An icy Jarritos of any flavor--lime, fruit punch, guava, plenty more--is enough to win you over from the laboratory and focus-group flavors of most Norteamericano sodas. The fresh, clean fruit taste of Jarritos is a blast of beach and jungle rolled into one. Fiesta Mart offers a variety of Mexican brands--Goya, Victoria, Topo-Chico, along with Mexican versions of some U.S. drinks. But the very best is the Jarritos orange. It actually tastes like an orange! Imagine: naturally occurring flavors! What a concept. Other stores stock the brand, but Fiesta is one of the few places where you can buy Jarritos in plastic 2-liter bottles, after you get the habit.
Let's be honest here: There are no great Indian restaurants in Dallas. So with that premise established, let's examine the most interesting entrant in this mediocre ilk. Mantra is a stab at modernity; an incremental tweak of traditional Indian cuisine. Mantra attempts to preserve the rich, heady complexity of Indian cuisine while casting it as wily and deft, in a contemporary sense. Many culinary trend peepers have been predicting Indian fare would be "the next big thing": mainstream dining tickled by mint chutney and tandoori chicken. If that's true, Mantra is poised to pounce. Mantra is Indian lithe. Gone are the soupy dishes like chicken masala and lamb curry. Indestructible sauces able to survive hours of agony on buffet tables are also no-shows, as are the buffet-table torture chambers. Exhibit one: tomato broccoli soup. It's thick. It's smooth. It vibrates. Conclusion: Mantra's dishes are not only seasoned with more subtlety; they're actually a different set of centerpieces gently framed in Indian influences. Exhibit two: crepes stuffed with things, from vegetables, scrambled eggs, onions and potato to chicken, shrimp and lamb, all adorned with lush Indian spices. Conclusion: Keep your eyes peeled for the sweetbread mulligatawny. It's the next big thing.
Readers' Pick
India Palace
12817 Preston Road
972-392-0190
We get it, all right? Yes, the word "Johnson" is synonymous with penis. Has been for--what?--a thousand years. Good job, P.D. Johnson's Dog Day Deli, for incorporating the joke into your menu and onto the T-shirts you sell and the paraphernalia that lines your restaurant's walls. Ha ha, funny stuff, a sophomore-ish bit, but the problem is...the problem is that it's not...well, to be honest, the real problem is that it's tough to stay mad at P.D. Johnson's for its crassness. The sandwiches are too good. The signature sub, the Hot Johnson, piles roast beef, oven turkey, bacon, barbecue sauce and two kinds of mayonnaise--"cheddar" and "horsey"--between two thick slices of warm bread. Order the grande--the regular is 6 inches, the grande 8--and it's amazing what happens. You leave the table wanting more--the sub's that tasty. Plus, P.D. Johnson's serves beer. Plus, you get to pull your beer from a tub of ice before twisting off your own top. Domestic bottles are only two bucks. Suddenly, this place has charm.