Bill Addison

As a recent arrival to Dallas, I'm discovering my new town's neighborhoods and quirky street patterns by power-chowing through its restaurants and food emporiums. I've drooled over the produce at Central Market, snooped through ethnic eatery enclaves in Richardson and Plano and supped among the hipsters at the latest hot spots.

Evans Caglage / DMN

Lola chef David Uygur makes the salami-like copa di testina with pork head and pistachios.

Of course, in three months, I've made only a dent in Dallas-Fort Worth's prodigious dining scene. But I've already amassed a personal top 10 list of restaurant dishes I'll return for again and again. Here they are, in no specific order:

• Guacamole en molcajete at Trece. I'll admit, I rolled my eyes when the server asked if we wanted "the guacamole chef" to visit our table. The skepticism ceased, though, when the roving waiter sliced into a buttery ripe avocado and tossed its verdant flesh with fire-roasted tomatoes, red onions, jalapeños, garlic, cilantro and a salsa that made our lips tingle.

• Duck salad at York Street. Sharon Hage knows how to compose a salad: Every ingredient retains its essence while marrying perceptively with the other elements. Her duck salad, which personified spring, included duck confit, duck tongue and frisée enriched by the oozing yolk of a poached duck egg.

• Copa di testina at Lola. David Uygur made this salami-like cured meat using pork head and pistachios. Don't blanch at the pork head: It rendered the copa silky, and a scattering of crunchy radishes and chives skillfully offset its mild porcine funkiness.

• The combination dinner No. 1 at Escondido. The hulking platter was a crash course in true Tex-Mex: one cheese enchilada glossed with chili con carne; one soft cheese taco; one crispy beef taco with shredded lettuce; one tamale crowned with chile gravy; one tostada spread with guacamole; and, natch, the requisite refried beans and mound of Mexican rice. Snarf.

• Jook at Kirin Court's dim sum service. Dim sum may be synonymous with dumplings in most folks' minds, but my pulse quickened when I saw the jook cart rattling toward our table at Kirin Court. Also known as congee, jook is rice porridge that comes to life when spiked with soy sauce, chile oil and even a dash of Chinese red vinegar. Our server went the extra step of snipping pieces of Chinese doughnut into our bowl.

• Nardo's Nightmare at Tio's Tortas. This concoction has become my salty indulgence on an off-duty night. Check it out: Spiced curly fries are topped with chili, asadero cheese, sautéed peppers, onions, chopped bacon, pico de gallo and a robust dollop of guacamole. It's every bit the delicious mess it sounds.

• Tamale Tart with Roast Garlic Custard at Stephan Pyles. A thin tart shell made from masa harina and ancho chiles is steamed with gossamer roasted garlic custard and then garnished with sautéed lump crabmeat, red and yellow bell peppers, cilantro and basil. Yes, the cuisine at Stephan Pyles' namesake restaurant is "global," but this appetizer seems to distill Mr. Pyles' history with and enduring passion for Southwestern cuisine into one brilliant dish.

• Mutton barbacoa at Taqueria Mr. Borrego. In the Land of Beef, the variation of barbecued meat made with mutton at this modest Maple Avenue restaurant took me by surprise. Along with corn tortillas and the restaurant's chunky salsa verde, the shredded, moist and suavely gamy meat makes the base for scrumptious tacos.

• Carrot crème brûlée at Teppo. Just when I thought I never wanted another spoonful of crème brûlée, Teppo's version not only renewed my enthusiasm for this overexposed dessert but for flavored renditions as well. Adding the puréed vegetable gave the custard a mousselike texture and contributed an intriguing, earthy sweetness. Carrot in crème brûlée? Who knew?

• Cuatro leches cake at La Duni. Sometimes the hype has merit. Every aspect of this iconic creation – the rich vanilla cake, the surprisingly complex four-milk sauce, the gently smoky caramel underneath – seems carefully, lovingly conceived. Take it over the top by ordering a Latin hot chocolate to chase it down.

Now that I'm settling in, I'm hankering to tackle the Texas culinary lexicon. Suggestions for standout chicken-fried steak and barbecue? Shoot me an e-mail at billaddison@dallasnews.com.