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Matt's Big Breakfast

Why is there a crowd of a few dozen people milling around on the corner of First Street and McKinley on a 100-degree day? Are they crazy? Well, yes — crazy for really delicious, all-American breakfast food, perhaps. These days, the mob outside Matt's Big Breakfast is a mix of downtown locals and longtime fans, as well as curious first-timers who've inevitably seen Matt's on the Food Network or read about it in Bon Appetit. And, yeah, we know we're perpetuating the hype by giving them more love, but they deserve it. The fact still stands that Matt and Erenia Pool's teeny-tiny diner cranks out heavenly pancakes, wonderful waffles, awesome omelets, and all kinds of comforting fare that still lives up to its stratospherically high reputation. Barely five years old, Matt's is already a downtown Phoenix landmark.

Kyle Lamb

From their red and white bungalow at Seventh Street and Whitton Avenue, the Shillers, scions of sausage sultan Hugo Schreiner, have been stuffing casings and Phoenicians since 1955. They've added a flavor or two to keep up with our changing palates, and low-fat for expanding waistlines, but it's the classics that keep us coming back for more. Like their linguisa, a Portuguese creation with a bit of fiery kick, or the summer favorite of BBQers everywhere, the bratwurst. Or their Cajun tasso and andouille treats, as well as traditional German recipes brought from the old country. These days, you'll find their sausage served in some of the best restaurants in town, but the doors are still open for drop-in visitors, just like when Hugo was in charge. Phoenix might have changed quite a bit since Schreiner's opened, but for this family business, the care and quality that goes into each handmade sausage hasn't. It's as good, if not better, than it's ever been.

Ah, bacon. It's hard to think of any meat more loved by carnivores or tearfully missed by vegetarians. We can't come up with a dish that can't be made better by the inclusion of the salty, smoky wonder. And we've been known to wax rhapsodic over its unctuous charms. Where for art thou, BLT? We're looking at you, baked beans! Bacon lovers around town practically weep at the sight of the porcine wonder food in all its glory from the good folks at The Meat Shop in south Phoenix. Who can blame them? The Wilson family has spent 100-odd years breeding and raising pigs, and it is clearly reflected in the caliber of their bacon. Hand-raised and butchered in-house, the little piggies' final resting place in a hand-sealed rasher goes to market weekly, and if you're lucky (and by lucky, we mean early to the Downtown Phoenix Farmers Market) or you just call to reserve some at the Wilsons' store, you'll score bacon that's never seen the inside of a freezer. Ah, bacon. If loving you is wrong, we don't wanna be right.

Is there another way to spell "delicious"? How about B-L-T? Chestnut Lane Café's version of the classic sandwich is the best we've ever had (next to our grandma's, of course). At this tiny Camelback eatery, they make their BLT with thinly shaved, house-roasted turkey, thick applewood-smoked bacon, ripe local tomatoes, lettuce, avocado, and mayo on fragrant slices of fresh multigrain bread. Plenty of other goodies stand out on Chestnut Lane's menu, like lobster Cobb salad and homemade pastries, but the turkey BLT is our favorite. With a cold glass of lemonade, it's one of life's simple pleasures.

Nicole Hoffman

Just when we thought we'd eaten every sandwich under the sun, we discovered the beauty of Lee's Sandwiches' banh mi — and now we're obsessed. What's banh mi, you ask? It's a hefty Vietnamese-style sub, with such fillings as pâté, barbecued pork, or a combination of sliced meats stuffed into a crusty French baguette, and embellished with mayo, fresh cilantro, sliced jalapeño, and pickled daikon and carrots for extra flavor and crunch. It's nice to have a few Euro-style options from Lee's sleek, efficient lunch counter, including the bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast croissant, and the BLT on a baguette, but honestly, we'll never get tired of the 16 kinds of banh mi. After all, why stick with ham and cheese when you can have ham and headcheese?

When restaurant industry veterans Robert and Danielle Morris teamed up with co-owner and executive chef Brian Peterson to open Cork, a stylish restaurant/wine bar in Chandler, they set out to serve food with the whimsy of a tasting menu but the ease of à la carte. And that's just what makes dining at Cork so fun — small portions make it simple for guests to pick and choose as eclectic a dinner as they want, whether they're in it for a few wine-friendly nibbles (like housemade crackers with wild venison salami and Humboldt Fog cheese) or an epicurean splurge that might include pork-belly-accented mac 'n' cheese, foie gras au torchon, and grilled elk chop. This is some of the most sophisticated dining in town, but the relaxed, friendly atmosphere makes it worthy of repeat visits. Who needs a special occasion when the food itself is worth celebrating?

Mom and Dad don't come to town often enough, so you've got to choose wisely when it's time for them to treat you dinner. Whether you're 18 and a college freshman or 42 and a shameless middle-aged freeloader, House of Tricks is a good choice. You don't want to waste a free meal on the likes of Chili's — not when Tricks is in the 'hood. This sweet little restaurant has charmed parental units for years, located blocks from Arizona State's Tempe campus, far enough off Mill Avenue to avoid any craziness on a Saturday night. Whether you sit on the patio, at the outdoor bar (complete with roaring fireplace), or in one of the tiny rooms inside, the atmosphere is lovely. Mom will be impressed with the mismatched teacups; Dad will go for the lengthy wine list. The menu is a delightfully mixed bag and changes all the time — you might try the herb-crusted lamb or the apricot glazed chicken. Or what the heck, go for the New York strip. You're not paying! Now, where's the dessert tray?

Timur Guseynov

Typically speaking, if you don't see a kids' menu, you don't want to bring your kids. It's like a restaurant with no highchairs. Big hint. Not so at Pita Jungle, where kids are more than welcome, and there's plenty for them on the grownups' menu. It's actually a relief to not have the choice of chicken fingers and mac 'n' cheese — it's the only way we can get the kids to eat vegetables, and there's a wide variety of all kinds of healthful food on Pita Jungle's Mediterranean menu.

The best part, though, is the service. Every time we've taken the kids to Pita Jungle, the staff has been so friendly that we've had to practically wrest the children away — and not in a creepy way. What started as a storefront in Tempe has expanded into a mini-empire, but what we love is that we can come in a month later and the woman cleaning the tables still remembers our daughter's name.

Now, who's in the mood for a macro combo platter tonight?

If you really want to appreciate chef Kevin Binkley's food, be sure to bring your sense of humor to dinner. Binkley, who worked for renowned chef Thomas Keller at The French Laundry, is undoubtedly serving some of the most creative, sophisticated cuisine that Arizona has to offer, incorporating classical French techniques into his seasonal American menu. But for all the precision and polish of the kitchen, the vibe in the dining room is surprisingly relaxed, brightened with moments of pure delight when guests get the next round of dishes. In between courses that look like artwork on a plate — potatoes adorned with fried sage and thick slices of black truffle, or maple-glazed pork tenderloin nestled with baby zucchini and butternut squash — the waitstaff delivers a flurry of playful amuses bouches that inevitably spark conversation. How about the fruity "lava lamp" shot, served on a color-changing LED coaster, or the tiniest baked potato you've ever seen? It's an experience you won't soon forget.

Robrt Pela

Seems like most hotel eateries fall into one of two categories — the generic, functional spot aimed at people staying there or the fancy fine-dining place geared toward big spenders of any stripe. Gallo Blanco Café, however, is remarkable in that it doesn't feel like it's in a hotel in the first place. In some other city, perhaps, you'd probably find a place like Gallo Blanco on a walkable street full of interesting shops and other indie restaurants, but because this is Phoenix, it sort of makes sense that it's located inside a quirky, locally owned boutique hotel. Chef-owner Doug Robson's menu is distinctive, too, full of the kinds of comforting dishes that recall his Mexico City upbringing, from irresistible street tacos to marinated pollo asado. Perhaps the only reminder that Gallo Blanco's in a hotel is the inclusion of a burger, the ultimate everyman food. And you know what? Even that's pretty darn tasty.

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