year.

Who wants ice cream in the middle of winter? We want it when it's 100-plus degrees, when our thighs stick to the patio chairs and nothing sounds better than cold refreshment. And yet, it's nigh impossible to get peppermint ice cream anytime other than the Christmas holidays. Except, of course, at the strange chain of restaurant/convenience stores called Braum's. Sure you can get a grainy, chemical-tasting shake at some fast-food drive-through, but why would you when many Braum's are open till 11 p.m.? When they scoop up that real, thick, premium ice cream into that shake-maker, we immediately start to salivate. You may face, uh, a diverse crowd and long lines (especially late at night), but when they hand you that minty, freshly swirled, too-thick-to-use-a-straw concoction, you'll know it was worth the wait.

Sure, all the Goody Goody stores are good. For selection and especially price, they outrank every other shop in the metro area. What costs $25 at, say, Pogo's runs in the $19 region at Goody Goody. We like the Addison location because it is expansive. And that means large. And that means they stock more than some of the other stores—two long rows of vodka, one dedicated to gin. Whiskeys broken into regions, with dozens of selections for Canadians alone. Yeah, they skimp a little on single malts, but not on bourbon. Need to satisfy that Lillet or Aquavit craving? No problem.

We've sorta given up on teaching Dallas the difference between a cocktail and a mixed drink. Simply put, for a real, manly margarita you have to special order at Javier's or Monica's. The great thing about Masaryk's version is this: While it may not carry the same tart, bittersweet, husky punch, you can just say "I want a margarita" and they bring you something that is good, refreshing and potent. You can taste the tequila, in other words. And that puts Masaryk miles ahead of most every other restaurant in Dallas.

This Oak Cliff restaurant is little known outside the neighborhood and the city's core of gourmands willing to travel for a good meal. It's a family-type place, and all they do is recreate the smells and flavors the chef and owner knew from Mexico's Veracruz region—which means a long list of seafood plates: spicy diabla shrimp, fried red snapper, a local seafood stew and assorted uses of octopus (including the playful octopus cocktail). Most of it is very authentic. Oh, they break from tradition from time to time, but the heart of this casual spot is in Veracruz.

After 20 years in business, owner Rick Merlin explains that one of his keys to success is staying open 362 days a year—only closing for Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Day. "If sun's up, we're open," he says. Merlin admits that Sugarless DeLite is hardly a discount store, with items like $10 barbecue sauce on the shelf, but he provides a sanctuary for those avoiding fats and sugar, and people have proved willing to pay a little extra for chocolate, cheesecake and yogurt without the guilt that comes with it. Yup, nearly everything baked and sold at Sugarless DeLite has no sugar and no fat, including the margarita mixes. As Merlin says, "We're the store where your friend who lost 30 pounds shops."

We make the drive out Garland Road for TC Shaved Ice more than a few times every summer. And some of us live in Oak Cliff. But it's worth the trip, as TC's serves the finest, smoothest snow in all of Dallas, along with neglected flavors like amaretto, blackberry, margarita and nectar. You can't go wrong with the classics here, either—the piña colada's our personal fave, but they've got all the wedding cake, root beer, pink lady and cherry you can handle too. (Not to mention the fact that nearby White Rock Lake is the perfect place to enjoy a snow cone on a hot summer day.) Just bring cash, as they don't take credit cards. And if possible, wear a bib.

If you've been searching for an authentic taco stand with tasty morsels that rival those served up at Fuel City but do so in a more authentic atmosphere that conjures rural Mexico, this is your place. The tacos al pastor boast just the right amount of spice and generous amounts of cilantro, and the beef and chorizo are up to par too. The more adventurous taco connoisseurs can opt for the tongue or intestines, and as convenience would have it, there's a liquor store next door where you can grab a Corona or Negra Modelo to wash it all down.

Yeah, yeah—cheating a bit. Dali doesn't have the largest cellar, and they are a wine bar as much as a restaurant. But Joel Harloff is one of the most accomplished chefs in Dallas. People visit the place for his cooking as much as for the wine selection. And the One Arts Plaza establishment has accumulated some of the most knowledgeable drinking professionals in the city, starting with owner Paul Pinnell. Expertise in pairing to food and personal taste matters, after all. As an added bonus, they have a retail sales outlet—the Cellar—offering some interesting and hard-to-find labels.