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?

Goodhues is not, in itself, a reason to move to McKinney, but it's sure worth the occasional drive. This former RC Cola bottling plant just off the town square provides a wonderful antidote for the franchises that have infested this booming community. The charming interior, with its exposed brick and long antique bar, is welcoming, casual and heartily American, and one can say the same for the food. Start with the roasted garlic with fresh goat cheese or the perfectly seasoned roasted poblano chicken corn chowder. Or try the surprising Erin's Salad, baby greens, blue cheese, oranges, strawberries and spiced pecans in a honey shallot vinaigrette that pulls it all together. The roast duckling, chicken Goodhues and sautéed tilapia in a champagne-cilantro sauce are all standout entrées, and the steaks, chops and baby back ribs are generous portions of excellent meat. Be sure to check out their small but select wine list. The first surprise at the end of the meal is the mixed berry crumble with ice cream, a perfect balance of flavors and textures. The second is the check. Goodhues costs 25 percent to 30 percent less than a comparable Dallas restaurant.

There are a many things to love about this tiny room with an open kitchen and an ice pit where live lobsters twitch and quiver. First, there's the cozy bar with odd, sloped couches and great martinis made with sake. Then there's the chalkboard where all kinds of exotic specials are posted, depending on the catch of the day, which may be sea urchin wrapped in sheets of raw flounder or whole sardines scorched on the robata grill, or any number of swimmy things. Beer-guzzling things too. Tei Tei features Kobe beef, meat that comes from the rare wagyu cattle. Wagyu cattle spend their lives getting massaged with sake and fed a diet that includes copious amounts of beer. The more expensive cuts of meat come from wagyu, which are known for watching sports on big-screen TVs, belching, and telling lewd Holstein jokes.

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.

Reikyu says it features "contemporary fusion," but what that means to us is damn fine sushi. It's a great place for people-watching--if the moon and stars align, you can see the yuppies in the Mock-Station lofts wandering about their chic pads in their underthingies--but not so great for watching your checkbook. Getting full at Reikyu is fun but not cheap. That is, unless you try the bento box. For about a sawbuck, you get shrimp tempura, a California roll, sautéed beef or chicken, salad, soup and a bowl of rice. Add some good cold sake and you have yourself a meal you and your wallet can stomach.

The $5.95 lunch special at Nuevo Leon, a Mex-Mex mini-chain, is not for the feint of appetite. Nuevo Leon's eight selections on its daily lunch special menu are nicely prepared with fresh ingredients, sauces that go well beyond the ordinary Tex-Mex glopfare, and generous portions. The plates here are huge. A hearty eater is hard-pressed to get through, say, the No. 8--two beef enchiladas, one pork tamale with chili con carne, rice, beans covered with cheese, and the usual basket of chips--without expecting a little siesta back at the office. The solution: split. At $3 each, you and a friend can be well taken care of. Tax, tip, and Coke and you're out the door for $5 a head. Now that's cheap.

If you can keep your mind and your lunch plans open, you will certainly enjoy the gourmet goodness and styling of Monica Greene as she opens up her Mexican kitchen to power-lunchers looking for the best bargain in town. Five bucks can buy you hefty portions of enchiladas, tacos, and burritos, but don't look for traditional Tex-Mex here. We are talking about fare with flair, Mexican food prepared and presented with thought, delicacy, and whimsy--whatever that means. The noise level here gets way over the top, but what did you expect? This is Deep Ellum.

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.

Tapas and tarps have a lot in common. A tarp is a waterproof cover designed to keep things from getting wet. Tapas, which means "covers," came into prominence in Spain in the 19th century when barflies began topping the mouths of little sherry glasses with slices of cured ham or sausage to keep out the dust and flies. Flies apparently are as fond of a chilled glass of bone-dry sherry as anyone. Though why a Spaniard would prefer flies socializing on a slice of cured meat to drunk and sterilized in a glass of fino is anyone's guess. Anyway, you can relive this 19th century appetizer tradition at Café Madrid. With a cozy dining room furnished with old wooden tables and chairs, Madrid's little plates are always fresh and intriguing, from chopped octopus salad to anchovy filets in garlic to chewy marinated quail. Café Madrid has a broad Spanish wine list organized by regions and a splendid selection of sherries.

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.