Why would a Salvadoran restaurant choose a name like Super La Mexicana? Well, it didn't really. This part-convenience store part-luncheonette already had that name when the current proprietors bought it. The new owners decided it was too expensive to change the signage, so they just changed the menu instead. Now the fare mixes Mexican and Salvadoran items. The dishes from both countries are fantastic. Of the Salvadoran specialties, the pupusas with cortido, big chunky Salvadoran tamales (available only on weekends) and deep-fried plantains served with creamy refried beans and sour cream are outstanding. Of the Mexican offerings, you'll like the hearty homemade soups: menudo, posole, caldo de camarones with carrots and vegetables, caldo de rez with big hunks of beef, and chicken soup with rice. When they ask you if you want flour or corn tortillas, tell them you want the thick, handmade Salvadoran corn ones. You'll get respect from the staff for making the right choice, and your mouth will thank you for filling it with such goodness.

Look for the little red house in the crusty Third Ward neighborhood east of the George R. Brown Convention Center. You have to pass through a screened-in porch with a dilapidated sofa and a pile of broken chairs to reach the entrance proper. Inside, there's a cozy little dining room with 12 mismatched tables, an awesome jukebox and a television that's perpetually tuned to a soap opera. The brisket here has a tasty black char on top, but the inside is slick with juice and as tender as the white bread served on the side. The buttery beef comes anointed with dark brown sauce, and if you order "in and out," you'll get plenty of black outside pieces along with the inside cuts. This is not the kind of fanned array of picture-perfect brisket slices that wins barbecue cook-offs. This is a hot and greasy, falling-apart mess o' meat East Texas-style, but it eats better than any other brisket in the city.

The brick floor, wood-paneled walls, fake hanging plants and stained-glass light fixtures hanging over every table make the dining room look like an expanded breakfast nook. Friends and neighbors gather here to linger over lunch and watch sports on the weekends. The easygoing atmosphere and friendly staff make Pearl's our favorite soul food joint. The huge portions of seemingly homemade food make you feel like a guest at Sunday dinner. The ribs are lightly smoked and tender, the yams are steamed and sweet, the black-eyed peas are reduced to a pleasant mush. But the okra is the standout. Tomato and corn add a complimentary backdrop of colors, textures and tastes to the star-shaped slices. It's Pearl's no. 1 seller -- and probably the best okra you'll ever have.

Palm on Westheimer (the cognoscenti don't say "the") has a lot of special memories for Houstonians. When it opened in 1977, it epitomized the "anything goes" spirit of the oil boom. And it's still a boisterous joint with big steaks, big Bordeaux and few inhibitions. The Houston restaurant's walls are covered in caricatures, just like the Manhattan original, and it's fun to see how many faces you know. The New York chop house opened on Second Avenue in 1926. Legend has it that the name was a complete accident. Palm was supposed to be named Parma, but the name was changed by a bureaucrat who couldn't understand the owners' thick Italian accents. Palm's USDA Prime New York strip is perhaps the tastiest steak in town; dark brown, its edges hard and crispy, pink and dry along the sides, turning juicier and redder toward the middle. It's chewier than a filet or rib eye, but the flavor is worth it.

Chef Kubo (short for Hajime Kubokawa) made this the best sushi bar in Houston. But Kubo doesn't work here anymore. Luckily, Hori (short for Manubu Horiuchi), the new head chef at Kubo's and Kubokawa's former second-in-command, is extremely talented in his own right. If you have any doubts, sit at the sushi bar and order chirashi, which the menu describes as eight kinds of sashimi over sushi rice. And don't miss the cold draft sake -- they have one of the best selections of premium sake in the city. Kubo's isn't easy to find; it's on the second floor of a giant concrete parking structure in the Village across Morningside from The Ginger Man. Look for a little sign on the ground floor that indicates the way to the stairwell. Kubo's shares the mezzanine with Two Rows and Bayou City Crawfish Café.

Recently reopened under new "old" management, Bangkok Place continues to churn out top notch Thai food. At $6.95, for both the lunch and dinner buffets, it's one of the best values in town. Starters include two different soups (tom yam or sweet-and-sour), pad kee mao or clear noodle salad, fresh and fried spring rolls and that ubiquitous Asian buffet staple, the crab puff. Snow-white jasmine rice and the absolute best fried rice is always available as a base for the main courses, which include such standbys as pad thai with shrimp, basil chicken, pork with beans, and a green curry chicken with coconut, whose smoothness is astonishing. Two other specialties also will surprise you: There's the gaeng galee, a thick omelette chock-full of vegetables and chiles, and then there's the meatballs. Both are a delight. If you're concerned about spiciness, just stay away from anything red.

We know what you meat lovers are thinking: It's not "naturally mine" unless it's made with flesh! Well, you can dine on hormone-free cattle products here, too, but the shining stars on the menu are Naturally Yours's vegan dishes: smothered Stakelets, the juicy Garvey burger (loaded with fresh veggies, soy cheese and soy mayo) and the VLT (veggie strips, lettuce and tomato). Plus, they offer daily off-the-menu vegan soups and entrées. This homey, eight-table soul-food cafe is an outgrowth of the pharmacy next door, where you can buy all manner of supplements and other health goodies.

It's such fun to take people who think of ethnic restaurants as tacky little dumps to the palatial Ba Ky and watch their eyes pop out of their heads. French colonial furniture, columns of giant bamboo stalks and tropical flowers greet you at the front door. Clay pot dishes, Vietnamese fajitas and broiled steak served over salad are all outstanding here. But the dish not to miss is ca chien nuoc cot dira, a whole catfish fried in a light tempura batter served swimming in a rich and spicy coconut red curry.

A city work crew, bright vests glowing in the dim early morning, makes its way through a breakfast of eggs and bacon. Along the window-side counter, two young professionals fight to overcome the martinis of the previous night with eye-opening cups of coffee. Just outside, the downtown trolley brakes to a stop, the driver dashing in for an OJ. He'll have to wait his turn behind the police duo and the likely parolee, the yuppies, law students, retirees and the rest of a down-and-out and up-and-coming mix as demographically diverse as there is to be found anywhere in the city. Proprietor Mike Baba, with his trademark grin and good-natured ways, presides over this rich array of customers in this longtime fixture at the southeast end of downtown. The small grocery, grill and deli that he and his family operate is a corner business in the Houston House apartments -- and a cornerstone for a legion of loyal patrons. More than mere foodstuffs are served up in this place. Regulars find themselves developing strange appetites for the other offerings dispensed -- news and gossip, helpful advice, humor from the give-and-take of customers and staff, mutual respect and heartfelt first-name interest in the lives that intersect here, however briefly. A dozen or so blocks north, downtown is busy redeveloping with boutique cafes and watering holes intent on instant status as the "in" place -- and intimate place -- to be. But for now, they can only hope to eventually evolve into the rich, diverse texture and honest atmosphere that the Baba family has cultivated so naturally.

Celebrating its tenth year this December, Barnaby's is a landmark in the Montrose. Named in memory of principal owner Jeffrey Gale's beloved sheepdog, the restaurant is adorned with cute images of the pooch. And the menu, consisting primarily of good ol' fashioned comfort food, reflects the people of the neighborhood itself: simple with an eccentric flair. Normally we wouldn't think of ordering meat loaf at a restaurant, but here the dish is so good (especially with the mashed potatoes) that it's difficult to order anything else. The blue cheese and bacon burger is another taste bud tingler. Veggie? Wonderful meatless alternatives pepper the Barnaby's selection, like the Pacific Rim stir-fry and a mouth-watering spinach and cheese lasagna. Chase them all down with the delightfully refreshing lemonade, not too tart, not too sweet. One meat lover likes to share a rack of tender smoked ribs and the excellent, crispy shoestring fries as an appetizer. That might sound insane, but everything is so well crafted, it's almost a shame to leave the place having tasted only one entrée. The top-notch nibbles are sure to make the dear doggy proud.