Appetizers are nice friendly little things, like shrimp cocktails and fried crab cakes that look like powder puffs. But fried jumbo asparagus? What a freak. Served on a bed of field greens and roasted corn relish with an addictive, smooth mango-serrano chili cream sauce, these battered and fried asparagus stalks look like battle-hardened insect legs. Yet you must never judge asparagus by its duds. The stalks are delicious, with a brittle, crisp coating and a snappy stem that didn't dry out or go mushy after a trip to the fry bath. Don't try this with a carrot.

Lots of spaces in Dallas ply the fused stuff, the culinary caulk known as Tex-Mex. A few places ply genuine Mexican food, some even going so far as to represent the varied and distinct cuisines from around that nation. But no one in Dallas creates Mexican cuisine with the dazzle and verve of restaurateur Monica Greene and chef Joanne Bondy at Ciudad. The restaurant was conceived as a reflection of the sophisticated cuisine ambling around the menus of Mexico City--a sort of big-city chic lassoed and stuffed into a Dallas taco (Ciudad stuffs its tacos with goat). Now this cuisine ambles around Dallas, twisting some needed sophistication torque onto the typical Mexican flush. This twist is fueled with things like ceviche pumped with a vanilla-pineapple pico and lamb chops enveloped with cumin and aroused with tomato fennel salsa. No need for bean retreads or dried-out rice.

Understand something: The best cocktail isn't necessarily the one we drink every night. Then the winner in this category would be "Whatever alcohol is brown, in our cupboard and you can pour over ice." No, this category is reserved for the sort of drink that men and women can consume and say to themselves, "My, this is a refreshing way to get loaded." With that being the criterion, the winner is clearly the Stoli Doli at C-Grille. On the bar you will see a huge container filled with "jet-fresh" (meaning they're flown in the day they're picked, or somesuch) Dole pineapples, to which is added many, many fluid ounces of Stoli vodka. This marinates for five to seven days. The resulting nectar is served chilled in a cocktail glass or, if you prefer (as we do), in a tumbler on the rocks. Especially in the summer, but at all times of the year, this is a killer cocktail.

Dragonfly's white bean soup is as beautiful as it is tasty. It's assembled at the table with bowls of ingredients--tomato, tiny crouton cubes, smoked bacon and white beans--ceremoniously transferred to a serving dish. This soup is a smooth, piping-hot blend with a creamy texture and a delicate racy aroma from pureed fennel, while the rough bean grip is pleasantly pronounced. It's as nourishing to the paunch as it is captivating to the noodle, which is pretty good for a bean.

Well, they do actually serve coffee here, but unlike the mass confusion of corporate coffeehouses, they've pared it down to five or six delicious choices. But you won't miss the coffee once you notice the fully stocked bar. New Amsterdam manages to maintain the relaxed intimacy of a coffeehouse while providing a good selection of beers and liquors. Unlike the many bars that seem awkward and gaudy in the light of day, New Amsterdam is equally cozy whether you drop by on a Saturday afternoon or a Thursday night (and if you come by on Mondays, you might catch some live jazz). So put some change in the jukebox, order some (Irish) coffee and pull up a dilapidated chair--this just might be the place where everybody knows your name.

Nikita is a hash of Soviet Bloc funk twisted and sanitized into Red hip, which means it serves caviar and James Bond flicks. But it also has one swell innovation crafted with a lowly proletariat root--the beet, progenitor of borscht. Nikita's golden beet and goat-cheese salad, feathered with arugula and planked with petite green beans, is a masterpiece. Slightly sweet and tangy pink beets loiter on the edges of a plate puffed with greens and doused in horseradish vinaigrette. Add a flight of vodkas, and it will send you into orbit like Laika the Sputnik 2 space dog.

La Dolce Vita
Take a break from overpowering, burnt-cheese-laden, tomato paste-centric Italian food with a light dish from La Dolce Vita. While they do serve classic pastas and pizzas, we often opt for the salads. The caprese, one of our favorites, is flavorful with juicy tomatoes, red onions and fresh, delicate mozzarella mixed with field greens and the house vinaigrette. We adore the arugula salad--crisp, peppery arugula and shaved lettuce drizzled with lemongrass olive oil. The fact that you can dine here without feeling like you ate a bread truck makes it a great lunch spot.

Back in the '90s, when Seinfeld dominated prime time, one of the things Elaine really wanted was a big salad. Sounds easy enough, but apparently it's more difficult than one might think, and Elaine's not the only one who's come up short. Dallas menus are laden with subpar salads--limp lettuce, bland dressings and sparse ingredients abound. But not at Baker Bros. These guys do it right, and they do it big. All five offerings on the deli's salad menu are excellent, but the Santa Fe chicken salad is a standout. A mix of greens sown with roasted chicken, cheddar cheese, tomato, red onion, green onion, black olives, cilantro and spiced pecans, the Santa Fe is a meal within a meal. Just when you think you've picked out all the good stuff, a quick flick of the fork reveals another layer of once-hidden heaven. And topped with Baker Bros.' Southwestern honey mustard, well, it's just too hard to talk about.

No, it isn't the waffles, though they're damn good. It's this little killer deal known as The Hearty Breakfast. For $5.45, Waffle Way will stuff your plumbing with two eggs, bacon or sausage and all the pancakes you can hold without busting or turning a shade of green that only Andy Warhol could love. They'll give you all the butter and syrup you need, too. It's good to be stuffed to the gills, or maybe the jowls, in the morning. If you have leaks in your plumbing, the feeling is doubly good.

Are you looking for a briny sweetness from your mussels, as our food critic always does? Or is that a sweet brininess? Your sacred seafood quest has ended. Daddy Jack's in Deep Ellum serves these mollusks up right. Besides being tender and, yes, chewy, each little fella is coated in a tangy garlic-tomato sauce. When this appetizer is placed on a generous slice of sourdough bread, you can make a meal of it, unless you are forced to share with others, which makes eating alone an attractive alternative.

If you want to support Deep Ellum but don't dare want to stay up past your bedtime, here's a good way to do it: Set up reservations for you and your honey, take 'bout $160 and make reservations at this DE staple. Here's what that covers: four courses of food and wine for each of you, each dish chosen by the chef based on what's freshest/bestest in the kitchen that day, that hour, that minute. If you have an allergy, tell 'em. If you prefer to start with the fantastic mussels (steamed in champagne with spinach, mushrooms, ginger and chili flakes), tell 'em. You prefer red meat to fish, tell 'em. Then sit back, drink from a fantastic wine list and eat some of the most sophisticated, hearty fare you'll find in town. Suggestion: Plan on taking a cab home. Most likely, you'll be stuffed and loaded when you leave.