Frenchy's Chicken
Jeff Balke
Frenchy's The lines have died down at Pollo Campero. Its zesty Latin version of fried chicken is still excellent, but it isn't new anymore. And while the old-fashioned Southern fried chicken at Barbecue Inn on Crosstimbers is still as crunchy as it used to be, the crust is admittedly bland. If you like your chicken spicy, nothing tops the flavor of hot and juicy Frenchy's chicken. And some of the city's best Creole dishes -- the sausage-heavy red beans and rice and the greens -- are on Frenchy's sides menu. The battered Frenchy fries are stellar, too. Standing in line may seem like a nuisance, but it's also your guarantee that every piece of chicken has just come out of the fryer. And Frenchy's is conveniently open until 1 a.m. on weeknights and 3 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays, for folks with a late-night craving.

Barnaby's Cafe
Photo by Houston Press Staff
Barnaby's Just flip on the tube or try dodging a pop-up ad and it's clear: This is the year of the Atkins and South Beach diets. But Barnaby's has done the high-protein, low-carb thing for years. Owner Jeff Gale (who named the eatery after his dearly departed sheepdog) understands his ultra-healthy clientele so well that bottles of Bragg Liquid Aminos (a popular garnish for those in serious workout training) are as much a table staple as ketchup and salt and pepper. Lunch at any of the three Inner Loop locations is often a muscle show -- regulars in tight, form-fitting shirts or workout gear polish off grilled salmon, burgers (without the bun, natch), chicken breasts, lean pork chops or gargantuan salads. And if you're not an Atkins believer, don't worry: Comfy, calorie-rich offerings -- like baby back ribs and diet-destroying apple pie à la mode -- are favorites, too.

Buffalo Grille
Photo by Houston Press Staff
Buffalo Grille "Man, it feels like someone jammed a shard of glass through my forehead. What time is it?" "It's, like, noon, dude." "Ugh. It's bright out. What the hell were we drinking last night, anyway?" "Bartender called it Gulps Gone Wild. I think I saw him put 151, SoCo, some kind of schnapps and, like, Fierce Melon Gatorade powder in it." "Christ! What's with this long line?" "Dude, this place is so worth it. These people know what's up." "Man, I hope so. Shit's taking a while. What're you getting?" "Biscuits and gravy. Bacon. The bacon's good, dude. Real good." "Yeah? Yo, I need some coffee. Hold my spot here a second?" "Cool." (Pause. He comes back over holding a cup of regular, stirring in one packet of cream, the rich aroma caressing his nerves.) "Oh...Oh, man! This is good." "Told you."

Christy's Doughnuts Spanish and English mingle easily in this Montrose corner shop. Smiles and morning banter come easily, too; cops and kids mix with every-darned-day regulars who sip coffee and take the entire morning to read the paper, and if your server thinks you're cute, he might throw a couple of free holes in your bag. But the neighborly feel really sinks in when you examine the dozens of wall-mounted thank-you letters to owner Sean Heng for all the good deeds he's done (Little League sponsorships, doughnut donations, aid to local charities). Along with the letters are boards of photos of happy customers -- a testament to Christy's devoted clientele. Whether you eat them in the store or take them home, Christy's makes a weekend-morning doughnut fix into a friendly, small-town experience.

La Paletera Picture a Dreamsicle made with fresh fruit and real cream, and you can begin to imagine what La Paletera's Mexican popsicles taste like. Except they call them paletas, and they only have one stick. Unlike American popsicle makers, La Paletera never uses artificial flavorings or frozen fruit pulp. There are 47 flavors available every day, the most popular being coconut, strawberry and banana; there are also more exotic varieties too, like mango and chile. Fruit cups and fruit salads are available, and each boat-shaped bowl of fruit comes with your choice of chile powder or a hot-and-sour chile dipping sauce. The Fulton location is a franchise of the original La Paletera in Corpus Christi. Amy Salazar, who started the company with money she saved as a crop worker, grew up selling popsicles and aguas frescas at her parents' palatería in Guadalajara, Mexico. Today, she's selling more than popsicles; she is also selling popsicle-stand franchises.

Central Market's Irish soda bread Weighing in at well over a pound, the Irish soda bread at Central Market ($2.49) is an extremely dense, hearty and heavy loaf, especially since it's compact in size -- about that of a deflated volleyball. It's leavened with baking soda (hence its name) and mixed with buttermilk, which adds silkiness to its texture. Fissures on the top of the loaf allow for easy dismantling, so you can rip into it before you even get to the car. These fissures come from the cross-shaped cut in the bread, which dates back to early medieval times when the symbol was sliced in to ward away the devil. Central Market's version contains raisins along with caraway seeds, for an inviting mix of salty and sweet.

Bijan Persian Grill
Photo by Houston Press Staff
Bijan You order at a walk-up counter, but the high ceilings and polished marble floors at this Persian kebaberie give the place an upscale feel. Tops on the menu is the chelo kebab barg, consisting of garlicky lamb chunks grilled on a skewer until they have a little char on the outside but are still pink and juicy in the middle. If you don't love lamb, try the soltani kabob, a combination of one grilled steak kabob and one ground-beef skewer. There's also a chicken combination featuring one kabob of juicy, grilled white-meat chicken and one of ground chicken. All the kabobs at Bijan are served over a huge mound of saffron rice with a condiment plate of parsley and radishes. Each order also comes with a big piece of flatbread hot out of the clay oven. Be sure to grab a bowl of yogurt with shallots and cucumbers -- it's secret sauce done Bijan's way.

Mo Mong
Mo Mong When it comes to martinis, all it takes is gin, vermouth and an olive or three. But if you're looking for something special, you won't find a better twist on the classic than the infusion martinis at this Montrose-area Vietnamese hot spot. Mo Mong's martinis are dry and properly bitter -- a far cry from the fruity 'tinis that many bars try to pass off as authentic. They're also wonderfully simple; their ingredients come straight from the big jars of Skyy vodka and fruit stewing behind the bar. There are nine varieties, although some work better than others: The tart and dry raspberry is particularly good, and so is the mango, if you're looking for something funky and vaguely mossy. Only the truly brave should try the ginger -- its aftertaste is pure bark.

Gilhooley's Raw Bar
Robb Walsh
Gilhooley's Raw Bar Gilhooley's, which has been described by its detractors as a biker bar, has an admittedly rough-hewn ambience. Signs on the wall that prohibit the admittance of children and encourage patrons to "show us your tits" probably don't impress the Mobil Travel Guide folks much. But Gilhooley's has a secret benefactor. Misho Ivic, the owner of Misho's Oysters, one of the largest oyster processors in Texas, personally selects the tasty bivalves that will be served at Gilhooley's, which also happens to be Misho's favorite restaurant. In cold weather, when the oysters are sweet and plump, the ones at Gilhooley's are always just a little sweeter and just a little plumper. And during the rest of the year, when smart consumers eat their oysters cooked, there's the Oysters Gilhooley. This magnificent plate of oysters smoked with pecan wood, dusted with Parmesan and dripping with garlic butter may be one of the premier examples of barbecued oysters on the entire Gulf Coast.

Mi Cocina These folks are pushing the national frozen drink of Texas to dizzying new heights. The frozen mango margarita is quite good, with lots of rich tropical-fruit flavor and not too much sugar. The "mambo taxi," made by alternating layers of frozen margarita and sangria, is excellent as well. But it's the three-tone margarita parfait, the "dilemma," that is truly a towering achievement. Served in a tall pilsner glass, this tequila monster has alternating layers of mango, strawberry and pale green lime frozen margarita slush. It's served straight from the freezer, and, like a liquid-nitrogen-fueled rocket just before liftoff, sheets of ice form on the cocktail's cylindrical exterior. It's pricey at ten bucks, but the "dilemma" packs more wallop than any two conventional margaritas, and the variety can't be beat: All you have to do is maneuver the straw to change flavors.

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