Far-Out

Far Out sits alone on an industrial stretch, and the setting does half the work: a metal Quonset hut with white walls, potted plants everywhere, a succulent garden outside. It reads like Marfa without the affectation, a room that shouldn't work as a restaurant and somehow feels exactly right for one.

The kitchen backs it up. Texas tomatoes paired with crispy pig ear is the kind of dish that sounds like a stunt and eats like a genuine idea, bright and fatty in the right proportions. The tri-tip steak is the closer, marbled soft enough to fall apart, sitting next to a potato cake worth fighting over. This is a place that understands restraint on the plate even when the room around it is doing something unusual.

Skip the cocktails. They're competent, not the point — order tequila or the black pepper pilsner at the horseshoe bar instead and let the food carry the night.

D Magazine already put it on the map, and a James Beard Best New Restaurant semifinalist nod this year confirms what the plates argue on their own. Far Out earns the trip out.