Now in its fourth decade, this sandwich shop's longevity speaks to just how good its product is. Around the noon hour you can usually see a dozen or more people standing around drooling while they wait for their sub to be prepared. There is no indoor dining, but the shop provides school desks and some shade from an awning that looks like it was built during the Eisenhower administration. The portions are fresh and huge, and no national sub chain's product can compare. The spicy Italian, our personal favorite, is an amazing pile of salami and provolone with fresh lettuce, peppers and special spices unique to Cero's. The foot-long is so much food that you might actually bust your gut if you eat the whole thing. Other subs are equally popular among Cero's faithful. Don't try to get one of these suckers for dinner or on your way to church.

The qualities of perfect cheesecake are really oxymorons if you think about it. Each bite should be saturated with flavor but fluffy and rich, while also being light. The Xango has all those characteristics, plus a surprising one: It's wrapped in pastry dough and flash-fried. Sign us up. Understand, though, we're not supporters of all things fried. We don't dig the fried Twinkie, and frankly, a battered Snickers is way too much to deal with. The Xango, however, is so different from all the greasy, too-much-batter treats that are dunked in funnel cake mix. And while we do love a good funnel cake, in this instance, lighter is better. The pastry shell is crisp and thin, makes a nice crackle when attacked by a fork and, oddly enough, isn't greasy in the slightest. Topped only with cinnamon sugar, the Xango stands on its own (no unnecessary drizzle) and rewards the taste buds.

You are probably thinking Balls or Ez's or the Purple Cow--something more kid-driven than kid-friendly. But we are thinking food locales that may cater to kids but actually target the adults of the family, those over the age of, say, 5. The new Tin Star on Belt Line Road meets our criteria down to the last available chip. You've got your big-guy Southwestern cuisine, served up fast, done up tastefully and modestly priced. And your prepubescent fun food--taco cheeseburger, hot dogs, chicken fingers--tasty morsels all. The stand-in-line service lends itself to kids, particularly those with short attention spans and hungry appetites. And there are slurpees for those who think young, and Oreo cookies for those in search of a sweet ending to this fine but casual dining experience. Standard-issue coloring books and crayons are available upon request.

Pretty much everything on Joel Harloff's menu at the Melrose Hotel's signature restaurant is stunning. It's set up in courses instead of the more prosaic appetizer/salad/entrée arrangement. Most diners will focus on second or main course standouts. Among the initial offerings, however, is a simple broth. Now, broth is the sort of thing a cranky old man slurps down when the grandkids have "borrowed" his false choppers for a quick game of street hockey--an easily digestible soup consisting of water, for the most part. Yet Harloff's version, created from the roasted remnants of pheasant, stands out as one of the most exquisite first-course offerings in Dallas. The flavors of wild game and smoke linger with unexpected intensity. A few slivers of shiitake mushroom, a sparse handful of diced roma tomatoes and a slight swirl of pumpkin-seed oil add texture and enhance the natural wildness of the broth. Otherwise, it's a dish true to the heritage: mostly water and very simple. It's just about perfect, in other words

There's nowhere in Dallas to get a better hit of post-debauchery nutrition than Cuba Libre, a Latin rumba of pulsing pecs, flirty lips, slinky dresses and herbs and spices lewdly dispersed over various protein platforms hopped up on mom-approved vitamins and minerals (even prowling club lizards need virility maintenance). The latter is assembled by Nick Badovinus, a crafty chef who does things to shrimp, fish and meat that would scare the chips out of salsa, or maybe the salsa into your night buddy's bloomers. And that's a helluva lot more bang than you'll get from an aerosol cheese omelette or a waffle with freeze-dried blueberries.

This is Texas, so it's understood that there are quite a few margaritas to be had out there. And before we went on this quest we were pretty accepting of whatever 'rita goodness was served to us. Then we walked into Sol's. To be honest, we weren't thinking Best of Dallas. We were just having some Mexican food with a friend and decided to imbibe. Our patient waiter discussed with us the merits of the top shelf and urged us to choose that over the basic version. A little suspicious of a possible up-sell, we went ahead. Bless that man! Sauza Conmemorativo and Gran Marnier provided an outstanding base for what our bartender concocted for us. It was light, not too tart, not too sweet, didn't burn the hair off our chest, and yet it sure as hell hit us about 10 minutes later. This top shelf schooled us in the finely prepared margarita.

Part of the experience of the Izmir order is the personality of the husband-and-wife team (Mehdi and Faye Nazari, an uncle and aunt of the owners Beau and Ali) that usually answers the phone. Mehdi's got an amazingly accented voice that is welcoming and calming (for those of us who hate phoning in an order). And both he and Faye are fantastic at helping the undecided choose what to order. The chicken and arugula sandwich on marble rye bread is amazingly bold. Chicken schnitzel is a true specialty, and the cold mozzarella sandwich with basil and tomatoes is crisp, light and makes a perfect meal with the addition of a side Greek salad (the dressing, oh, the dressing). The Mediterranean fare is a top-notch delivery option, but plan to order before 9 p.m. As Mehdi always says, they'll have it there "in about 40 minutes, hopefully sooner." It's always sooner, and in the world of delivery, punctuality and ordering assistance along with spectacular food make Izmir Market and Deli truly the best. Don't forget to order a brownie; they're delicious and about as big as your face.

Throughout the year Celebrity Bakery does these great seasonal and holiday iced cookies, always fresh and moist, with delicious decorations for everything from Christmas to Bastille Day. Any holiday at all is a great excuse for biting into one of these little works of art.

The cuisine at this bowling alley-sized Indian dining room is lush, colorful, and laced with clean flavors. Virtually everything, from the spinach pakora (batter-fried spinach leaves) to the shrimp birani (shrimp with basmati rice) to the chutneys is brisk and tasty. Plus a huge TV screen surrounded by assorted monitors beams in programming from India: a cornucopia of televised entertainment such as action chase scenes featuring steam locomotives and grizzled criminals who sing and dance. Must be the lentils.

Metro is an old roadside slinger within spit shot of Dallas' downtown skyline. It's an archaic, rudimentary grub hut, one whose only modern amenity is a jukebox packed with CDs. Griddle sizzle is the constant din; ice machine whirs the constant hum; smoke clouds and grill gusts the incontinent weather. Booth seating is covered in deep red vinyl embedded with metal flake: an homage, perhaps, to all those jacked-up, candy apple red Chevelles and Chargers of years past. The menu's got a kind of hum to it, too, and maybe a rattle. Metro porky dinner has two pork chops and a pile of hash browns that feel like they were dragged through 40-weight (best to eat with a spoon). Home boy is a double-meat chicken-fried steak. This is the kind of meaty one-two punch that has horrified the health professions for decades. There's also stewed potatoes, fried catfish, eggs galore (even with a chicken-fried steak), pancakes--and refreshing lemonade, which serves as a kind of Drano to remove some of the excess lipids lining your plumbing. Most of us think that, anyway.