—————————————————— Best Bread 2003 | KraftsMen Baking's Pain Biologique | Best of Houston® | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Houston | Houston Press
Steeped in the old-world European tradition of bread-baking, the folks at KraftsMen Baking produce one of the only organic breads in the city. There's nothing light, airy or dainty about their pain biologique. It's dense and heavy, laden with lots of different kinds of seeds -- like hemp, flax, pumpkin and sunflower. A loaf costs between $4 and $6.50, depending on the size. It has an amazingly fresh taste. One drawback is that it doesn't keep very long, since it has no preservatives. But that's not much of a drawback at all: It's never around long enough to go stale.

You may not want, or need, to order anything else after polishing off the tower o' rings at Fleming's. The stack of lightly battered, perfectly fried, giant white onion rings is a full foot tall. Japanese bread crumbs, garlic, salt, peppercorns and parsley make up the lighter-than-air batter that clings without clumping, and the rings are served with a fresh chipotle mayonnaise on the side. At $6.95, the tower makes a great appetizer for the whole table or just a nice snack for one. Try it with one of the over 100 wines by the glass (like the Rodney Strong Sonoma County 2000) for a decadent after-work treat.

When a dish that started out as a daily special makes it to the regular menu, it's got to be good. The avocado pasta at Annabelle's is just such a dish. A whole avocado is pitted and stuffed with a delicious, cheesy crawfish mixture. It's then reassembled and rolled in some spicy bread crumbs before being quickly fried and placed in the center of a dish of linguine. Slivers of carrot, zucchini, onion and squash are tossed in a creamy white wine sauce before being added to the pasta. The most fun is biting through the crunchy bread-crumb coating to the velvety smooth avocado and then the seafood filling. If you manage to mix this with the veggies and the linguine, the combination of tastes is extraordinary.
A long, long time ago, Publius Syrus said that to do two things at once is to do neither. Sorry, Pub, but having visited the Flying Saucer Pie Company, we strongly disagree. Since 1967, co-owners Bill Leeson and Marilyn Smith have been doing at least a dozen things at once, each one of them brilliantly. Cherry, coconut cream, pecan, fresh strawberry cream, pumpkin, key lime, chocolate cream...Maybe their loophole is that they do pies and pies alone -- no sandwiches, no tables, no drinks. No matter. On Tuesday through Saturday mornings at 8 a.m., Flying Saucer's legions of loyal customers line up at the modest Garden Oaks-area store to get a whiff of the tantalizing aroma of baking and take home a perfect pie (or two) straight from the oven.
Photo by Houston Press Staff
In Latin America, plantains -- raw, mashed or fried -- are what's for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So it's no surprise that they show up all over South American menus in Houston. One of the best uses for the banana's big brother is the plantain chips at Churrascos. Known for its tender steaks and divine tres leches, Churrascos secures its loyal following with bottomless baskets of perfectly cut and lightly fried plantain slices. Throw in the amazing dipping sauce, and it's a good thing the baskets are bottomless.

In their definitive rendition of the oyster poor boy, the humble Main Street dive called Original New Orleans Po' Boy approaches greatness. They start with a toasted skinny roll, a spatula-full of tartar sauce, a bed of lettuce and a couple of tomato slices. Then come the six golden oysters fresh from the fryer. They fit the bread perfectly. If you eat it there, the oysters are still hot and juicy, so they gush into the lettuce, tomatoes and tartar sauce, creating a moist and creamy texture. This is one of those rare sandwiches in which every bite tastes better than the last. Rarer still is the price: $5.14, with tax.

Never thought you'd ever eat anything that had the words "road kill" in its description? Think again. Daniel Wong's Road Kill Pork is good, really good. It's basically the same dish as the restaurant's garlic pork, but with fewer vegetables and more meat. We recommend starting off with some dumplings and an order of Sparkling Chicken (chicken wrapped in aluminum foil with special spices and sauces). Though you'll be tempted, try not to lick the sauce directly off the foil. Hold out for that big dish of road kill. And don't share -- you'll want the whole thing, or at least the leftovers.

Any late-night Inner Looper knows what a taqueria is. But a pupuseria? Ask a Salvadoran and they'll tell you that's where you go to get pupusas. These delicious little treats are thick, soft, corn masa tortillas stuffed with cheese, refried beans, chicharrones (pork cracklings) or any combination thereof. Eaten with cortido, a spicy Salvadoran pickled cabbage-and-carrot side dish (like kimchi with carrots, but let's not get our cultures too crossed), they're tasty, filling and affordable (under $1.50 each). And nobody makes them better than El Pupusodromo. The mural of the El Salvador countryside on the wall and the happy customers speaking in the charming Salvadoran dialect of Spanish (and little else) attest to the fact that this place is keeping it real on this side of the border.

Who in their right mind would go to Romano's and not order the pizza? This shopping center spot is known for its thin, crispy, delicious pies, but if you never try the portobello ravioli, you're denying yourself an insanely indulgent pleasure. The Queens, New York, transplants at Romano's make this daily special from scratch, and you can taste it in the chewy pasta squares, the mild mushroom-ricotta-mozzarella filling and the spicy marinara-cream sauce. When you've successfully chased around the nine or ten puffy pillows with your fork, use the hot buttered garlic bread (included with the meal) to soak up the gobs of tangy sauce. And don't be surprised to find big chunks of sautéed garlic and large strips of fresh basil hidden in its depths. So do yourself a favor and break out of that pizza mold -- you can always have a cheese slice for dessert.

The way we see it, if a Mexican restaurant doesn't make its chips and salsa in its own kitchen every day, then it's not worth your time. There's nothing like dipping one of La Jaliscience's hot, greasy chips into their smoky, spicy, tomato souplike salsa. Served steaming hot -- if someone gets lazy and brings it cold, just ask for a fresh one -- with a bowl of jalapeos, onions, carrots and celery on the side, this salsa eclipses that of all other taquerias in town. Its consistency is different from what most people think salsa is supposed to be. The chunks of tomatoes, onions and peppers are conspicuously absent. But rest assured. They're in there, all mixed up in liquid form and ready to rock your world.

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