Dallas Food Blog

​El Jordan Cafe
416 N. Bishop Ave.
214-941-4451

Dude Factor: 9, or Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, on a scale of 1 (The Axeman) to 10 (Pete Perkins).

This morning I awoke with the type of breakfast hankering no pop tart, oatmeal or yogurt smoothie could cure. I needed some man-size desayunos. You know, the kind of meal Tommy Lee Jones might eat while he's taking in the sunrise with his ranchhands outside San Saba.

Unfortunately I don't keep ranch hours. So where in Oak Cliff could I get breakfast this late? As I mulled over my options--Smoke, Cafe Brazil, the Metro Diner, etc.--one immediately stood out. This morning I would head to El Jordan Cafe.

I was disappointed that I forgot to bring a camera--until I found this picture on Joe's web page the Web page for another Joe's pizza, pasta and subs joint in Arlington, VA.

​Joe's Pizza, Pasta & Subs
4300 Matlock Road, Arlington

Dude Factor: 8, or Joe Pesci, on a scale of 1 (Joe Jonas) to 10 (Joe DiMaggio)

Located in a strip center next to an acupuncture office promising "Pain $55," Joe's was the only non-chain restaurant we could find last night in an otherwise T.G.I. Starbucks-plagued area off Interstate 20 in Arlington.

Or so we thought at the time; according to Joe's Web site, the Arlington location is part of a chain -- though the number of franchises has dwindled to two.

Chain or not, though, the restaurant has the right combination of football on TV, greasy food, cute waitresses and go-screw-yourself attitude to make it a Dude Food destination.

Holy shit, dudes.

​The Porch
2912 N. Henderson Ave.

Dude Factor: 10, or The Stodg, on a scale of 1 (The Great Pyramid of Giza) to 10.

This Dude Food is being filed from the home office, where I'm currently enjoying a productive birthday staycation. In honor of this momentous occasion (alas, the last year of my twenties), my lovely ladyfriend took me out for a nice dinner at The Porch, a restaurant I've been dreaming about ever since my first visit a few months back.

Despite tales of delicious grub, I'd avoided The Porch for a couple years at first, largely for two reasons--valet parking and Henderson douche brahs. However, now I know that these trials and tribulations are simply the sacrifices you must make in order to win the affections of the burger gods, so that these deities of grindage might smile upon you.

Jesse Hughey

Chesterfield's bacon cheeseburger with onion rings.

​Chesterfield's Food & Spirits
2555 Inwood Road No. 143
214-353-9268

Dude Factor: 9, or Recently Deceased Celebrity, on a scale of 1 (Not Wearing A Costume Because Halloween Is Satanic) to 10 (Devil)

Chesterfield's is a sports bar located at Maple and Inwood in an eclectic strip center that also includes a tattoo shop, check-cashing place, boat junkyard and, inexplicably, a fine wine shop. Before fellow Food Dude Noah and I even set foot in the place for lunch, I was already feeling optimistic just because of the location.

The inside proved just as promising as the exterior. It sported dartboards on just about every vertical surface along with plaques from the dart and pool leagues and a few eight-liner video slot machines. Commenters responding to last week's Question of the Week (How do you define 'dive bar'?) spent a lot of time and virtual ink pondering this question, but I think it can be answered with a yes or no question. Does the bar have eight-liners? If the answer is yes, it's a dive. Especially if, like Chesterfield's, one of the machines has a hand-written sign that says something like "Must verify with bartender. Machine not printing tickets."

We sat down at a table, leaving the bar to a couple of retirement-age regulars in work clothes, and the weathered bartender with a couple inches of shock-white roots showing under her violet-dyed hair took our drink orders. It would be happy hour until 7 p.m., making domestics $2.50 and imports $3.50. Guinness Stout and Dos Equis Lager appeared to be the only import options. Choosing Guinness as one of only two import options is a bold drink-menu decision, and one that immediately bumped up the place's score.

Noah W. Bailey

Seriously, Avila's, somebody could have parked there.

​Avila's
4714 Maple Ave.
214-520-2700

Dude Factor: 8, or "Nuevo Laredo", on a scale of  1 ("Stays in Mexico") to 10 ("El Paso")

A wise man once said "don't shit where you eat, kid." Whoever built Avila's blatantly ignored his advice, however, which is why the one-holer bathroom is located in the back of the kitchen. Maybe the wise man was Avila's stepfather or something.

That being said, it's actually kind of fun to walk through the kitchen to get there. Sure, there might be a few stray potty particles floating through the air, but other than that, it's an immaculate, fragant display of fresh Tex-Mex.

Ever since the Diners, Drive-ins and Dives guy stopped by the joint, changes have been afoot at Avila's, the lunchtime Tex-Mex destination of choice for many of us here at the Observer. First of all, they have a full bar. Outside, you'll also find a sad "patio" eating up one of the precious parking spaces. And the beans are no longer the refried bean paste one grows accustomed to when ordering Tex-Mex, but actual beans. We've also run across a couple of gringa waitresses as of late, which is fine and dandy except for the fact we really miss hearing about "more especials on the board." The last two developments are somewhat disturbing, but for the most part, Guy Fieri's seal of approval hasn't ruined the place.

Inside the Blue Skies Cafe at Willie's Place

​Willie's Place
101 Cornelius Rd. North
Carl's Corner

Dude Factor: 8, or Grandpa Simpson, on a scale of 1 (Grandfather clauses) to 10 (Royal Tenenbaum)

Our trip to Willie's Place was more than just dinner for my Grandpa Neudecker. It was nothing less than a pilgrimage. Since health and vision problems have kept him mostly bound to his room in recent years, "Willie's Place" on XM Radio has been one of his most reliable companions. So, from the moment he planned his visit to Dallas from Indianapolis, he'd been excitedly talking about Carl's Corner.

His enthusiasm was tempered by his sarcastic, cynical streak, of course.

"Wait till we get down there and find out it's just a goddamn gas pump," he'd rasp between puffs on a Winston, wheezing with laughter.

Patrick Michels

You want tots? Let's assume you want cheese and bacon as well. You won't regret it.

​Maple & Motor
4810 Maple Ave.
214-522-4400

Dude Factor: 9, or "Mama" Cass Elliot, on a scale of 1 (Billy Elliot) to 10 (Eliot Ness)

I believe the name of this place is actually Maple & Motor Burgers & Beer, but I'm pretty sure a "motor burger" also refers to something akin to a "Dirty Sanchez" or a "Cincinatti Bowtie," so I figured I'd do these guys a solid and cut down on confused, disappointed customers.

When I first saw Maple & Motor's building while on a jaunt down Maple, I couldn't help but be excited--finally, a promising looking burger joint opening within spittin' distance of Observer headquarters. I'd recently been burned by the disappointing Burguesa Burger, however, so I tried to maintain some healthy skepticism about the new venture.

Photos by Jesse Hughey

​Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

The Grill At Reno's
212 N. Crowdus St.
214-295-5869

Dude Factor: 10, or Dr. Emmett Brown, on a scale of 1 (George McFly) to 10

I'm not a cocktail type of dude. If you ask me, the best mixer for Crown Royal Whiskey is more Crown Royal Whiskey. But there is one mixed drink I will proudly order: the Black Tooth Grin. Invented and popularized by Vinnie and "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott of Pantera and named for a line from a Megadeth song, it's simply a chilled shot or two of whiskey (usually Crown) just darkened with a splash of Coke.

It's also the inspiration for Dimebag's Blacktooth Whiskey Burger, which uses whiskey-marinated ground beef and onions caramelized in Coca-Cola. Ever since DC9 ran this item about the metalhead-friendly grill adjacent to Reno's Chop Shop Saloon, music editor Pete Freedman and I have been eager to check the joint out and try the burger. Last Friday, we finally got our chance.

Knowing it's owned and managed by Pantera/Damageplan/HellYeah videographer and graphic artist Videobob Moseley, I expected the place to be full of metal memorabilia. But I wasn't expecting to see the very Doc Brown invention that made time travel possible in Back To The Future.

El Fenix
Multiple locations

​Dude Factor: 10, or Jerry Haynes, on a scale of 1 (Mary Kay Ash) to 10.

Honestly, if it weren't for El Fenix, I wouldn't be the dude I am today. You see, my family made the weekly pilgrimage for the Wednesday enchilada special for years. So often, in fact, that I could draw the interior of the Casa Linda El Fenix from memory if you asked. We'd even go the night before Thanksgiving.

When I moved away to college, I left El Fenix behind for the greener pastures of Austin Tex-Mex, only visiting the Dallas institution a handful of times over several years. I've been back in Big D for a little over five years now, though, and I'm proud to say I'm back on the El Fenix wagon. I think, maybe, it's because I'm getting older.

Walk in to any branch of the Tex-Mex institution and you're likely to spot a few tables of elderly diners, or as we affectionately refer to them here at Observer HQ, "The Olds." You must remember the following facts when discussing the Olds: The Olds do not brunch on Henderson. The Olds equate the term "fusion" with the Manhattan Project, and not food. The Olds do not care who your Sous Chef is.

The Royal Red Robin Burger

​Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Red Robin Gourmet Burgers
229 N. U.S. 67, Cedar Hill

Dude Factor: 5, or Boy Wonder, on a scale of 1 (Robin Ventura) to 10 (Robin Hood)

I'm on the fence about the whole idea of gourmet burgers. On the one hand, there are some undeniably awesome burgers out there created with top-quality ingredients and fixins that you won't find at McDonald's. Whoever thought to put guacamole and pico de gallo on a burger is a bona fide genius. But just as often, calling a burger "gourmet" is just an excuse to slap on a few sauteed mushrooms from some Bavarian forest and jack up the price.

As you can guess by the middling Dude Factor score, Red Robin--at least the Cedar Hill location of the national chain--falls somewhere in the middle.

Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Love And War In Texas
multiple locations
​
Dude Factor: 9, or Guy Clark, on a scale of 1 (Gary P. Nunn) to 10 (Willie Nelson).

I realized recently that I hadn't been back to Love And War In Texas once in the three years since I bestowed a 2006 Dallas Observer Best Of on their fried pickles (I actually wrote so many items on fried foods that year that an editor sent me an e-mail inquiring about my health--true story.). It might seem crazy, but when you account for the fact that I hate driving to Plano almost as much as I love fried pickles, it actually makes a lot of sense. That being said, I packed the mules, hired a sherpa and headed out for Plano last night in search of holiday-worthy Dude Food.

Without a frat-boy country singer to attract the masses (I'll get to this later) the holiday crowd at Love and War was notably sparse when the expedition pulled into the parking lot, but any worries we had about a decline in the quality of their cuisine were erased by our order of Texas Wagonwheels (the aforementioned fried pickles, served with a side of smoky ranch). As The Dude might put it, "Fuckin' A."

​

​Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Babe's Chicken Dinner House
200 South Main St., Cedar Hill
469-272-4500

Dude Factor: 9, or Baby Face Nelson on a scale of 1 (Babyface) to 10 (Babe Ruth)

While I'm a big fan of Bubba's, I'm embarrassed to say that until last night I'd never tried any of the home-cooking diner's sister fried-chicken restaurants, despite the local chain's multiple Best of Dallas awards. I have seen the light and completely understand its lofty status among local chicken places.

The one thing I don't understand is the layout and decor of the Cedar Hill location. It's as if it were built by someone with two personalities. One of the personalities wanted to make diners feel as if they're relaxing in a luxury hunting lodge, complete with folksy homilies like "The older I get, the better I was" and "If you are trying to drive me crazy ... don't worry it's a short walk from here" decorating the hewn-wood walls. The other personality thought he was building a Halloween haunted house.

​Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...


Hattie's
418 Bishop Avenue
214-942-7400


Dude Factor: 10, or Jake Tyler Brigance, on a scale of 1 (Darby Shaw) to 10.

The first time I walked into Hattie's, I admit I felt a little out of place. After all, with the white tablecloths and natural light, it looks like a prime location for some crooked lawyer powerlunch straight out of a John Grisham adaptation. Plus, it was around 1 p.m. on a Sunday, so I obviously hadn't showered.

Seeing a lack of apps on the Brunch menu, I went for the Tomato bisque, an uncharacteristic move to say the least. But this little cup o' soup came complete with a mini grilled cheese, which I fully endorse. Honestly, I don't think I can ever eat another soup without a mini grilled cheese for the rest of my life--it's that much of a game changer. Never been a soup fan, after all, but being a dude, I  love dips.

I then checked out the rest of the menu, wavering between a house sirloin burger (I'll definitely have to go back for the dinner version, which is stuffed with pulled pork...) and a breakfast of bacon and eggs. But then the waiter mentioned the special, three little words that changed my life forever--chicken and waffles.

Jesse Hughey

Dueling crustaceans served on Night 2, the dress-up dinner. I'd peg them at about Red Lobster quality--just fine for someone who doesn't eat a lot of lobster.

​Carnival Fantasy
1-888-CARNIVAL

Dude Factor: 7, or Jack Sparrow, on a scale of 1 ("In The Navy"-era Village People) to 10 (Popeye the Sailor)

Every time it came up in conversation that my family and I would be going on a four-day cruise to Cozumel, I found myself over-explaining or making excuses as to why we were doing such a thing.

"It's a family trip," I'd quickly add. "It wasn't our idea, but hey--free vacation."

For some reason, I was embarrassed to admit that we would use our precious vacation time and budget to spend four days aboard a floating luxury resort sandwiching an eight-hour spending spree in a tropical tourist town. A cruise is not exactly the kind of outdoors adventure, cultural horizon-broadening or exotic worldliness that I like to imagine myself engaging in as a manly traveler.

I am, however, a glutton. And since this cruise ship was basically an all-you-can-eat buffet on the sea, it turned out to be a lot more fun than I was expecting.

Noah W. Bailey

​Burguesa Burger
2222 Inwood Road
214-350-7772

Dude Factor: 6, or Dean Hodes, on a scale of 1 (Peter Scottson) to 10 (Andy Botwin).

Back when it first opened in May, everyone around the Observer offices was buzzing about Burguesa Burger, the new Latin-targeted burger stand from Which Wich and Genghis Grill founder Jeff Sinelli. After all, it's just down the street from DO headquarters.

We didn't make it over there at the time, however, mostly because we'd always forget about it at lunch and were never ready for dinner before they closed at 7 p.m.--just in time for the elderly Latinos that didn't feel like Luby's that night to get their burger fix.

Realizing the fact that Dude Food had yet to try this new burger joint (within spitting distance no less), we decided to posse up and hit Burguesa Burger on our lunch break Monday. It was, as they say, asi asi.

​Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Jalapeno Tree (Yes, there should be a tilde over the "n" in "Jalapeno." No, I don't know how to type one.)
1530 N. Peachtree Rd., Mesquite
972-329-9560

Dude Factor: 6, or Arnold Schwarzenegger, on a scale of 1 (John Ritter) to 10 (Humphrey Bogart)

At first glance, Jalapeno Tree seems like it is tailor-made for dudes. It's not the place to go if you're counting calories. In fact, you probably have no business going there at all if you plan to make it past age 65 or so. But if you need to move up from welterweight to heavyweight in a matter of days, you could do worse. If the greasy chips, fried everything and bottomless tortillas aren't enough for you, there are squeeze bottles of a butter-like substance on every table and free soft-serve for dessert.

But it also gives off the chain-y vibe of a place that's trying too hard to achieve dudeliness. A section of menu items assigns random celebrity guy names (Jack Nicholson, Tex Ritter, the three mentioned in the Dude Factor and a few others) to various Tex-Mex combo platters, with no obvious relation between the food and the dude. And the decoration scheme, at least on the porch where we were seated, looks like what Jimmy Buffett might have come up with if he were a really big soccer fan and chose to make a career of decorating sports bars instead of writing awful music. If only.

​Great American Hero
4001 Lemmon Ave.
214-521-2070

Dude Factor: 5, or Fred Savage, on a scale of 1 (Ricky Schroder) to 10 (Michael J. Fox).

Considering the waves of ill-advised '80s nostalgia still sweeping through your local Urban Outfitters, one would think a place like Great American Hero would be packed with hipsters eating vegetarian subs. After all, the restaurant's highlighter-inspired yellow, pink and blue color scheme--so hard on the eyes for so many years--has somehow become relevant again. How, you ask? Because kids these days don't heed the lessons of history. And because the morons will wear anything.

That being said, walking into Great American Hero is a lot like entering a time warp, in ways both good and bad. Considering the woodgrain interior, stained-glass sub and American-flag-themed t-shirts hanging from the wall , the decor seems like it was shipped in from a casual eatery in some '80s-era beachside resort. In fact, every time I walk in I constantly expect some pimply local teenager to challenge me to a game of Super Mario Bros 3, only to be disappointed, because Great American Hero doesn't even have an arcade.

Ojeda's chili relleno

Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Ojeda's
4617 Maple Ave.
214-528-8383

Dude Factor: 8, or Lucky Day, on a scale of 1 (The Singing Bush) to 10 (El Guapo)

Thanks to its quick service, reliable dishes, dirt-cheap prices and proximity to CIty Of Ate HQ, Ojeda's has become one of my favorite lunch spots.

The place is unabashedly Tex-Mex, without even a hint of "Fresh-Mex," "Mod-Mex" or any other such stabs at upscale Mexican and/or healthy food. Sometimes a dude's just gotta have a chili relleno or some enchiladas smothered in greasy chili.

A couple of amigos and I learned on a recent visit, though, that certain dishes at the restaurant should come with a warning label: Caution--Risk Of Taco Blowout.

Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Taqueria El Si Hay
601 W Davis St.
214-941-4042

Dude Factor: 10, or El Santo, on a scale of 1 (these guys) to 10.

Sorry for the tardiness, blog bros, but Dude Food is dragging ass today thanks to a visit to el doctor, who diagnosed us with the tendinitis. Likely cause: tacos. Or more specifically, the fervor with which we dispatched them.

You see, last night we paid our first visit to the oft-championed Taqueria El Si Hay, located across the street from that trendy place named after a bag in Oak Cliff. Having spent most of the day on I-35, a quick, simple dinner was in order, and El Si Hay delivered with ease, serving up four tacos in half as many minutes. Honestly, we would have loved to wait a little longer, because the guy serving up elotes from a cart around the corner was a true artiste, cutting the corn freshly off the cob and throwing it into a cup along with healthy dollops of butter, sour cream and chili sauce--if only there had been a tropicalia soundtrack playing, it would have looked just like a scene from Nacho Libre.

Tom Jenkins

Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Fireside Pies
2820 N. Henderson Ave.

Dude Factor: 6, or Warrant's "Cherry Pie," on a scale of 1 (Don McLean's "American Pie") to 10 (Led Zeppelin's "Custard Pie")

Some people--including the person who wrote the Dallas Observer's blurb about the joint in 2004--claim that Fireside Pies has the best pizza in Dallas. Those people are clearly not dudes.

Granted, Fireside Pies has some pretty good pizza. It might even make a case for "Best Pizza With All Kinds Of Weird Shit On It, Like Goat Cheese And Pinon Nuts, Whatever The Hell A Pinon Nut Is." (Take that, California Pizza Kitchen.) But however good the pizza might taste, a few problems make me hesitant to award it best of anything.

Noah W. Bailey

Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Pollo Campero
multiple locations

Dude Factor: 8, or Jaime Viñals, on a scale of 1 (Sergio Andrade) to 10 (Daphne Zuniga)

The logo for Pollo Campero (that's "country chicken," gringos)  is awesome. Note the bird in a cowboy hat, extending a hearty howdy with a side of Fonzarelli "aayyyyy." How could you not wanna bro down with this chicken?

Obviously, I had to check this place out, so I sent out the secret Dude Food signal and assembled a posse to sample this Guatemalan  import, which has recently opened two new locations in the Oak Cliff area.

The Cockrell Hill Road store is brazenly located across the street from a KFC. We ordered various combinations of chicken (both fried and grilled) along with some of Campero's signature Latin sides (yucca fries, black beans and rice and a meaty stew known as Campero beans).

Surprisingly, every combination arrived on an actual, honest-to-god plate with actual honest-to-god silverware, a nice touch for a fast food joint. A quick visit to the salsa bar (Pollo Campero's chicken comes with tortillas for do-it-yourself tacos) and we were ready to chow down.

Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Norma's Cafe
1123 W. Davis St.
214-946-4711

Dude Factor: 10 (June Cleaver) on a scale of 1 (Kate What's-Her-Name, the one in all the tabloids) to 10.

Norma's Cafe makes the kind of food Mom used to make. More specifically, the kind Mom used to make before she went back to school, before she gave up the fight against TV dinners and started letting us chug Dr Pepper straight from the can at the coffee table in front of the television.

Everything about the place exudes a homey vibe, from the friendly seat-yourself policy to the pictures of waitresses' kids tacked on a corkboard by the restrooms to the random memorabilia that's been nailed to the walls for years to the lumpy globs of discolored caulk sealing the bathroom sink. And just like Mom's pre-Hungry Man culinary creations, it's very dude-friendly. Almost without exception, anything on the menu that isn't some shade of yellow or brown is greasy, spicy or salty.

Merritt Martin

Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Hook Line & Sinker
3103 Lemmon Ave.
214-965-0707

Dude Factor: 10, or anyone on Deadliest Catch, on a scale of 1, Steve Irwin, to 10.

Between reading John Graves' Goodbye to a River and watching a marathon of Survivorman, I spent much of the weekend salivating over the thought of freshly caught fish sizzling over a waterside fire. (Insert Tim Allen-style grunting here.) With a heat index over 100, however, I naturally decided my own outdoor fish fry was not in the cards.

Luckily I remembered Hook Line & Sinker. Granted, it's not the waterside fish fry of my dreams, or even one of those delicious coastal, cook-your-catch kind of joints, but it's about as close as us Dallasites can get without a four hour drive.

For an Uptown location at Lemmon and McKinney, the crowd here is remarkably casual, too, making it easy to imagine yourself in some coastal Texas town, at least until you sit on the patio and observe the passing of numerous luxury SUVs and boob jobs.

Each week the Dude Food guys assess the 'masculinity' of Dallas area dives. The more fried meat and junk on the walls, the better the rating...

Galaxy Drive In Theatre
5301 N. IH 45, Ennis
972-875-5505

Dude Factor: 8, or "T-1000," on a scale of 1 ("John Connor played by Nick Stahl") to 10 ("Arnie in the original Terminator")

Preview Guy: In a world where multiplex theaters were hell-bent on the complete destruction of the human race's financial means to enjoy movies--where land prices, VCRs and Daylight Savings conspired to force all but a handful of drive-in theaters out of business--one theater has the guts to stand up against incredible odds.

[cue "Bad To The Bone" guitar riff]

Preview Guy: Galaxy Drive In Theatre. Offering double-feature movie tickets--two current movies, mind you, not scratched-up, second-run, dollar-theater reels--for a mere $6 per adult, $2 per kid age 5-11 and free for under age 5. If that's not insanity enough, check out these snack prices.

[pan concession menu]

Narrator: I scanned the horizon. There had to be an oil pump jack, or fumes rising from a clandestine meth lab, or something--anything--to explain how the place could practically give away the tickets and food. This had to be an oil baron's hobby, or a front for something. That, or they were using rat meat and black-market expired nacho remnants.

You could get a burger or popcorn for $2, or a hot dog for $1.50. Even the miniature golf was cheap, at $3 a round. That was a little more believable, though; the worn-smooth putting surfaces, wooden obstacles and decorative neon-lit palm trees all looked like they hadn't been updated since the invention of the game. But I'd already eaten. The Snack Shack would have to wait until my next trip.

[Flash forward to May 30, 2009]

Narrator: Finally I got my chance when the family went to see Terminator: Salvation, paired with the far less-enticing Angels and Demons. But the line snaked from the rinky-dink snack shack building all the way to the ramshackle mini-golf course, and the sun was setting fast. Would we have time to make it back to our car before the movie started? More importantly, just what were we about to eat?
 

Sonny Bryan's
2202 Inwood Road
214-357-7120

Dude Factor: 9, or Nolan Ryan, on a scale of 1 ("Tom Hicks") to 10 ("Tom Landry")

Sure, Sonny Bryan's is a Dallas institution, but I can't say I ever darkened the original's door until the Observer moved to our current offices at Maple and Oak Lawn some four years ago. (In fact, I'm pretty sure the only times I found myself on Inwood during my first quarter century were when I was on my way to catch the Shamu plane to Sea World.)
Since my first fateful Sonny Bryan's experience, I've been back as often as my co-workers' tastes and dietary restrictions allow, though there are many other variables to also consider when visiting this Dallas barbecue mainstay.

Chubby's Family Restaurant
7474 S. Cockrell Hill Road

Dude Factor: 8, or "Jack Palance in City Slickers" on a scale of 1 ("Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones And The Crystal Disappointment") to 10 ("Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven")

Of all the billboards on the way to and from work, Chubby's Family Restaurant has my second-favorite, thanks to the friendly-looking cartoon chef's mustache and the restaurant's perfect anti-health-food name. My favorite is the very questionable pairing of the PSA "Alcohol. The #1 Date Rape Drug." with Nestle Quik's "One Delicious Sip" slogan and mischievously smiling cartoon bunny. That hilarious inadvertent juxtaposition brightens every car ride.

After heeding a recommendation from my Food-Bro Noah, I found out that the place is even better than the mascot.

Olive Garden
639 N. Cockrell Hill Road, Duncanville

Dude Factor: 3, or Roseanne (waitress/proprieter of loose meat sandwich specialty diner The Lanford Lunch Box), on a scale of 1 (Zach Braff in Garden State) to 10 (Jonah Hill in Forgetting Sarah Marshall)

Last Saturday my lady and I--with tired bones, no pressing social commitments and a burning desire to do as little as possible--were in the mood for some easy Italiano. At first we thought we'd make due with a frozen Bertolli Chicken Parmesan dinner, until we finally read the instructions and discovered the 45 minute cooking time (prep times like that are why I never once cracked open the oven of my college apartment).

Having just discovered an Olive Garden while exploring the far corners of our new hood, we decided to get dressed and head out for a little Hospitaliano. Now, neither of us really expected much from the experience, though we both hold a special place in our hearts for the chain-talian mainstay--she was once a hostess there in college (she threw out the uniform long before we met, much to my dismay), where she presided over two-hour Saturday night waits, while I went there far too often as a child, stuck with a family who apparently didn't mind waiting two hours to eat at Olive Garden. It was also a foil-lined to-go bag of Olive Garden breadsticks that taught the 13-year-old me why you shouldn't put metal in the microwave.

The Idle Rich Pub
2614 McKinney Ave.
214-965-9926

Dude Factor: 7, or "Mr. Burns," on a scale of 1 ("Donald Trump") to 10 ("Bruce Wayne")

As much as I love The Old Monk, I hadn't really thought of it or its sister bars (The Dubliner, Blackfriar Pub and The Idle Rich Pub) as Dude Food destinations--particularly not The Idle Rich. Any place that serves cheese boards is aspiring to a level of sophistication far beyond the dude diet, I thought. Cheese is meant to be a topping for chili dogs, or melted with Ro-tel to make queso. Serving little pieces of gourmet cheese on their own is so...French. And then there's the matter of the name "Idle Rich," which conjures images of lockjawed Harvard assholes in top hats sipping martinis after a particularly strenuous day of yachting.

But after reading this explanation for the moniker, I have a new respect for owner Feargal McKinney. Turns out the term has a double meaning, as it is a slang name for beggars in McKinney's native Ireland. In the case of the bar, it's a coy way of saying all are welcome.

That was indeed the case Friday night. There were millionaires, sure--both the real deal and the $30,000 version. But I also saw a guy sporting a foot-tall mohawk who didn't get a second glance. And if I had any doubts that an Uptown joint had food to appeal to regular dudes, they were gone by the time we left.

Jimmy John's
multiple locations

Dude Factor: 9, or Jerry Springer (paid for sex with a check), on a scale of 1 (Eliot Spitzer, resigned in shame after press conference) to 10 (Charles Barkley, returned triumphantly to TNT and T-Mobile endorsements)


I'm gonna level with you bros. Unlike my Dude Food compatriot Jesse "The Human Trash Compactor" Hughey, I am what you might call a "picky eater"--as in, if you put vegetables on my sandwich, I will pick that shit off.

Luckily for me, Jimmy John's has always had my back with its "Plain Slims" menu: six sandwiches offering nothing but various combinations of meat, cheese and bread. There's ham and cheese. Turkey. Roast Beef. Salami, Capicola and Cheese. You know, the classics.

So when the chain finally opened up a location in the Observer's hood a year or two back, I was stoked. After all, Jimmy John's was a staple of my college years.

Google Maps

Tacos Chano's
934 W. Jefferson Blvd.
214-948-1846

Dude Factor: 6, or "Cheap Floor Tiles" on a scale of 1 ("Montezuma's Revenge") to 10 ("Cheap Prescription Meds")

One of my favorite things about visiting Mexico is haggling over the price of souvenirs. There's nothing like the rush of taking home a belt buckle marked $10 for only $6. You can't try it at Wal-Mart...at least not without looking like a jackass. But in the open-air markets of border towns, good old-fashioned negotiation is accepted--nay, expected.

Tacos Chano's in Oak Cliff replicates that border-town price tension--simply because there's not a price to be found on the menu. Now, when you're picking up, say, a pair of switchblades in a Tijuana market, this uncertainty adds to the sense of adventure. But on my first visit to Tacos Chano's, not knowing what the meal would cost only gave me indigestion.

I mean, c'mon. I don't want to get to the register and find out a single taco was more expensive than my belt buckle.

At least the food is dude-friendly, mostly consisting of meat, grease and tortilla (the base of the food pyramid). With standard-Mexican-but-still-pretty-daring-by-American-tastes cuts like lengua, barbacoa and tripas also featured on the menu, it makes you feel like a worldly hombre just by proxy, even without actually consuming innards or scrap meat.