When Johnny Carraba wanted to pay tribute to a couple of family members, he bestowed upon them a true culinary honor in our book, the Johnny Rocco salad ($10). The name is a combination of Carrabas dad, Johnny, and good old Uncle Rocco. The salad is a combination of mixed field greens, ricotta salata (salted ricotta), grilled shrimp and scallops, topped with a vinaigrette of red wine and extra-virgin olive oil. The seafood is warm off the grill, and cooked just long enough to get the delectables done, but not so much that they lose any juice. Its not one of those dainty, airy salads for skinny ladies who lunch; this entre salad leaves little room for dessert. Its been a fixture at the restaurant since the day it opened in 1986, and remains one of the more popular items.

Daniel Boone Cycles Thirty-five years ago, Dan and Joy Boone started refurbishing secondhand bikes in their backyard for extra grocery money. Today, they have one of the most popular bike shops in the city. The shop is still in the backyard, but they now have everything from $300 city bikes to $4,000 specialty frames and forks. In addition to road bikes and mountain bikes, they have an extensive collection of clothes and accessories like jerseys, gloves, shoes, cleats and helmets. The shop also will service your bike free for a year (not including accidents or abuse). With such a unique setup, Joy Boone says it's easy to miss the place from the street. "If you're not looking for the bike shop, you may just pass it by," she says. We recommend you don't.

Her real name is Catherine Douglas, and she's a Florida-born actress and comedienne, making a living doing what she loves best. But when she slips on her corseted milkmaid dress, pushes her freckled cleavage up to her chin and puts on a choppy Scottish accent, this redheaded spitfire becomes Lucenden "Loosey" Crotch, Wench For Hire. Just what the hell is a "Wench For Hire"? Well, as Miss Douglas tells it, she is hired to perform her wenchlike duties at many functions, like beer taverns (The Ale House hires her whenever its birthday rolls around) or Renaissance festivals or comedy clubs, throughout the greater Houston area. An eight-year veteran at being a "lascivious lass," her job is to "come out and take care of people in an old British fashion." Some of those caring requirements include getting people to join in silly sing-alongs, regaling the crowd with randy jokes and challenging patrons to ribald parlor tricks, such as offering men to fish a small bell out of her bountiful bosom without using their hands. If you're ever organizing a party (even if you don't need someone to perform the duties of an 18th-century Scottish wench), having Loosey around wouldn't be a bad idea.

Full disclosure: We haven't exactly traipsed around town sampling the services of the city's presumably multitudinous banjo instructors (check the Yellow Pages -- that "multitudinous" bit was a joke), but we have shopped widely for one of the semi-archaic five-stringers to practice on. The level of music-store expertise on display was less than encouraging. We are, however, happy with the picker we found, and his instrumental pedigree is top-notch, so if you find yourself in such a niche market, hie thee to Mr. Anton Ullrich, Houston's self-advertised "Mr. Bluegrass." A Houston native and Kingston Trio-era convert to the instrument, Ullrich has been teaching bluegrass "banjer" since 1972 and has played with everyone from Mance Lipscombe to Merle Travis to Michael Martin Murphy. He spent years spinning a bluegrass show on KPFT, and has the reassuring habit of reminding students that hell, if banjo was so hard, he'd still be a banker. Oh, yeah, and he designed the limited-edition $7,000 "Texas" banjo marketed by the Deering Banjo Company's custom shop. Never mind that he long ago abandoned standard tablature for an idiosyncratic system that looks more like folk art than musical notation. The results so far have been promising. And at $29 for a weekly 45-minute lesson, including a monthly tape dub of bluegrass rarities from his vast collection of out-of-print vinyl, it's a bargain at twice the price.

Kenneth Lester Comedian Eddie Izzard once had this to say about a chiropractor: "They could have their fingers in your nostrils, one foot on the back of your underpants, and they're pushing your spine away with a broom." While you won't find any brooms at Lester's office, you will find a practitioner so hell-bent on health that he's been known to slash his office hours so he can train for triathlons. Lester's gung-ho when it comes to whole-body health, at-home exercise and muscle-bone relationships. His Kirby office teems with River Oaks wives, corporate bigwigs, models, athletes and everyday folk looking to get past a nagging injury, excel at yoga or even rehab from a stroke. If you're looking for something more than a glorious rubdown, Lester's got your back.

Tina Knowles Destiny's Child has an image and a style that's recognized worldwide. In her new book, Destiny's Style, Tina Knowles, the creator of the world-famous Destiny's Child look, shares her (and the group's) shopping, sewing and lifestyle secrets. Her designs have graced the covers of such magazines as In Style and Vogue, influenced the style of women across the globe and helped Destiny's Child land merchandising deals with AT&T, L'Oréal and Candies. Knowles grew up wearing clothes she and her mother made together, and she's taught her daughters -- Beyoncé and Solange -- the importance of creativity, individuality and independence. (She had them sewing at a young age so they could personalize their own clothing.) We can all breathe easy knowing Beyoncé has something to fall back on should she ever find herself out of work.

Remember when bars used to cater expansive free buffets to entice people to walk through the door? Remember how you used to go there, order a Coke and eat like a wild pig? This is the same philosophy, only with less guilt. While your parsimonious partying may have contributed to the closing of more than one kickerdome, you can relax in comfort in The Sharper Image's massage chair without the stress of wondering if you're leading someone to Chapter 11. And who needs all that extra stress? You're there, after all, to release it, not accumulate it. The leather chairs with those heavenly rollers tend to move around the store like lost children. But when you find them, make sure to stay planted long enough to run through the entire massage program. And don't worry about those SI clerks hovering like used-car salesmen. They never hassle you to leave; they understand that a well-adjusted back will make it easier for you to reach around for your wallet.

Tracy Writers know their mechanics. Driving around this city in search of hot stories puts a lot of strain on our old jalopies. And most of us certainly aren't getting rich, so we need a mechanic who's honest and affordable. According to statistics, there are only about ten such folks left in the world. And, luckily, one of them lives in Houston. His name is Tracy, and he owns Showcase Motors on Main, just north of downtown. Showcase not only fixes cars, it sells and rents them too -- which makes things extremely convenient. And his work is flawless. Tracy's been known to drop prices for struggling writers and starving artists and even gives occasional discounts on rental cars, too. At times, he's been known to even undersell customers, telling them they don't need all the things they requested. Now that's service.

To be the best, a music store has to carry a vast selection. For those whose tastes run all over the board, you can find everything from your favorite Jello Biafra or Henry Rollins spoken-word CD to Peter Allen's At His Best. You also will find everything in the middle -- jazz, hip-hop, industrial, rock, R&B, dance, rap, blues, imports, boxed sets and, of course, Elvis. Whoever orders the Latin music should get a raise; it's not limited to Ricky Martin and Jennifer Lopez. Soundwaves also boasts one of the largest, if not the largest, preowned CD selections in Houston, which you probably already know from the buxom yet "flat-busted" women from the television commercials. The store also has a peculiar section with skate and surf merchandise, but before heading over, you may want to surf to www.soundwaves.com and pick up the $1 off coupon.

"The world was silent except for the shrill cry of insects, which was part of the night, and the sound of wooden mortar and pestle as Nwayieke pounded her foo-foo," writes Chinua Achebe in his 1959 novel Things Fall Apart. He is describing a scene as basic to traditional Nigerian life as the beat of the udu drum -- the pounding of yams into the glutinous mass known as foo-foo or fufu. African Variety Food Store offers big beautiful yams for those with time and energy to pound. For others, this purveyor of West African goods sells a powdered form of yam (as well as cassava and plantain) that can be whipped up in minutes into a delicious mound of fufu for dipping in soups. The smell of dried fish pervades the establishment, which is tucked amid Chinese businesses in a sprawling strip mall. In addition to the desiccated cod, shrimp and bony bonga fish, one can find cans of palm oil, melon seeds, and a variety of herbs and vegetables that provide the city's thriving African population with tastes of home.