WHAT: A border town legend, serving breakfast and lunch dishes that embody its unique corner of America — all while detailing your ride. WHY: Lovably grouchy Maynard Haddad runs the combination business started by his father — Najib Haddad, a Syrian immigrant —in 1958. Along the turquoise Formica counter, regulars and visitors gather for diner food with a dynamic sense of place. Look past the burgers, grilled cheese, and eggs with bacon for the specialties that reflect El Paso’s locus at the edge of Texas, Mexico, and New Mexico: slim breakfast burritos filled with picadillo or eggs and chorizo, enchiladas smothered in ruddy chile Colorado or chile verde, and huevos rancheros. Dubious at how many separate items I was ordering, the server stopped me and said, “If you want to know our food, order the deluxe plate.” A gushing chile relleno anchored the feast. She was right, of course. — B.A.

WHAT: The state’s best (and most humble) country steakhouse with a pretty fancy pedigree. WHY: Lifelong cattle rancher and chuck-wagon cook Tom Perini turned an old barn into Texas’s most popular steak destination 35 years ago. He’s since claimed the James Beard Foundation’s America’s Classics award and is the Beard House’s most frequently featured Texan. This is partly because his pepper-crusted, mesquite-grilled strip; bone-in cowboy ribeye; his spicy-fried quail legs; hominy laced with green chiles and bacon; and sourdough bread pudding with pecans and whiskey sauce can’t be beaten. It’s helped along by sommelier Lisa — also his wife — who hones a smart wine list with intriguing choices from the West Coast as well as Europe and South America. But the fame — and a guest list that often includes presidents, governors, musicians, and movie stars — is mostly due to Tom himself, who treats every customer like a welcome friend at his kitchen table. — June Naylor

WHAT: A tasting-menu restaurant in middle-of-nowhere West Texas that actually lives up to the romantic fantasy of such diversions. WHY: Chef Laurie Williamson and her husband Robert left behind successful careers in commercial filmmaking and opened their restaurant in a restored 1870s-era limestone farmhouse in 2003. They serve dinner only on Friday and Saturday nights. Laurie’s weekly changing menus ­— built around handsomely rustic dishes like mustardy, coarsely chopped beef tartare and smoky grilled quail over polenta — drew such a following from admirers around the state that in 2012 the couple built five guest rooms on the property. Overnight stays include breakfasts (maybe grits and eggs scattered with bacon lardons) made with the same city-meets-country finesse. — B.A.

WHAT: The apotheosis of a great Tex-Mex restaurant and its irresistible comforts. WHY: I acknowledge the lunacy of distinguishing one Tex-Mex combo plate above all others in a state full of citizens weaned on its specific delights (or at least happily sustained by them). But a recent re-visit to Garcia’s, run by the same family since 1962, confirmed my devotion to its Deluxe Mexican Dinner plate: The oversize platter includes two cheesy enchiladas and a pork tamale covered in chili con carne and additional cloud banks of yellow cheese (say yes to the option of chopped onions); a freshly fried crispy taco stuffed with ground beef, shredded iceberg lettuce, and diced tomato; sides of rice and refried beans creamy with lard and bacon fat; and, brought first as a starter, a chalupa smeared with guacamole. Two wonderfully odd tacos on homemade flour tortillas complete my ideal Garcia’s meal: one filled with a supple slice of smoked brisket, also killer with a splotch of guac, and the other wrapped around a bone-in pork chop. — B.A.

WHAT: A 12-seat think tank of a restaurant, from two chef-scholars meditating on the cuisines of Mexico through tasting menus. WHY: Every 45 dinners, Diego Galicia and Rico Torres introduce a new theme — perhaps a state of Mexico, or a period of the country’s history — around which they build multicourse dinners. Currently, for example, their subject is “Rediscovering the Mayan Gastronomy”; one dish, equally stunning in taste and appearance, expresses the lost empire’s trade routes by combining quinoa, fish roes, and avocado. The meal, ticketed at $97 per person, typically careens through seven or eight courses and lasts a concise 90 minutes or so. It is arguably the most avant-garde restaurant experience in Texas, but the modernistic, academic cooking also delivers ample poignancy and pleasure. — B.A.

WHAT: Barbecue con ganas, made by a former La Barbecue employee and his high school best friend. WHY: From its inception as a pop-up inside Grace Bible Church to its eventual launch inside a former Tex-Mex dive in December 2016, 2M Smokehouse has quietly set the tone for what San Antonio locals want out of their barbecue experience. The Lower Southeast shop entices barbecue zealots with buttery brisket, sausage links stuffed with Oaxaca cheese and spicy serranos, and, on the first Sunday of every month, barbacoa — a south Texas staple. Loaded potato salads, pickled cactus, and “chicharoni” (macaroni with a topper of crumbled, fried pork skins) are all original musts. — J.E.

WHAT: A taco chain to rule them all, rooted in regional tradition. WHY: Texas is an endless font of mega-successful Tex-Mex fast food, from statewide standard Taco Cabana to hipster hegemon Torchy’s, but a regional chain slinging freshly cooked tortillas and menudo, with a fresh salsa bar at every location?  That’s next level. Founded in 1987 by Juan Francisco Ochoa, Taco Palenque’s 20-plus locations serve a quality, affordable version of the state’s border cuisine — including its iconic pirata taco, made with beans, cheese, and fajita meat, that’s beloved in Laredo and beyond.  —Meghan McCarron

WHAT: Austin casual with sophisticated execution. WHY: The restaurant from James Beard Award-nominated chef Bryce Gilmore epitomizes contemporary Austin cuisine. He and his team take Texas-forever ingredients (think seasonal carrots and tomatoes, grass-fed cattle, and chickens raised nearby) and deploys them in a slate of fun, flavorful small plates, where influences range from Indian to German to, yes, Tex-Mex. Where else can you find pretzels stuffed with chorizo-spiced mushrooms that taste meaty despite being vegetarian, whole chicken-fried fish heads, and breakfast pizzas topped with quail? The restaurant (which, in true Austin fashion, began as a food truck) is also a major booster for the local farming community — going so far as to emblazon farm names on the dining room walls.  — Nadia Chaudhury

WHAT: The best brisket in Texas. WHY: It’s been less than a decade since Aaron and Stacy Franklin started slinging brisket from a trailer along the interstate. In that short time, they upgraded to a brick-and-mortar, they served our last president, and Aaron Franklin took home a James Beard award. They’ve not only created the country’s most popular barbecue joint, but they’ve also influenced pitmasters around the world. Through videos and a best-selling book, “Franklin-style” barbecue can now be found on most every continent. Even last year’s pit-room fire couldn’t keep them down for long, as the famous lines have re-emerged outside their Austin restaurant. It’s still worth the wait. — Daniel Vaughn

WHAT: Austin’s deserving crowd favorite for righteous breakfast tacos. WHY: With scores of options in Austin and San Antonio (for starters), and plenty of controversial and passionate words written about origins and ownership, it’s safe to say there is no one absolute best place for breakfast tacos in Texas. But Veracruz sisters and co-owners Reyna and Maritza Vazquez did create a modern institution when they began serving breakfast tacos out of an Austin trailer in 2008. Their migas taco — cradling scrambled eggs, Monterey Jack, onions, cilantro, a slice or two of avocado, and crumbled tortilla chips — became a morning ritual for locals and visitors alike. I still love the trailer. However, the Vazquez’s brick-and-mortar in Austin’s North Burnet neighborhood cranks out food with even more precision and also offers picadas, masa creations that split the divide in texture between tacos and thicker sopes. — B.A.

WHAT: Tex-Mex classics and community, from third-generation Austin taco royalty. WHY: In a town changing so fast it’s perpetually in danger of losing its roots, Tamale House East is a welcome oasis of both continuity and evolution. Carmen Valera, one of the five siblings who own the restaurant, says a third of their menu is identical to what her grandparents served at their now-shuttered restaurant in the ’60s, a third is straight from her mother’s now-shuttered restaurant from the ’80s and ’90s, and a third is all-new. The restaurant’s migas, enchiladas, tacos, and tamales are made with the same care the Vasquez-Valera family has employed for three generations, served in a homey East Sixth space with an absolutely killer patio. — M.M.

WHAT: A thoroughly Austin outdoor haven with ranch-inspired eats. WHY: Austin is brimming with al fresco spaces — it’s got the ideal weather for ’em — but there is something special about chef Andrew Wiseheart’s restaurant. Contigo is both timeless and sturdily Texan, with a menu full of modern bar food that begs to be consumed outdoors: ox tongue sliders, oh-so-crispy green beans, hearty cast-iron pans of rabbit and dumplings, and the stellar house-made charcuterie, all rounded out with Texas fruits and vegetables. Idle beneath the strung lights on the expansive patio, mezcal cocktail in hand, and soak up the Austin vibes. — N.C.

WHAT: The last standard-bearer of a Texas culinary tradition along the Rio Grande. WHY: There was a time when shops specializing in barbacoa de cabeza en pozo a la leña (whole beef head cooked slowly in an underground, mesquite-fueled barbecue pit) dotted South Texas. Today, there remains only 63-year-old Vera’s Backyard Bar-B-Que in the Spanish-is-as-good-as-English border town of Brownsville. Owner Armando Vera runs what is likely the last restaurant cooking barbacoa de cabeza with wood in the Lone Star State, opening only weekends to dole out shimmering cuts of cheek, tongue, lips, and other head cuts served with warm corn or flour tortillas. It’s not unusual for Vera’s to be sold out of meat before it closes at 2 p.m., but the first to go is what Vera calls “Mexican caviar.” That would be cow eyes. — José R. Ralat

WHAT: Proof that a passion for chuck-wagon vittles supersedes that for finer fare. WHY: Even in the shadow of West 7th district’s flashy new developments, the original Fred’s Texas Café still shines bright as a beacon for down-home Texas cuisine. Terry Chandler — known as the Outlaw Chef for his early West Texas chuck-wagon days — took the reins of his family’s restaurant in 2005. He has has since opened two additional locations, but the expansion hasn’t changed his simple mission: Serve “cold-ass” beer to wash down the finest chicken-fried steak in town, smothered in a sourdough batter and cooked just till the golden crust delivers the perfect crunch. Served along with hand-cut fries made to order — and a cute green salad to help you feel virtuous — this giant plate is deeply satisfying. Yeah, everyone knows Fred’s for killer burgers, but as any cattle drove can tell you, the CFS is the true prize. — J.N.

WHAT: The oldest Czech bakery in Texas, opened in 1952. WHY: Czechs began immigrating to Texas in the 1850s, and many settled in the fertile, blackland strip down the center of the state, including in the small town of West. Their culinary traditions — as well as their language and polka music — have endured and fused with local culture to yield pastries and plates that are distinctly Texas. The folksy Village Bakery often gets overshadowed by shinier establishments right off Interstate 35, but drive over the tracks into downtown West for quintessential Texas Czech treats. There are no fad flavors served here. Instead, buttery, yeasty with authentic fillings like apricot, poppyseed, and cream cheese are displayed side by side with more obscure offerings, like sweet buchta rolls and, at Christmas, the braided bread known as vanocka. The Village Bakery is the self-proclaimed inventor of the now-ubiquitous sausage kolaches. Ask for them by the bakery’s trademarked name, klobasniki. — Dawn Orsak

WHAT: The pinnacle of Texas barbecue from 82-year-old pitmaster Tootsie Tomanetz. WHY: Yes, it’s only open once a week, and it usually sells out before the lunch hour, but Snow’s BBQ is exceptional. The salty brisket is superb, especially from the fatty end. The smoked chicken is so popular, it’s usually the first to vanish. Pork steaks and spare ribs will have you questioning why anyone would say Texans can only barbecue beef. If the barbecue weren’t reason enough to come, being able to watch veteran pitmaster Tomanetz shovel coals, flip half chickens, and mop the pork steaks with her special mop sauce is alone worth an early wake-up call. — D.V.

WHAT: A handmade-pasta shop whose impeccable noodles are second only to the salumi. WHY: Amid an ever-changing menu that might feature gnocchi with cabbage and crispy yeast or a salad of ripe pears and chicory with cheese, one thing remains constant at Lucia: the salumi plate. David Uygur’s homage to the pig is a stunning array of standard favorites like salami, coppa, and thinly sliced lardo that wilts to translucence under the heat of the warm bread it sits upon. Uygur has more fun with unfamiliar varieties like fiocco, blood salami, and two spreadable salamis, neither of which are ’nduja. It’s like a graduate-level course for cured meats where spectacular pasta is just for extra credit. — D.V.

WHAT: Southern comfort food in one of Dallas’s swankiest dining rooms from one of the city’s stalwart chefs. WHY: Wearing his unmistakable toothy smile and custom-made Lucchese boots, Dean Fearing has played a huge role in shaping the city’s culinary identity for decades. Start a meal in this bright, luxe-casual dining room with Fearing’s iconic, smoky, and creamy tortilla soup, then feast on Granny’s fried chicken, shaken with flour and spices before being fried to perfection in cast iron. Or take the Texas theme over the top with a plate of fork-tender beef short ribs that are braised in Dr Pepper (the state’s unofficial beverage) and served over a pile of jalapeno grits. — Amy McCarthy

WHAT: A sanctuary of a restaurant in Dallas’s congested downtown, where one of the country’s outstanding Japanese chefs practices the art of soba. WHY: Tei-An’s menu winds through broad territory: tempura, udon, ramen, sashimi, curry rice, and dishes like braised beef tongue and okonomiyaki. But the richest terrain is the soba — fresh buckwheat noodles, notoriously difficult to form and cut, that Teiichi Sakurai crafts daily. Relish them simply, mounded on a woven bamboo mat alongside a dashi dipping sauce simmered with duck meat. To experience the complete measure of Sakurai’s skills, call ahead to request the seven-course omakase: It often weaves in blockbuster Japanese ingredients like A5 wagyu beef and ultra-seasonal fish but always concludes with meditative plate of soba. — B.A.

WHAT: Authentic Vietnamese pho house in Houston’s Chinatown area. WHY: Thanks to Houston’s large Vietnamese immigrant community, pho shops  specializing in Vietnam’s heady, fragrant noodle soup have become as easy to find as McDonald’s. Still, there are only a handful of restaurants that deserve top honors, and Pho Dien, which gained acclaim by serving sides of raw, marinated filet mignon called tai uop, is the finest example of Houston’s nascent pho revolution. The emphasis here is on quality ingredients. Owner Tony Dien Pham simmers his all-beef bone broth for a minimum of 12 hours to create a silky, delicately spiced, soul-warming bowl that is easily one of the best in the country. — Mai Pham

WHAT: A James Beard-nominated strip-mall sensation that beautifully showcases the uniquely Houston fusion of Cajun crawfish boils with Vietnamese flavors. WHY: Don’t be alarmed at the tarp-like tablecloths and rolls of paper towels at the table. Tucked into an unassuming strip mall in Houston’s sprawling Asiatown, the Viet-Cajun crawfish at Crawfish & Noodles are truly transcendent — boiled then tossed in a buttery, spicy, garlicky, lemongrass-infused sauce that coats each individual mudbug. There are also whole fried crabs to devour by the pound and bowls of noodles simmered with shrimp and barbecued pork, topped with a runny quail egg. — A.M.

WHAT: A celebration of Pakistani cooking from the skilled hands and elastic mind of chef-owner Kaiser Lashkari. WHY: Lashkari and his wife, Azra Babar Lashkari, are ever-present in their boxy strip-mall restaurant in the city’s Mahatma Gandhi District. Their kitchen turns out nearly 100 distinct dishes, many with regional Indian origins, but the key is to order gems inspired by Kaiser Lashkari’s native Pakistan. He excels in a rarity known as hunter beef, a preparation similar to pastrami, best served cold, in thick slices, with sinus-buzzing mustard. Resha gosht, hailing from the southwestern province of Balochistan, pairs steamed and shredded beef with a brightly herbed tomato sauce. The Pakistani affinity for beef plays so well in Texas that Lashkari dreamed up on-point “friendly fusion” weekend specials, such as smoked brisket masala, to bridge the cultures. — B.A.

WHAT: A culinary mind meld of two veteran chefs whose menus express the sprawling, global, ever-dynamic mosaic of cuisines that define Houston dining. WHY: Ross Coleman and James Haywood prove exceptionally adept at distilling tastes and textures into dishes that leave you invigorated. A winning spread here might include chicken, shrimp, and andouille-sausage gumbo depth-charged with smoked fish (an homage to thiéboudienne, the national dish of Senegal, where gumbo’s predecessor originated); crisp shreds of turkey-neck meat cradled in bibb lettuce leaves with Vietnamese nuoc mam cham for dipping; and catfish tikka masala. Weekend brunch crowds fill every seat in the restaurant’s cavernous dining room, clamoring for the straight-up goodness of dishes that veer closer to home: peppery fried chicken with biscuits. — B.A.  

WHAT: Hugo Ortega and Tracy Vaught’s gracious, 16-year-old lodestar of hospitality, whose success presaged this moment of upscale Mexican dining in the United States. WHY: The couple’s other standout Houston restaurants, Xochi and Caracol, specialize, respectively, in Oaxacan and Mexican coastal cuisines. Hugo’s menu, on the other hand, is a national survey of the country’s most legendary dishes; Ortega’s genius for employing spice and intensifying meaty flavors creates the through-line between them. Zoom in on cabrito with roasted cactus, lechón with a piercing habanero salsa, and lamb barbacoa. Saturday brunch is Hugo’s calmer service shift, but that’s when the kitchen turns out sublime, sculptural chilaquiles with chicken and tomatillo salsa. — B.A.

WHAT: An exceptional and luxurious foray into Catalan cuisine. WHY: Is that actual artwork by Picasso and Miró gilding the restaurant’s minimalist space? Yes, yes it is. In 2014 Houston entrepreneur Ignacio Torras coaxed Luis Roger, an accomplished chef and fellow Barcelona native, to move to Texas and partner on a venture that glorifies their home country’s cuisine. Superb tapas (shaved jamón ibérico, lush pan con tomate, crisp-creamy patatas bravas) and potent gin-and-tonic variations bobbing with whole spices set the meal’s foundation. Roger builds upon these standards with more outre dishes, like sauteed sea cucumber with lobster rice and an improbable but smashing entree of duck breast with quince, Idiazábal cheese sauce, pine nuts, and balsamic reduction. Service is uniformly dashing. Book well ahead, or be prepared to dine at the well-trafficked but comfortable bar near the entrance. — B.A.

WHAT: A Tex-Mex landmark whose timeless signature — skirt steak fajitas — defies and transcends chain-restaurant bastardization. WHY: Ninfa Laurenzo, known as Mama Ninfa, opened her restaurant in 1973 in front of her family’s tortilla factory. She took special pride in her version of tacos al carbon, skirt steak served on a hot comal with caramelized onions and a stack of fresh flour tortillas. The restaurant, and Laurenzo’s fajitas, became an oft-imitated (and, for a time, franchised) sensation. Today the kitchen meanders into modern whimsies like roasted oysters topped with spiced crab meat in the restaurant’s wood-burning oven. But the fajita steak — smoky and tender-chewy, the ideal star ingredient to bundle into fragrant handmade tortillas — is the stuff of bucket lists and special detours. — B.A.