Finefood

Yusef's is the one-stop-does-it-all shop for exotic Middle Eastern cooking ingredients -- so essential if you're in the throes of planning a big Ali Wood-style bash.

Though it may be short on veiled belly dancers, Yusef's does manage to cram in hundreds of fresh, frozen, canned, bottled and dried supplies your regular grocer would never dream of stocking in a thousand and one Arabian nights.

Like bulk packages of powdered sumac and Jordanian zaatar, a classic spice combo of thyme and sesame seeds used with pungent olive oil for warm pita bread dipping (Yusef's offers a nice selection of oil and various ethnic breads, too). Or kadaifi, shredded phyllo dough used to make Middle Eastern desserts just like Aunt Arpina used to whip up.

In fact, it's doubtful there's anything Yusef's doesn't carry in the way of hard-to-find North African and Middle Eastern culinary components -- except, maybe, bleating, ready-to-slaughter lambs for shish kebab.

Did Jack Durant, owner and founder of Phoenix's most popular old-time supper club, really leave his restaurant to his dog?

Durant died without heirs, and with nearly $500,000 in certificates of deposit in a safe deposit box — not to mention Durant's, a dining tradition here since 1950, one that grosses millions of dollars every year. Although he'd been through five wives in his lifetime, Durant was unmarried at the time of his death; there was no widow to leave anything to. He had no children. But there was Humble, Durant's English bulldog, then eight years old and listed, as the story goes, as his chief beneficiary.

"To my dog, Humble," read Durant's last will and testament, "I leave my home, furniture, and cash in the sum of $50,000." The document also stipulated that a caretaker be hired to care for Humble in Durant's 2,500-square-foot Phoenix home, which was not to be sold while the dog was still living.

It wasn't. And Humble lived on there, reportedly trashing the place so badly that, when the house was sold after the dog's death (exactly one year to the day after his master's demise), most of the furnishings had to be junked and a lot of the flooring replaced. The house sold for about half its market value in 1989, the proceeds going to 21 of Durant's longtime restaurant employees. And the restaurant itself? Its full ownership reverted to Durant's silent partner, Jack McElroy, and not to Mr. Durant's beloved pooch.

It's a popular taco shop now, but the low-slung brick-and-glass building on North Central Avenue, built in 1973, originally was a Humpty Dumpty Coffee Shop, a favorite breakfast hangout for downtown fans of the pancake. This smallish cafe was hard to miss, thanks to the giant plaster egg sitting outside, smirking (because, of course, Humpty had a face) at passersby. He wore striped pants, shirt sleeves, and a big, puffy chef's hat. In his right hand, he clutched a butter knife; in his left, a fork. (What exactly does an egg eat?)

When Humpty Dumpty closed up shop in the '80s, the breakfast crowd disbursed to various Denny's and Coco's for their bacon-and-eggs fix. But what became of the giant egg that had stood sentry at this Phoenix cafe's door for decades?

It was rumored that he was doing duty as public art on downtown Mesa's Main Street, but that anthropomorphized egg turned out to be a solid brass sculpture created by Minneapolis artist Kimber Fiebiger. In truth, Humpty went to work smiling at traffic from the roof of a hardware store in faraway Lakeside, Arizona. There, he was seen for many years atop Hawkeye Feed and Supply. Divested of his fork and knife, Humpty now wore a giant Stetson.

In 2012, Hawkeye closed, too, and Humpty went back into hiding. Stories have been circulating about how he's taken up residence in the backyard of a west-side Midcentury Modernist, where he sits laughing from atop a swimming pool slide. Other buzz has our favorite plaster egghead dismembered and stored in the warehouse behind the old Circles Records and Tapes store.

Craig DeMarco, founding partner of Upward Projects, the company responsible for local favorite eateries such as Postino, Windsor, and Federal Pizza, wants to know where Humpty went. DeMarco now owns Humpty's former home, which he transformed into Joyride Taco House.

"I've heard that he's sitting in someone's backyard in the Medlock neighborhood," DeMarco says. "I'm afraid to go walking through alleys peeking into people's backyards, though. People in the suburbs sometimes own guns."

Instead of nosing around in person, DeMarco says, he's used Google Earth's aerial maps to systematically determine Humpty's whereabouts. "I haven't found him," he confides seriously. "Yet."

Meanwhile, neither the king's horses nor the king's men have weighed in on Humpty's whereabouts.

Need to stock up for your next Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes? The angel-kissed golden crust of the bread churned out seven days a week at Willo is a real miracle in itself.

This small boutique bakery uses no sugar, meat or dairy products in preparing its heavenly roll call. We're especially partial to Willo's cranberry-hazelnut rolls and bread, generously studded with moist, sun-dried cranberries and large, crunchy chunks of toasted hazelnuts. And we'd even crawl on our bellies like you-know-who to get to Willo's divine kalamata olive bread, available in two loaf sizes, not to mention its only-on-Sunday onion rye.

With Willo's celestial manna, who needs Devil Dogs?

Readers' Choice for Best Bakery: Krispy Kreme Doughnuts

Short of driving three hours to Nogales, La Purísima is the most authentic south-of-the-border-style bakery you're likely to find.

Among its straight-from-the-oven offerings are pan dulce, a traditional slightly sweetened bread. Other Mexican taste-tempters include libros and orejas fashioned from flaky puff pastry and sprinkled with sugar, fruit-filled empanadas (including pumpkin and pineapple), galletas (cookies) frosted with eyeball-searing hot pink icing, and seasonal Day of the Dead pastries.

Should all this kitchen handiwork touch your inner mamacita, the bakery also carries fresh masa, savory corn dough that can be used to make your own tamales, sopas and chalupas.

"It doesn't matter how a wine is drunk, as long as you are."

So said legendary culinary writer M.F.K. Fisher. She was kidding. Great wines are serious stuff, and no one knows that better than the oenophiles at Sportsman's.

The Staff here is the most knowledgeable in town. We've never been able to stump them, even when it comes to arcane vintages. All the fancy labels are here, like Romanée-Conti and Yquêm (France), and Trockenbeerenauslese (Germany), as well as rare sherries, vintage ports and champagnes.

Sportsman's also has the largest selection of wines in the Valley, and if what you want isn't on the shelf, someone will get it for you. If money is an object, the staff at Sportsman's will help you find a luxurious choice for the few pennies you have to rub together. If you're not sure what you want, you can sample more than 60 wines by the glass at the tasting bar.

We'll drink to that.

Better cancel that flight to the Bavarian Alps you booked because you're craving authentic, homemade European-style sausages. They're being stuffed and cranked out right here in the Valley by Schreiner's, whose funky smokehouse store has remained virtually unchanged since it opened in 1958.

On the off chance you can't find anything you like from more than 100 different international recipes owners Gary and Nancy Schiller use regularly (including ones for Polish kielbasa, German brat and bockwurst and Hungarian kishke), give Schreiner's your own secret recipe. For a price, you can get brats just like Grandmutti used to stuff. Or you can opt for Schreiner's special line of low-fat, high-flavor chicken sausages that rival its fat-filled kind.

And what to do with that wildebeest you shot on your last African safari? No worries -- Schreiner's will even make fresh or smoked sausages from any prepared game you deliver to them.

This is getting annoying. Four Peaks is the Tiger Woods of Valley brew pubs, consistently topping every local publication's "best of" lists despite facing ever-increasing competition.

This year, the Tommyknockers Brewery & Pub chain opened a franchise near Bank One Ballpark, and damn, it was a close call. But Four Peaks' malty stout, its airheaded blonde and smoky-smooth amber triumphed once again. How do they keep winning? One year -- and beer -- at a time.

Readers' Choice: Four Peaks Brewing Company

With its high alcohol content and low cost, a 40-ouncer of malt liquor is simply the cheapest way to get tanked. So it's no surprise that this bitter, golden blend is readily available in areas where most pants pockets jingle with welfare coins, minimum-wage earnings and the grimy coin of hard-earned handouts.

Near downtown Phoenix, the malt shop of choice is Roland's, a Van Buren market that offers a staggering array of decisions for those with few choices to make. Behind the cold glass, the 40s stand at attention like diabolical soldiers, their manly brand names stenciled across specious, stark labels: St. Ides and St. Ides Ice, King Cobra, Old English 800, Colt .45, Schlitz Malt Liquor and on and on.

No brand costs more than $2, and Roland's even tosses in a paper bag "coaster" for free.

Readers' Choice for Best Beer Selection: Timber Wolf Pub

Remember when deliverymen brought glass bottles of milk and fresh loaves of bread right to your doorstep? Neither can we.

But even if you aren't old enough to conjure up those comforting memories, you can indulge your nostalgia for the Good Old Days you never knew existed by calling Boxed Greens. They'll put you on their home delivery route for fresh, in-season, certified organic produce, most of which is grown right here in Arizona. The pesticide-free produce and herbs you'll receive are straight-from-the-earth, including exotic items you'll rarely see in the local supermarket produce section.

Deliveries are scheduled on a weekly or biweekly basis -- a Seasonal Box of preselected veggies runs from $30 to $65, depending on the size of your family. To tailor your order to more specific greens, choose your non-poison from the Boxed Greens Web site (www.boxedgreens.com) that's updated daily.

Everyone's heard of the proverbial "golden oldie." And if you've lived in the Valley any length of time, you're already well aware of our own "colden oldie."

That would be Mary Coyle Ice Cream parlor, the local ice cream standard by which all others are judged. For 50 years, Coyle's take on everyone's "I scream, you scream" frigid dessert has ruled the Valley's roost, whether served up in cones, sundaes, sodas or the you-gotta-see-it-to-believe-it "The Mountain," a seven-pound Himalaya of various flavors, sauces, nuts and toppings that sell for $49. All flavors are made on the premises and most have an artery-clogging 19 percent butterfat content.

Freeze!

Readers' Choice for Best Ice Cream/Yogurt Shop: Cold Stone Creamery

Readers' Choice for Best Smoothie/Juice Shop: Jamba Juice

Man does not live by bread alone. He needs a good bagel, too.

For more than two decades now, Chompie's has been surpassing our bagel expectations with always -- always -- the best bagels we've ever found in this town.

Chompie's was king of the bagels before the doughy works of art were cool (remember the bagel explosion in the '80s?). While many of the wanna-be bagel bakers in the Valley have gone extinct, Chompie's is still going strong.

Why? It's got 35 varieties of New York-style bagels, in our favorite flavors like salt, poppy, sesame and sourdough. But it's also got designer choices, like zucchini, Cheddar, banana nut, jalapeño and chocolate chip bagels. Most important, all bagels are handmade, baked fresh and smothered on both sides with their toppings.

You can't build a better bagel than that.

Tired of cheese choices at your local grocery store being limited to Cheez Whiz, Velveeta and boursin-in-a-box? Cheeselike food substances are conspicuously absent at Duck & Decanter, whose long list of not-for-the-lactose-intolerant dairy specialties would turn the head of even a hardened Wisconsin Cheesehead.

This place is the only one we've found around town that seems to always stock manchego and mahon, two nutty, semi-hard Spanish cheeses craved by hard-core cheesephiles. They've also laid in a good store of Old Brugge, chevegne and Père Joseph, all made by Belgian Trappist monks -- and don't pass up the double-crème Brie layered with pesto and toasted pine nuts. Duck & Decanter's helpful cheese-department head, Christopher LaFollette, is known to pass out samples, so there's no question as to what you're buying. The only thing Duck & Decanter doesn't stock is Metamucil, which you will certainly need if you shop here on a regular basis.

K-Rico Cafe & Bakery is tiny, but those with a nose for things sweet should keep sniffing 'til they find this tropically appointed strip-mall storefront. Owner Elsie Lara, a native of Puerto Rico, packs a lot of fabulous Caribbean-style pastries into her shop. It's worth a cross-town trek to bite into one of K-Rico's flaky quesitos, made of buttery puff pastry and stuffed with sweetened cream cheese; or a tembleque, a cinnamony Puerto Rican coconut pudding that's a Caribbean classic.

Most people go to Wild Oats for the organic fruits and vegetables. We go for the potato chip samples.

During a recent visit, five different flavors were presented for our gustatory inspection: sweet potato chips, cheese puff chips, garlic-flavored chips, blue chips and corn tortilla chips, all proffered with a generous helping of sample salsa. Which should we buy? Hmmm, better have another chip.

But if there's really a judgment day, rest assured the honor system gang upstairs will know when you've made unnecessary third and fourth visits to the vinegar-flavored chip bowl in aisle two and they have the incriminating store video footage to prove it.

Betcha can't eat just 27!

When the dinner hour is approaching and we have to stop off at a grocery store to pick up a few things anyway, we welcome the grab-and-go meal ideas designed to make our hectic lives easier. But since discovering that some AJ's feature hand-tossed cooked-to-order pizzas, we have taken those other plastic-wrapped pizzas off our in-a-pinch menu list.

At AJ's you'll pay more, but those hot, gourmet-style pies are well worth it. For the traditionalists, the stores offer tasty pepperoni, sausage and the like. Those with more discriminating palates (why else would you be shopping at such a chichi store?) will love the delectable specialty pies, like spinach feta, garlic chicken and the Monte Carlo, featuring artichokes, goat cheese, red onions and fresh basil.

Another plus? Call your order in ahead of time, and your pizza will be ready when you're finished shopping.

Fish don't get much fresher than when they're flopping around in a tank of water, like they do at 99 Ranch Market. This upscale Asian supermarket's large aquarium tanks virtually teem with live catfish, tilapia, freshwater blue eel and Dungeness crab.

And if you just can't bear the thought of ending one of our piscine pal's lives prematurely, there's always the option of choosing something already caught and packed in ice, like red snapper, robalo, carp and sheephead. But no matter what creature from the deep you end up selecting, 99 Ranch Market's experienced fishmongers will clean and prepare (and even execute) your finny favorite with samurai-like skill -- all at no additional cost.

Go, fish!

You're planning on throwing an important dinner party for a bunch of fussy gourmets. They're snobs -- you know the type. "Oh, grilled swordfish and Gulf prawns over smoked mussel fried rice and mango papaya relish again?" they sniff.

An order from Gourmet Imports will shut their mouths -- at least until it's time to chew. But you have to pick up the phone to buy anything here; the enterprise doesn't take walk-in trade.

Gourmet Imports brings virtually any exotic meat you can imagine, often within a day or two of placing an order. Camel meat? Giraffe? Hippopotamus? Alligator? Kangaroo?

Gourmet Imports has it all -- zebra, beaver, llama, caribou, goat, Scottish hare, African lion, musk ox, raccoon, Rocky Mountain oysters, turtle and emu (all farm raised, of course.) This purveyor serves many of Arizona's finest resorts and restaurants, and can cater to your kitchen, too.

It's food that will drive even the most jaded gourmet completely wild.

The first time we heard about "the jerk in the restaurant" 10 years ago, we thought we were being told about some lout on a cell phone. But it was a dish new to the Valley, Jamaican jerked rabbit, served at RoxSand.

Today, jerk is available on many menus, usually involving chicken. Basically, it involves rubbing meat, fish or vegetables with a spicy marinade, then grilling or roasting it. But jerk is nothing without the jerk sauce. It's got to be torridly hot, enough so our eyes water, and we'll lick carpet if we have to, just for relief.

There's no better jerk sauce we've found than the infernal number sold at Kim Bong. It's called Walkerswood Traditional Jamaican Jerk Seasoning, and the colorful, reggae-themed bottle warns us it's "hot and spicy."

We say ya, mon, and how. This is the real thing, packed with scallions, black pepper, salt, allspice, nutmeg, citrus, sugar and thyme. The active ingredient? Scotch Bonnet peppers, a vegetable so evil that cooks are advised to wear gloves when cleaning them.