Scott Reitz

Oh so close to Buffalo wings

​Still feeling rudderless on the bar-food scene in Dallas, last week I asked Aters to help me find the city's best chicken wings. I asked that they be crispy. I asked that they be sauced in Frank's, and I ask that they be served with a side of baseball on a television.

Almost 20 chimed in, touting Angry Dog, Pluckers, Wingstop and others, but username Mhigbe's comment stood out:

Bryan Street Tavern. Blue cheese (don't bother with the ranch - too much dill).

It was the "too much dill" part that made me want to take a closer look. Scratch dressings are a sign that a restaurant at least cares. That's really all it takes to make a decent chicken wing.

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Scott Reitz

Deep fried, delicious buffalo style wings

​It's a lousy obsession but the burden is mine to bear. I've loved tearing into chicken wings since I discovered them in college. A small chain originally called BW3's that's gone on to become a Chicken Wing Walmart served decently fried renditions with about a dozen sauces. Buffalo Wild Wings, as it's now called, pretty much sucks now that it's more of a McDonald's than a pub, but I've gone on to find decent wings at lots of smaller bars in almost every town I visit.

Until I moved to Dallas.

It's still early, but I don't see them on bar menus quite as often down here. Perhaps it's a matter of geography? The wings I love were born in Buffalo, New York before they worked their way south, becoming popular enough to warrant a feature in the New Yorker. Since then they've been subjected to an endless number of treatments and flavorings, some delightful (I love you, jerk wings) and others a victim of excessive creativity (please make the garlic butter stop).

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Noah W. Bailey

Beats your hippie bowl of Kashi, huh?

​Barbec's
8949 Garland Road
214-321-5597

Dude Factor: 10, or The Hangover, on a scale of 1 (Very Bad Things) to 10. 

A good friend of mine describes Barbec's as "where East Dallas meets East Texas." Walk in any morning and you'll see what he means -- you might rub elbows with contractors and old blue hairs as well as high school kids and the Lance Armstrong-worshiping set, who somehow find it perfectly acceptable to show their balls to an entire restaurant full of strangers (pack some jeans in the backpack, Lakewood LeMond.)

We started coming to Barbec's in the '80s, and we're pretty sure the same old dude's been busing the tables ever since. The wait staff is also delightfully devoid of hipsters -- if you don't like being called "honey" or "sweetie" by a spunky old lady, this isn't the restaurant for you.
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Noah W. Bailey

​A few dozen Oak Cliff residents and barbecue addicts braved the frozen streets and frigid temperatures to enjoy opening day this morning at Lockhart Smokehouse, the highly awaited new 'cue joint in the Bishop Arts District. As of 1 p.m., the place was out of meat, but luckily Dude Food got there early enough to sample a few different cuts.

The set-up is mostly true to the "Lockhart" name -- the line forms in the back near the smoker, and after you get your meat, you chow down at one of the tables in the large front room. There's also a bar, which should be fully operational once the ice melts and deliveries resume on schedule. We asked about getting a beer, but apparently the cans of Shiner, Miller Light and Coors Light on the shelves were display models only.

Beef was listed at $7.50 per half-pound, pork chops and ribs at $6.25 per half-pound, sausage $5 for original and $5.25 for jalapeño, and chickens were $10 whole, $5.50 for half. Barbecue beans, slaw, potato salad and deviled eggs were $2 for small, $4 for large, while sliced cheddar in Ziploc bags were $1 or $2.

A sample of shoulder clod was offered to those of us waiting in line, and the tiny morsel we scarfed was some of the finest barbecue we've had in North Texas -- equal parts smoke, crust and succulent, fatty moisture. Unfortunately, it was mostly downhill from there. The moral of the tale -- don't get carried away and buy $30 worth of BBQ based on one bite. We'll definitely be back though. Our individual observations were as follows:


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​Smashburger
2222 McKinney Ave.

Dude Factor: 8, or Orson Welles, on a scale of 1 (Britney Spears) to 10 (David Hasselhoff)

We'd been hearing positive buzz about the Addison Smashburger ever since it opened a little over a year ago. Unfortunately, we rarely go to Addison for burgers. We might venture up there once in a blue moon for some birthday churrasco or something, but until they remove that obnoxious exclamation point from the city logo and take torches and pitchforks to the Pete's Dueling Piano Bar, we'll continue to steer clear. Rabble rabble rabble.

Luckily, the folks at Smashburger had the presence of mind to open a franchise just down the street from Observer headquarters, where we couldn't help but finally stumble upon it.
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​Dairy Palace
2301 N. Trade Days Blvd.
Canton

Dude Factor: 5, or Antiques Roadshow, on a scale of 1 (Cash In The Attic) to 10 (Pawn Stars). 

The little missus and I recently found ourselves with an unexpectedly free weekend and a serious case of wanderlust, so we pulled out a map and decided on a destination for a quick day trip. We landed on the Pineywoods metropolis of Tyler  where we'd eventually visit a state park, a nice zoo, a fancy Mexican joint in a mansion where you could get a burrito stuffed with a chile relleno, and a badass tiger sanctuary where we got to see Michael Jackson's old tiger, I shit you not.

But before we made it to Tyler, we had to stop for lunch, and the Dairy Palace beckoned with promises of "world famous hamburgers" and 32 flavors of Blue Bell. I remembered healthy crowds here when I visited as a child, but having forgotten that it was the final first Monday weekend before Christmas, little prepared me for the onslaught we'd find when we entered the place, which was packed with truckers, people in Christmas sweaters and a guy wearing  one of these boingy hats.

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​Fogo de Chao
4300 Belt Line Road
972-503-7300

Dude Factor: 9, or Seu Jorge, on a scale of 1 (Anderson Varejao) to 10 (Pele).

Last week we celebrated -- or more accurately, mourned -- our 30th birthday. And because she's such a sweetie, the old ball-and-chain decided to take us out for a fancy dinner. After consulting with a couple meat-lovin' amigos, we decided to embark on the Brazilian churrascaria experience that had somehow evaded us for 30 years, driving all the way up to Addison in a cold, pouring rain -- a great omen for our thirties, by the way -- to visit Fogo de Chao.

In case you've never been, the Fogo de Chao experience goes a little something like this: sit down, order drinks, visit a fancy country-club style salad bar and then flip your table's coaster over to green, at which point a bunch of "gauchos" in funny pants come running your way with skewers of delicious, delicious meat.


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​Kincaid's Hamburgers
4901 Camp Bowie Blvd.
Fort Worth, Texas

Dude Factor: 9, or Roger Miller, on a scale of 1 (Mark David Chapman) to 10 (Townes Van Zandt)

It seems that every time someone does a survey of metroplex burgers (or a statewide survey, for that matter), the name "Kincaid's" seems to come up, either in the list itself or in an angry comment--"you mean to tell me Kincaid's didn't make the Top Ten?! Bullshit!" Of course, we said the same thing when Texas Monthly left both Angry Dog and Wingfield's off its Top 50 last year, so we felt we might find some kindred spirits if we eventually made it over to the Fort Worth institution.

We finally got our chance on Saturday when we decided to escape the Texas-OU brouhaha (sure, we're Longhorn alums, but we also hate traffic--that's why we live in Dallas) for a day in sunny Panther City. Pulling up to Kincaid's, we had a hard time finding a parking space--always a good sign. Once we made it in, we found the decor to be quite awesome, with a row of counters for stand-up dining and some long picnic tables laid out in front of the windows. The place seemed to be full of TCU students and white-haired alumni in purple golf shirts, but hey, at least we weren't in Highland Park, even though it felt like some bizarro world version of it.


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​Raising Cane's
(multiple locations)
www.raisingcanes.com

Dude Factor: 7, or House's cane, on a scale of 1 (Michael P. Fay) to 10 (Caine).

We had never darkened the door at a Raising Cane's until the new Greenville Avenue location opened, tempting us with its promise of "chicken fingers" on the sign. After all, we're married to a College Station girl, and in College Station -- a town built on chicken fingers -- most people see Raising Cane's as a direct ripoff of Layne's, the beloved mom-and-pop chicken finger joint that's cured hangovers since 1994. They take their chicken fingers seriously down there, which seems a little weird until you realize it's a town full of Aggies.

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Noah W. Bailey

​Fuzzy's Taco Shop
6465 E. Mockingbird Lane, Suite 380
214-370-8226

Dude Factor: 9, or Peach Fuzz, on a scale of 1 (Fuzzy Wuzzy) to 10 (Fuzzbox)

A lot of people around here seem to think this whole taco thing is getting out of hand--just in the past few months, we've seen the opening of the bizarrely-located North Dallas Torchy's, the unfortunately named Rusty Taco and the even-more-unfortunately named Rock n' Taco, a point driven home by the lame ass font on their sign (What's that font called anyway? Tila Tequila Tattoo? Bret Michaels Bold? )

To these taco naysayers, we say: Shut your traps. Tacos are awesome. And we live on Observer salaries. The more cheap, tasty food to be found in this town, the better.

Which leads us to the brand spankin' new Dallas location of the beloved Fort Worth-based Fuzzy's Taco Shop. Walking in, we were greeted by the type of line one wouldn't expect in a brand new restaurant, but seeing as how Dallasites have long clamored for a Fuzzy's location of their own, it wasn't surprising. (On our second visit, there was still a short line well after 9 p.m.) The line moved fast, though--there must be 100 people working there between the counter, the kitchen and the high school girls aggressively bussing the tables. Just looking at the menu made us giddy, too, with nothing over $7.99 (and that's for a fajita plate) and breakfast served all day.


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