We used to think that our old college roommate's homemade piña coladas were the best possible use for pineapple juice. They were so good we almost didn't mind the brain freeze we got trying to hide the evidence from our dorm monitor. But, you see, we had yet to discover The Scza. While the name (pronounced skee-za) sounds like something you might hear on Doggy Fizzle Televizzle, and, in fact, it is off da hizzle fo' shizzle, there's nothing ghetto about this Meridian Room original. A combination of vanilla vodka, coconut rum and pineapple juice, The Scza is the perfect beverage for summer or spring or any other season. Admittedly, the drink is pretty girly, and the cherry that tops it off doesn't help matters, but take this opportunity to get in touch with your feminine side. And if you're able, do it on the first Monday of the month, when The Meridian Room hooks up with Good Records for Good Music Monday. You'll have the chance to listen to new releases, win prizes and sip on half-price draft beers. Definitely worth a trip to Exposition Park.

You've got to taste them to believe them. No mixes used. Fresh-squeezed limes, top-of-the-line booze, ample servings and reasonably priced. The food's not bad, either.

Tofu is a scary thing. It's spongy; it takes on the flavors of the food it's cooked with. It kind of looks like chicken. It requires special storage. Nothing about it seems like "fast" or "food." But, in about the time one would spend in a drive-through at lunch, Lover's Eggroll can serve up tofu delight, a plate of chunked tofu stir-fried in soy sauce with mushrooms, broccoli, carrots and cabbage and offered with a side of steamed or fried rice. It's tasty, filling and much less mysterious than the ingredients in the average fast-food chain's so-called chicken nuggets.

Dining vegetarian frequently involves ordering a salad (hold the ham cubes), second-guessing whether the soup may have been cooked with chicken stock or leaving hungry. None of these applies at Cosmic Café. It's all vegetarian, much of it is vegan and we still haven't found a dish we don't like. Though it's Indian-inspired, there are also enchiladas, beans and rice, salads, sandwiches, a burger (meatless, of course) and a personal pizza in addition to samosas, dahl, curried vegetables, nan and pappadam. The desserts are even vegan. You won't miss the meat, we promise. C'mon, even our mom likes it.

Il Mulino is cloaked in a jacket of elegance. The waiters have them. Even you are supposed to, except in the summer when wearing a jacket turns even the noblest, most mannered fellow into a sweating plow horse. At Il Mulino, waiters sport crisp tuxedos and move with impeccable precision and graceful warmth. They serve from the left and bus from the right. Or do they serve from the right and bus from the left? We can't remember, because we're usually seated next to a post or are crammed into a banquette sandwich where left and right have no meaning. Here it is open, and the servers are prompt and keen, clearing away course-worn flatware, deploying reinforcements in seconds. Sure, it's dark and hard to read the designer labels, but the servers dispense penlights. And they know the menu, right down to the gory details, which mostly involve prices. But then again, professionals who can distinguish right from left do not come cheap.

Readers' Pick

Lucky's Café

3531 Oak Lawn Ave.

214-522-3500

We suspect Peggy Sue's gets ignored by Texas Monthly and other established barbecue-rating agencies because it's in the Park Cities--and what-inna-world would those stiffs know about 'cue? We are here to assure you that the barbecue world is a classless society, and besides, Peggy Sue's wagon-wheel décor and early-'60s house music will make you feel right at home. Anyway, why fret over prissy details? Barbecue is about meat, and if you can find a sweeter, meltier, crunchy-on-the-outsidier example of a baby back rib, by all means, ship us a box of them right away. We also like Peggy Sue's big selection of sides, starting with the tangy vinegar-based coleslaw and the old-fashioned fries.

The burritos at Chipotle look normal enough. Well, they do if you're used to a burrito the size of your thigh and a little bit heavier. But that's not what's so great about them, though, obviously, getting a complete Mexican dinner wrapped inside a delicious flour tortilla is pretty fantastic. What's great is that every single ingredient--the fluffy rice flecked with cilantro, the spicy black beans, the spicier salsa, the juicy beef and/or chicken--is pretty much as perfect as they could be, fine enough to eat by themselves. And when they're blended together? Let's just say you might wanna wear sweatpants.

For all but the heartiest eaters, $7 goes someplace at Sal's, someplace good. For $7, you can get a massive slice of Neapolitan (thin crust) pizza with one topping and a nice garden salad, or a bowl of ziti with fresh tomato sauce, or that old standby, a big plate of spaghetti. No wonder in these difficult times business seems as good as ever.

Why Hooters? On Saturdays, kids 12 and under eat for free--so put that in your Happy Meal and play with it. It's a deal so good that, let's face it, it makes Hooters the new McDonald's. Only better. It has more options for the little ones--they can choose between a hot dog, a burger, wings, chicken strips, a corn dog or a grilled cheese sandwich--and you're not parting with any cash. Nor are you stepping on any toy in your bare feet on Sunday morning. Plus, if you want, you can have a beer at Hooters while they eat. Name one McDonald's like that. Another plus: The waitresses have really big...um, never mind, we're talking about kids here.

We'll admit it: We're partial to this place because it's one of the few places--OK, the only place--in town where we feel, well, a little special. Not that we are or anything (even our own mama tells us we're not daily), but Kai-Chi Kao, known to regulars as "George," has a way of making us feel like Dean Martin at Musso & Frank's; he's there to welcome friend and stranger alike with a hearty how-do, and the waitstaff never forgets a name, face or favorite drink (ours is sake, more please). Kai-Chi, whose poppa Buck founded the joint in 1974, is hip to everything that makes an eatery divine: amazing food (do not miss the general shrimp, as crispy as it is sweet, or the dry-stirred beef, which we swear is a dessert), warm atmosphere (kitschy, but whimsically so) and rock-crit-cool music (Kai-Chi has the best CD collection this side of, well, us). And this is how we know Royal China deserves a Best Of: Every time we take people there, they always return without us--which we don't take personally, at all.