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FEBRUARY FOOD
OK, OK. I get a lot of flak for being a native Texan and
having a flat distaste for the two most indigenous food
groups here, Tex-Mex and barbecue. It's not that I don't
like Tex-Mex and barbecue. I'm just picky. I don't like any
food whose flavor is abnegated by the overpowering presence
of any ingredient that makes it all taste the same no matter
what's in it. What's the point? Same deal with the chili
gravy and cheese thing. Who cares what's inside an enchilada
when it all tastes identical? Corn masa and cheese and
onions and chili spices just obliterate the flavor harmonies
for me. And I'm all about the harmonies.
And besides all that, it's just weird to go out and eat
barbecue. That's kind of like going to a restaurant and
ordering up a luau. Barbecue is less a meal than an event,
at least in Texas, so I don't go out to find barbecue. It
finds me. Until recently, that is.
Here's what happened. On a road trip to south Texas, I
passed through Lockhart, which is 45 minutes south of Austin
on Highway 183. The city brands itself as the Barbecue
Capital of Texas. It says it right there on a big sign as
you're driving down the main street. Then, within blocks you
start seeing all the barbecue billboards. After a few more
blocks you pass the big huge famous barbecue place that gets
all the attention, Kreutz's Market. By the time I'd passed
all these signs I'd realized that on 183 in Lockhart I was
going to have to make a devil's choice between barbecue and
fast food. So you all know where this is going.
I figured the best way to short-sheet the devil would be to
pick some modest, unassuming little barbecue place and take
my chances. Heading south on 183 through town, I saw one
with cars queued up at the drive-thru at 3 pm, so I took
that as a good sign. Five or ten minutes later I was driving
away with a sliced beef sandwich on soft, gummy, cheap white
bread, a big ol' serving of potato salad and a side of fried
okra, and a large iced tea, all of it for under five bucks.
Plus you could get, like, green beans, pinto beans, blackeye
peas, mac and cheese, every decadent side dish you could
wish for. For cheap. But let me get to the barbecue. The
reason I ordered the sliced beef and not the chopped beef is
because you don't learn anything about the meat if you order
chopped beef. If you bite into a sliced beef sandwich, and
the whole slice follows your teeth right out of the bread,
then something's wrong with the barbecue. I'm happy to
report that I ate the whole sandwich with one hand, behind
the wheel, and nothing slid out, dripped, came off or fell
apart -- except for the sliced beef, which was as fall-apart
tender as you could hope for when you bit into it, and it
actually tasted like barbecued beef and not smoke. And as
for barbecue being an event, I've never thrown a better
party for myself in my car. The fried okra was a big hit.
And the potato salad had just the right spike of vinegar and
sugar. Bet you didn't know potato salad had vinegar and
sugar in it.
The barbecue place turned out to be Chisolm Trail Barbecue,
right off 183 South at 1323 S. Colorado. 512.398.6027
Maybe I'll tackle my Mexican food problem next month.
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