At Taco Bar, meals are big—and cheap. Photograph by Scott Suchman.

Gas stations might be okay for a bag of M&M’s or a caffeine jolt, but the food is usually best left untouched. We’ve found an exception: Taco Bar, a tiny Mexican-food counter behind the racks of Bud Light inside a Washingtonian (no relation) station. Given its compact size—eight seats inside and 22 more outside—the joint has a long menu and pays surprising attention to detail.

Tortilla chips get fried to order and are a great match for the excellent cilantro-laced guacamole, a mix of smooth and chunky textures. Overstuffed tacos come in six varieties. We like the chicken best, the shredded meat full of smoky and spicy flavor; the ground chorizo is also worthwhile. A fixings bar with freshly chopped red onion, cilantro, and lime lets you customize your meal, and heat seekers can add jalapeños, hot sauce, and four salsas.

There’s a reason so many Chinese immigrants endure long waits to get into the cramped quarters of Joe’s Noodle House (1488-C Rockville Pike, Rockville; 301-881-5518). It’s because eating at this Rockville hole in the wall is like a trip to a Chengdu snack shop—from the brush painting of Emei Shan on the wall to the menu of Szechuan classics, including one glorious street-food staple, dan dan mian, pasta with hot meat sauce.

The man pointed to our corner table, deposited two menus, and marched back to the bar. We were a party of three. I waved him over. Could we get another menu?

“That’s all we have,” he said and retreated to the bar.

We were the only people in the dining room of the Portuguese Club (12210 Veirs Mill Rd., Silver Spring; 301-949-5605), a cavernous, dimly lit space sandwiched between Latin markets in a strip mall that once housed an X-rated movie theater. My friends wanted to leave.

“Let’s give it a chance,” I insisted. Now they were feeling hostile toward me, too.

Anastasiya Laufenberg runs Pupatella, a tiny food cart near the Ballston Metro, and slings a mean thin-crust pizza. Photograph by Jennifer Smoose.

Think “food cart” and you think hot dogs, kebabs, pretzels—not pizza. And surely not classic Neapolitan-style pizza.

Ordering a Margherita, the three-ingredient Naples pizza, at Pupatella, the lipstick-red food cart near the Ballston Metro at Ninth and Stuart streets, I imagined I’d be served a simply sauced and topped pie on a premade crust. I was stunned to see co-owner Anastasiya Laufenberg lay a thin, hand-rolled piece of dough on a wooden paddle, then slide it into a tiny, propane-fired oven. The oven bakes the pizzas at 650 degrees—just like the best boutique spots.

The crust emerges cracker-crisp and nicely blistered, a good canvas for the San Marzano tomato sauce and first-rate toppings Laufenberg lovingly applies—creamy buffalo mozzarella, sharp prosciutto, and freshly torn basil, among others.

I suppose it’s not saying much to claim it’s the best pizza I’ve eaten on the street—it’s the only pizza I’ve eaten on the street. But I’d put Pupatella up against most of the pizzerias in the area. The pies are that good.

And they’re not all that’s good. There are also deep-fried rice balls filled with peas and veggie crumble; a sandwich of sausage and grilled onions that rivals anything you’d find in South Philly; and a fried-to-order doughnut for $2 that tastes like funnel cake and is stuffed with a variety of fillings including a luxurious dulce de leche.

The light marble mousse cake at Flowers Bakery Café is worthy of a special occasion. Photograph Stacy Zarin-Goldberg.

Flowers Bakery Café (14300 Layhill Rd., Silver Spring; 301-438-6087) doesn’t make things easy for the first-timer. It’s nestled in the corner of a Silver Spring strip mall and completely obscured by a gas station.

But the homey, European-style shop does a brisk business, turning out dependable versions of classic cakes, pastries, and cookies. One sweet worth trying: the marble mousse cake. Under its dramatic feather-boa shavings of white and dark chocolate are layers of chocolate and yellow cake alternated with silky dark- and white-chocolate mousses.

Also notable is the Italian rum cake, which isn’t as boozy as the name suggests. It’s also not very cakey, looking more like a napoleon and tasting more like crème brûlée.

Not everything’s a winner: The rugalach can be doughy and skimpy on filling, and the Kahlúa cheesecake, which lacks any hint of alcohol or coffee flavors, is reminiscent of a grown-up Devil Dog.

Still, this is a corner bakery that anyone would be happy to have on the corner.

The reusable plastic trays, cameo appearances of meatloaf, and aproned women scooping up sides all suggest a high-volume school cafeteria. But in at least one regard, the lunch and dinner menu at Saints Paradise Cafe, next door to the United House of Prayer’s world headquarters, is seasonal.

“Got any chit-ter-lings?” I asked one afternoon not long ago, for some reason stressing each syllable of that soul-food classic.

A tired-eyed woman, who’d been working since the breakfast shift started at 7 AM, shot me a baffled look. “You mean chitlins, chil’? Those are a winter food. Don’t got those right now.”

The potato knish at Kosher Sports is some of the best ballpark fare at RFK. Photograph by Sara Levine.

Everyone complains about the sub-par food at Nationals games, and after several soggy sandwiches and dry chicken tenders, I can’t say I blame them. But I have found one diamond in the rough: the potato knishes sold at Kosher Sports, just outside section 321 on the ground level.

At $4.50 a piece, they’re overpriced (like everything else in the ballpark). But you get a generous, burger-sized pastry, with a nice crispy-chewy crust and plenty of mashed potato filling. A testament to their authenticity? My dad’s a native New Yorker, and he knows a good knish. He’s abandoned the Yankees and Mets and is a big Nats fan, but I think he looks forward to these knishes about as much as watching the games.

RFK Stadium, 2400 E. Capitol St., SE.