Nana has always had a spectacular view of Dallas from its 27th-floor perch, but it was blunted by burgundy brothel décor that included acoustic ceiling tiles, brass railings and sagging velvet curtains that cramped the windows. Now more than a year old, Nana's understated makeover has settled in. Alterations include Asian art installations from the Trammell Crow family collection, unobtrusive sage green curtains, rich gold carpeting, newly installed banquettes and ribbed, sandblasted glass panels around the raised open kitchen, subduing the severe visual thrust this culinary cockpit had when it was wrapped in clear glass. The food in this stunning room is virtually flawless, crafted as it is by David McMillan, easily among the top handful of chefs in Dallas. McMillan performs unparalleled wizardry that manifests itself in grilled Texas quail (with armagnac-poached prunes), silky grilled prime fillet in a black shallot sauce and sublime veal Rossini in a brew of Madeira and truffles, among other classics with shrewdly imaginative twists. Service is superb, and the wine portfolio is well-endowed. Plus, there is Nana herself: a 6-foot-by-9-foot portrait of a reclining, Rubenesque nude painted by Russian-Polish artist Gospodin Marcel Gavriel Suchorowsky in 1881. Tasty.

We're constantly amazed to discover how many of our so-called friends have yet to eat at this charming restaurant, located next to Texadelphia. It really is one of the best restaurants in town, and one of the most cozy; it's one of those converted old homes that's lost nothing in the translation. And the food is exceptional: We're always torn between the buttermilk-fried chicken and the macaroni and cheese, the latter of which is served in the skillet in which it's baked. The former is soft and tender, the latter is smooth and creamy, and combined, they made us wish Mom had learned how to do more than turn ground round into a ball of "meat loaf" when were kids--how much we missed out on. The sugar snap peas made for an exceptional side dish, the mashed potatoes are a dollop of southern-fried heaven, and we'll even take a side of wilted greens when the mood hits us. And there's always dessert: The crème brûlée is the best in town. Try it. It's all the proof you'll need.

We wanted to give this award to someone else; we really did. "Best Tortillas at Taco Cabana? Why not just give Best Hamburger to effin' McDonald's?" we think, angry with ourselves. But then we sigh, and our fists unclench as our thoughts turn to the pliable, pillowy flatbreads that are just 19 cents apiece at that familiar pink-and-green-stucco drive-thru. Plus, you can even see the tortilla-making machine right behind the counter, so you know they're going to be warm and fresh. And they pass the true tortilla test: They're great when filled with beans, cheese or rice but can also stand on their own. Cue the drool; we just can't help it.

What is it about a bowl of piping-hot red that enables it to create a culture all its own? Chili cook-offs, chili championships, chili parlors, chili with beans or without. What's the best chili, the hottest, the reddest, the meanest? Texas chauvinism aside, none of these is an easy question, and weighing into the great chili debate about what constitutes the best chili can be just plain foolish. But here goes, anyway. The chili served at Highland Park Pharmacy for at least the past 20 years, and probably longer, is our sentimental favorite. No, it's not hot; no, it's not spicy; and yes, it's full of beans. But it's mighty tasty, goes down smooth and is a welcome complement to just about any sandwich the old-fashioned soda fountain has to offer. Summer or winter, it just seems to work its magic, particularly when doused with a chocolate malt or a vanilla Coke.

It's hard to resist licking off the decadent half-inch of real butter cream icing before taking a bite of the dense, rich, cinnamon-infused pastry the size of a saucer. But resist you must to get the wicked, out-of-body experience when the icing fuses with the pastry in your mouth.

Café Izmir has all the staples: briskly fresh tabbouleh, velvety-smooth and nutty hummus (among the best you'll find anywhere), warm, thick pita bread and deliciously juicy lamb, beef and chicken. But the best part of Café Izmir is the tapas offerings, little plates of mixed olives, dolmas, grilled asparagus and beef and chicken kabobs, among other nibbles. On Tuesdays the tapas plates are just two bucks, along with $14 bottles of wine from an eclectic list that includes offerings from Greece, Lebanon, Spain and France. This is a noteworthy weekly event, especially in light of the news over the summer that the feds are thinking of bringing back the $2 bill after a seven-year hiatus. According to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, as of February 28, 1999, there was some $1.2 billion in $2 bills pumping through the economy. Hell, let's launch a campaign. Collect $2 bills and energize the currency every tapas Tuesday. Encourage other restaurants to have $2 bill specials. Without a strong $2 bill, the terrorists win.

When you're a tad disheveled from the night before and need a good breakfast, or brunch if you wake up when we do, head to the Bronx. It's safe to say you won't find better service or better food on a Sunday morning. The waitstaff is so on the ball you'd think they'd stayed at home the night before to rest up for their shift. They don't bitch at our occasional "can you add Gorgonzola?" requests, and they offer dependable recommendations. California poached eggs, an occasional menu item, and chicken Cobb sandwiches have changed our lives thanks to Bronx. Oh, about that dog we mentioned? They can set you up with a mean Bloody Mary, Bellini or mimosa in addition to regular bar selections.

Jerry Jeff Walker immortalized it in song. Chain restaurants often lace their margaritas with it. Even Boone's Farm has a version of the concoction. In spite of all that, we love that sangria wine. And at Spanish tapas bar Cafe Madrid, we really love it. Their sangria is a mixture of red wine and...well, we can't tell you the rest, something about a "trade secret." But whatever, the stuff is good, and in the summer months, you can opt for a white sangria that's made with cava, a Spanish sparkling wine, and some other stuff we can't tell you about. It's cool and refreshing and yummy, and the mystery just makes it all the more exciting. And if you like to do a little snacking with your drinking, the eatery's tapas selection offers some excellent complements to the fruity beverage. Just a note, though: If, like us, you've never been accused of being the brightest crayon in the box, and you can't figure out why the menu doesn't make sense, look to your right; the other side is in English. Yeah. Have some more sangria.

Love raw fish? We mean, do you really love raw fish, the kind so fresh it still wants to school? The sushi at Sushi Yokohama is so cool, silky delicious, and fresh, your neck will start fluttering like gills as it goes down. The tuna and hamachi lay across the rice pads like thick little wet tongues, and if you squint real hard, they'll flick at you, which makes them doubly good. The octopus is firm, tender, and tasty. For the heartfelt sushi lover, this is the stuff. The California roll-loving faint of heart will just faint.

After a several-month hiatus, Tipperary Inn is back in business, serving traditional Irish fare in the pub's old location at the corner of Skillman and Live Oak streets. The Tipp's environs are made for comfort--including dark woods and roomy seating areas--and so is the food. The menu is a little on the heavy side, but you can't miss the shepherd's pie or the fish & chips or the bangers & mash. Avoid the booths, though; they're so big and comfy, you may be tempted to curl up for a nap after you're done.