Photos by Katharine Shilcutt

I never want to stay at a hotel that doesn't have a giant chocolate dragon in the lobby ever again.

So, this past weekend I went to Las Vegas and celebrated the wedding of two very dear friends with a bunch of my very best friends (including one who was Skyped into the ceremony from Turkey) and wore a beautiful blue dress and red lipstick and danced all night and made sure everyone in the wedding party had all the Advil and fashion tape and fake eyelashes that they needed because that's what a bridesmaid does and watched my friends sign their ketubah in a beautifully intimate moment in a sunlit room and cried as they stood in front of their family and friends and wore painful shoes and read the lyrics to a Black Keys song at the ceremony and laughed as another friend read A Lovely Love Story complete with dinosaur voices and cried and laughed some more and had the time of my life.

In other words, I was in Las Vegas for a wedding and for my friends. Not for the food. I barely made an effort to eat like a professional during this first ever trip to Vegas, but still managed to come across some of the best food I've had in a while.

Such is the allure of Las Vegas, it seems. And while I couldn't care less about the gambling or the shows or the lights on the Strip, I can see why people come to Las Vegas to eat. It's total sensory overload in every single aspect, and that includes the food.

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Photo courtesy of Dallas Obsever/Sean Willis Photography

Bolsa is the antithesis of everything I dislike about Dallas.

My grandmother and grandfather had their first date at a Mexican restaurant in Oak Cliff, just south of downtown Dallas, after the end of World War II. These days, there are still plenty of Mexican restaurants to be found in this rapidly gentrifying part of town, but it's now also home to an eclectic mix of restaurants and stores known as the Bishop Arts District. Bolsa ("bag" in Spanish) is one of those restaurants, housed in a converted auto body shop that feels as much a holistic part of the neighborhood now as the former garage must have once been.

After a lackluster lunch at Little Sichuan Cuisine earlier that day and a dinner at new Henderson hotspot Sissy's on Friday night that I'd describe as oddly underwhelming, I honestly didn't hold out much hope for Bolsa -- despite the fact that the Dallas Observer has given it a slew of awards in its own yearly Best Of issue, awards such as Best Patio, Best Place to Take a Date, Best Pizza by Another Name, Best Coffee, et cetera.

I do love being proved wrong, though. Bolsa blew me away. Mostly because it's the antithesis of everything I dislike about Dallas.

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Photos by Katharine Shilcutt

Soft tofu with Napa cabbage came out like a lion, but went in like a lamb.

Visiting family in Dallas this weekend, I found myself with a little down time to explore a city I very nearly grew up in but know very little about. I spent my summers as a kid split into three very different settings: Houston, Dallas and a cattle ranch in Henderson, and only eating out in one of those places. Extended summer visits in Dallas meant endless amazing meals at my Meemo's house, so why venture out into the city when there were fresh pies and dumplings right in the kitchen?

Even as an adult, I'd rather eat my grandmother's cooking when I'm in Dallas than go anywhere else. But this weekend, my buddy Chris Frankel reminded me of something I'd forgotten about the Big D:

"You should visit the Sichuan place owned by the parents of MaLa's owners," Frankel nudged me. "That's #1 on my Dallas wishlist."

Mala Sichuan was the subject of one of my more positive reviews last December, and its owner -- Cori Xiong -- came by her Sichuan expertise through her father, also a restaurateur and proprietor of the popular Little Sichuan Cuisine north of Plano.

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Patrise Shuttlesworth

I recently made a trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico. It was my first trip there, and I was eager to have my first New Mexican cuisine experience. I am a native Texan, proud of my heritage and proud of the food culture that is Tex-Mex food, but I'm willing to get to know, enjoy and even, on occasion, embrace a different type of Mexican food. Still, it really has to prove itself.

I have had the good fortune of knowing a Mexican mama born and raised in Piedras Negras, living in Eagle Pass. She made me menudo, arroz con pollo, cheese enchiladas and numerous other dishes. I was lucky enough to be able to sit at her kitchen table and write down her recipes that had only lived in her memories until that day. It was some of the best Tex-Mex I have ever had the privilege of eating. So I know what authentic Tex-Mex is suppose to taste like, look like and smell like. Sadly, I have to admit that I have also dined at Los Tios and Monterrey House and had some of the worst incarnations of Tex-Mex known to man. But they all deserve a spot in our Tex-Mex history.

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This past weekend and Monday, March 19, Southern Catholics gathered to celebrate the feast day of St. Joseph, aka San Giuseppe, the patron saint of fathers, workers, families and the Sicilian people, among others. Sicilian immigrants first brought the custom of St. Joseph's Altars to south Louisiana as a way to honor St. Joseph and ask for help or intercession.

It began in the Middle Ages in Sicily during a drought which led to famine. The only crop that survived, and on which they depended for sustenance, was the fava bean, typically used to nourish animals.The people prayed to their patron saint for relief, and when their prayers were answered, it finally rained and crops were bountiful once again, they celebrated. To show thanks, they constructed altars adorned with food, and after paying homage to St. Joseph, the altar was broken down and the food distributed to the hungry and less fortunate.

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Photo by Cristina Cuellar

P. Terry's Double with Cheese.

I first ate P. Terry's some years back when I was staying up in Austin for a few days with a friend. He just so happened to have one right around the corner from his place, and we must have eaten there four times in three days. It wasn't a high point in my life, from a health standpoint, but it was certainly enjoyable from a gluttonous food lover's standpoint.

P. Terry's can only be compared to In-N-Out, the West Coast-based chain of burger stands that prides itself on never-frozen, delivered-that-day produce and meat. (This is the reason why their eastward expansion was so glacial; they insist on having distribution plants within a day's drive from the surrounding stores.)

In-N-Out has as simple a recipe as can be: all-beef patty, white bun, lettuce, tomato, "spread," which is what they call their special sauce, and your choice of with or without onions, all placed between white buns. You can get a single or a double, with or without cheese.

It's the same at P. Terry's. You choose whether or not you want pickles and onions, however, and you've got the added (Texas) bonus of jalapenos. It also features a special sauce, which is a mayo/Thousand Island-style mix, but it provides just the proper ring of velvety tang. I don't generally take mayo on my burger, but this stuff is the perfect complement.

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Photos by Christina Uticone

Don't let the pink fool you, there's substance in the Devil's Bowtie.

Aren't your favorite places to eat and drink almost always the ones you stumble onto--or into--when you're wandering around without a plan? Last weekend my husband whisked me away (literally whisked--I wasn't even allowed to bring my laptop) for a long weekend in Austin. Our Saturday plan to go wine-tasting in the Hill Country got derailed, so instead we headed downtown for a good, old-fashioned Saturday bar crawl.

My husband, Josh, and I were joined by our friend Pete. The three of us kicked things off at B.D. Riley's on East 6th, then headed east under the freeway, all the way down to the 1300 block of East 6th to see what kind of out-of-the-way fun we could find. We happened upon two places--the first a hole-in-the-wall-looking bar, and the second the house just next door, with a front yard full of white cloth-covered tables. A waiter was clearing tables at the small house/restaurant and asked if he could help us. When we told him we were looking for the best Bloody Mary in the neighborhood he pointed us to the bar next door. Honesty goes a long way in our book, so we walked right up and took the table he had just finished resetting. We couldn't see a sign anywhere, and when we asked him where we were he answered, "Welcome to Papi Tino's!"

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Photo by Brooke Viggiano

Note to self: Prickly pears are bright-pink.

My fiance Dave and I took our first trip to San Antonio over the weekend to celebrate our birthdays (we're a day and a year apart -- luckily, I can take solace in the fact that the old man will always be one year older than me). We left Houston on a rainy Saturday morning for some clear skies in San Antonio and sort of winged our day from there. After checking into our hotel right on the city's famous Riverwalk, we grabbed our sunglasses and headed out for some lunch on the river.

Wanting nothing to do with chains like The Hard Rock, Rainforest Cafe, or Hooters (okay, maybe that last one was just me, but I'm pretty sure my man is partial to Twin Peaks anyway), we settled on Boudros, a Texas-style bistro right on the waterfront.

To start, we ordered two Prickly Pear Margaritas, people-watching while waiting for our drinks to arrive. Before we knew it, two bright-pink margaritas were placed before us (oh yeah, I forgot prickly pears were pink -- my bad, Dave). Welcoming all of the hoots and hollers from the passersby, we sipped on our fluorescent drinks made from tequila, triple sec, fresh lime and prickly cactus puree. The sweet, tangy margs were a perfect way to start the day.

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A little bit of everything at La Cuisine de Maman.

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and file' gumbo / 'Cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio / Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o / Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou -- Hank Williams, "Jambalaya"

In late December, Southern Living announced a contest in which 10 "Southern" cities would compete to see which could accrue the most Internet votes to be named the magazine's "Tastiest City in the South." I put "Southern" in quotes because many people initially took issue with cities like Houston and Baltimore being considered Southern.

Many more people, however, have taken issue with the way that each city's votes are tallied. From the very beginning, Lafayette and Louisville (cities which have populations of 120,000 and 741,000 respectively) were handily beating far larger cities like our own in the polls.

While a few Internet commenters suggested that robo-voters were responsible for the drastic difference in votes between the two cities and the rest of the list -- each have around 115,000 votes as of today, while the next closest city (New Orleans, historically known as an important food city) has only 35,000 -- I heard some dissenting opinions and was intrigued.

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Photo by Tam Vo

Ronnie Killen will be reppin' the Gulf Coast in New York City.

Being asked to serve as guest chef at the James Beard House in New York City is as high an honor as they come for a professional chef. And now two Houston chefs -- each completely different from the other -- have been asked to cook at the famed house in Greenwich Village.

Ronnie Killen of Killen's Steakhouse will be representing Houston's unique culinary scene by serving a "Texas Gulf Coast" dinner at the Beard House on December 20.

Killen told Your Friendswood News that "the dinner will feature smoked pork and black-eyed pea gumbo, a red snapper crudo served with blood orange and pickled red and green peppers, and a mesquite-smoked Kobe beef short rib with Killen's unique spin on creamed corn." Killen also plans to serve some of his signature bread pudding and is bringing along sommelier Guy Stout to assist with wine pairings.

And yesterday, Ristorante Cavour announced that its chef, Renato De Pirro, had also been asked to serve as guest chef at the Beard House.

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