Frisco is a long way to travel for good seafood. But hell, so is the ocean, and it's much harder on pickup trucks than the asphalt and browned prairie grass of the northern most reaches of the metroplex. 9 Fish, so named because the number means good luck in much of Asia, is a fascinating clash of highly disciplined culinary craft and freewheeling protocol, all executed with some of the ugliest critters ever seen outside a Jerry Springer installment. A display case stores an assortment of fish, giant prawns, clams and live geoduck--the giant clams from the Pacific Northwest that flaunt 18-inch siphons from their measly 3-inch shells, which are held together with rubber bands. This place can be exhilaratingly exotic, serving sculpted Japanese foie gras (monk fish liver) and giant whole prawns tossed and turned on the robata grill. 9 Fish also serves sushi: cool, firm and silky without any sinewy strands to get tangled between your crowns. The flesh literally dissolves between your cheeks. Seared peppered tuna, perched on black sticky rice and "escorted by fresh field greens," arrives as two tall pink wedges rising out of the dark rice like coastal palisades. In the mouth the fish behaves like pristine slivers of ocean silk. It's hard to get seafood better than this without a snorkel and an airline ticket.

Ziziki's, the Travis Walk restaurant owned by Costa and Mary Arabatzis, has just celebrated its 10th anniversary, and with its record of outstanding quality, we expect another 10, at least. Ziziki's has won this award before--no great suspense here--and after trying the range of Greek restaurants in the area, we see no reason to dethrone it now. Though it would be more accurately described as Greek-inspired, Ziziki's uses top-notch ingredients and adds a dash of invention to Mediterranean favorites. We like it for the French feta cheese, the best we've ever tasted; the tender lamb souvlaki; the excellent children's menu; and, most of all, a sublime Australian rack of lamb.

Readers' Pick

Ziziki's

Strip and rib-eye steaks at Pappas are dry-aged prime, and it shows, though not on the plate. You won't find any vertical architecture emerging from the meat; no swirling threads of brightly colored, pleated sauces. The preparation here is unapologetically minimalist, with just a sprinkle of kosher salt, a dash of pepper, and a little butter to pull out the richness. A dusting of chopped parsley completes the presentation. This is the brute force of beef in all of its firm, juicy, tender, bold glory. We're waiting for the Pappas Bros. triple-bypass quick mart to round out the experience.

If clones are going to attack, let them do it with weapons of flaccid tuna slices, gooey uni and fluffy tobiko in shades that would make a Day-Glo palette wince. That's what Sushi Kyoto II does. A replica of Sushi Kyoto I in Coppell, the Kyoto clone along this SMU pavement strip bombards you with buxom scraps of fresh raw fish: silky tuna that disintegrates in the mouth with just a little tongue pressure; smooth, delicately smoky salmon that can easily be parsed with chopsticks; sweet satiny hamachi; fluffy tobiko. Even the uni, the urchin gonad ensemble that makes infrequent successful appearances in Dallas, is firm, nutty and smoothly cool. Octopus is tender and chewy, with a gentle touch of salinity. But one of the most compelling dishes in this place isn't a fleshy aquatic critter at all. It's a snarl of seaweed pimpled with sesame seeds. The flavors in Sushi Kyoto's seaweed salad are so clean, crisp and addicting, it'll seduce all your friends and family who belt raw fish-phobic squeals whenever sushi and dinner are mentioned in the same breath. It also makes a great vegan French tickler.

How simple. How healthful. How easy to like, even for those few souls who haven't been initiated into the ways of sushi. The California roll--tuna, avocado, rice and a light coating of roe--is sort of a basic building block of American sushi dining. This is starter sushi, as much American as Japanese. Some would say it's passé, but not us. If it's over, then prime steak was out after 1966. (Actually, it was, but it hid in the mountains like a patient guerrilla fighter.) Same with the California roll. At this solid, unpretentious and thoroughly popular sushi palace, they make this old standard flawlessly. The flavors meld and blend in your little puddle of soy sauce. Start here, then work deeper and deeper into the dining ways of the Far East.

The perfect sweet treat is indulgent, both cakey and gooey, and self-contained: the cupcake. Why people bother with slicing up a big hulking cake is a mystery, especially when the Cupcake Kitchen and their enorma-cups are just a phone call away. A one-dozen minimum is required for delivery, but there are no limitations to the complete satisfaction one achieves with a bite of, say, the Triple Chocolate Threat or the You Got Chocolate in My Peanut Butter! For the fruity, there's the Mellow Yellow or The Creamsicle. And there are still more to taste. The cupcakes come in regular (large) size or Li'l Cakes, and each dozen can be made up of three varieties. Of course, you could bake your own damn cupcakes, but after partaking of Cupcake Kitchen's moist cake, rich-but-not-too-rich icing and delectable flavor, who needs to? Currently Cupcake Kitchen is open only for weekend delivery service.

It could happen to you, and it probably has: You're shopping, you're trying on, taking off, and you haven't been successful. What's more, you are now in a state of shopping fever. Sweat has formed on your upper lip, your stomach is growling louder than you can and you haven't found anything fresh in which to clothe yourself. Take a deep breath, we have found salvation. Not only does Nikolini feature incredible originals in the way of clothing and shoes, but it is also connected to one hell of an organic Greek restaurant, Organicity. The options are now limitless...a dip in the hummus, a glance at some Mary Janes, a bite of dolma, a quick try-on for that exceedingly cool A-line skirt. The original designs are on the steep side, but the bites are reasonable.

Not many places in Dallas serve goat. Only one that we know of allows you to enjoy your goat (the bovid ruminant kind, not the leering lecher type) with a mango margarita. India Palace is such a place. But India Palace is more than just a herder's handiwork laced with tequila. It's a cornucopia of mysterious Indian flavors such as Balti dishes: an Indian cooking technique that utilizes a cast-iron pot stuffed to the gills with a crush of spices--onion, garlic, ginger, coriander, cumin, fennel and mustard seeds--that collapse into a rich sauce to bathe the dish centerpiece (such as beef). Good flat breads, opulent aloo gobi (spicy potatoes and cauliflower) and delicious mulligatawny moghlai ("pepper water" soup), too. Plus India Palace makes enthusiastic use of bargain-hunter buffet tables at selected times. It's also drenched in Pepto-Bismol pink with burgundy accent points, which just might get your goat before the goat gets you.

A trip to the ballpark is not complete without the food: peanuts, hot dogs, pretzels, Philly cheese steaks. Yo? Philly cheese steaks? One of the best, most improbable features of the charming Dr Pepper/7UP Ballpark in Frisco is the fact that they serve the best cheese steak in this time zone--from a cart way down the left field line. A little investigation revealed that the cart at the ballpark is actually an outpost of Philly Connection, a chain of restaurants based, of all places, in Atlanta. With 12 area stores, mostly in the Northern suburbs, Philly Connection has ambitions for our market that approach Starbucks proportions. They expect to have 50 locations all across Dallas-Fort Worth within a year and double that number in five years. The reason you can expect consistently satisfying sandwiches as they grow has to do with the passion of company founder John Pollack. "I grew up in Philly," says Pollack, "and like most Philadelphians, I consider myself a connoisseur of the cheese steak. My two favorite places to get them are pretty famous: Gitanos and Big John's in Cherry Hill." Moving to Atlanta in the early '80s left Pollack with an inner need as well as a perceived opportunity, and Philly Connection was born in 1984. "Our goals have always been consistency and authenticity," he says. "Even though Southerners had no basis of comparison at the time, I did because I'd learned from the best." To ensure meeting those goals, Philly Connection has bought its meat from the same Philadelphia supplier since 1984, a 92 percent lean cut that provides the optimum balance of taste and texture. And the way the meat and grilled onions and peppers nestle into the steamy, soft, authentic roll just feels and smells right.

There can be no argument that the fish is fresh at TJ's Seafood Market--it's flown in two to three times a day from exotic ports of call. A regular United Nations of fish, you've got your Dover sole from England, your sea bass from Chile, your tilapia from Ecuador. Swimming closer to home are shrimp from the Gulf of Mexico, catfish from Mississippi, rainbow trout from Idaho and lobster from Maine. Few other fish markets go to such extremes to bring you the variety, the freshness, the quality of TJ's.