The pasta is firm and tender. The sauce is tangy and rich. The meatball, shaped like a downed sparrow, is bulging with flavor. When you eat it your face gets messy, as messy as it does when you spill too much Chianti down your throat.

JD's cookies are big, crisp on the outside, chewy on the inside, and warm from the oven. One of these suckers can keep you going on a sugar rush for an impressive stretch. Then, in the throes of a nasty jones, you'll come back and buy another one. The snickerdoodles aren't bad, either.

The Great Harvest Bread Co. gets our nod for "best" because of their huge cookie size that's bursting with chocolate. It makes other cookies paltry by comparison. This is a chocolate chip cookie specially designed for chocolate lovers.

Like Mom's cooking, Babe's doesn't mess with frills. If it doesn't fix gut plumbing like J-B Weld (Drill it! Grind it! Machine it!), then fry, boil or roast it until it does. In addition to fried chicken that could scare a body-fat scale into weather service, Babe's has sinfully rich pot roast, bitchin' big chicken-fried steak with killer gravy, chewy pork ribs with a swift spice prick and delicious moist smoked chicken. You can load that down with lush velvety mashed potatoes, green beans pimpled with bacon bits, creamed corn and biscuits hefty enough to choke off a Senate floor speech. Dump some honey on those. You'll want to memorialize them on your girth.

Even if Dawat didn't serve the exotic and sensually complex cuisine emanating from India, it would be an absorbing experience. Couched in a former General Cinema multiplex theater, Dawat is the creation of a pair of Richardson businessmen, one Pakistani, the other of Indian descent. They cobbled together 47 investors and $6 million to turn the place into FunAsiA, a complex featuring banquet rooms, a concession stand, an ice cream parlor, a fast-food outlet, an arcade, an advertising business, a theater that shows Bollywood films and an office where a free monthly magazine (FunAsiA) is published. The food is exquisite, even when left to the horrifying tortures of the buffet table, a ubiquitous staple in Indian restaurants that may in fact be a requirement under Texas state restaurant statutes. Chicken boti is moist (as are the lamb and beef dishes) with an army of flavors--lemon, coriander, garlic, ginger, cumin, garam masala (spice blend)--that seem to line up for dazzling choreography instead of a fighting formation on the tongue. Rice even has its 15 minutes--plain or adulterated--with firm, distinct and separate grains. Palak paneer, a spinach slurry blended with planks of white cheese, is sublime. Not bad for a place with ornate banquet rooms set up in traditional festive Indian wedding garb around the corner from an immense air hockey table.

Lots of eateries in Dallas capture the cuisine tucked between the near and far of East. But only Café Izmir does it with a dazzling display of poise. The wine list is broad but simple, with a handful of Greek and Lebanese wines included. Dolmas are fresh and supple. Salads are cheek-slap fresh. Tabouli is dazzlingly brisk. Lamb roll is juicy and broad. Kabobs are tender, with a tasty char coat. And while we can't vouch for the Café Izmir claim that it makes the best hummus on the planet (even pulverized and lemon-freshened, passing that many chickpeas can create distressing microclimates), we can say that it's smoother than cold cream. It tastes better, too.

This ivy-covered frame cottage with mustard-colored walls, handsome wall sconces, and hardwood floors has the feel of an aging domicile embracing all of its coziness and lyric sparkle. Not only does Lola dish out inspired New American cuisine and well-priced wines, it does it in a collection of snug, intimate dining areas woven throughout. If this isn't the perfect place to seduce or propose, it's at least the perfect place to hammer out a prenup.

Few car hawkers are as passionate about wine as Van Roberts (Point West Volvo) and his Lola. The restaurant is his vino playground. Roberts is a diligent and tireless wine-taster and list-tweaker, and his roster shows it. Lola's selection of Italian wines rivals that of just about any Italian restaurant in Dallas, and his group of Alsatian wines (more than 30) is unheard of in these parts. German and Austrian bottles, too. Half-bottles and magnums round out size options, and 25 wines are offered by the glass. There is also a collection of Roberts' favorite bottles from around the world. But the best thing about Lola's wine list is the prices, and not just the generous list of "twentysomethings" in the $20-$29 range. Roberts keeps his markups low, which means you can get a bottle of Krug Grand Cuvee for $170 (hard to find on lists for less than $200) or a '97 Diamond Creek "Volcanic Hill" cab for $180. This puts that special-occasion sip within reach with wines that most people will never taste in their lifetimes.

Finely fluted layers of delicate pastry encase a juicy apple stuffing far removed from the leaden, tough-skinned clumps on most bakery shelves. Do not attempt to eat while driving, or you will emerge a pastry-flecked frump. Better to have a seat in the small café and check out the collection of vintage baking tins and eggbeaters while indulging.

Sometimes the servers can be snooty. Sometimes the prices are over the top. But this is the way things are in the world of Michelin star restaurants. You can't feed those suffering from wallet obesity unless there's a little condescension. Yes, the rich may like to belittle their bilingual Toro jockeys when they accidentally puree the azaleas, but they absolutely adore being sneered at by those who snicker when they slosh and make their noses run red with expensive Burgundy while trying to remember the tasting ritual. Anyway, Chef Avner Samuel--the kind of man you pray would prepare your last fried chicken-and-cottage fries dinner should you ever find yourself with a serious appointment at Huntsville--has created Dallas' first and only Michelin star-quality restaurant. There is no flavor here that doesn't make your toes curl like popcorn shrimp, or your wallet trim down like a waist on a carb countdown. So sneer all you want. We can lick our plates without ever showing our tongues--unless the food goes rude.

Readers' Pick

III Forks

17776 Dallas Parkway

972-267-1776

You can't drive through, and they won't serve it to you in a cardboard box, but for flavor and crispness, Ed Lowe's restaurant, which has been on the Dallas scene for 32 years, is head and shoulders above all others. All day Sunday (11 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.) and on Monday and Tuesday nights, the $10.50 fried chicken plate is on the menu. You can get two large pieces of white, dark or mixed. And there are fresh vegetables, salad, soup or fruit. And, hey, you can ask for seconds with no additional charge. Their secret? It's the marinade the chicken is soaked in for 12 hours. "Can't tell you what's in it," says Lowe, "but our cook got the recipe from his mother."