Food & Drink

Whether you prefer your slaw slathered on a taco or served alongside a burger, the folks behind Good 2 Go Taco and Goodfriend Beer Garden and Burger House have you covered. These slaws aren't the run-of-the-mill coleslaw typically served around Dallas, often too creamy or too vinegary. Feta slaw is served at Goodfriend, and the chefs (who work at both spots) combine red, white and Napa cabbage with radishes and carrots, and then mix that with a sundried tomato vinaigrette, as well as a generous portion of feta cheese. Good 2 Go Taco's "Afternoon Delight" menu (from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.) boasts the Swine Bleu — a mouthwatering braised pork and blue-cheese slaw taco that tastes absolutely when-pigs-fly divine. The slaw is a similar concoction (both restaurants share a kitchen) but made with blue cheese.

When Oak opened earlier this year it captured the attention of an entire city. Six months later not a lot has changed. Chef Jason Maddy's cooking has been consistently praised, and the restaurant still feels like it's gaining momentum, likely because in addition to great cooking, the menu is relatively affordable. Not that you'd know it by looking at these plates. A daily crudo features a fresh fish that rotates with availability, paired with pickled vegetables and a soy caramel sauce. A pork and octopus dish features tender jowls and tentacles. And a berbere spiced lamb loin accompanies an amazing sweetbread panzanella. That food this good comes in one of Dallas' most comfortable dining rooms doesn't hurt things either.

Jay Jerrier just may be building a dynasty if his recently expanded Deep Ellum pizza restaurant can continue its run. His traditionally topped rounds are as authentic a Neapolitan pizza as you can get in Dallas, while more aggressively topped pies resonate with the pizzas we all grew up on, and occasional special pizzas are works of real culinary creativity. The best seat in the house is always the bar, where you can watch Dino Santonicola, the Italian-born pizza master, work his magic with hundreds of soft and pillowy dough balls. Ninety seconds later that fragile round of dough is a perfect leopard-spotted pizza pie you can pound completely on your own. Swill back a few Peronis while you're at it and take in a Rangers game on the big screen. You'll have a fan to either side of you.

Sharaku, the izakaya next door to Yutaka, only adds to the latter's attraction. Have a seat at Sharaku and grab a cold lager and a skewer threaded with crunchy, gritty chicken cartilage. If you're not inclined toward gristle, you can have a regular piece of chicken instead, but either way the salty grilled snacks are the best way to wake up your palate while you wait for your friends to arrive. With your party assembled, walk next door to Yutaka and hope for seats at the bar. There you'll watch a serious team of sushi pros perch short, thick ribbons of gemstone-fish on rice seasoned with enough sugar and rice vinegar to let you know it's there. Don't order grocery store tuna rolls here. Mackerel, uni and sweet shrimp served with impossibly crunchy, deep-fried heads are where you should spend your time. Finish your meal with a hand-roll. Now you're a sushi professional.

David Chang did a great thing in bringing ramen into new popularity, but he also spurred a lot of idiots who think any bowl filled with noodles, topped off with steaming broth and decorated with condiments will make the grade. Now trendy restaurants offer shoddy bowls of soup that are giving proper ramen a bad rep. Thankfully, Tei An offers a bowl that sets the ramen record straight. Fresh noodles cooked perfectly retain a subtle bite, and broths made from bones and not soup bases taste light but flavorful and are a real pleasure to slurp. Heat it up with a little of the neon-colored chili oil and watch it disappear into the murky bowl. A thin sheet of seaweed adds scents of sea and vegetation while bamboo shoots lend crunch and a chewy texture. A slice or two of roast pork is your reward for making it to the bottom of your bowl, which you certainly will do.

For some reason, seafood restaurants in Dallas generally fall into two categories. The first, like Dallas Fish Market and Oceanaire, peddle high-end fresh grilled fish, seafood towers and $7 beers. Then the hole-in-the-wall restaurants answer with menus that feature an entire aquarium breaded and deep-fried. These places are affordable but they leave a lot to be desired for true seafood lovers. Rex's comes in right in the middle with a casual, open and bright space that features great seafood at decent prices. It's the best place in Dallas to eat oysters from the Gulf and both coasts, and on Fridays serves the city's most promising lobster roll. Lunch service is packed here most days as customers wait for tables to indulge in sauteed fish sandwiches on Empire baked bread topped with crisp salty bacon. Not too bad for a strip mall restaurant in Northeastern Texas.

Bring a fan, a cooler filled with 10 pounds of ice and a gallon of water. When it's cold outside, it's hot in La Nueva Fresh & Hot, and when it's hot outside, the small Webb Chapel tortilla factory and taquería is roughly the temperature of the surface of the sun. The air conditioning is dodgy here, but it's the tortilla-making machine that causes the real heat. The massive, squeaking twittering machine turns out hundreds of pounds worth of corn tortillas at a time all while belching heat out into the small swampy storefront. Tortillas don't get any fresher, and La Nueva's are soft, pliable and almost as light as air. Order yours with the guisado verde and sample a variety of salsas on the counter while you wait for your tacos. Each is available to take home if you like it, and pounding spicy salsa will help keep your mind off the heat. When you do get your bounty break for your car and crank the A/C. La Neuva is missing tables as badly as climate control but the tacos are worth it. The green pork stew topped with spicy salsa is the best taco available in Dallas.

Falafel has gotten a bad reputation thanks to the many Middle Eastern restaurants that fry pre-made fritters of pre-mixed batches of chickpea dough long before a customer places an order. Not Charbel Hamad. The owner and operator of Fadia Bakery wants you to focus on his handmade sweets, but it's hard to listen to him with falafel as good as his. It starts with a recipe Hamad got from his brother. He soaks dried chickpeas overnight and then runs them through a meat grinder before folding minced cilantro, parsley, onion, jalapeño and garlic into the mix. Baking soda and a blend of spices, however, don't get added until just before you place your order. Hamad claims his process is the secret to his falafels' texture, but whatever the cause, the results are a fluffy, savory package encased in an impossibly crunchy exterior. Order the falafel sandwich and no more than one side. Hamad is right when he says the sweets are worth saving room for.

Dallas doesn't exactly have a reputation as a baking town. A sea of sandwich shops selling hoagies on flaccid rolls, a dearth of bagels and a general lack of Old World bakeries have cast the city in a negative baking light. The folks at Empire Baking Company are trying to change that image, though, crusty baguette by crusty baguette. Forget the soft, lifeless bread you find at most grocery stores and get ready to embrace bread with personality. Their baguettes sport a crisp dark brown crust that takes real work to get through, but grab a knife and take a look inside the loaf. See all those irregular holes? Smell that complex bouquet of grain that's not hindered by too much yeast? This is the bread that artisans in Europe have spent centuries perfecting. That this much quality comes from the hands of Chris Cutshall makes the bread even more amazing; he's trained as a chef, not a master baker, and he produces the best loaves in Dallas.

The "mom and pop" label has been thrown about so much it now describes just about any small business that's not owned by Walmart. There are still a few restaurants around town, though, that are not just family-run but owned and operated by an actual mom and pop. Mesa has been rocking Oak Cliff's authentic Mexican cooking scene for more than a year now and Raul and Olga Reyes seem only to be gaining momentum. Their small restaurant has given way to an expanded footprint with a large outdoor patio that's perfect for a quiet dinner al fresco, and a lounge next door that will keep you drinking till last call. Don't think all this growth has changed the identity of this place a bit, though. Go see for yourself. On any given night you'll find Raul working the front of the house while Olga keeps the kitchen in line, pouring their hearts into what is definitely a family affair.

While beef sourcing, ageing and handling can have huge influences on the meat that lands on your plate high-end steak houses, all end up serving about the same thing: steak cooked your requested shade and a big fat check. Nick and Sam's has a few differentiators, and their biggest is the steak sauce. Chef Samir Dhurandhar wanted to do something different for the condiment so he leaned on his Indian roots to gather tamarind, caramelized onions, cumin, ginger and charred tomatoes. It's basically a sexed-up hyper refined tamarind chutney. The mixture is cooked over a low and slow flame for three days of reduction it rests in a Jack Daniel's whiskey barrel for 10 days. The results are dark as pitch and require a little lemon and honey to wake things up but all the labor is worth it. Dhurandhar's steak sauce is so complex and intense you only need to dip the smallest corner of a piece of steak into the massive gravy boat of sauce to fill your mouth with flavor.

Dallas is basically flooded with margarita mix. Actually, the entire country is. It makes you wonder why politicians waste time on health care and jobs when they should be campaigning on platforms of margarita reform in an effort to root out the sharp, tart and cloying versions made with bottled mix. If they needed a figurehead, Meso Maya's cocktail would suit nicely. Served over rocks, or up if you like, the drink garners its sweetness naturally from a small wedge of pineapple, and muddled avocado lends the drink body, viscosity and a creaminess that may look a little odd but goes down smooth. Try one with fried tortilla chips and salsa that actually bring some personality to the table. Fresh tomatoes, roasted chiles and a subtle warm glow will stoke your desire for a second drink before you've even finished your first.

When Oak opened earlier this year it captured the attention of an entire city. Six months later not a lot has changed. Chef Jason Maddy's cooking has been consistently praised, and the restaurant still feels like it's gaining momentum, likely because in addition to great cooking, the menu is relatively affordable. Not that you'd know it by looking at these plates. A daily crudo features a fresh fish that rotates with availability, paired with pickled vegetables and a soy caramel sauce. A pork and octopus dish features tender jowls and tentacles. And a berbere spiced lamb loin accompanies an amazing sweetbread panzanella. That food this good comes in one of Dallas' most comfortable dining rooms doesn't hurt things either.

"Captain" Keith Schlabs, the godfather of craft beer in Dallas, knows a thing about brews, as one can see from the hundreds of beers available at his Flying Saucer locations. It's here at the Meddlesome Moth, though, where he cashes in the connections he's made with breweries over the years. If it's a very rare, limited release, chances are the Moth will be the one bar in Dallas to get it. The well-curated everyday selection, weekly special tappings and blowout festivals make it a regular destination for the area's most dedicated beer lovers.

The Windmill Lounge, located on the cusp of Maple Avenue and Denton Drive, is a tiny and unassuming dive bar that serves some of the best cocktails in town. There's no valet or swanky dress code here. In fact, the bar (perhaps most noticeable by the blue neon windmill perched on its roof) is practically hidden, and if you're not paying close enough attention you'll drive past its gravel entrance. Owners (and ex-spouses) Charlie Papaceno and Louise Owens alternate shifts at the bar, mixing up staples like the dirty martini, Prohibition-era drinks and off-menu concoctions named after the regulars who drink them. Papaceno, who grew up in southeast New York, is eager to show you how he does it, if you're willing to learn, and among his customers are bar maestros Michael Martensen (The Cedars Social) and Jason Kosmas (Marquee).

Go into La Banqueta and do your best to ignore the short man running water through 15 feet of cow intestine in the sink behind the counter. Ignore the grubby floors, the narrow space and the sticky counter you'll have to eat at if you don't want to take your order to go. Walk right up to the register, and order the suaqueso and as many pastor tacos as you think you can handle. Add an ice cold Topo Chico and a modest tip. You won't eat all the tacos, though. You might not even be able to eat two of them once you get all of that delicious suaqueso in your belly. The mixture of melting, stringy cheese and crunchy bits of braised then griddled brisket is enough to lay a man out all on its own.

When The Mecca announced its most recent move to East Dallas from the west side of town on Harry Hines Boulevard, the announcement carried a bit of extra news. The diner that's as old as dirt would kick off dinner service for the first time since opening in 1938. Breakfast all day had been a favorite at the greasy spoon that served up eggs through lunch time, but the expansion into dinner service meant that well after sunset you could get two sunny-side up alongside a savory piece of steak beaten to a pulp, breaded and fried to a crisp. Have you ever dragged a hunk of chicken-fried steak that's already smothered in gravy through the glistening yolk of a perfectly fried egg? Have you ever done it after a long day of work? The Mecca's CFS will make all of those job hurts fade away, blanketed in a greasy sheen of gently peppered pan gravy.

At most non-veg eateries, a veggie burger is a sad, shrunken prospect, some freezer-burned Morningstar cast-off tossed unadorned onto a plate. A non-burger like that can darken the whole dining room. Not Meridian Room, though: If their veggie burger isn't made in-house, they're doing a damn good job fooling us into thinking otherwise. The patty somehow tastes juicy and like whole grains at the same time, and they'll cheerily pile that sucker with avocado, havarti and jalapeños on request. Pair it with their perfectly crispy sweet potato fries for a plate that'll make your meat-eating dining companions jealous.

Kalachandji's, the beloved East Dallas Hare Krishna temple and eatery, finds its way onto our list year after year. We're boring, we know. But we'll never tire of sitting in their beautiful garden patio, eating dal and vegetable curry and drinking tamarind tea. And after a fire in another part of the building closed the kitchen for a few days, we're relieved to see the restaurant open and unscathed. No matter how busy the lunch hour, the atmosphere here is always as meditative and peaceful as a museum, and while the food's not fancy, it's healthy, fresh and plentiful. Try the homemade bread, and if at all possible save room for some vanilla-inflected rice pudding at the end (skip the halvah, which tastes exactly like halvah). Afterward, pay a visit to the dim, beautifully muraled sanctuary across the hallway, making sure to remove your shoes first. Om.

For the past few years Sushi Zushi has offered up one of our favorite happy hours in town. Offering the option of sitting at the bar or in the main dining room, from 5 to 7 p.m. the San Antonio-based chain serves a selection of appetizers, sushi rolls and "comfort foods" for less than $5, and drink specials that include cocktails for $5, 20-ounce Japanese beers for $4 or 10-ounce carafes of hot sake for $3. It's a great place to people watch at the bar solo, meet friends or even take a date on the cheap.

Amelie Herrera opened the original Herrera's location in 1971, in the space that is now the Grapevine Bar. Since its beginning, Herrera's has expanded into several different locations around town (each is a little different since they're all individually owned), but it's the original location, now situated a block north from where it all began, that serves up the best caldo de pollo (chicken soup) in town. The soup comes served piping hot, heaping with fresh vegetables and tender pollo. Sure, you have to navigate through the bones, but it's worth it. The soup is a sure way to cure a cold, hangover or a simple a case of the blues. The catch, though, is that this delicious soup is only available on Fridays, and not for long, so make sure to get there early (especially during the chilly seasons) or it could be gone.

Sunrise Donuts knows how to brighten up a hungry person's morning. The tiny shop, located in a strip mall off Oak Lawn Avenue, is open seven days a week, from 5 a.m. until noon except for Sunday, when opening time is 6 a.m. The shop offers an abundance of delicious fried dough. There's something for every doughnut lover, from cinnamon-sugar twists and apple fritters to traditional sprinkle doughnuts and kolaches. In fact, the shop has some of the best kolaches in town. They come plain, with cheese or with cheese and jalapeños, and the friendly staff will gladly heat up the breakfast hotdogs for you.

Choosing a best burger is like choosing the best sex position. There are just too many options, and you can only enjoy so many a day. If you really want a burger that tops them all, you need a version that covers all the bases. Thankfully, Bolsa's bliss on a bun does just that. You can get a fancier version if you want, but you will pay through the nose for it, and Bolsa's burger clocks in at a respectable 11 bucks. That's not bad for a delicate patty that's full of juice and flavor, made from for organic beef that's ground on-site. While high-end restaurants top their burger with nonsense like pork belly and slow-roasted-caramelized-balsamic-glazed super-onions, Bolsa keeps it simple with LTO and cheese. This isn't a fancy, refined and overwrought burger cookery — it's an honest, everyman's burger cooked with the attention and respect that every burger deserves.

Beets, those nasty vegetables your mom used to splatter on your plate, that turned your teeth purple and set your gag reflexes into motion, have gone from disgusting to a delicacy. The root vegetable can be found on menus all over town, and is most popularly served in a salad with goat cheese, arugula and walnuts. But the folks at Bolsa have taken beets to the next level and are serving it in a cocktail. The Rita Rioja is a florescent purple cocktail made up of tequila, mint, citrus juices and beet puree. The drink is delicious. So delicious, in fact, that it could turn a diehard beet hater into a beet lover.

We didn't see these sliders coming when we ducked into the new Whitehall Exchange down the street from Hattie's. It's a small joint, just a bar, a few tables along the back wall and a men's restroom that looks like a structural afterthought, but, boy, did we demolish the Korean BBQ sliders they served up on an attractive, gastropub-ish white dish with cucumber sliced paper-thin and a side of aioli. The beef was juicy and flavorful, best washed down with a glass of bourbon. Solid as any bar food in Dallas, and a nice refuge when the Bishop Arts District goes night-night at 11 p.m. on a Saturday.

Just off St. Paul Street, nestled at the foot of First Baptist's Godly megalith, there is a café whose burgers are eminently passable — quick, flavorful, reminiscent of some competent greasy spoon. Bun, meat, cheese, onions, tomatoes, mustard. They're not going to compete with the gourmet burgers at Local or The Grape. On a weekday at lunch, however, they will certainly do. They're not even close to being the bright spot in the dining experience. To top it off, we recommend stepping into First Baptist's well-lit lobby and circling the scale model of its remod, a monument to God only Texans could conceive of. Keep a weather eye, because, if you're lucky, you might catch sight of a busy gay-condemning, GOP-loving Reverend Robert Jeffress speed-walking through the church, resembling a well-dressed, incredibly affable wood sprite. This man is, at the very least, among the most powerful religious figures in the state. Now, your visit to St. Paul Café is complete.

We cannot emphasize strongly enough how important it is to, um, "pre-game" before eating Jonathan's chicken and waffles. This is the ultimate stoner food: a sublime crossroads between sweet and salty. Sure, you can enjoy them in sobriety, but the enhancing effects of a certain herb make eating this dish a bit like slipping into a warm cocoon made of fluffy Belgian waffles topped with crispy fried chicken and smothered in jalapeño gravy. Only you don't emerge from this cocoon, metamorphosed into a beautiful butterfly. Rather, you'll transform into a supremely satisfied, tranquilized sloth, waddling ever so slowly to your car while questioning the wisdom of consuming the entire dish.

Drink Oddfellows' house-made bloody mary and you can skip brunch. True to Oddfellows' rustic chic, it only makes sense that the BM, like everything else on the menu, tastes farm-to-table. Served in a mason jar and garnished with pickled okra, celery and olives, its flavor is sweet, peppery and redolent of fresh vegetables. Just try to drink only one. Of course, what is brunch if not an invitation to day drink. Right? RIGHT?

Think of the arepa as a grilled cheese sandwich made with two fluffy corn cakes, but toss in an angelic choir singing "hallelujah" as your mouth and belly radiate a warm, happy glow. That's the arepa at Zaguan: fat, fluffy corn tortillas with kernels of sweet corn, gobs of oily cheese and, if you like, a pile of flavorful ham or shredded chicken or beef. Dump salsa all over the top of the arepa and get messy, or apply after each bite. It makes for a great lunch so long as you can resist the impulse to curl up under your desk for some postprandial hibernation.

No matter how broke you think you are, you can afford to eat lunch at Avila's. Skip the iced tea or Dr Pepper, order a water and stick to the lunch menu. It's pretty standard-issue, but Tex-Mex is Tex-Mex; get out of the way and, as Ron Washington might say, let it do what it do. Try the cheese enchilada drowned in chile con carne, throw in a crispy beef taco and some of that burn-your-face-off salsa they serve, and be happy. If you're one of those chalupa or soft cheese taco weirdos, they got that too. Best part of all, of course: You can walk out of there for less than eight or nine bucks, depending on how shameless a tightwad/how hard up you are.

Is it possible to want to make love to a cauliflower? Well, yeah, there are probably a few websites devoted to the subject — there usually are — but even for normal people, Local's amuse bouche, a cauliflower mirepoix, might be worth the risk of serious injury and professional/legal consequences. The only problem is that the small dish of silken, simple puree, spiked with a bit of heavy cream, is too small, especially if you want to take a bath in it, like we did.

It's best to start your morning off with a kick. At least that's the belief of Taco Joint fans, who love to smother their breakfast tacos with a condiment praised the city over. Try it out: Ask a random stranger what goes best on a bacon and egg taco and the response will likely be "Jalapeño ranch at Taco Joint, duh." In fact, there are probably very few foods that the condiment wouldn't flatter. The savory ranch is light and the jalapeño kick chases off any trace of a hangover from the previous night's damage, no matter how severe.

Many local bakeries perpetrate petits fours, but none stack up to Lower Greenville's Society Bakery. Their version of the confectionery classic delicately stacks moist layers of cake small enough to fit between your thumb and index finger and spreads on a dense layer of rich, buttery icing. The petit four is one of the many pastries Society Bakery has mastered, but when you're jonesing for a small cake fix, nothing's better than this tiny dessert. It's not recommended that you attempt to consume the pastry in just one bite, but you probably will try. Just brace yourself for the ensuing sugar rush and remember: You are not the Great Cornholio.

When a chef who's normally responsible for an impossibly smooth vegetable soup — as Tracy Miller is at Local — turns her attention to a simple bowl of oatmeal, coffee and doughnuts, the results are fantastic. The oats are that steel-cut Irish variety that requires you to chew a little before it warms your belly. The coffee is as black as pitch. The doughnuts are dropped to order from handcrafted batter. This is the standard American breakfast hopped up with great ingredients and good technique. If breakfast is not your thing, then come for lunch. Whether you order a crusty fried fillet of fish turned into a sandwich with butter brioche and tartar sauce or a BLT with heirloom tomatoes as gold as a summer sun, you know your meal will be a good one.

Having children is one of life's great blessings until it comes to eating out at restaurants, where they turn into small maniacs set on ruining the dinner of everyone in earshot. For the most part, society seems happy to relegate parents and children to a fast food playground until the kids come back with some manners. For those for whom a value menu won't suffice, there's the Dream Cafe located in Uptown. The patio comes with a moderate playground with a jungle gym and playhouse. It's big enough to keep the kids occupied for an hour or so while you enjoy chicken and waffles in sweet peace.

There are two different brunch crowds in the world: the people who roll out of bed at quarter past 11 and don't actually wake up until the first mimosa, and there are the people with small children who show up at the restaurant when the doors open for breakfast. For the early risers and their parents, Oddfellows in Oak Cliff's Bishop Arts District is more than accommodating. They'll be waiting at the door with crayons and coloring sheets, and by the time the kids throw all the colors on the floor, the pancakes are ready. You can enjoy the duck hash or huevos rancheros in peace, long before your childless friends see the light of day.

Hoppy, crisp, smooth, caramelly and yet dry, this one's about as refreshing as a beer can get. It's a complex imperial red ale and does a great job of hiding the clout of its 9 percent ABV. In other words, it is about the most appropriately named beer we've come across. And local or not, it's been our go-to beer whenever we see it available.

More and more restaurants are offering beer dinners these days, showing how beer can pair with highbrow cooking just as well as, if not better than, wine. Most of those dinners cost $50 or $60 per person, and can run even higher. That's why it's so refreshing to see a bar with a more than capable kitchen and a great beer selection offer one at $29 per person. That would be meaningless if it paired cheap suds with bad food, but these dinners don't skimp on the quality or quantity of the food or the beer.

It's beefy. It's cheesy. And most of all, it's huge. In other words, it's Texas. The chili-cheese dog, topped with grilled onions and jalapeños and served in a reinforced cardboard briefcase, is nearly two feet long, weighs a pound in beef alone and costs $26. And while sharing is recommended, some opt to finish the whole thing on their own — a dubious accomplishment, for sure, but that's just how some Texans support their Rangers.

Opened in 1956 and apparently mostly unchanged since then, Dairy-ette is reminiscent of a bygone era. Or so we suppose. We're not that old. The burgers are cheap yet tasty, as are the fries. But the best part might just be the root beer brewed on site. Served in a frosty mug, it's sweet but not too much so, and tastes fresh without having that funky licorice taste that some of the far more expensive boutique brands have. Normally we prefer a beer sans root with our hamburger, but here we're glad to make an exception.

Excellent, locally baked bread; fresh locally grown organic produce; delicious meats made from regionally raised livestock; and cheese supplied by local cheesemakers make for an outstanding sandwich of any kind, whether you're making the Reuben of your dreams with the house-smoked pastrami or a simple roast beef. The cost of all those ingredients together may not be much less than buying from a sandwich shop, but the quality of the meal from some chain shop isn't even in the same ballpark. Plus, a side order of locavore smugness makes anything taste better.

Nestled in a shopping center in Plano shared by Five Guys and a kick-ass butcher is the Holy Grail Pub. Aside from having a damn good burger and one of the better curated craft-beer menus in North Texas, it features a bar snack that's worth the trip: baked bread twists (they call 'em pretzels) with a spicy mustard and house bechamel sauce. Come on; there are few things better than butter-washed, kosher-salt sprinkled warm bread in house-made cheese sauce. Right? The tall booths will let you devour it in peace.

How dare you, Off-Site Kitchen. How dare you serve food that evokes the memory of clacking down a plastic tray in the lunch room in sixth grade. What are you, insane? Maybe you are. You serve a thing called a "Sloppy Taco," which is less filthy than it sounds. No, it's actually a Manwich-esque saucy meat inside a massive crispy shell, with lettuce, tomato and cheese. Hold on, it's good. It's a fairly perfect and crispy envelope of food, and the smell immediately sends you back to lunchtime at school. They found just the right balance of meaty, Sloppy Joe flavor and taco crunch to send you reeling. Go get it.

It looks like a restaurant on a movie set. There are bare, mango-colored walls, a single flat-screen television playing Bollywood, and a sheet of printer paper taped up asks the customer in big font: "Please Don't Waste Food." That's about all you get for decor. The rest is the food. It's divided into meat and vegetables, each filled with spicy, brick-to-sunset-colored sauces. Indulge in the paneer butter masala or the goat korma, but the don't-leave-withouts are samosas. Stuffed with chicken, cilantro and masala and brittle-crispy on the outside (soft on the inside, you guys), these fried dudes are worth the drive to Irving on their own. Order a few for the table and catch some stunning Bollywood numbers on the tiny flat screen.

Sometimes appraising coffee requires more than just evaluating what's in the cup. Cultivar's java may be attractive mostly because braised beef tacos are in reach, but it's more likely because they pour one hell of a cup of joe. The folks behind the dishwater share space with Good 2 Go Taco on Peavy Road, which offers fancy gringo versions of the tacos. The coffee is good enough to stand on its own merit. Roasted within days before brewing, they may be the freshest beans in all of Dallas. But throw in a flour tortilla stuffed with scrambled eggs, cheese and big wad of stringy beef for a compelling morning taco and you have a breakfast combo that will keep you fueled for days.

So many bars relegate food to burgers, wings and nachos, forgetting all the finer menu items that go well with a cold beer. Mussels served with a Belgian ale might be one of life's greatest culinary pleasures, and fish and chips with a pub draft can border on divine. The Old Monk does both of these well, and rounds out the menu with a good Reuben and a chicken sandwich featuring pistachio-breaded chicken tenders. Hell, there is even a decent burger if you want to be a traditionalist. If you're the kind of person who comes to a bar to drink beer, though, the Old Monk has you covered, with a shifting selection of craft brews from around the world. Work your way through the beers while sampling one of the greatest (and under appreciated) beer pairings: a well curated cheese board.

When Velvet Taco first opened, taco purists were incensed. What the hell are rotisserie chicken, herbed goat cheese, lettuce, tomato, smoked bacon, avocado and basil crema doing rolled up in the same flour tortilla? Velvet Taco's tacos read like a grocery list, a far cry from the simple chopped meat tacos served elsewhere in Dallas and topped with cilantro and onions (and only if you ask for it). Noise aside, the ingredients are pretty damn good. And it doesn't hurt that the corn tortillas are pressed and cooked on site, something that many "authentic" taquerías neglect. But the real reason Velvet Taco is included in this list is that it's open till 4 in the morning on weekends. After you spend a long night at the bars along Henderson Avenue, a steak taco will definitely hit the spot even if it's topped with Brazos Valley feta, a light Greek salad, tzatziki and fresh dill.

Remember happy hour in college? Beers were 10 cents apiece if you were in a fancy place where the seniors hung out, and the bar slathered you with plenty of salty, greasy, free food, just to get you to stay and drink some more. Yeah, well, you're not in college anymore. And those free wings tasted like shit anyway. The Grape's happy hour is easy on your wallet and lets you maintain your dignity. Marcona almonds, mixed olives and flash fried calamari are all offered for a song, and chef Brian Luscher's popular charcuterie is available for padding your belly as well. You'll need the protection. Beers are available for $2 apiece and wines by the glass are cut in half. The special runs from 4:30 till 7 p.m. every weekday, so you have two and a half hours to get completely trashed. You didn't want to grow up anyway.

David Uygur's reservation policy is a major pain in the ass. You have to call his phone number in the morning on the first of the month, fight your way through 700 busy signals and then pray you get a 5:30 p.m. reservation on a Wednesday night. You need a personal assistant with the skills of a switchboard operator to get a prime-time reservation on a Friday night here. Ditch the formality and roll up at any night of your choosing around 5:15, look the hostess in the eye and tell her you want a seat at the bar. Provided a line hasn't formed outside already, you'll be seated immediately at one of the best perches in the house with a full view of the kitchen. Everyone knows the bar is the best seat in any restaurant (you always get the best service), but that Lucia's bar gets you out of a logistical nightmare makes it the best reservation hack in Dallas.

Compared with Austin, Dallas' food truck scene is abysmal, with more meals on wheels spurred by restaurant spin-offs and investors than hungry, passionate, entrepreneurial cooks looking for a cost-effective way to get into the food business. There are a few diamonds in the rough, though, and the biggest star of them all is Nammi, the sky-blue truck helmed by two frustrated architects who thought life would be more fun if it was spent delivering delicious banh mi all over Dallas. Tina Nguyen and her partner Gary Torres cook nearly everything that's served from their truck except the bread, including the meats, pickled daikon and carrots and condiments that top their banh mi sandwiches on light, crunchy baguettes that fill your lap with shards of crust while you eat. Make sure you ask for the pâté, which is handcrafted as well. It's added to sandwiches by request only and is necessary for an authentic Vietnamese sandwich.

Nick Badovinus' latest outpost took longer than anticipated to open, but the wait was worth it. You can expect long lunch lines even now, months after the open, as business workers in the area come to dine on simple burgers and sandwiches on buttery bread, with cheap canned beer, fountain sodas and bags of pork rinds. The Sloppy Taco demonstrates why this place is so popular. It takes the Manwich from our youth, adds lettuce, tomatoes, cheese and ranch sauce and drops it in a taco shell so big it makes you feel comparatively small. That's the secret. This place makes you feel like a kid again. The whole menu is essentially the foods you were forced to consume in your elementary school cafeteria, but updated, elevated and actually tasty.

On a sunny Saturday afternoon, there's only one place to park your presidential convertible: Keller's Drive-In. On the west side of the building that's responsible for Dallas' most popular take-out burger on a poppy seed bun, you might not feel comfortable hanging out with the motorcyclists who have come to show off their hogs. But on the east side, you'll be the envy of every classic car owner in Dallas. The owners of classic Chevelles, Mustangs, Chargers and other shiny sports cars congregate each weekend and sip on Coors Lights in between burger orders while talking paint jobs, engine configurations and plenty about the good old days. Say hi to Shirley, the waitress who's been taking orders since the place opened 46 years ago. Grab yourself a burger and connect with the blue-collar vote. Watch out for mustard on your chin, and remember, you're in Dallas. Maybe leave the top on your convertible closed.

Some bartenders gripe about customers who aren't sure about their orders. It's hard to blame them when someone comes up to the bar and leans over the beer taps to ask what's on draft. Other bartenders, though, take pride in being beer sherpas. They relish in the opportunity to introduce another newbie to their perfect malted match, in hopes of inducting another hophead. Union Bear's bartenders have this shtick down, pouring shot glass after shot glass of local and national brews when someone seems like they're not sure what they'd like to order. Take your time when ordering a beer here. The barkeep wants you to find your perfect beer just as much as you do. Fold in Dallas' best fried chicken sandwich, a great indoor/outdoor bar and plenty of patio seats, and you have a great spot for an extended beer session.

Eating hot dogs is as important as kissing babies on the campaign trail, but you need to be careful. Too many tube steaks and you'll risk popping a button on that new three-piece suit. Hot dog photo ops must be chosen wisely and there's no finer opportunity in Dallas than St. Pete's chili dog, with a load of chili and mound of cheese. St Pete's uses local links from Rudolph's Butcher shop, right down the street. Now you can show your support of local small businesses while you convince your constituents of your blue-collar appeal. Just don't pick up that knife and fork. Wool suits be damned, you have a humble image to uphold. You're a candidate of the people.

Thai food in America is mostly relegated to a take-out affair, stuffed into white Styrofoam containers to steam away into limp incarnations that hardly evoke their original counterparts. When Bambu opened in Richardson, though, the ubiquitous ethnic chow became more than worthy of a sit-down meal. It may be the enthusiastic staff as much as the plates themselves that make for compelling eating in this stylish but predictable dining room. A velvety tom kha gai soup sings with heat and kaffir lime leaves, and a spicy duck curry is heady and addictive. The staff is more than happy to help you pick out a dish that suits your taste, but be sure to let them know you're an adventurous diner. The specials here are worth your attention, and the owners, who previously owned a sushi restaurant, have a special talent for working with seafood.

Texas convention says everything should be ridiculously big. Dallas convention is that all dessert should be sweet. The two combine to result in portions the size of a The Rock's forearm, chocolate that's cloying and fruit that's so saccharine it tastes like a plastic-wrapped freeze pop. It doesn't have to be this way. In Highland Park, a young Italian chef is breaking this convention one dessert plate at a time. Try the semifreddo to see what we mean. The respectably sized quenelles of light, airy, kinda-frozen sweetness still let the lemon flavor shine. Think of that cold glass of lemonade you bought for 10 cents on a hot summer day back when you were a kid. Remember the melting ice cubes. Remember the tartness. Now turn the volume up to 10 and add some blueberries to the memory.

It's not much to look at. The small house turned Thai restaurant wears more than 30 years of service on its siding. The dining room is plainly decorated and dim, and the carpet and printed menus have done their share of duty as well. That's all part of the charm, though. While most people view Bangkok Inn as a place to call in an order for pick up, the restaurant is also a BYOB treasure that's mostly undiscovered. People know about the spring rolls, corn patties and excellent curry, but they don't seem to realize that Thai food is the perfect pair for hoppy India Pale Ales. While most Thai restaurants saddle you with a bland Asian lager and call it a day, Bangkok's warm welcome to outside brews allows customers to enjoy perfect beer pairings that are otherwise impossible unless you take the food home.

Because you're tired of deviled eggs, that's why. Sure, you loved them when your mom made them at home to bring to picnics and tailgates. You loved them when they appeared on a bar menu all retro-like, too, but now that seven versions are sold at every Southern-fetishizing soul food and gastro-whatever in Texas, the snack is in danger of jumping the shark forever. Pickled eggs possess everything deviled eggs lack, with a vinegary brightness and old-school appeal that's right at home on Ten Bells Tavern's shelves next to the liquor bottles. This is the quintessential bar snack hiked up by a chef who takes his pub grub seriously. Try the onion and vinegar version if you want to be a traditionalist, but curry jalapeño eggs tinged with turmeric are twice as good. Don't pass on the medallion of weathered green chiles floating in the jar next to your prize. They were fresh when they were added, and now they're the best pickled jalapeños you'll ever consume.

A Sunday brunch at Vickery Park is a rite of passage for some, but it's the little things that count. Like their ketchup, which is accented with Sriracha and makes french fries disappear with relative ease. We support any restaurant that skillfully uses a condiment to enhance a condiment.

Forget the so-called dark night of the soul. The real hour of spiritual blackness hits about 11 a.m. on a Sunday after a long night of drinking. That's when the big existential questions hit: Why? How long must suffering be endured? And holy shit, did I really drink/ingest/screw that? Take your broken essence and throbbing head to The Grape, where life affirmation comes in the form of a fried chicken patty covered in cheddar cheese, served on a jalapeño-cheese biscuit that is neither too dry, nor too soft. The Grape may be known best for its burgers, but on a Sunday morning, it's busy doing God's work.

Carnival Barker's ice creams are handmade in Deep Ellum one and a half gallons at a time, in wooden buckets with all natural ingredients, no fillers, no preservatives and way less air than the big names. It's all done in a super-strict commercial kitchen by a guy who went to Ice Cream U. in Pennsylvania to learn how. The flavors, from Fat Elvis to Vodka Nutella, are absolute knock-outs. The best place to find it to take home is Bolsa Mercado in Oak Cliff, and it's served at Bryan Street Tavern or City Tavern in Dallas.

Tracy Wilkinson-Claros moved to Austin from England in 2004 and immediately set about introducing her neighbors to authentic artisanal British hot puddings. Her "Sticky Toffee Pudding" is a confection you heat up for maybe 10 seconds in the microwave, just long enough to barely melt the topping, and serve on its own or in a bowl with whipping cream. It's made with fresh dates, whole eggs, espresso, butter, brown sugar and so on. It's got some fat in it and some cholesterol and some sugar, sure. It's not health food. Nobody said you had to sit down and eat the whole box with a spoon watching old movies at four in the morning. But if you just have to be that way, invite us over.

When you think handcrafted pasta in Dallas, the well-adorned creations of Nonna and Lucia are likely the first dishes to pop into your head. The intense, rich, seasonally inspired recipes change often, bringing a seemingly endless array of flavors. At Royal China, Zhang Xue Liang takes a different approach to his pasta making, and it's no less impressive. The Chinese noodle chef employs repetition, working hours on end to produce a small array of noodles that are simple and consistent. Liang starts with a small ball of rice flour dough he pulls into a disk before his arms turn to rubber and the disk lengthens into undulating waves. With a quick tear, and a flash of scissors those waves become wide-flat noodles that are dressed in an oily sauce of Sichuan peppercorns. Before you know it he's working with another piece of dough, this time a rope, that he draws open like curtains over and over again till the strands are as fine as the hair on a horse's tail. The thin, wispy noodles are even more impressive for their delicacy.

As summer yields to cooler fall temperatures, Dallasites take to outdoor eating and drinking with warranted enthusiasm. While Dallas has assembled an impressive array of spaces to imbibe outdoors Stackhouse's rooftop deck may be the city's most impressive. Don't expect an expansive modern plateau with sprawling urban scenery. The roof on this house-turned-restaurant is appealing for its humble simplicity. Trees obscure most of the view, but just to the south, skyscrapers rise through the leaves like crooked teeth, while exhaust fans belch smoke and burger grease from the kitchen below. It doesn't hurt that the beer is cheap and those burgers are some of the best in the city. Put them together during sunset just as the skyline ignites. Grab some house fried potato chips with some amazing French onion dip while you're at it. This meal will stick in your memory for quite some time.

It may not be as big as the Dallas Farmers Market downtown. It may not even be as convenient, as the East Dallas pop-up market only "pops" every other weekend. But the White Rock Local Market makes up for these minor misgivings with a lot of heart. Despite more than 60 farmers, artisans and vendors listed on its website, the market maintains a surprisingly independent feel that resonates with the "back to roots" vibe that make farmers markets so appealing. Come to find the perfect tomato for your BLT, the sweetest peach for your summer pie, and meet the farmers who actually grew the products. If produce isn't your thing, you can grab a freshly baked baguette from Empire Bakery, artisan goat cheese from a local dairy or even a handcrafted hot dog on a freshly baked bun.

While Dallas celebrates its recent barbecue renaissance with newcomers Lockhart Smokehouse and Pecan Lodge, a sleeper has been quietly smoking away in Carrollton. Island Spot's jerk chicken may not be as prized as a perfectly smoked brisket, but it's the best Jamaican 'cue in Dallas, for sure. Most spots use gas grills to cook their chicken or even (gasp!) bake it in the oven. Island Spot's version is indeed burned over petroleum. But they still manage to wrangle smoky flavors out of chicken as bits of spice and rendering fat drip down to the hot elements below. The results are a burst of perfume that starts as a wisp and builds to a billowing smokescreen. What's better is that the restaurant uses a coal-fired grill occasionally at large events like Taste of Addison and Taste of Dallas. The results may be hard to come by but they're worth seeking out. It just might take you all the way to Jamaica.

The suburbs have always been known for superior ethnic restaurants. And superior suburban ethnic restaurants have always been known for their grittiness. With Pera Turkish kitchen you get all of the flavor, intensity and passion of real ethnic cooking, and you don't have to eat off of Styrofoam and wipe your mug with a paper napkin. The kebabs are great options for big, grilled flavors, and ezma brings a host of new, interesting flavors — if the ezma's tart pomegranate and sweet molasses don't do it for you, there are always hummus, tabouleh and baba ganoush to fall back on. Order all three and tear into as much pide bread as your stomach can handle. The waiters bring the freshly baked loaves out a few at a time and they're thicker and more puck-like than the pita breads you're used to. Use them as a bulldozer to plow through as many of the meza as you can fit on your table and then order a few more.

Are you kidding? It's not that it's the oldest (though opening in 1895 doesn't hurt). Rudolph's meat market is the best butcher in Dallas because it's simply badass. See the links in the case? They're made right there on site. If you don't want to cook them at home you can try one doused in chili and cheese down the street at St. Pete's. You see the beef dangling in the walk-in? Those are whole sides of beef hanging on huge meat hooks, not vacuum-packed, pre-portioned primal cuts for baby butchers. You see those wood blocks? They're dished like warped vinyl because they've supported the craft of butchery for decades. Rudolph's is a no-nonsense butcher for people who still like to buy high-quality meat. Walk in and tell Brandon Andreason what you're in the mood for. He'll give you the right cut, and if you have a question, he'll tell you where it came from and how to cook it.

Unless you're a total fromage freak, you need a really enthusiastic staff to keep cheese shops from getting dull. Scardello's employees are more than just cheese nerds. They're actually fun to hang out with. Lance Lynn knows his beer pairings and Ali Morgan can talk brie all day. And while owner Rich Rogers will happily debate the merits of affinage, he's most exciting when he cracks open a massive wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano. You think you know what fresh parm smells like, but can you believe it really smells like pineapples and heaven? Many wines are available by the glass, and you can grab any bottle off the wall and swill till it's empty. It won't hurt things that new-hire Marco Villegas is a certified sommelier. We bet the wine list only gets better. ------------------

Forget the Velveeta-Ro-Tel blend that many lesser chain restaurants call "queso." Even the best creamy, spicy, fresh quesos can't stand up to Queso Maya at Cafe Maya. It's loaded but not overloaded with black beans, beef and pico de gallo, and floats a few slices of fresh jalapeño. Spicy but not too spicy, beefy but not too heavy, it's one of our favorite appetizers in town. Stir it or leave it be, but be sure to share unless you want to ruin your appetite with the generously sized bowl. Or you could just slurp it up like soup. Tempting ... very tempting.

Far North Dallas is a desert of corporate coffee shops and breakfast joints. Rising from the dust is Coffeehouse Cafe, a sleek bar and restaurant with a massive pet-friendly enclosed patio. Even in the summer, it feels cool. And in the winter, a massive outdoor fireplace keeps patrons warm. Forget ordering from a large batch of coffee that's been sitting on a burner for hours; a fresh coffee press brews at your table while you wait for your well-cooked omelet. And while the place seems like a four-star joint, you only have to shell out a few bucks for a mimosa or a bloody mary.

Nonna may also deserve an award for best strip-mall conversion. While the exterior of the restaurant is frighteningly dull, as soon as you step through the doors you forget that a liquor store and a tailor flank the restaurant and realize you're in one of Dallas' more romantic restaurant spaces. A white pizza with clams and a reduction sauce will always please, but Nonna may be best known for its tender and delicate pasta dishes. Chef Julian Barsotti's most popular creation is likely the lobster ravioli, which stuffs sweet crustacean into pasta purses rolled so thin you can almost see the contents. Pappardelle al ragu Bolognese and a lasagna are also winners, as refined as they are hearty. Save room for dessert, though. Barsotti's sweet creations show restraint in the sugar department, resulting in closers that are almost guilt-free. Anything with semifreddo in the description is a guaranteed win.

There's no reason Besa's should be good. It's tucked into the farthest corner of an obscure North Dallas shopping strip, sandwiched between a vacant storefront and a Hobby Lobby; the prices hover just above Little Caesars levels; the guys who run it are Armenian, not Italian. Ignore all that. Order the baked ziti. Eat it. Find yourself in a state of bliss. Besa's menu is a no-nonsense collection of Italian standbys, many of which, like the baked ziti are hit out of the park. Matter of fact, the only thing about Besa's in keeping with its humble exterior is its prices. Try finding a $6 Italian dish somewhere else that even comes close to Besa's. You won't.

A snow cone's a snow cone, just some finely shaved ice swimming in flavored syrup. There's not much room for a snow cone joint to distinguish itself from the competition — or so you assume until you hit up Aunt Stelle's. Somehow, the Oak Cliff landmark makes its just a little better than anyone else. Maybe it's the history, all 51 years of it on the same corner. Maybe it's the way the whole experience makes a summer afternoon seem so luxuriously carefree. Maybe there's something extra in an Aunt Stelle's cone. Whatever it is, get your fill while you can. Lee Albert and husband Ed Schwartz, who have run the stand since taking over from her mother, have promised to keep it open only as long as their health holds up. The Old Oak Cliff Conservation League, after Aunt Stelle's cut its hours to weekends only, saw fit to put it on last year's Architecture at Risk list. Here's wishing the couple eternal health.

El Ranchito may not bill itself as a Tex-Mex restaurant, but there's a Tex-Mex section on the menu with tacos, burritos and enchiladas. The fajitas turn heads with a trail of smoke and steam wafting behind the cast-iron plate like an old jalopy with bad valves, and most things are flanked by go-to rice and beans. Semantics aside, this place serves up all the classics you expect when dining at a Tex-Mex restaurant, with lots of other dishes waiting to tempt you out of your comfort zone. Try the cabrito, grilled baby goat you can strip clean from the bones before using the meat to stuff warm pliable tortillas. Wash it down with enough of their margaritas that you can really join the party. The mariachi band here plays loudly as they bounce from table to table and stir up the crowd. And if that's not festive enough for you, come back when an Elvis impersonation competition turns the whole place into Las Vegas meets the Mission.

Hey, you two guys. You really want to win this election? I have one name to drop and she's a real momentum builder. Lurlene, Pecan Lodge's smoker, may not look that great — she's caked with grease and smoke, and is maybe even rusting in a few spots — but strap her to the back of your tour bus and let the great aroma of Texas barbecue leave a scented campaign trail in your wake. Adults will chase you through suburban neighborhoods for a mere taste of your brisket. Their children will run behind hoping for a morsel of smoked sausage. And puppies will run behind those children, galloping with tongues unleashed while hoping to lap up the smallest dripping of grease. Film all of this. Run it in slow motion. You'll have the greatest campaign commercial of all time and people will vote for you based on the image alone.

Fried chicken is an all-American food for an all-American candidate. Grab a take-out bucket and stage it with a blanket on a grassy knoll for your next photo op. The best part is, this bucket is not a prop. Grab a drumstick and squeeze a little house-made sriracha on it. Take a bite and feel the crisp skin and taste the vibrant heat. Sure, the fried chicken's fancy, and you'll be branded as an elitist (just wait till you're seen with Sissy's caviar-topped deviled eggs) but you have staffers who can put a spin on anything and this fried bird is too good to worry about it.