Summer's finest salad

Minnesotans don't understand or appreciate a true Caesar salad. At least that's the inevitable conclusion a true aficionado must come to after months of looking for the real deal in our fair cities. For starters, any establishment that can't or won't put real anchovies on top should be required to wear a "hopelessly corrupted by regional preferences" label.

There may not be a lot of authentic Caesars around, but there are some that are ambitious and bold enough to qualify for "beyond authentic" categorization. The Bulldog in Northeast offers just such a salad.

Full romaine leaves are slathered in dressing (we love a dinner salad that you cut yourself with a knife, as if it were a nice big T-Bone steak), and topped with oiled bread cubes and two lovely little deep-fried anchovies. There was so much garlic in the dish that four hours later a friend sniffed the air and delicately asked, "Did you just eat a sandwich?"

The secret key to the perfect summer meal

One of the humble, unacknowledged elements that really kind of finishes a summer day to perfection is shredded cabbage and dressing. In a word: slaw. There's sweet and simple, there's tangy and biting, there's green cabbage, there's red cabbage.

If anything competes with lemonade for the true taste of summer, it's the crunch of ice-cold cole slaw.

Any self-respecting BBQ joint around town serves it in a little ramekin alongside slabs of ribs and baked beans and those starchy potato wedges they call french fries. Most are perfectly serviceable and toothsome. But we found the best cup of slaw in an unexpected place: At the Tin Fish, Lake Calhoun's odd little fish and chips stand. (Odd, because it's kinda pricey, but definitely the dough, for a paper plate of fresh salmon, calamari, haddock, or salmon and yummy criss-cross-cut fries.)

Tin Fish's slaw is of the vinegar-based variety, with a light treatment of parsley. It's simple and straightforward, and it's precisely the thing to clear the palate when you're finished with your delicious breaded and fried greaseplate.

The not-so-little mermaid

Today we woke up with so many questions bouncing in our brain: Is there really a place in France where ladies do a dance? Ontologically speaking, are we really all alone on this long journey? And lordy gabordy Mr. Tilapia, how are we going to eat your crispy-on-the-outside tender-on-the-inside sauteed loveliness with you staring at us with your mouth wide open like that? What, are you amazed at the heaven you are on the inside, too?

If you're at La Sirena Gorda, a lovely little Mexican seafood marisquería in the Midtown Global Market, Mr. Talipia's answer is probably the latter. Here, whole mouth-hanging-open-and-all tilapia is served in a spicy-as-life garlic mojo de ajo sauce with rice, guacamole, pico de gallo, and tortillas for only $9.95. Top it off with a traditional hibiscus iced tea for $1.75, and suddenly the bustling spot in the MGM appears magically sun-baked and as hot as summers by the sea should be.

Owner Alfonso Melendez, who also owns Babalu, used to manage the much pricier Oceanaire. But we love the easy-on-pocketbook and made-fresh-daily seafood meals he serves up at La Sirena Gorda like we love these bright April days. The shrimp tacos are fire-hot and scrumptious, the mahi-mahi tostadas marinated in chipotle sauce are what hibiscus tea was made for, and the sopa de mariscos, made with octopus, shrimp, mussels, clams, and calamari ($4.95), is little bits of heaven on earth, under the sea.

La Sirena Gorda, Midtown Global Market: http://www.midtownglobalmarket.org/?q=dining/lunch/38

Road trip for the best donuts in Minnesota

What is it about Tobie's in Hinckley? The huge sprawling complex now includes a bakery, a restaurant, a lounge, a gas station, and a carwash. You can hardly fail to notice it just off Highway 35 north, halfway to Duluth. Perhaps it's the proximity to Casino Country. Perhaps it's the natural place to gas-up and grab a bite. Perhaps it's the homemade old-fashioned donuts, which are just about the best to be found anywhere in the state.

A trip to Spirit Mountain this weekend gave us a reason to stop in and have breakfast. The fare is about what you'd expect from a breakfast-all-day joint. The garish interior is "Country Goose 1984," and the patronage is heavy on flannel and blaze orange. There were bloody marys in more than one booth, and our server was a young man with detailed and available knowledge of snowmobiles.

This immersion into a busy, wholesome, northern Minnesota enclave made us hungry for one thing: those old-fashioned donuts. Hold the frosting, the nuts, the sprinkles, and the filling: You don't want to be distracted from the pure, unadulterated genius of a Tobie's donut. The toothsome little ridge of crunchiness, the melt-in-your-mouth yellow interior, the hint of cardamom.

Yes, the heart of Tobie's is round and brown and has a hole in the middle.

Tobie's, Interstate 35 at Hinckley, http://www.tobies.com/