Best Drive-through Fast Food 2001 | Vaquero's Carne Asada | Food & Drink | Phoenix
Navigation
Neither of these carne asada emporiums is in any upper-crust neighborhood. There's not much to impress from the outside. But we're not going in anyway; we're barely slowing down, even, pausing just long enough to place our order at the speaker and, within minutes, make off with our booty of remarkably inexpensive, tasty Mexican food.

Vaquero's is open 24 hours a day -- a big bonus. There's an awesome selection, so we never get bored -- an even bigger bonus. Its meats are grilled to order, and paired with fresh extras -- the biggest bonus yet. Count 'em up: 23 combination plates, 12 taco choices, five tostadas, 10 tortas, four enchiladas, five shrimp dishes, and 20 burritos. Breakfast is served around the clock, with 11 options, and on weekends, there's homemade menudo.

Muy impressive, no? .

Best Place To Fulfill Your Apple-a-day Quota

Candy's Apples

Whoever coined the phrase "an apple a day keeps the doctor away" never considered the sinful creations that Candy's turns out. Candy's starts with immense, hand-selected Granny Smith apples of unparalleled crunch and flavor. Then it mounds this gift of nature with various combinations of ingredients, ranging from traditional caramel to peanut butter, macadamia nuts and Heath Bar pieces, completely obliterating any nutritional value that might have originally existed. It's a challenge to figure out how best to eat one of these delectable monsters (we used a knife and fork), but it's a challenge well worth meeting.
If Yusef's doesn't have it, you don't need it. That's our thought, anyway, after browsing through hundreds of Middle Eastern and North African items stocked on the shelves of this delightful shop.

All the basics are covered: powdered sumac, Turkish coffee, teas, zaatar (thyme and sesame seeds to be blended with olive oil and dipped with pita), and kadaifi (phyllo dough). The store's got the fancy stuff, too, like Israeli olives, Lebanese green beans, Bulgarian eggplant dip and a tasty variety of feta cheeses. And Yusef's has got novelties, like a must-have tobacco water pipe called a hubba-bubba.

Yusef's? You said it.

Good food, just like llama used to make. That's the inspiration behind Peruanitos, owned by the de Arriola family, a group of talented chefs relocated from Peru. The charm is visible in the decor, bright and cheerful, and yes, decorated with giant stuffed toy llamas. It's even more apparent in the food, a celebration of one of the world's oldest, most sophisticated cuisines.

Peru is about potatoes, and Peruanitos showcases the spuds. We adore papas a la huancaina, layering thick slabs of boiled potato and onion strips with a neon-yellow, creamy cheese sauce, topped with sliced hard-boiled egg, black olives and a whole lot of heat from fiery rocoto or aji amarillo chile sauce dashed in. It's the perfect appetizer to lead us into carapulera, a classic Incan dish of papseca (freeze-dried potatoes) with large chunks of pork in velvety, mildly spiced, orange-colored sauce with nuts. And we lust after adobo de chancho, a succulent concoction of marinated, slow-cooked pork with an electric, spicy undercut of serious chile heat. It's moist and meaty, and cools down a touch with fluffy rice and chilled sweet potatoes.

Pop rocks!

And nowhere in town will you find a wider selection of the bottled bubbly (non-alcoholic variety) than at this fizz fanatic's paradise, a soda supermarket that stocks hundreds of hard-to-find carbonated potables.

Specializing in regional and imported sweetened swills you either haven't tasted in years or never knew existed, the inventory (some 300 brands) includes such arcane quaffs as Mexican Coca-Cola (despite Coke's official company line, it's far zingier than its domestic cousin), Dr Pepper from a maverick Texas bottler that still uses pure cane sugar, and Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray, which tastes a lot better than it sounds. In short, enough effervescent nectars to finance your dentist's Malibu beach house.

Burp!

Maybe your house was filled with the smell of fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies every week when you were a kid. Or maybe your mom's idea of making cookies was opening a package of Chips Ahoy!. Whether you're reliving your childhood or compensating for it, you'll want to drop in on Fat Cat Cookies. Every morning finds owner Linda Schneider up to her elbows in delicious cookie dough. She and hubby Kem make 18 varieties, from basic chocolate chip, peanut butter and sugar cookies to whisker-lickin'-good specialties such as "cat's meow" (white chocolate and macadamia nut), "purr-fect pineapple" (crushed, unsweetened pineapple in a soft, cakelike cookie), "cat's whiskers" (white chocolate chips, pecans and a touch of rum flavoring) and the "original fat cat" (chocolate, walnuts and peanut butter chips). If you're lucky, you might even get to meet Boston, the "boss cat" of the operation.
How can something so simple go so wrong so often? Phoenix is a veritable citrus mecca, yet drinks bearing no trace of lemon get passed off as lemonade here every day. And don't get us started on how people have served us Crystal Light with a straight face, as if we wouldn't know the difference. Lemonade is simple; there's no need for creativity, tricks or gimmicks. Or artificial sweeteners. If you like your lemonade tart and straightforward, Jamba Juice does it just right. Buried amidst a lengthy menu of smoothie combinations, it's easy to overlook the almost quaint listing of lemonade. But it's there -- so satisfyingly sour, with just a little sweetness, and chilled with plenty of slushy ice. Pucker up.

Molly Smith
It's not often that we break into tears at the sight of food. But as soon as we walk into Guido's, our hearts swell, and our eyes well up at what must be the closest thing to heaven on Earth for real (or wanna-be) Italians.

How could we not grow misty over San Marzano tomatoes? Overwhelmed by olive oil, bread and imported pasta? Smitten with sauces, marinated olives, cookies, pastries and even imported antacids? And that's just the stuff on the shelves. Mascarpone cheese, handmade mozzarella, carved capocollo, hard salami and more than a dozen from-scratch salads fill the cooler cases (the tomato and garlic salad is outstanding). If we don't feel like cooking our own, Guido's caters with its take-home lasagna, cheese tortellini, potato dumplings and ravioli. Whatever you do, take time to smell the sausage. It, too, is made by hand, gloriously juicy and bursting with fennel.

It's easy to become bored by same-old, same-old classic American food. Yet we've become overwhelmed by chefs conjuring up crazy concoctions like wasabi-glazed truffles in caramelized cognac with anchovy chutney. That's why we're so taken with the Asian-influenced American cuisine served at Elements. Rather than shtick, Chef Chuck Wiley wisely keeps Asia to an accent, focusing on the beauty of fresh ingredients and carefully honed flavors. Wiley changes the menu monthly, and offers unusual delicacies such as devil-fried oysters, breaded panko-style and served on the half shell atop a massive bowl of rock salt with tangy baby spinach and cucumber slaw. He wakes up sleepy salmon, crisp-edged from the grill, salt-and-peppery skinned, lounging on a nest of tangy braised greens, snow peas, sesame, ginger and somen noodles. Even traditional favorites have energy, such as the hefty filet mignon, paired with garlic mashed potatoes topped with melted bleu cheese and sweet soft onion strips. With its plush Camelback Mountain address and fabulous views of Paradise Valley below, Elements has everything it needs to be a special experience.

The name is deceptive: This is a shop with regular hours, not a weekend event. For cooks who despair of finding exotica like in-season cherries for less than $7 a pound, or for those who have heard tell of mythical eggplants that come in colors other than purple but have never actually witnessed such sights, the Guadalupe market is a mecca. It's not a tiresome gourmet shop with the precious-gem prices we've come to expect for things that should be everyday items, like ripe tomatoes or local grapefruit. This is a straightforward produce market, run by people who understand that they're selling vegetables, for goodness sake, not Russian caviar. Guadalupe Farmer's Market's plentiful produce is fairly priced, always fresh, and local whenever possible. Better yet, its fruits and vegetables taste like foodstuffs you've only heard about from elderly relatives who swear no one sells produce like they did "way back when." Guadalupe does.

Best Of Phoenix®

Best Of