Maybe it was the less-than-pristine façade that convinced you to drive on. Maybe it was the funky name you couldn’t pronounce, making you think twice about venturing inside. Or maybe you didn’t even see the place as you whizzed by.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes to keep an obscure but uniquely great restaurant off our radar.

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We scouted our neighborhood to bring you the lesser-known, but just-as-deserving, dining options beyond those neon golden arches, with the hope that next time you’re jonesing for a good meal, you’ll consider venturing off the eatin’ path.
 

The place with the unfamiliar ethnic name
Kereje
7015 Greenville, just north of Park

“In all parts of Africa, there is no peace, there is no democracy,” says Sebsbie Abegaz in his stilted English. “Kereje, my daughter, was born during the military regime who drove out the Americans from . God helped us, and we came, and now we are living together with our beloved family of the Americans.” His daughter’s name means “peace,” representing Abegaz’s hope for the country he and his family fled for Dallas. All eight of them now run this basement restaurant, serving Ethiopian cuisine to fellow refugees and, Abegaz hopes, more and more Dallasites. A large-screen TV blares a show from the Ethiopian Television Network before Abegaz remembers some of his clientele can’t understand the Amharic language and flips to the Discovery channel. He points to the row of tables shrouded by faux thatched-roof huts and exotic-looking doorway beads, and explains that such décor is “for the Americans.” First-timers might be taken aback to see everyone handling the food with only their hands — including the wait staff — but Abegaz reassures his new customers. “We prepare chicken, lamb meat, beef meat, same as American food,” Abegaz says, “but we add a little more spices.” That “little” addition will clear your sinuses after just one bite.

What to order:
Try the doro wot, a chicken leg and hard-boiled egg smothered in red pepper and garlic sauce. Kereje kitfo is minced beef, and yebeg tibes is lamb chunks. All meat dishes include a platter of vegetables like red lentil puree, yellow split peas and chopped collards, and come with plenty of injera, a spongy flatbread, for scooping and eating the food.

Insider tip:
A recent lunch hour was almost dead, with customers eating at only two tables — a good time to pepper the wait staff (Abegaz’s daughters) with questions.

214.234.0779
11 a.m.-2 a.m. daily

The place with questionable menu items
Michelle’s Homestyle Cooking
9203 Skillman at LBJ

A man sets his tray on the table and takes off his NY Giants cap to pray over his leg bones, string beans and cabbage before digging in. “For people over 40, the hamburgers and fries, the pizza …” the man stops and shakes his head. “You want a meal. This is the only place like this — up north.” He means, of course, North Dallas, inferring that in South Dallas, restaurants offering chitterlings and oxtails on their menus are a bit more plentiful. At Michelle’s, it’s not uncommon to find lots of customers ordering these soul-food delicacies, which are “cooked to perfection and to die for,” says manager Tina Russell. “It’s fantastic to be able to reach other nationalities with our way of cooking.” The dining room is half full during a weekday lunch, but other than the typical cafeteria sounds of trays shuffling and silverware clanging, the restaurant is fairly quiet. People are too busy eating to talk. They pause occasionally to refill their drinks at the soda fountain or from adjacent vats of Kool-Aid. “You can’t do soul food without Kool-Aid,” Russell insists.

What to order:
The smothered pork chops. And try some hot water cornbread, shaped almost like a fish stick. “It’s not baked; it’s fried,” Russell says. “When we black people didn’t have a lot of products to make cornbread, we used cornmeal and a little hot water, and it came up so quick and fast. Hot water cornbread with a glass of buttermilk? All I can say is oo-wee-man.”

Insider tip:
One diner stops Russell to tell her that when he eats at Michelle’s, his cholesterol doesn’t spike, and asks what the restaurant’s secret is. “I can’t tell you that,” Russell says. “If I do, you won’t come back.” But she tells us that they cook with turkey instead of pork, and go easy on the sugar for the sake of diabetics. We’re not about to say that Michelle’s fried chicken is healthy, but perhaps it’s healthier.

214.341.6315
Mon-Sat, 11 a.m.-10 p.m.
Sun, 11 a.m.-9 p.m.

The place you could easily miss
Mexicali
11277 E. Northwest Highway

It’s not the kind of place you spot while driving and decide to pull in. And after one of last summer’s storms blew out Mexicali’s roadside sign, the restaurant — tucked away in the far corner of a dated strip center — has become almost invisible from Northwest Highway. “We don’t really get someone who wanders in out of the blue,” Joshua Morales says. “If it’s a first-timer, they come in with a regular.” The regulars return for two reasons: good Tex-Mex at cheap prices. A lunch or dinner special is always scrawled on the chalkboard; recently it advertised a beef enchilada and cheese taco for $4.25. Customers pay at the cash register, where plastic-wrapped praline cookies are available, and a stern-looking woman holding a gun stares down from an old black-and-white photo. “That’s my grandmother — Meemaw,” Morales says. “She’s the boss.” The rest of the décor is nothing to write home about — flimsily framed photos of old Spanish missions sharing wall space with neon-lit beer signs. But nobody’s really looking past his plate. As one man leaves, he sticks a toothpick in his mouth and shoots Morales a look of satisfaction. “Fabulous, man,” he says, patting his stomach while striding out the door.

What to order:
The quesadillas, toasted on both sides so they’re crispy, not soggy.

Insider tip:
You don’t need one. The menu is straightforward Tex-Mex with nothing fancy-schmancy. Order whatever you like.

The place where Eastern Europeans make American food
Grill and Deli Stop
9918 Plano

“You have to try their baklava,” Mari Omberg urges. “It’s the real stuff —made with honey, not sugar, and nuts.” It’s 7:30 a.m., and the regular Friday morning crowd is gathering, pouring coffee into large Styrofoam cups and ordering up bacon, egg and cheese croissants that put Burger King to shame. “This is not processed,” Bob Eckert points out before chowing down. “Stop panting, Bob. Save it for your wife,” Omberg jabs, earning herself a round of laughter. Eventually, Adrian Arjomandi leaves his post behind the counter and sits down with the group. “He doesn‘t like to be back there because they make him cook,” Eckert embellishes. Arjomandi is married to Kristina, who runs the place with her mother, Marietta Tuniynts. They left the Republic of Armenia when war broke out after the country’s secession from the Soviet Union. After arriving, Tuniynts found work at the restaurant, and five years later when the owner moved to New York, it became theirs. Customers are more likely to circle around the drive-thru than crowd around the restaurant’s few rickety tables, but the Friday morning crowd finds itself rewarded when Kristina passes around a platter of something
like carrot cake. “We’re an exclusive group,” Eckert warns potential moochers. “If someone has the nerve sit down with us, we’ll let them join.”

What to order:

A breakfast croissant in the morning, a hot Reuben at lunch, and the puff pastry baklava any time of day.

Insider tip:

Most of the menu is straight-up American sandwiches and burgers. But the front counter is always full of freshly-baked Armenian pastries, and every Saturday morning the mother-daughter team makes peroskies, 150 of them flying out the drive-thru window within three hours.

214.342.3111
Mon-Fri 7 a.m.-4 p.m.
Sat 7 a.m.-3 p.m.

 
The place that you never really knew existed
Kazy’s Gourmet Shop
9256 Markville at LBJ

Two employees from Texas Instruments make the short jaunt to the shop every Friday without fail, and each week they order the same thing — “sushi and the teriyaki bowl,” says manager Margaret Tillman. Considering that the little shop is actually the distributor of fresh fish to most Japanese restaurants in Dallas, it makes perfect sense to travel straight to the source. But with a successful warehouse business, why even run a sushi counter? “Why not?” Tillman responds. “We get the fish in firsthand, so we might as well have a takeout section.” One man explains that he found the place while driving away from the post office down the street. He usually orders sushi, but today opts for the udon noodles and curry bowl. The business clearly places its emphasis on the wholesale side, with the takeout area looking like it hasn’t been updated in a decade or more. Customers are welcome to stay and dine, but their accommodations aren’t much more than card tables with bottles of Kikkoman soy sauce plopped on top, facing crowded rows of Asian-designed dishware and brightly colored bags of Japanese candy. Still, fresh sushi at the right price doesn’t need much ambience.

What to order:

Any newbies nervous about raw fish should play it safe with tuna, salmon and veggie California rolls. Even if you’re adventurous, don’t try the featured uni-don soup — cooked sea urchin with rice, wasabi and green onions. “It’s an acquired taste, I’ll be honest,” Tillman says. “We have it because sea urchin is expensive, so most restaurants don’t offer this. But unless you know you like sea urchin, stick with the sushi menu.”

Insider tip:

If you want to dine-in, head upstairs where it is much quieter, and the fishy odor that inevitably pervades the entire place isn’t as pungent.

972.235.4831
Mon-Sat 10 a.m.-7 p.m.
Sun 11:30 a.m.-6 p.m.

 
The place with an intimidating menu
Taj Mahal
10455 N. Central Expwy

Hardly any sunlight seeps through the dark curtains and into the tiny dining room. Plastic chandeliers dimly glow overhead, and each table is neatly set with burgundy linen and gold doily placemats. The walls are decked out with ornate wallpaper and large paintings of Indian folk art: a warrior riding a chariot, a princess and her prince locked in a lovers’ embrace. A woman sporting a colorful sari and a thick braid roams the dining room, topping off water glasses. Toward the back, lunch-goers patiently wait their turn to mosey down the small buffet. Most are regulars who navigate the spread of curried meats and chutneys. Just beyond the buffet is a small bar and owner Charanjit Gill, a is a soft-spoken man who waves and gives a shy smile when he spots a regular. He and his wife have run Taj Mahal in our neighborhood for about 14 years, ample time to accumulate a loyal following. “We certainly have our regulars, but we also have a lot of people who are trying Indian food for the first time.” And if you’re a newbie to Indian fare, Taj Mahal’s daily lunch buffet is a good place to start since you can sample a little of everything. “I think if people try it, they will end up loving it. I would also tell people not to be afraid to spice up their life a little with some of our food.”

What to order: Start with the garlic naan (flatbread stuffed with spices), and then try the chicken tikka marsala (boneless barbecued chicken in a creamy tomato-herb sauce).

Insider tip: Try to stop by on a Sunday night so you can take advantage of the special dinner buffet, which offers several grilled meat dishes not found on the daily lunch buffet.

214.692.0535
Mon-Thurs, 11 a.m.-2:30 p.m. and 5:30-10 p.m.
Fri, 11 a.m.-2:30 p.m. and 5:30-10:30 p.m.
Sat, 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. and 5:30–10:30 p.m.
Sun, 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. and 5-9 p.m.