"The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for" ... Oscar Wilde
Texas BBQ Trail
And now for something completely different. This one goes out to Tara, just so she doesn’t get too homesick, and yes I think I did quote you on my last post, Happy Sinterklaas Cat A & Cat B. ‘The Texas BBQ Trail’, article & photo taken from Chile Pepper Magazine, June 2006.
Rules of the Roadtrip
People who get between me and barbecue drive me nuts. On our first night, at the spur of the moment, we decided to hit Southside Market before it closed. As we made a mad dash to Elgin, I didn’t figure that a lot of folks who didn’t have a barbecue deadline would be moseying along in front of me. I was tortured by thoughts like, “These people live here; they can eat this sausage anytime they want. They probably have eaten some today, and their slow driving is going to keep me from my sausage.” Our mad dash turned out well though-smoky and greasy and deliciously well.
Almost all the barbecue near Austin is good. No matter what you’ve heard about a given place, you should try it. As you drive from Austin to Elgin, there is a billboard: Meyer’s-Voted #1 BBQ by Elginites! I thought they were just trying to lead the tourists away from Southside Market. Chris Elley told me to believe the sign, and he was right.
Know your timing. Sixty hours is nowhere near enoug time to try all of the good barbecue in and around Austin. It’s like going to Disneyland two hours before they close. Don’t worry about missing Space Mountain – just enjoy your time at Pirates of the Caribbean.
Get your facts straight. I’d picked up the myth that all the great ‘cue was outside Austin. Perhaps the romantic notion is that the real stuff has to be out of the way. John Mueller’s, Iron Works and The County Line proved otherwise.
Know your itinerary. Really know your itinerary. On our trip with Chris Elley, he said we were going to lunch in Lockhart. I figured I could handle a big lunch, and spend the rest of the day digesting. What he didn’t tell me was that we would be going to three more places in Austin. Really, really good places. By the end of the day, I had become paranoid. Someone, perhaps my own wife, was trying to kill me with barbecue.
Know your weakness. Barbecue cooks don’t understand the concept of “a small sample.” They love to plop a big plate of meat in front you. You tell them “just a taste” and they just keep carving. If you find yourself locked in a BBQ joint with a big plate of brisket in front of you, you’d better hope it’s not John Mueller’s. His irresistible crunchy-on-the-outside, juicy-on-the-inside brisket and his homemade hot sauce were among my favorite things, in Texas. This is the point where BBQ heaven tipped its way to BBQ hell.
Ask the locals. After a big barbecue breakfast in Elgin, we were in the embarrassing position of ordering a single rib at Taylor’s finest – granted – Louie Mueller’s ribs are bigger than most. We asked a group of diners where we should go next, keeping in mind that we would end up at Southside. “You’re going to Southside?” ‘ one replied. “Go to Vencil’s. You’re gonna want to throw rocks at Southside once you eat sausage at Vencil’s.” Then he looked me up and down and confided, “It’s sort of a rough-roadhouse place by the railroad tracks.”
Take your time. After dashing around central Texas like lunatics, Vencil’s in Taylor was the perfect place to slow down and spend the afternoon. The prices are low. The food is excellent. The jukebox has The Texas Tornadoes and Flaco Jimenez on it. Hard liquor and profanity are prohibited – the latter of which I accidentally violated upon my first bite of their great sausage. But I was forgiven by all those present.
We made it back to Southside to stock up for the ride home which led to the penultimate lesson: Styrofoam Coolers Don’t Fit in the Overhead Compartment. And airlines won’t stow them with the luggage. Luckily for me, there was an empty seat on the plane and a flight attendant who understood that barbecue should never go to waste.
Finally, keep a pair of comfy pants for the ride home. Kevin Whelan
And now to get ready for snow!!!
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