So what the heck is a lavosh sandwich? Basically, it's a wrap. Lavosh is the Middle Eastern name for the tortilla-like flatbread that Expressions smears with herb cream cheese, fills with fresh vegetables and a pick of meats (bacon, turkey, roast beef or ham) and then folds into a neat packet. It's served with either pasta salad or a bag of chips, which makes for a filling, healthy and economical lunch. If KFC can have wraps, why not the sunny little bakery and deli?

Aside from a quaint, comfortable setting and kind service, Mia's is home to some outstanding homemade flour tortillas. It's one thing to eat good Mexican food. It's another to eat good Mexican food with good tortillas. Ah, gluttony. From the quesadillas to the enchiladas, anything made with the tortillas is outstanding--and hard to resist. Enjoy, eat like a Jenny Craig dropout, then unbuckle that belt button and pray for a paramedic to make a surprise, and overdue, appearance.

Is the food at this colorful little restaurant, tucked away in the corner of a shopping center, authentic Thai cuisine? Beats us. We've never been further east than Alabama. Whatever it is, Chow Thai's chow is certainly delicious. To avoid embarrassing ourselves--or, through mispronunciation, accidentally insulting our server--we generally just point at the menu and drool. Pla rad pik--say that three times fast--is a favorite: a fried whole red snapper in a basil-chili sauce that is crispy, flaky, sweet and hot. Most dishes can be ordered from mild to scorching. Try the latter, but have plenty of Thai iced tea on hand. When you order something "very spicy" here, they don't hold back.

If cuisine were weaponry, the Germans and the Poles would rule the world, so frightening is their grub. Yet once they ruled it, they'd have to contend with the Irish, a people whose cuisine is the equivalent of an indigestible doomsday bomb. Yet their grub can be civilized. Stumbling around Dallas for more than 10 years, The Tipperary Inn shut down for several months last year to have new pub guts transplanted and a new refined temperament installed. It now features an Irish bar lifted from a Dublin mayor's one-time domicile, a phone booth and stained-glass windows installed in snuggly booths. It even has bookcases with actual books, for those who like to keep track of their intake via gradually collapsing literacy. Plus, The Tipp has an upscale menu, if that is possible in the world of rashers and boxty. The Tipp serves oysters on the half-shell squirted with Guinness, grilled quail, damn good fish and chips, and grilled filet mignon.

Impeccable execution is the key to superb sushi. That, and a disciplined reverence for presentation and service. Teppo, which means iron cuisine, embraces all of these things. Teppo sushi is briny, cool, firm and moist--from the sea urchin to the octopus. The Teppo roll is a glorious thing of fleshy vibrancy. The core is a rich rose of salmon mingled with cucumber and carrot threads. The exterior is draped with sheets of yellow tail and sections of avocado with the edges punctuated with sesame seeds. It's a sensory barrage of balanced flavor and textural elegance. And it's no doubt rich in iron, too.

Its plush and cutting-edge tones are choreographed with dramatic angles, jarring plunges and hard surfaces softened by sloping ceiling soffits, rounded angle points, rich wood, deep reds and sumptuous fabrics. And chef/owner Kent Rathbun's food employs as much dipping, lunging, sloping and breathy sweeping as the atmosphere, albeit with more aroma. Rathbun draws from a variety of influences--Asian, New American, Southwestern--stirring them in his state-of-the-art kitchen to craft atypical compositions that astonish without alarming. To keep things graspable, Abacus embraces consistency: The food is uniformly clean and top-notch, while the hectic décor follows an endlessly repeated design cue: squares tucked within squares. Everything in this restaurant is just a little offbeat, and perhaps no other presents unusual opulence and elaborateness as shrewdly. The bathrooms are clean and well-appointed, too. Fancy that.

It's gooey, buttery, crunchy, tangy and warm. It's all of the delicious things your mother used to do to baked dessert that no professional can duplicate. And it feels so much better going down than that other buckle mother used to dish out.

If it swims, dips, dives, plunges, splashes, surfs, crawls or propels, chef Tom Fleming and his kitchen crew will steam, sauté, broil, sear, poach, grill and shuck it until it sings all the way down and hums all the way out.

Even those who cringe at the thought of reading the list of ingredients on a package of hot dogs should feel at ease with Angry Dog's namesake, an all-beef hot dog served with mustard, chili, onions and cheese and a side of fries. And with all the toppings, the perennial question of why hot dogs and hot dog buns aren't manufactured to be the same length won't come to mind, either.

Though the menu is more a Med hybrid than straight Greek grub, the food is clean, colorful and voluptuous. The wine program is excellent, and the brunch is terrific. Greek brunch? Yeah, and it isn't just a bunch of breakfast cereal characters standing in for Greek gods, either. Ziziki's brunch buffet slings eggs with feta cheese, croissants, bagels, muffins, slices of roast lamb and Greek salads. Plus, they serve a little champagne and orange juice for the Sunday bacchanalia. Ziziki's