Dining for Dollars

After that, I made a promise to myself: No matter how inexpensive, no more buffets. That was before my notorious friend Mr. Stingy gave me the scoop on his two favorite money-saving venues. He loves Sweet Tomatoes, which has the longest and most elaborate salad bar in town. "But you have to eat there before 4 p.m.," Mr. Stingy said. "That's when they start charging the dinner prices. Oh, and try to get a coupon, and it's even cheaper."

I decided to pass on the salad extrava­ganza, though Mr. Stingy is also a fan of the midtown location of the China Town Super Buffet. Four of these restaurants are scattered around the metro, all serving Chinese, American and Mexican dishes. I cringed at the idea, but he insisted I check it out. "The dinner buffet is $8.45," he said, "and it includes a free beverage."

With my Aunt Josephine's stern voice echoing in my head, I walked into the surprisingly attractive restaurant and immediately saw a good friend happily sitting in front of a plate piled with food. She jumped out of her chair to kiss me and whispered in my ear, "I wear my fat-girl pants when I come to this place."

Like most Chinese buffets, China Town lays out so many offerings that it's easy to ignore the ones that aren't so tasty. I liked quite a lot here: the chili Colorado, the fajitas, the black-pepper pork, the General Tso's chicken and the teriyaki chicken. And I was so full when I left, I wished I had been wearing my fat-boy pants.

At some point during the week, my friend Bob made the horrifying suggestion that we start venturing out to restaurants offering "early bird" dinner specials — the culinary equivalent of an AARP card. I appreciate their value, but when I was a waiter, the geriatric crowd that showed up for these specials didn't tip very well. The fixed-income thing, you know.

But because I was eating my words all over town, we headed to Figlio for its popular weeknight deal, which offers all the pasta dishes on the menu, a Caesar salad, breadsticks and a scoop of gelato for $11.95. I kind of like Figlio, although the dining room is looking so tired and dated that the place might as well start playing Lawrence Welk tunes over the sound system.

But 12 bucks (not including beverage, tax or gratuity) is a pretty terrific deal because the pasta dishes regularly range from $15.75 to $18.96, not including salad or dessert. The early-bird pastas are supposed to be half-orders, but our cheery server, Beth, told us that this depends on who's in the kitchen that night. When she brought out Bob's lasagna (which he enjoyed after sending it back to be heated up) and my tortellini, she announced, "I told you, it depends on who's in the kitchen — these are more like full orders." I was so overwhelmed by the bounty of good fortune that I nearly paid for the dinners with my AARP card.

The Avenues Bistro Brookside also offers an excellent early-bird menu every day from 3 to 7 p.m. with many of its most popular dishes, such as champagne chicken, at reduced prices. But the best time for a cheapskate to visit Avenues Bistro is for Sunday brunch — it's actually the best such deal in town. For $12.95, the snazzy brunch menu lists eight versions of eggs Benedict (including Tuscan, Parisian and Southern variations) as well as pancakes, an Irish breakfast, a Bavarian number (with German sausage and a potato pancake) and nine omelets. The latter range from a traditional cheese version to a mind-numbingly rich dish filled with shaved Italian black truffles, Maine lobster and Port Salut cheese. That's not all, though. There's also a buffet table almost groaning with sweet pastries, chilled shrimp, fresh fruit, meats and cheeses, interesting chilled salads and savory puff pastries.

When something this fabulous turns up, the combination of fine food and low prices feels like winning the lottery. In fact, that's what I discovered at one of the most expensive steakhouses in the city. As a happy-hour attraction from 5 to 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, the clubby little lounge at Morton's the Steakhouse serves tiny filet mignon sandwiches for free.

The bar at Morton's is all dark wood, fragrant with the aroma of expensive cigars and a mostly male clientele. The handsome bartenders make everyone feel like a high roller — my friend Jennifer and I actually forgot that we were on a cheapskate mission. We didn't even feel guilty about eating four sandwiches each — a great little dinner for the cost of her domestic beer and my club soda.