Best Chinese 2005 | August Moon | Best of Dallas® 2020 | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Dallas | Dallas Observer
Buffets, MSG, goo, glop. Chinese in Dallas is mostly high-horsepower gullet ballast. But the food at August Moon is deft. Seafood bisque imperial is packed with king crab, shrimp, scallops and calamari in a "bisque" of chicken broth and egg whites. Whole red snapper is sweet and moist with shredded pork, snow peas, shiitake mushrooms and bamboo shoots in sweet soy-vinegar hot Hunan sauce bunched up against the hull. Kung pao chicken is moist with stinking rose fragrance. Instead of muddled, the flavors are lithe and distinct. And as Confucian teachings dictate, where pork moo-shis and appetizers pu-pu, there must be buffet tables, and August Moon has the most beautifully elaborate buffet table you'll find outside of Reno.

Readers' Pick
Pei Wei Asian Diner Multiple locations
Chinese food delivery is always an iffy proposition. Just looking at some of the menus we find on our front door on a regular basis can induce some sort of psychosomatic food poisoning. That, however, doesn't mean we haven't tried them. And it certainly doesn't mean we haven't regretted it. But there's one delivery place that has never let us down, and that's Yin's Wok. Lunch specials, which fall somewhere in the $5 range, come with the choice of steamed rice or fried rice, a spring roll, soup and, of course, a fortune cookie. Veggie lovers will be delighted with vegetable delight; those not counting calories will salute General Tso's chicken; and all of the lo mein dishes rank high on our list. While Yin's could win on taste alone, it also gets props for customer service. From phone call to delivery, everyone is so nice, we don't even mind when we get a crappy fortune.
India Palace gushes with fine interior appointments--and pink. The large space is portioned into separate rooms where candles flicker and chandeliers glow. Pink drips from the walls and linens. The servers are finely dressed. Hooch is available. The breads--warm naan, a leavened white bread; tandoori roti, unleavened wheat bread; and aloo paratha, wheat bread stuffed with potatoes and peas--is delicious. Just about everything has a deft touch. Chicken tikka Marsala, diced tandoori chicken cooked in a tomato, onion and herb cream sauce, is lush, with juicy, firm pieces of meat. Vegetable samosas are remarkable. But it's the dishes employing the balti cooking technique that arouse the most. Balti shrimp and chicken, served in a silver dish with two tiny looped handles on the sides, is drenched in a lusty, aromatic sauce with pieces of moist, tender chicken. Nothing pink there.

Readers' Pick
Clay Pit Grill & Curry House 4460 Belt Line Road, Addison 972-233-0111
Wine lists don't have to be as thick as the tax code. They don't have to be as ostentatious as a set of Park Cities fingers. They just have to be concise and make sense within the context of the menu while they challenge, pique and intrigue. This little list does all of that. The wines are smart, unexpected and beg you to experiment, so designate drivers. The white part of the list kicks Chardonnays down the field and opens with some of the most food-friendly varietals: Albarino, Roussane, Viognier and Sauvignon Blancs from new and old globe corners. Pinot Gris and Riesling hold up the back end, straddling Australia, California and Germany and tantalizing with an Austrian Gruner Veltliner. Of course there are sparklers, a couple from Veneto, Italy even. The red section sheds some Cabernet/Merlot bulk in favor of Syrah, Nebbiolo, Cabernet Franc and Tempranillo, wines that normally work better with food than those ham-fisted wines with the big scores. Plus, Taste has 35 wines by the glass. Sassy.

Readers' Pick
The Grape Restaurant 2808 Greenville Ave. 214-828-1981
A city of high-maintenance winos needs a few good sommeliers. For uninitiated inebriates, sommelier is just a French word for guy who brings you wine. Anyone can mumble "very good, sir" and trot out the bottle of swill you ordered. Lincicome excels at the delicate art of pairing wine with menu items and individual tastes. Love big, bold cabernets but prefer fish? No problem. We've even challenged him to find a bottle to suit a table of four with distinctly different and two very adamant drinkers, one wanting a sweeter wine and one demanding dry. He found a perfect solution. After more than a decade of experience, he still studies fermented grapes from each region, so he's able to recommend the usual French and California varietals, but also bottles from Australia, Argentina, Oregon, etc. Keep in mind there are other talented sommeliers in Dallas with similar pairing skills and a strong aptitude for guzzling. We mean sipping, of course. But Lincicome manages it all with a great depth of knowledge. He's a stickler for tradition, shunning wines produced with artificial "oaking." Yet he's no snob. For us poorer folk, he's quite willing to select a, shall we say, modest bottle and will discuss cheap but decent wines at great length.
Do not, repeat, do not let the word "lager" fool you. In fact, in the name "Rahr Blonde Lager," perhaps you should concentrate on the word "blonde," because this beer is more fun to drink than just about any other lager out there. The brewery describes the flavor as "rounded maltiness" with good reason: There's a heft to the sweet, grainy flavor completely unlike any watery, mass-produced lager. Crisp without being sharp. Bright with just a know what? Just go try the stuff. It's a damn good beer, made right here in the area.
You can do whatever you want to fries. You can pour industrial Velveeta on them and blast them with bacon bits; you can serve them with 14 varieties of Wishbone; you can braid them with beads of French's and Heinz; or you can cut them as thin as thong string, dust them with herbs and call them frites. But we like them Hibiscus simple: thin-cut, crisp, greaseless, sprinkled with parsley (if you must) and pebbled to hell and back with sea salt. Serve them on a white cloth napkin in a porcelain bowl for that black-tie effect and stomp your carb calculator under your boot heel. Dig in. Is there more to say?

Readers' Pick
Snuffer's Multiple locations
Celebration feels like a vacation. It has the smell of a hunting lodge, with lots of wood, stone and simple copper-topped tables. There are no appetizers, so decisions are focused. There are no reservations. Just rib-sticking meals you used to get at your great aunt's house before she discovered Emeril and sank your inheritance into a Viking range. You can even get seconds if you want them. Salads come in big bowls with tongs and an armada of croutons. Mashed potatoes, cheesed-out broccoli and squash come, too, plus rolls with a bowl of butter, the kind you used to get at Howard Johnson's. Dessert? Berry pies and coconut cream are waiting to inflate your spare all-season radial. Take a whiff and wolf down.

Readers' Pick
The McKinney Avenue La Duni's better known and more crowded, so please, God, whatever you do, don't tell anyone we prefer this location; enough, already, with the crowds. But we're resigned to the fact that the secret's out about this spot, which is a little darker and more cramped inside but somehow a little superior to the other joint. It may have something to do with better service, too; we've had Sunday brunch on McKinney turn into Monday lunch on more than one occasion. The food's wonderful at both, of course, especially owner Dunia Borga's pastries, which she often makes at the public kitchen at the Oak Lawn locale; you haven't lived till you've had her cuatro leches cake (not to mention the homemade gelato and the La Duni Café con Leche Sundae). But we come for the breakfasts: popovers full of egg and ham and Gruyre, the salsa-baked eggs and the cinnamon brioche French toast. There's nothing like La Duni in town; it's one of the reasons we live here in the first place.

Readers' Pick
Blue Mesa Grill 7700 W. Northwest Highway 214-378-8686
Ever since our first visit to Miami, we've been hooked on the Cuban sandwich--not the slab-o'-pork crammed between two slices of cardboard they're serving up at Little Havana but the real thing, which melts in your mouth before it even hits your tongue. See, with a good Cuban sandwich, it's not just about the pork and pickles and melted cheese, but the bread, which has to be tender and sweet, like our high-school girlfriend. At this Northwest Dallas joint, they serve up a proper Cuban--and with a rum punch more powerful than Superman, too, as well as some of the best fried plantains and conch fritters and jerked chicken and coconut shrimp this side of Key West. But see, the thing is you gotta come here on Friday and Saturday to guarantee you'll get the full menu. That's when the place is hoppin', literally, as the restaurant gives way in nighttime hours to a dance hall full of cool vibes and cold punch.

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