Seeing as how Dallas is landlocked, it makes sense that the owner of TJ's is from Virginia Beach. Caren Alexis and her husband, Peter, bought the joint two years ago (it has been in operation since 1989). TJ's offers a regular daily menu of 17 varieties of fresh, raw fish, including sushi-grade tuna and swordfish. If there's something else with gills or shell you want, chances are Caren can order it for you. Shipments of live Maine lobsters arrive three times per week, with Caren discounting what she has in the tank on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Her quality control and customer service make Caren a fishmonger not to be trifled with. As she says, "I look at everything that comes through the door."

Other than during the "Tour Olive," when they give 'em away, this well-established market asks $6.99 a pound for any of its 24 or so varieties, mixed as you like. A few favorites: Alphono marinated in wine; Catalan with fennel and lime; pitted Nicoise, and pitted Greek kalamatas.

Named after a Hindu mantric word, Om Imports is sort of like Sam Moon Lite: fewer crowds, less merchandise, lower prices. This smaller version of the monster shopping complex known as Sam Moon Trading Co. opened this year not far from its more famous predecessor. Om has similar sparkly jewelry and hair doodads, and there's a smattering of purses and other trinkets as well. But comparing Om to Sam Moon may not be quite fair, because Om has something the giant discount metropolis doesn't: friendly faces. A trip to Om's checkout counter is rather pleasant; sometimes they even give you a coupon and a free gift with purchase, which is a far cry from the usual scowl and rush job you get at Sam What's-his-name's. We're not really into meditation, but it feels like Om has some pretty good karma.

Why do we drive two hours round-trip to Prosper, Texas, to buy a couple of dozen eggs every month? Because we have too much time on our hands, frankly. But also because we like our eggs fresh. Know the following: Mahard is family-owned and the 10th-largest egg producer in the country, with something like 3 million white leghorn hens busily cranking out the stuff for our omelettes and soufflés. We do not have to deal with the unpleasant smell of 3 million white leghorn hens when we visit the tiny outlet in Prosper. The hens proper are located elsewhere. We can buy Mahard eggs in the grocery store down the street, but those eggs might be three weeks old. As of press time, we could get a dozen extra large at the outlet in Prosper for 70 cents. And those eggs would have been inside a hen fewer than 24 hours prior.

If you get off on garage sales, you'll love this place. It's large, dusty, and hot, but treasures can be found at almost give-away prices. Just plan on digging and browsing. From household appliances and furniture to costume and antique jewelry to a stuffed animal barrel where a quarter buys your choice, a visit to Sarah's is a little like a scavenger hunt for grownups. If you don't find what you're looking for, don't give up. It just might be there the next time you visit.

With the exception of sex toys, nothing depreciates more than furniture. That's why we've always purchased our major pieces at consignment stores. Our fave is Consignment Solution because of the great rotating inventory--couches, chairs, tables, beds, desks, wall art, the whole magilla--and the friendly help. We've bought a $3,800 leather couch from Legacy Trading Co. for $1,200, a pair of $1,200 chairs for $600 each, and several times we've found the perfect dining set only to see it was already sold. So only go there once we've furnished our dining room. Otherwise you, too, will become our furniture enemies.

For those of you who don't know how to cook, we understand why getting invited to a potluck dinner couldn't be more of a pain. Oftentimes, dessert seems like the best course to bring: After all, you can only bring chips and dip so many times, and there's no way Ramen noodles are going to make the cut as an entrée. But bringing dessert is no picnic, either. Baking is hard and hot, which leaves buying a dessert as your only option. And then what? You go to Albertson's or Tom Thumb where you are limited to bag candy, gooey day-old cookies or some Bert and Ernie cake that tastes as synthetic as it looks. Here's your solution: Call Dallas Affaires Cake Co. and order up one of their cakes. They're great. Actually, they're beyond great. They are sinful. Our favorites include the orange cake, the white chocolate cake and the standard white cake with Italian icing. But there are plenty of options to choose from. Of course, Dallas Affaires is also the best option for birthdays, anniversaries, retirements and other standard affairs.

We admit it: We're kinda girlie. We like sparkles and shimmers and baubles and fluffy feathery things that go "poof" when you touch them. That's why it is imperative we shop at Talulah Belle only after payday. Otherwise, this amazing ultra-fem boutique in a Lakewood shopping center will send our checking account into pink-sugar shock. It's not that the store is that expensive; it's just that we want to buy so much. Despite its somewhat cramped space, Talulah Belle is brimming with must-have accoutrements, from the sensible (handmade leather purses and stylish pumps) to the eccentric (pompom diva slippers and rhinestone reading glasses). Ah, the practical and the ridiculous--two things we truly appreciate.

Jack Moore doesn't care whether you call him "chef" or "cook," so long as you use the word "tasty" when describing the pies he's been cooking for 35 years. He does them all--chocolate, apple, pecan, coconut and a variety of cobblers--but his specialty is his sweet potato pie. "Been cooking 'em for a long time," he says, "and have never had a complaint." And what's to complain about? They're sweet, smooth and made from scratch. You can order a piece from the menu. Or, better yet, fork over $12 and take a whole pie home with you. And, yes, the Old Mill Inn is open daily.

Mom had a very basic style of cooking: grab a big jug of Wesson oil; pour a half-dozen glugs into a skillet; add food; apply heat. This is why we tend to avoid restaurants that advertise dishes "just like Mom used to make." If only the old girl had Oil & Vinegar, our arteries and appetite for home cooking might be in better shape today. This shop offers oil as a work of art, selling infused vinegars and imported olive oils and other types of oil served from large glass carboys displayed like sculptures along a glowing backlit wall. Goodies such as white truffle olive oil and orange lemon basil vinegar are among the offerings, along with eye-catching jars of olives, garlic, mouth-watering spreads, herbs and fancy dishes to serve them in.