I got sick of the long lines at the Frisco’s In-N-Out Burger location. It has become the only fast food place where I lose weight because of the time I spent queuing. I decided it would be quicker to fly to California, the ancestral home of In-N-Out, and eat at one in the land where residents consider it another fast food chain, not a place to worship an animal-style burger like a bunch of dazed zombies.
This is my new branch of In-N-Out. It is at the Pinole exit of I-80 (ICBM coordinates: 37.9894758, -122.3098301). For my In-N-Out induction I ordered a “double-double animal-style” ($3.25) along with fries animal style ($3.30) and a chocolate shake ($1.99). Let’s go through each: (more…)
Check out the recent write-up of Malai Thai-Vietnamese Restaurant in our Best New Restaurants 2011 story. I could eat this green curry chicken everyday.
In 1971, I spent most of my Sunday mornings in a line around the original Herrera’s on Maple Avenue. My friends and I would sit under a dripping window AC unit for hours, waiting for our turn at one of the nine tables inside the tiny, lard-based Tex-Mex restaurant. Once seated, you popped open the six-pack of Coors you brought with you and watched founder Amelia Herrera hand-pat flour tortillas by the front door. The food was such a religious experience for me that, 17 years later, I got married at Herrera’s, which by then had moved into a bigger building across the street and expanded into more locations all over Dallas. Recently, they moved into a newer building down Maple.
If you’ve traveled through Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam then you are familiar with this popular dish. Although pho hasn’t quite made it to the mainstream breakfast menus in Dallas, it’s the common way to start your day in many countries. Recently Sarah Reiss ate pho for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and several bowls in between and files this story on pho.
Though pho (pronounced fuh) is far from new to North Texas, the recent surge of openings has reintroduced the signature soup of Vietnam to the mainstream. For newbies, let us explain the allure. It’s a savory broth (generally beef, chicken, or pork) seasoned with coriander, basil, star anise, and green onion; ladled over flat rice noodles and paper-thin tenderloin, brisket, chicken, or pork; and garnished with fresh bean sprouts, herbs, lime quarters, and varying quantities of hot chili paste. It might not sound much different than any other soup, but it tastes like magic.
Here is a a pho primer and a list of our favorite places. Tell us yours.

The best sapper ceviche; the best smile in Dallas. Both by chef Abraham Salum. Photography by Kevin Marple.
Dallas, it’s time to wake up and taste the mole. For too many years, you’ve treated any dish served with a mole as if it were an infectious disease. Perhaps poor misunderstood mole needs a Facebook page to get you to like it. Once you’re friends, you can dig deeper into its profile and get familiar with not just mole’s complex personality but some of Mexico’s other spirited ingredients.
You will learn the word “mole” is simply a Spanish term for sauce. Almost every city, town, or street vendor on the plaza of a village has its own variety of mole rooted in the local culture. There are red, yellow, green, rusty brown, and black moles, each a unique concoction started with rehydrated chiles (traditionally a combination of pasilla, ancho, and cascabel) that are thickened with ground nuts, seeds, corn, or bread and seasoned with dozens of herbs. Some moles are based on sweet-and-tangy tomatoes or poblano peppers; others are invigorated by raisins or plums. The dark, dense, and intense mole negro from Oaxaca leaves a mysterious hint of unsweetened chocolate on the palate.