1557 Route 7, Middlebury, 388-2876

When 7 Nights comments come in, we here at Seven Days read them carefully. Over the last couple of years, we've noticed a downturn in star ratings for A&W Drive-In in Middlebury. A recent negative comment was the final straw that made one of my editors ask me to go check out one of New England's last car-hop drive-ins, once considered so great.

Guess what? It's still great.

Great enough that I drove an hour in torrential rain and thought it was unquestionably worth it.

There has been talk of a change in ownership, which is not correct. Tony Neri has owned the snack shack for years.

118 Pearl Street, Essex Junction, 871-5647

If judging solely on dessert picked up at the counter, I already knew I liked Upper Crust. Since it opened in December, I'd picked up home-baked treats at the pizzeria's counter a few times. The cinnamon roll was soft, buttery and appropriately rich in spice. The chocolate chip cookies retained something similar to a melted-chip, fresh-from-the-oven texture even when fully cooled.

Despite my high marks for the sweets, I didn't try the other food until this weekend.

While perusing the menu, I grabbed a tiny plastic cup of chili from the self-serve soup station. The sample cups are free — a tool to assist in choosing a full-size portion. The chili was mildly spiced, and full of tomato and earthy chile powder and cumin. But I had to save room.

To be fair, it seemed that we should order both a pizza and a sandwich, the two major food items at Upper Crust. But first, a salad.

As you can see in the photo, the vegetables' colors are bright. The friendly waitress admitted that dressings at Upper Crust are not made from scratch, even though the dough, sauce and baked goods are.

2 North Winooski Avenue, Burlington, 802-951-1652

Yesterday, my longtime favorite sandwich shop, PK Café in Colchester, closed. Though the owners are looking for a new space, there's a chance I'll never savor my beloved turkey, cheddar, apples and cranberry mayo on homemade focaccia again. I'll miss you, Vermonster.

That's why I have to seriously cross my fingers for the Vermont Sandwich Company. Three locations have closed in recent years, leaving only the stores in Burlington and Williston.

Where would I be if I could no longer sup on "The Pilgrim?"

55 Main Street, Burlington, 864-5513

When Big Fatty's BBQ first opened on Main Street in Burlington, I was excited. Good barbecue in Vermont is extraordinarily hard to come by. I can rely on the Belted Cow on Tuesday barbecue nights or make the trek to one of Curtis' locations in southern Vermont, but the rib landscape in the Burlington area is barren at best.

After my first trip to Big Fatty's in 2007, I didn't even consider it among my options. I found the selections overpriced and underflavored. However, after four years, the craving grew overwhelming. It was time to give Big Fatty another chance...

A weekend of hopping Restaurant Week events had left me ravenous by Sunday evening, but without a reservation anywhere. Tantalizingly close to the Palace 9 (where Big Night was screened) was Shelburne's The Bearded Frog, so I snuck out during the film to reserve a table.

The place had a buzzy ambience at 8 p.m. on a Sunday. Though I'm not a vegetarian, I was drawn to the panko-crusted, crispy tofu cakes, one of the appetizers on the $25 menu. They came atop a tuft of arugula and drizzled with a pale-yellow lemon-caper emulsion. In the right hands, tofu can achieve a deeply satisfying creaminess, as did these — each crunch was followed by a mouthful herbed cream.

My entreé, an oversized, buttermilk-marinated pork shank, came coated in a sweet maple-bourbon demi-glace. A confetti of roasted, shredded Brussels sprouts and cabbage clung to its sides as well, so that each forkful was a melange of moist meat, papery, charred vegetables, and soft sweet potato mash. Despite the warn spring weather, it was an autumnal experience.

We were well sated by the time the dessert's arrival stunned us into silence. I looked around the room and saw others, like me, staring at the jangle of triangles and drizzles on their plates, as if they didn't want to disturb the composition. In my case, a trio of finger-sized churros were drizzled with melted-chocolate ganache, topped with white mezcal-infused ice cream and anointed with chorizo powder. The bitterness of the chocolate wended its way around the churro's crunchy edges like a skintight dress, each bite chased by faint cinnamon and chile.