Texas Dossier

Texas barbecue is distinctive in two ways: an emphasis on beef and a disdain for sauce. Most of this derives from the frontier/cowboy experience. If we come back in a century or so, we might see the Mexican spice influence starting to entrench itself. But alas "BBQ" and TexMex are different institutions today. We got a taste of both, with emphasis on the BBQ of course. (Though Nicole disputes this point, given that we did have 6 TexMex meals in a row.)

In Houston, we were very graciously hosted by Nicole's Uncle Charlie and Aunt Anita, who sheparded us to the local standard bearer, the County Line BBQ. It was there that we met our first beef rib of the summer, and we must say, quite intriguing. Aunt Anita insisted that what we were eating was not the best the County Line was capable of---we suspected that service and preparation were a bit lax after the intensity of the July 4th weekend. Afterall, we were there on July 5th. Nonetheless, the big meaty beef rib was a welcomed change: thick, smoky, and succulent.

Next stop was San Antonio, where we detoured a bit from BBQ a la Americain for a sampling of the finest TexMex fare that the state had to offer: Taco Taco. What makes their tacos so good, we determined---and much to our surprise---were the *tortillas*. Honestly, we had never experienced anything like the fluffiness and crispiness that Taco Taco had to offer. Apparently these tortillas are a vehicle for a breakfast that is to die for. We were in for lunch, and the carne guisada, fire grilled steak, and the "puffy" chicken taco were knock outs.

Houston and San Antonio, however, were both preparation for the main event: the BBQ captial of the Lone Star state (nation?), Lockhart.

Let me try to paint the picture here. The town is about 40 miles off the main highway, beyond expansive ranches and reedy hills. It's all American, with painted wood signs and colorful town hall in the middle of the square. It is here that specialists in texas BBQ have been plying their trade for generations. The style is beef-centric, slow cooked and smokey, and, generally speaking, sauceless.

We sampled the fare at Smitty's Meat Market, where you enter into a smoke-filled hall and walk past open fires that prepare the hickory and oak charcoal that are then loaded into the base of the 20-foot wrap-around pit. You are basically standing over the pit, with smoke coming into your face, when you are asked to order your meat by the pound. We went with a hunk of their brisket and their smoked beef sausage. The taste was good: The brisket had a "jerky-like" finish, the classic red "smoke ring", and was pretty (although not greatly) tender on the inside. The sausage was nice: we appreciated the beefiness. It did taste a bit like a desperate bratwurst, perhaps without the necessary pork and veal compliments necessary to make the real deal. In the end, the experience was fun and unforgettable, but we wondered: would Texas be able to outshine what we knew was on the horizon: Kansas City? Stay tuned.