Think back to freshman-level science, when we first learned the essential value of coffee and alcohol. Life cannot exist without these two elements. Indeed, journalism cannot exist without these two elements. Yet they occupy opposite ends of the spectrum. They are, metaphorically, yin and yang, heaven and earth, Franken and Limbaugh. Attempts to meld coffee and alcohol generally fizzle: Kahlúa and cream, for example. Despite the obstacles, bartenders at Kismet managed to combine the electrifying buzz of high-octane coffee and the mind-numbing anesthetic of alcohol into one incredible concoction. The Turkish coffee martini is a blend of strong, bitter coffee, vanilla vodka, white chocolate liqueur and the aforementioned Kahlúa--potent in more ways than one. At once sweet and bitter, the cocktail provides something for everyone. It's visually appealing, slightly complex and laced with alcohol. Unfortunately, it goes down so smoothly that patrons may exceed their credit limit in a matter of a few minutes. It's that good and that easy to drink.

It's not exactly Halloween. It's more of a cross between American Halloween and Mexican Day of the Dead, a sort of strange, wonderful, sometimes nettlesome, mainly joyous commingling of immigrant culture from surrounding East Dallas neighborhoods with the grand home traditions of Swiss Avenue. Tens of thousands of kids are brought here in the backs of pickup trucks, in vans and on motorcycles to make the pilgrimage of the candy-seekers up and down Swiss on Halloween night. Most of the Swiss people are cool: They put on a show and hand out bales of candy. Some new residents don't get it and hire security guards. A quintessential Dallas scene you won't see anywhere else.

Think about bartenders for a moment and you begin to see why Adam Salazar holds the top spot in Dallas. Oh, there are older guys. But after 15 years working everything from dance clubs to high-end lounges, Salazar knows pretty much every trick, every shot, every cocktail. A few bartenders arguably mix better drinks--very few. Some are faster, although Salazar keeps the pace on Nikita's Naked Sundays. Several tell stories with stronger punch lines or maintain a more constant smile, but he manages to handle a lot of crap without losing his cool. What really sets him apart is this: He's knowledgeable, consistent and instantly recognizes regulars at every bar on his rotation. No matter which place he works, Salazar keeps pace with the vibe. When it's slow, he chats with customers. Ten deep at the bar and you find him slinging drinks. Need a drink? He sees you. Most important, people follow him--men, women, professionals and "professionals." Oh, and he reputedly can drink the rest of us under the table.

If the XPO Lounge and the (late, great) Orbit Room had a drunken one-night stand followed by a shotgun wedding, Double Wide would be the result. Or where the reception would be held, at any rate. Open since June, the bar is already a low-culture landmark, thanks to its white-trash environs and white-gold lineup of bands, a comfort-food combination that goes down as smooth as the cheap beer they serve here. (In cans, no less, a fact that is strangely fascinating to many of its visitors, less so to those of us experienced at drinking beer outside of a bar. Say, at 11 on a Saturday morning maybe. OK, a Monday morning. And it's usually more like 9.) Since trucker's caps are what the cool kids are wearing these days, it's the right time for a joint that extrapolates the headgear into an entire shabby-chic world.

If we know anything at the Observer, it's where to take a date on the cheap and still make a good impression. The Balcony Club is such a place. Located above the Lakewood Theater, The Balcony Club is a smooth little gin joint complete with cozy, dark booths and wood-grained décor. Candlelight gives the bar just the right mood, and jazz music is always wafting through the air. The drinks are strong, good and cheap, and the waitstaff is courteous. If you can't score after taking someone to The Balcony Club, you may as well give up altogether, because, well, you're a lost cause, friend.

When expressway service drives started out, they had what? Maybe a Shell station? Then you started getting your McDonald's, your Wendy's, maybe an occasional Subway on the service drive. Well, the southbound service drive on Central at Knox takes the service drive scene to a whole new level. Baja Fresh is here, Fadi's Mediterranean Grill, Pei Wei Asian Diner, Juice Zone, Marble Slab Creamery, Potbelly Sandwich Works, Vermilion Cajun Seafood & Grill. Any given noon hour on a weekday, this service drive is jammed. You have to fight Beemers and Hummers for the parking slots. And the most amazing thing, given that this is an expressway service drive? Try as hard as you may, you cannot buy a lottery ticket here or find a single plastic jar full of Slim Jims. The bitter with the sweet, man.

Some nights you're not feeling hip. Some nights you don't feel pretty. The whole West Village, Mock-Station, Deep Ellum, downtown, Greenville Avenue scene just sounds like such a friggin' beat-down. What you need, friend, is simple: a stiff drink. No frills, no fuss. Just several jiggers of something brown to make you feel better about your pitiful lot in life, if only for the evening. That's when you go to The Loon. Because they pour drinks so stiff you could iron your pants on them.

It could be the Pabst Blue Ribbon. It could be the Astroturf patio. It could be that awwwesome velvet painting of the topless she-demon-thingy. Whatever it is, Double Wide feels like home--that is, if your mama was Anna Nicole Smith and your daddy was, well, who the hell knows? What makes Double Wide the best rock venue in town, however, is not in dispute: clean sound, nice-size stage, solid local booking, affordable cover and two different bars to separate the drankers from the rawkers. It's no surprise that, after only a year and a half on the scene, the Double Wide is winning this honor for the second time. What's surprising is that some people still haven't been there. What's the holdup, folks?

Readers' Pick

Trees

2709 Elm St.

214-748-5009

Club Schmitz is one of those places where about the only things that have changed since 1953 are the prices on the menu of great and greasy Texas burgers, fries and onion rings. The joint was founded in 1946 when two cousins named Schmitz returned from World War II. The original building burned in 1953, and it was rebuilt that same year. Now it's run by their sons, two cousins named Schmitz, who have no intention of messing with a good thing. Small bar (if that bar could talk, how it would slur its words), cash only (the only plastic permitted are the red booths and chair backs), down-home waitresses, country juke, pool table, shuffleboard and beer only. What separates Club Schmitz from newer places that try too hard is that it doesn't try at all. Check out the variety of vehicles in the parking lot--and those greasy burgers.

Let's face it: Downtown ain't pretty. With few exceptions, Dallas downtown plays host to big ugly buildings, lots of concrete, little plant life, crowded streets and empty sidewalks. The important thing to remember is that there are exceptions, foremost among them the tiny strip of restaurants and cafes known as Stone Street Gardens. This little cranny connecting Main and Elm streets offers what passes for charm in Dallas--outdoor seating, interesting architecture, cool happy hour and nightspots, a pleasant place for lunch alone or with a friend. Now if whatever was infecting the rest of our poor center city could be eradicated with a dose of smart development like this, we'd be, like, almost a real city.