The lunch salad with scallops, listed on the menu as "pancetta-wrapped Maine diver scallops, warm salad of watercress, jicama and wild mushrooms," tastes as big as its name. First you notice the scallops: three big fat ones, wrapped in pancetta, and the salty Italian bacon pairs beautifully with the sweet shellfish. Then you assess the "salad" part of the equation. Those scallops surround a small, warm mound of jicama slivers, wild mushrooms and watercress. When you eat a bit of everything at once, the combination of textures and flavors is so entrancing (chewy! soft! crunchy! salty! sweet! peppery!) that for a minute you forget about Quattro's impressive view of the George R. Brown Convention Center. You forget to enjoy the restaurant's hyperstylish interior. You forget even what you were telling your lunch partner just a second before. Maybe it's not fair to classify this dish as a salad -- it could count as a light entrée -- but chef Tim Keating obviously doesn't fret about such petty distinctions, and neither will you. In fact, you'll wish more salads took themselves so seriously.

Okay, here's the situation: There's this spot near Shepherd Plaza that serves delicious fruit-flavored margaritas that are way too easy to get hooked on. Half the joy comes from watching the fiery señorita behind the bar make them. She puts the flavored syrup (strawberry, raspberry, cranberry, Halle Berry, Ken Berry, Boo Berry, Berry Gordy -- whatever kind of berry suits you) in the plastic cup first, then piles on the frozen margarita mix. Then, you take your swizzle stick and mix it all up. And voilà, a lovely concoction that's sweet and soothing and can get you drunker than the Hilton sisters on spring break. Hell, just writing about it makes us feel a little inebriated.

Truluck's stone crabs are flown in every day from company beds in Florida. If they were any fresher, these crustaceans would arrive at your table fighting. They're kept on ice for the journey but never frozen. This yields a watery, stringy stone crab. Novices take note: You should eat only the white meat in the large claw. It's nearly impossible to find a more enjoyable feast than this, served with either a simple melted butter or a spicy mustard sauce. Monday is the best day: The all-you-can-eat stone crab feast is $39.95.

The challah is braided and brown on the outside and golden with egg yolks in the middle -- take some home and make French toast with it and your breakfast will take on a whole new dimension. If you're thinking of making roast beef sandwiches, you'll want to build them on moist, onion-covered Three Brothers onion rolls. Corned beef sandwiches? Get the seeded rye; the chewy crust increases the interest level of your typical meat-and-mustard combination dramatically. On Fridays, there's also corn rye, a super-dense version of rye that's outstanding with chopped liver. (It can't be cut with an ordinary bread knife so remember to ask them to slice it for you.) On Friday, Three Brothers also has chocolate and cinnamon babkas and other sweet breads to choose from -- all of them first-rate. What else would you expect from the best Jewish bakery in the state?

Floridita, Florida's, whatever. Management can change the name as often as they like, just as long as they don't change the recipe on the dark rum mojitos. Sweetened lime juice, club soda and fresh mint mingle with dark rum in a tropical paradise. One will get you humming like the overhead ceiling fans; two and you'll swear you can write like Hemingway. Where's that big fish?

The folks at CharBar take martini-making seriously, precisely measuring their cocktails as if they were fitting a new suit. And that makes sense, since this bar shares space and ownership with the Duke of Hollywood tailor shop. In fact, about the only thing missing from the fabulous chocolate Tuxedo Martini is owner Mike Shapiro's favorite prop, the tape measure. The greatest thing about drinking at CharBar is that you can get outfitted with stylish duds -- and even get your shoes polished -- while the bartender whips up another cocktail. It's the ultimate demonstration of living large.

We're willing to bet that Oysters Gilhooley are the best barbecued oysters on the entire Gulf Coast. The fresh-shucked oysters are topped with cheese and sauce and then smoked over a pecan-and-oak fire. The shells get partially blackened and the oysters pick up a strong smoky flavor while remaining juicy. And the wonderful flavor is only accentuated by Gilhooley's charming atmosphere. The outdoor seating area, with its ramshackle patio furniture, is overgrown with vegetation. The interior is all worn woodwork and old furniture. The rafters seem to be held together by the license plates that cover them. Children are forbidden here, no doubt in part because of all the show-us-your-tits photos. Gilhooley's Raw Bar may also be the last place in the United States where you can get a dozen raw oysters and a rare hamburger for lunch.

Hurricanes come and hurricanes go, but the question is which one did the most damage? Floyd's takes no prisoners with its off-the-cuff version, and it pleases us to no end that the drinks are not served in regulation Pat O'Brien hurricane glasses. Grab yourself a seat at the bar, order up a couple dozen oysters and some spicy Cajun fare, and wash it all down the right way. When the Tabasco has the smoke coming out of your ears, there's simply no better feeling than to bury that straw in your drink and suck down three to four ounces of spiked fruit juice. Floyd's also has a sense of tradition, and when Mardi Gras rolls around, no place does it better than this bayou boozery.

And on the eighth day, God created Istanbul Grill's stuffed mushrooms. Yes, they really are that good. The popular Turkish restaurant in the Rice Village is known for a lot of great dishes, but it's the stuffed mushroom appetizer that is an absolute must-have. The dish comes with four medium-sized mushrooms filled with mozzarella cheese, parsley and black pepper. The shrooms are then topped off with a special sauce made from fresh tomatoes, bell peppers, garlic, oregano and, according to a restaurant employee, "some special Turkish herbs."

The menu at Marine's lists 46 different empanadas. The rest of the menu items play second fiddle to these little pockets, filled with delicious delicacies. On the savory side of the menu, the Chuck Wagon ($2) is the way to go. It consists of chopped sirloin steak with mushrooms in a red wine sauce, all neatly packed in a pastry pocket. The best example, however, is on the sweet side of the menu. The banana with dulce de leche empanada ($2.25) is an incredibly rich concoction combining tiny pieces of banana with a hot, thick caramel sauce. One bite and you'd swear you were eating a liquid version of a caramel banana split.