Meandering the aisles of Droubi's with Arabic music in the air, one can imagine wandering through a Lebanese open market, only with air-conditioning. The aroma of constantly baking bread that is sold still warm, a myriad of bulk herbs and spices sold by the pound and the daily lunch specials of Lebanese food sold in the grocery's small dining area keep the nose twitching and the mouth watering. The expansive family-owned grocery is a mystery tour for Anglo customers who know neither the language nor the alphabet and can only hope for a picture of the product on the label, but "tourist shoppers" eventually find what they're looking for. The deli is easier -- you just need to know how to point -- but the vast selection of feta, olives and pickled vegetables (including eggplant) requires at least some agonizing. Fresh hummus and baba ghanoush, so popular they must be made several times a day, are inexpensive and tasty, as are the kibbe, cabbage rolls and stuffed grape leaves. While the prospect of visiting the war-torn Middle East might be a little unnerving, taste buds can still take a vacation here.

Legend has it that Fred once threw a couple out of Rudyard's because they ordered only water. All right, so it sounds a little harsh. Actually, it's comforting. The world is full of bartenders who are willing to give you free water, listen to your stupid problems and shake their heads sympathetically. But not Fred. He's too busy serving your pathetic ass some cold beer to mess with that nonsense. If you need a quality drink and some witty banter and you need both right away, Fred is your man. Plus, he's a bartender you can trust because he actually drinks the bar's liquor and hangs out there when he's not working. You'll usually find him throwing darts, dressed in his well-worn Montrose Beer and Gun Club T-shirt. Yes indeed, Fred is a drinker's bartender if ever there was one. Just don't order only water.

Every shop's stock of booze pales in comparison to the famed downtown Spec's, where enthusiasts can spend hours browsing among the thousands of bottles of wine from every region of every alcohol-producing nation in the world. But most people don't have hours to browse, and the massive selection can overwhelm the average couple-of-liters-a-week consumer. Not to mention, for example, the impossibility of distinguishing between the 436 varieties of cabernet with hints of currant and blackberry, or calculating the subtle differences between a 90 and a 91 rating by Wine Spectator. A more manageable but equally satisfying option can be found at the satellite Spec's on Holcombe, which offers no small selection of vintage wines, real ales and superior spirits to choose from, yet can be navigated during a lunch break or rush hour. The staff is knowledgeable and friendly, and the place retains the snobless, relaxed atmosphere of its big brother. Though ideal for that perfect, affordable complement to the evening meal, the Holcombe Spec's is happy to accommodate if only a three-figure burgundy, rare single-malt scotch or other showpiece will do.

The founder, owner, operator and sole employee of Bugs & Burglars is Roy Law Elliot, a Houston native who has also been, at one time or another, the owner of Doctor Doom's Garage of Mystery (a legendary Volkswagen repair facility in Berkeley, California), a counterculture T-shirt silk screener (12 designs are in the permanent collection of the Oakland Museum of Art), the confidant of underground cartoonists and the husband of, at last count, six very interesting women. That, however, does not give the full picture of the man, who comes up with more ideas in the course of a morning than most men do in an entire lifetime (he also has a business card for an enterprise called Neptune, which has the slogan "Inventions While You Wait"). His bug treatments are guaranteed for one full year and annihilate all the usual Houston invertebrates. The "Burglars" in the company name refers to an Elliot invention: a steel structure built around a door frame, thus rendering the front door sturdy enough to withstand an attack by a small medieval army. But don't take our word for it.

Black-haired, pale-skinned and soft-spoken Byriah Dailey has earned a reputation as a clean, safe and super-professional piercer at his seven-year-old shop, Taurian. But with the addition of piercer Steve Joyner, who relocated to Houston earlier this spring from Obscurities Precision Piercing in Dallas, some of the best Texas piercers now work under the same roof. Joyner, who credits his Native American heritage with his interest in tattoos, piercing and scarification, is vice president of the Association of Professional Piercers, of which all piercers at Taurian are members. He also worked with the state health department to write Texas's regulations for the piercing industry. And at Taurian, they follow those guidelines strictly. No ID? No tongue ring for you. Had a drink or two beforehand? No eyebrow ring for you because of the risk of bleeding. "If someone isn't anatomically right for a certain piercing, we're just not going to do it and put in whatever jewelry they want. It's not 'cause we're trying to be assholes," Dailey says. "We're concerned about the safety of piercing." Taurian also makes 70 percent of its jewelry in house and offers a collection of hand-carved bone jewelry imported from Indonesia.

There is nothing quite like Christopher's in Houston. The creation of the husband-and-wife team of Christopher and Donna Massie, this 6,000-square-foot, single-venue operation offers rare wines that sometimes are allocated by growers and importers to less than one case for the entire state of Texas. French wines are showcased here, as Massie himself has lived and worked in French vineyards and is a certified sommelier with more than 15 years of experience. Other countries and, of course, California are also represented. The inventory usually runs to about 50,000 bottles, so there is likely to be something for every serious oenophile. And the inventory is properly stored, a detail that unfortunately not many Houston wine retailers attend to with the required rigor. On Saturdays, "Customer Appreciation Day," there are tastings and lectures on the products for sale.

You won't encounter a "mystery" section at Brazos Bookstore; nor can you order a mocha au lait. A fabulous collection of books and a knowledgeable staff are this classy enclave's draw. Brazos clearly places quality over quantity. Perusing the literature, history and art sections, you will be hard-pressed to find a throwaway title. DeLillo and Dostoyevsky share shelf space with newcomers like Jennifer Egan and Nathan Englander. Gibbons's history of Rome roosts near a new biography on Rosa Parks. Brazos has an excellent selection of art books and current literary reviews. Those who like their writers in the flesh can enjoy the store's fine reading series, which has brought such luminaries as Doris Lessing, Jerzy Kosinski and, recently, Martin Amis to the Bayou City. An adjoining gallery space showcases the work of artists and designers like renowned architect Frank O. Gehry.

This cheery newcomer, way out west on Memorial at Kirkwood, is targeted at Houston's 40,000 plus Russophone community. Even if you know less about Russia than, say, a Republican ambassador to Moscow, you can still profitably explore the spiffy, well-lit aisles for unusual goods like Cornelian cherry compote or smoked Latvian sprats. The extensive cold cases offer caviar by the pound and preprepared take-out foods for the modern career devushka who no longer has time to prepare piroshki for her family. There is a wine room offering Latvian beer, Crimean dessert wines from the old Massandra winery, once owned by Czar Nicholas II, and some Moldavian wines, portlike, that one of the three owner-operators says is ordered -- 4,000-liter batch at a time -- by HRH Elizabeth II, no doubt for serving at the larger Buckingham Palace functions. Another side room offers various Russian tchotchkes (a Russian word that has come into English via Yiddish) for gift giving and collecting.

Before Metro decided to tear up Main and Fannin at the same time, we used to like to run down to the flower district north of the Medical Center to pick up a dozen roses if we were in love, in trouble, or both. But now that the area resembles Kosovo, we find it easier to swing by Jana's in the Heights, where the prices are much more reasonable than at many local florists. Just don't tell your sweetie.

Say good-bye to the cramped, dirty Asian grocery store with its persistent fishy stench, and hello to brightly lit aisles upon aisles of groceries. True to the very Texas notion that bigger is better, the newest Hong Kong Market location on Bellaire at Boone Road is bigger than a Randalls Flagship, bigger than a Fiesta, bigger, even, than Wayne Dolcefino's ego. What it lacks in character it makes up for in quantity and variety of goods. Its in-house bakery offers almond cookies and mooncakes from local bakeries; its produce section has more green leafy vegetables than you could ever name. Its shelves house more varieties of canned shark fin, dried squid and shrimp chips than any other Asian grocery store, as well as jars of Ragú spaghetti sauce for Americanized kids. Hong Kong Market also maintains aisles of housewares with woks, rice cookers of impressive proportions, flip-flops, Pokémon alarm clocks, Asian soaps and even farmers' rice hats. Big, clean and reasonably cheap. That's all you need to know.