House of Coffee Beans has been Houston's gourmet coffee roaster for almost 30 years. You can smell the roasting beans before you're even through the door. The secret to their success is simple: They focus on doing one thing and being the best in their class. They purchase the best green coffee beans from every coffee-growing region known to man, then they roast them in small hand-tended batches. They prefer to roast their beans medium rather than dark, which may mask any imperfections in the beans. Five different coffees are brewed daily. Customers can try a free sample or buy a cupful. In addition to having nearly 100 different coffees, they have a large selection of teas from around the globe. They have both unblended coffees from small estates and blended coffees, in both caffeinated and decaffeinated varieties. Many different flavors are also available. The most expensive variety is the Jamaican Blue Mountain at $42 per pound, although insiders tout the Indian Monsooned Malabar at $14.50 per pound, which is completely free from acidity and astringency. It undergoes an airing and watering by nature as well as hand-picking and turning twice a day during the curing period. That's one nice cup o' joe.

Screw the NyQuil. When you're sick, you need Jewish penicillin. We recommend Kenny & Ziggy's Mish Mosh. Their matzo balls are light and fluffy. You can slice your spoon straight through these tasty dumplings. (That's a sign they're probably unhealthy; the only way to get really light and fluffy matzo balls is to use a gallon of schmaltz -- fat. But who cares? You're sick.) The best part of this soup is that it includes kreplach. Kreplach is a bitch to make -- even Jewish moms make it only once a year, for high holy days. The gentile dictionary defines it as Jewish ravioli -- little ground beef-filled noodles that float in your soup (and make it so special). If you're famished, we recommend a plate of corned beef and cabbage to follow. Oh, to enjoy such flavor. You should live so long.

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.

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.