Best Italian Restaurant 2007 | Riccardi's Italian Dining & Lounge | Best of Dallas® 2020 | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Dallas | Dallas Observer
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There's a joke among Dallas' culinary gentry that the best place for decent Italian is York Street, Sharon Hage's jewel where only the holy spirit of Tuscan cookery haunts her menu. That's why Riccardi's is such a surprise. It not only serves distinctive cuisine from owner Gaetano Riccardi's hometown of Avellino (near Naples), it bottles three of its own wines from the province of Avellino: a Greco di Tufo (white); the oldest variety of Avellino, the nutty and fruit forward Fiano di Avellino (white); and the rich and earthy Riccardi Taurasi, a red wine made from the Aglianico grape that is flush with food-friendly sharpness that unravels layers of balanced complexity. The menu includes spectacularly executed crimson sheers of carpaccio strewn with capers, and a creamy risotto mare blooming with plump shrimp, sweet lobster and tender calamari rings. It also has the unexpected, like the sausage- and pistachio-stuffed quail in a rich brandy sauce. Savor this in understated elegance that pools crisp contemporary edges with smooth traditional slopes and curves expressed in frescos, columns and wrought iron loops.
You can get a heart attack just reading about it: A baked ham and Swiss sandwich soaked in rich cream sauce. But La Madeleine's Croque Monsieur, which is French for "Mister, you're going to croak if you eat this," is worth the year or two it will take off your life. All the main ingredients work perfectly together; the ham doesn't overwhelm the Swiss, which co-exists peacefully with the sauce, which seeps just right onto the warm bread. Like most of La Madeleine's fare, the Croque is a little pricey, but, then again, it's also filling enough to tide you well past the dinner hour.
We've neglected our old friend of late, and it has made us sad. Long ago, during the beginning of Bill Clinton's age of prosperity and peace, this place was our home-away-from. Late at night, the din of Deep Ellum still ringing in our ears, or early in the morning, on the way to our battered former HQ on Commerce Street, this diner—its seats sparkly red, its walls wooden brown, its surfaces covered in a fine sheen of...something—this diner would be our coffee-and-cigarettes-and-big-effin'-grin be all and end all. Bacon and eggs and burgers and fries and ham and steak and everything else, that was extra, the greasy solutions to the hangover brewing all over. But the coffee...it was good, cheap, something with which you washed down the Chess Records blues and the occasional slice of radio cheese squawking out of the jukebox. There's nothing better than 2:52 a.m. coffee, couple of sunny-side-ups, three sticks of crispy bacon, a mound of greasy potatoes and a biscuit or two. Nowadays, course, you can't smoke at the Metro, but it's still there, still surviving and thriving despite the demise of Deep Ellum and the expanse of DART-board construction threatening to drown the joint in rebar and torn-up concrete. Nothing fancy here. Just home.
There's nothing wrong with trendy upscale pizza restaurants, but sometimes all you want is a classic, simple slice that doesn't stray from its roots or require an hour-long wait and valet parking. Carmine's, like any self-respecting New York pizza joint, has red and white checkered tablecloths and pizzas displayed on those round silver platters by the register. Best of all, of course, is the pie itself—the crust is relatively thin but incredibly soft, with just the right quotient of chewiness. We recommend the cheese and pepperoni, which is flavorful, a little spicy and a lot garlicky. And since there's rarely a wait, you can grab a slice on the run.
Forty-five bucks worth of mindless tribute, that's what it is. Named after "famous for being famous" Dallas "barrister" Steve Stodghill—who gained fame partly by investing in Mark Cuban's Broadcast.com and partly by flaunting the demeanor of a cuddly pit bull of a lawyer—the Stodgerita is billed as the ultimate margarita experience. That isn't all bark. The Stodgerita is formulated with Herradura Seleccion Suprema, fresh lime juice, agave nectar and a touch of Red Bull. It's surprisingly silky and refreshing with remarkable balance. It goes down so smooth and easy, you'll find yourself ordering another just to make sure you're properly refreshed. But isn't that the idea in the rarefied world of billable hours?
There are innumerable ways to formulate a martini. Fuel it with vodka, gin or tequila. Treat it with green apple, cranberry, chocolate or whatever chick drink accoutrement you can dream up; or kick it with pickled okra and a Nicorette patch for the ultimate anti-Dean Martin refreshment. But to really finesse the martini, skip the hooch and go sunomo. Yutaka's martini sunomo salad arrives in billows of fog dissipating from the frosted martini glass. Underneath is a meticulously assembled medley of vegetables and fresh catch: octopus, shrimp and fish huddled in the cool fog with seaweed, daikon sprouts, pickled carrot, cucumber and crab. Real crab.
Chalk it up to climate change—everything else is—but it's getting increasingly difficult to stir up deft authentic Mexican cuisine in Dallas. Most of the stuff that tries passes muster, but it won't spark the Pavlov reflexes. That's why Trece—or thirteen—is just our luck. Here you can get the most virile tableside guacamole known this side of the Minute Men; at a place where haute Mexican regional cooking unfurls in fresh clear flavors, from the "mucho frio" grilled green tomato gazpacho, to the pepita-crusted Alaskan halibut in tangerine hoja santa sauce, to the shrimp, spinach and goat cheese stuffed chile rellenos in clean, refreshing tomato broth. Trece is where good Mexican lives in Dallas. Here's hoping the others catch up. And fast.
Our favorite foods include eggs, fried potatoes and bacon. Did we mention we love breakfast? And, yeah, we're from Texas, so all the better when you wrap up those breakfast classics in a flour tortilla. Sadly, many taquerias don't serve their breakfast tacos during the day, but Tin Star does. Whether you favor the traditional bacon, egg and cheese taco or you're craving a migas taco or Taco Blanco (egg whites, mashed black beans and pico de gallo), Tin Star has only one question: Do you want one taco or two?
OK, so it's a chain, but Fish City has its roots in Dallas (originally called Shell's Oyster Bar) and it hasn't expanded past Oklahoma or Louisiana, keeping it unique enough to make our list. But even if Fish City were to expand to McDonald's-like proportions, there's no denying the mind-blowing goodness of the oyster nacho. We know, it doesn't sound good, but there's something entirely unexpected, yet delightful, about these nachos. It's tortilla chips topped with fried oysters, pico de gallo and chipotle tartar sauce. It's truly Texan and truly delicious.
Words fail at Bijoux. Eat. Let little bites speak to you. Let thoughts go where they may. Observe how you feel, how your face sometimes vibrates and your toes curl. Notice how a gastrique tangos the sex out of foie gras. Revel in the caramelized surface of a seared scallop, how it is like leather if leather could be shaved into sheer lingerie. Mark how sweet and tender is the skate wing. Make note of the lush and rich pan-seared fillet and the chewy Kobe short rib marinated in wine and herbs and braised until it frays into silky fibers. Bijoux is the dream weave of chef Scott Gotlich, who composes these short concertos within the context of an eight-course tasting menu, a three-course prix fixe or in à la carte fragments from the menu. He does so with such garish impeccability, you go mute from the force of it. Don't speak. Eat.

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