Our list of the most popular features on DMagazine.com in 2011 can’t help but make you hungry, as our dining coverage continued to be the best in the city.

See our top 10 most trafficked stories of the year right here.

last year around this time

Subtle, they’re not. You might call the ties “festive.” He’s got 11 of them now, and he starts wearing them the week after Thanksgiving. Tomorrow and Friday, we’ll show you two of his newest ones.

The ties are Jerry’s way of spreading Christmas cheer. Not that he’s really all that pumped up about the holiday. Asked what he wants for Christmas, he says, “I have no idea. … Usually if there’s something I want, I go get it. My wife says I’m impossible to buy for.” So, what did she get for him last Christmas? Jerry thinks for a second and says, “I don’t remember.”

When I told my friend Rhonda about the VIP invite to a fancy Medieval Times premiere, she said, “‘Tis most splendid,’” and we jumped into my Toyota Avalon (which, incidentally, dates back to the days of yore) and headed down I-35. The whole VIP thing was called into question almost immediately when the lord working the front desk couldn’t locate my name on his scroll. After spelling my name three times, he gave up, wrote down our names, handed us some blue crowns, shoved us into a picture with a princess, and sent us on our way.

Here’s where things get weird. Our fellow VIPs—and there were hundreds of them milling about—were dressed up. Very dressed up. Like Hollywood premiere dressed up. Men were rocking suits; ladies were dressed in formals. We saw a lady in full armor and a few kids—but on the whole, this was a group of adults dressed for an evening on the town. The Woodbridge was flowing. Guests posed for red-carpet pictures with employees. And the jousting started early as everyone jockeyed for free stuff (cheese cubes, Beef Wellington, and “dragon throat,” which just turned out to be egg rolls).

Speaking of free, guess what wasn’t? Drinks. Nothing makes you feel less like a VIP than paying $25 for a round of drinks, but we managed.

Drinks in hand, we mixed and mingled, looked at high-priced merchandise ($35 for a “wench” t-shirt seems high), popped into the privy, and checked out ye olde smoking patio. We were pretty busy. But an hour later, even with the cheese and dragon throat, we were like, “Huzzah! We’re pretty hungry! Let’s get the show on the road!”

Finally, by 7:45 p.m., we were seated at our table of fellow blue VIPs in the Casa Valiente section. Between sips of Michelob Ultra, the gentleman next to me told me he was there because his girlfriend works for the CVB. “There are a lot of people from the CVB here,” he explained. Nothing says “VIP” like “CVB,” apparently. Whatever the case, the place was certainly not full—but it was pretty packed.

Our assigned server Bill introduced himself and gave his spiel in an accent that spanned British to Southeast Texas. I wanted to interrupt him with, “I bid you, an ale, sir!” Luckily, Rhonda reminded me that only moat water (tea) and dragon’s spit (Pepsi) were free and that I would have to wait for a different waiter for adult beverages.

A word about that: you know how at most bars, you order a drink, the service provider comes back with the drink, and then asks you to pay? Yeah, not at Medieval Times. I don’t know if people are walking the check or saying, “I have naught,” after the dude comes back with the drinks, but whatever the case, you will pay upfront.

Anyway, the rest of the night was pretty much fine. The tomato soup, rib, chicken, potatoes, and apple pie were pretty much as I remembered. The bread was different. The rib was apparently larger. But for the most part, everything was pretty much the same. We still ate with our hands. While I’m sure the script and music changed, the premise remains the same. There’s a king and a princess. Guys on horses fight one another. The dude with the falcon comes out, and the falcon does his figure-eight routine. Players die. A guy with long hair wins.  Or, as the press release pointed out, “The live show will still feature two- and four-legged performers with a utensil-free meal serviced in a castle-inspired arena.”

All of which is to say: it’s still awesome.

The new performance officially starts tonight. Go to medievaltimes.com for tickets.

But I care less about that then about the T-shirt he was sporting during the press conference (see the video). It features Rangers’ catcher Mike Napoli dressed as a chef and says “On the Menu.” Apparently it says “Turkey Sandwich” on the back. Here’s an explanation of the shirt.

I humbly request that the Rangers’ mass-produce these, in honor of Napoli’s awesome season.  If they comply, I further humbly request that anyone who currently owns one of those awful antler and claw T-shirts from last year burn that and replace it with one of these.

Let’s make this happen.

It’s not because I’m known around our office for my chic sartorial choices.

It’s not because couture is second only to “air” and “water” on my list of Things Which I Require to Remain Alive.

It’s because at 4:30 in the afternoon on a Monday, the editorial department is shockingly empty. I couldn’t pawn off the task on anyone else. And we’ve got to get it launched.

So. Long story short: We fell in love with this great little website called “Hilltop Glossy,” which focused on the fashions of SMU students, and was run by two SMU film graduates (who also work as church youth ministers) named Kristi and Scot Redman. Their love for their subject matter, and their love for life, came through loud and clear on their site. When we decided to launch our own fashion blog on DMagazine.com, we could think of no better partners for the enterprise.

Check in every day to see what the Redmans’ discerning eyes have found, and come to appreciate again what a truly beautiful place Dallas can be.

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