“We’ve always been looking over our shoulders at Houston,” says the first guy I meet in Dallas, his tone dramatic. “But not anymore!” And it’s true. Though Dallas and its food scene have long been overlooked in favor of other Texas towns, today, the city's in the midst of a renaissance, with excellent new restaurants and bars opening so fast and so furious that it's hard to keep up. (Seriously—I was last there in mid-June and already feel like I'm behind.)

It's not just one person or one thing that's driving the change, but rather Dallas' community of highly ambitious chefs, hailing from all different backgrounds, working independently and yet with a palpable sense of synchronicity. These chefs are ditching the large-scale restaurant group models of yesteryear and instead forging their own paths, creating highly specific, highly personal spaces that feel more like stepping directly into said chef's brain. See: Donny Sirisavath's artful yet technically pristine riffs on the Laotian food he grew up eating at Khao Noodle Shop, or Misti Norris's butchery-and-fermentation playground at Petra and the Beast—both of which made our Top 50 list this year. Meanwhile, the confluence of strong immigrant communities that dot and surround the city mean that while you may have to drive a bit for your fresh-baked Iraqi bread or your Jalisco-style flautas or your perfect gas station momos, you'll never have to go without.

I was actually born in Dallas, but until this past summer hadn't been back for a proper visit since elementary school. So I enlisted the help of some locals—including the Dallas Observer's infinitely knowledgeable food critic, Brian Reinhart—to help me look past the slick football-field-sized steakhouses I remembered and discover instead a city of thriving neighborhoods, each boasting its own homegrown gems. What I found (and ate, and drank—to the point of almost-bursting) were a whole bunch of reasons to book a flight right back to DFW ASAP.

Meatums forever. Photo by Alex Lau

Meet the mad scientist of meat

Tucked into a former gas station on a quiet street in old East Dallas is a wonderland of dried flowers, jars of fermenting shiso leaves, and animal skulls. This is Petra and the Beast, and it’s unlike any other restaurant in the city, or really...anywhere (which is how it snagged a spot on our Top 50 list!). Chef Misti Norris is doing crazy and incredible things with animal parts, homemade pastas, and fermentation. It’s a carnivore’s duty to order Meatums, a charcuterie board that changes constantly but never seems to falter. Milk-and-mustard-bathed chicken hearts? A pork-blood-and-chocolate terrine? Butter-soft pork rillettes sprinkled with cabbage dust? Just say yes.