Steel's Vietnamese/Japanese cuisine is not necessarily the easiest chow to mate with wine. But the 40-plus by-the-glass list (embracing sparkling, white, red and dessert wines) includes an easy reference guide with tasting notes and pairing suggestions to coach you through the dining experience. Tethered to this is a list of more than 65 sakes, also with tasting notes and pairing suggestions. Imagine that. But Steel's grape mettle erupts with its hefty bottle list--more than 1,300 entries strong, each noting the varietal composition of the wine and the winemakers that created it. Largely a work constructed in alphabetical order by varietal, Steel's list includes the great wines from virtually every corner of the globe. But Steel also has the shrewdness to devote ample list real estate to Gewürztraminer and Riesling, wines void of any snob appeal (the latter perhaps the most overlooked noble grape on the planet). This is a deliciously imposing list, one that, with a surplus of time and shekels, should be perused with an irrationally exuberant thirst.

Buddha's Special is possibly the most authentic dish at this Indian-inspired vegetarian restaurant on Oak Lawn Avenue. And it offers a sample of the more traditional dishes with a serving of basmati rice, a dish of curried vegetables (whatever is the day's special, but usually involving spinach or potatoes), pappadam (a lentil wafer), dahl (a lentil soup), a piece of nan (flat bread) and a samosa (see above item). If they could throw in a cup of hummus, the expedition would be complete.

The criteria here are a restaurant where you are comfortable taking the kids and where you actually like the food. Not an easy order, at least until you find the pasta pleasures offered at this reasonably priced Park Cities eatery. Sharply designed--it was the old Café A--with a nice sidewalk patio, Penne Pomodoro serves some of the best hearty pasta dishes in town. Given the liberal smattering of tykes around every time we've been there, it's obvious that the word is out: This is a family place. If you think your mother could make lasagna, you'll stop boasting after you try the massive, sizzling, subtly flavored square served here. For those looking for a little less calorie loading, there's a nice selection of fish specials, led by the spicy fisherman's stew.

The spinach and artichoke queso at Pappasito's Cantina is the best of two very different worlds. We've had some pretty decent spinach and artichoke dip, and we've had some pretty decent queso. But never, until Pappasito's added this appetizer to its menu, have we had the two served up as one big tasty dish. It's a great combination, and Pappasito's does a fine job with it. The creamy queso is served with crunchy corn tortilla chips, strong and sturdy enough to stand up to the thick dip, and the bowl is huge, so there's plenty for the whole family.

There's a curvaceous bar with a top made of stained concrete. The sector containing the bar is separated from the dining area by a screen made of chain mail, which kind of makes you wonder what the staff does with the cutlery when the barflies get riled. Chow Thai Pacific Rim also has a natty little entrance chamber, a kind of acclimation zone to help your body transition from the stylized asphalt strip-mall wasteland into this fusion fashion. Chow Thai Pacific Rim is a mishmash of Asian influences embellished with...God knows what. Slipped in there with the Pacific Rim rolls, ahi tartar, miso soup, and Hoisin-marinated chicken are New American dishes such as grilled lamb chops and frog legs with chilies. What's surprising is the number of thrilling risks they'll take.

If all else fails and you'd rather hang among tourists than Dallasites, go to the West End. Let's rephrase: If there's a cool joint in the West End, then it's Spiatza's Italian Grill and Bar. Tucked between a shack full of crabs and the infamous neon rainbow walkway, it's a bit hard to find, but the ample-sized servings along with a down-to-earth bar atmosphere make it worth the search. Rumor is that in the near future, the walls will evolve from heroin-chic paintings to flat-screen TVs, and the waitresses will begin wearing baby tees bearing a Nick's Sport City logo. But in the meantime, what's so cool about this West End secret? They accept DART Pass coupons, Southwestern alligator pasta is on the menu and the kitchen stays open until at least 1 a.m. on the weekends. Whether the name changes, it gets the big thumbs up: It's the most convenient spot to hit before or after an American Airlines Center event.

This is hands-down the best bowl of lime-seared seafood in Dallas. Scraps of tender, firm octopus, conch, and shrimp are crammed into a margarita glass with key lime, cilantro, diced tomato, papaya, pineapple, and mango. The flavors are prodded with vanilla and a little clump of pickled onion that adds a jagged edge of raciness. It's as sexy as it is satisfying.

This ain't no misnomer. You've got your brown rice; you've got your organic black beans. It's a virtual one-two punch of grains and legumes, providing the protein needed without using meat. Then there's the pile of steamed veggies, fresh and crunchy, satisfying the colorful part of the food pyramid, and a cup of Dream Café's tahini miso sauce, a tangy, oily creation that adds a hint of flavor without overpowering the three basics of this square, but not unhip, meal.

Not mushy, not crunchy, just right--even Goldilocks would be satisfied (if she were into french fries). These golden beauties are always warm and crisp, like great fries should be, but the real secret is in the seasoning. The spicy, salty blend has made Burger House fries famous since 1951, and with good reason. Even the thought of their aromatic deliciousness makes us salivate. If you're wavering in your Atkins diet conviction, this is the place to cheat. Do it up right, too: Don't forget the ketchup.

Venezuelan Carlos Branger is an evil, evil man, and we love him for it. Since opening a few months ago, this Latin restaurant-bakery on Oak Lawn Avenue has become our go-to restaurant whenever we crave sweet corn tortillas filled with meat and cheese...and cheese; this is a delicacy called cachapas, incidentally, which we believe is Venezuelan for "happy heart attack yummy delight." There are also the arepas, stuffed but not sweet; we prefer the former, though, because there's something about getting that corn-cheese-etc. stuck in our teeth--the lunch that keeps on giving. Branger's cut back a bit on the free-sample smorgasbord that lined the countertops for months, which is fine; we were loaded up on fresh breads, most filled with cheese and/or caramel, well before our lunch arrived anyway, and we needed to save room for those plantain chips and sweet-bread desserts, which give us full belly and tight, but happy, pants. We haven't quite mustered up the courage to order the ham-and-cheese bread loaves--it's been weeks since we've been to the gym--or myriad other fresh-baked delicacies taunting us from the glass cases and oven racks, but we will. It's not like we're not at Zaguán once a week. Or twice. Or thrice, dang it.