I’ve certainly had enough chances in this space to weigh in, rant and wave, ooh and ahh, over the fanciest food from our most famous chefs, and offered at the most intimidating prices. Still, in all my quarter-century as a food writer and almost that long as a radio host, I’ve never done any of those things about the hot dog. Then again, I tend to think that if you do anything successfully from 1923 onward, you’re probably doing a good deal of it right.

So it is with the Original Coney pictured above, a frank made with beef and pork, nestled in a hand-cut bun that doesn’t let the goodies escape out either end, with no small amount of chili sauce, cheese and minced onion. The Papadakis brothers started James Coney Island in downtown Houston in 1923, spent the first 40 years with only that one location, then saw their kids add a second one in the late 1960s. There are now 21.

For many of those years, during which the burger replaced the hot dog as America’s fast food of choice, the Papadakis family probably never thought they’d end up serving the dern things. But serve them they do, or at least that can be said of the local owners who bought the company from the kids some years back. Tasting the many new varieties of “better burger” at lunch today with company President Darrin Straughan, and attempting to do radio with my mouth full, was a pleasure not to be missed.

One of the earliest James Coney Island recipes was the Texas chili – now dated to the eatery’s year of opening, 1923. It’s different from the much more liquid sauce on the hot dogs, but perfect for this bowl-bound construction with Fritos, cheese and those wonderful minced onions. The chili is made with chopped rather than ground beef , which then cooks down till it’s tender.

Considerable effort has gone into the sides at James Coney, a list led off by this “stuffed baked potato” effect repurposed for what amount to tater tots. The tots are good on their own, of course, and their soft interiors do resemble a baked potato. But things really get delicious when the kitchen starts adding crumbled bacon, sour cream, green onion and, of course, more of that omnipresent cheese.

And if you think all this is a bit much, the new/old Original James Coney Island has a terrific option for you. Yes, in the spirit of the Papadakis brothers, the guys running the show now visited Greek restaurants near and far, and came up with one of the better Greek salads you’ll ever try – shown here with grilled chicken. Rumor has it there are 17 ingredients not counting the dressing, which would explain the wonderful crunch and snap in every bite. It’s enough to make a fella do the Zorba dance – or maybe even start a New York-style hot dog restaurant in Houston, Texas!

One of the joys, few they may be, of driving from Dallas to Houston on a Sunday is a stop for the new Sunday brunch at my friend Aldo el Sharif’s restaurant in the Woodlands. Actually, yesterday was the first time the new Aldo’s has served brunch at all, and (having been through such days with many chef-friends before) I won’t say I was expecting the worst… but I was certainly ready for it.

All was well, it turned out, with a nice, happy, comfortable crowd enjoying the food with the piano stylings of  fixture Lee LaForge, and drinking the bellinis and mimosas. I even got to sample a new bloody Mary that, with its skewer of shrimp and olives, doubled as an unofficial shrimp cocktail. Most of all, I was excited to check out the very interesting Festa di Frittata, represented by the steaked-up version above.

As you probably know, a frittata is the “national omelet” of Italy, except that it’s baked in the oven instead of more or less fried in an omelet pan. And that opens the door to frittate – see, I’m pretty good at Italian grammar – topped with wonderful things like shrimp Provencal, prosciutto di Parma, Italian sausage and meatball (pictured above), grilled chicken and mushroom, even that grilled skirt steak.

On Day One, or at least what I would call Brunch One, Chef Aldo told me that 70 percent of his customers ordered brunch items – all reasonably priced at $11 to $19. But that meant 30 percent took advantage of his brunch-only deal and a half: a soup or salad (go for this Tuscan white bean soup with Italian sausage), an entree from the dinner menu and dessert for only $30.

Before I could waddle out the door and make my way to Houston, Chef Aldo proudly showed me the first of several wine racks he was having custom-built for Aldo’s Cucina Italiana. He was justly proud of the craftsmanship in the dining room, with more of the same coming to the roomy bar area. In the spirit of the late great Leslie Nielsen, someone eavesdropping on our conversation observed “Nice rack!” And I could only nod, just a little bit speechless for once.

For chef-owner Jon Bonnell of Bonnell’s Fine Texas Cuisine in Fort Worth, tonight was the first root beer of the rest of his life. After 24 hours of interviews by the national and even international media for his decision to stop using Dr Pepper in one of his restaurant’s signature desserts, he drove to the Texas town of Dublin, which until this week had made a very special version of the drink, and loaded ten cases of Triple XXX Root Beer into his car. Bonnell sees the change as his protest against a big company gobbling up a little one, with a significant loss of jobs in Dublin.

Of course, Bonnell’s root beer float wasn’t an appetizer. In that slot, we ordered one of the best starters we’ve ever tasted anywhere, something he calls Oysters Texasfeller. Yes, based on the New Orleans classic Oysters Rockefeller (learned while Bonnell worked at the Brennan family’s Mr. B’s Bistro in the French Quarter), the Texas spin makes its components more distinct than they tend to be in the original. There’s delightful sauteed spinach underneath, plus the oysters are fried, plus there’s no small amount of hollandaise. I’m not sure I can try any other appetizer at Bonnell’s.

As Bonnell grew up in a Texas ranching family, he not only learned a lot about great red meat but had more than enough opportunities to taste Mexican food. All those memories feed into his restaurant’s smoked chicken stack – a layering of tortillas and smoked local chicken, with accents of salsa verde, a peppery pico de gallo and a soothing dollop of guacamole. It is, after all, the perfect prelude to a frosty-mugged root beer float.

I was delighted to hear about a brand-new restaurant in Austin called Bacon – and really, not because I love bacon more than I love hundreds of other foods. And certainly not because the more “creative” of our chefs here in Texas have taken to doing some really weird things with the stuff, using molecular gastronomy tricks to turn it into everything from foam atop fish to ice cream for dessert. No, I simply loved the sheer audacity of it all.

Turns out, this audacity was also what first attracted co-owner Reid Reynolds and GM Jesse Fincher. I sat down to record radio with the two guys last night, and came away impressed not only with the foods I sampled but with their commitment to quality. After all, if you’re going to have a name with only one food product in it, you’d better make sure that food product is the best. The bacon is excellent at Bacon, I’m happy to report – turning up in several forms and several flavor profiles in dish after dish after dish.

One of my favorites here is the chicken and waffles, which more days and nights than not is a huge seller. Still, you might gaze at the plate for a long time (as I did) and then ask, “Where’s the bacon?” Turns out, somebody in the kitchen had the bright idea of stirring crumbled bacon into the waffle batter – which leaves your “hands free” to enjoy the excellent waffle with butter and syrup the way we remember from childhood, plus some of the crispiest, most flavorful fried boneless chicken breast we’ve tasted in a long time.

It’s true: nobody ever made me hate them by giving me a burger. And not only does this burger feature crispy, smoky-sweet bacon on top of the meat and molten cheese but the patty itself is something called a “double-grind.” This is apparently cookspeak for a burger made by grinding beef along with pork belly – as you probably know, the cut of pork from which bacon is sliced. At Bacon, they’re not exactly reinventing any wheels. As Reynolds told me, they’re “just putting some extra air in the tires.”

If you like pork belly, then you’ll love Bacon’s version of the Reuben. What’s that, Reuben sandwiches are made with corned beef, you say, with no pork belly in sight? That is true, traditionally, but the excellent Reuben here is made with pork belly brined just the way brisket typically is to produce what we call corned beef. After that, the sandwich is all classic, from the sauerkraut to the Russian dressing to the swirled, toasted slices of bread. Oh yeah, last night the Reuben came with broccoli on the side (only in Austin!), and that was mighty good too.

Here in Texas, you’d better not mention the b-word without whipping up some “bacon gravy” – a creamy production made from pan drippings. This gravy is extremely popular at the place called Bacon, showing up primarily poured over buttermilk drop biscuits with some shredded cheddar cheese and chives on top. It’s kind of like a loaded baked potato, except on a biscuit instead of a potato. The eatery called Bacon has proven quite popular in the four months it’s been open on the edge of downtown Austin. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have more than one location to enjoy in the months and years ahead.