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Part One: Food in Texas

From the prairies to the Gulf Coast, the Lone Star State has it all

by Caroline Stuart

When we think of Texas, it is inevitable—and expected—that legend springs to mind. It is, after all, the second-largest state in the U.S. and home to larger-than-life legends Buddy Holly, Lyndon B. Johnson, Scott Joplin, and Gene Autry. From its panhandle on down to the Gulf of Mexico and the Rio Grande, Texas is filled to its ten-gallon brim with cattle drives and chuck wagon meals, ornery longhorn steer, and oil gushers spewing black gold.

Everything here is big, from its prairies, to its ranches, to its oil baron mansions. Make no mistake, the Lone Star State is known for the serious appetites of its loyal Texans. And the history of Texas food is equally impressive. Over hundreds of years, its culinary heart and soul has been shaped by countless inhabitants, each stirring their own ingredients into timeless Lone Star recipes.

Just sample this diversity for yourself. Early Spanish explorers found Native Americans making fry bread, raising vegetables, and flavoring their food with local pecans. Chicken-fried steak, a Texas classic, was an adaptation of German immigrants' beloved Wiener schnitzel. And in San Antonio, Mexican buhuelos are still a Christmas tradition; Each region has a style of food to boast about, resulting in fascinating cross-cultural creations. In fact, it's not unusual for a pot of fiery chili to share a table with crunchy Southern fried chicken, German bacon-laced potato salad, and Mexican nachos. All to be washed down with margaritas or ice-cold beer.

The state's location provides the backdrop for this rich, varied cuisine. The Gulf Coast supports a thriving seafood industry; Texas wineries have existed since 1662 when Franciscan priests discovered local grapes. Strong culinary influences from neighboring Mexico permeate menus throughout the state. Long ties to the colonial South put peach cobbler on the tables of East Texas, while Cajun cooks from Louisiana introduced gumbos. Other immigrant influences arrived from farther afield, providing more intrigue to the mix: Spanish chorizo sausage and fruit-filled Czech pastries.

Eating establishments vary as much as the fare. Barbecue joints remain justly famous for succulent brisket, ribs, and chicken. Urban cowboys crowd upscale restaurants to savor farm-raised ostrich and foie gras. At steak houses, beef connoisseurs sip martinis and devour steaks that may weigh a full pound. Simply put, Texans in boots and jeans or sequins and silk are making the most of the most, whether their meal came from a Texas cattle ranch or a traditional Mexican kitchen. Legend aside, a Texan's kitchen is ground zero for a meal you won't soon forget. Yahoo!

Culinary History of Texas

From ranch house to wursthaus, the influences on Texas cuisine might surprise you

by Dotty Griffith

In Texas, as in other areas throughout the United States and the world, multiple influences—historic, ethnic, geographic, and climatic—converge to shape the local cuisine. But few places can claim the diversity of Texas. In turn, Texas cooking traditions, along with those of neighboring regions, have been transformed by contemporary chefs into the robust and innovative modern culinary movement known as Southwestern cuisine.

In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Spaniards arrived in the colonies that would become Mexico and Texas. Not only did they bring European culinary traditions, they also brought Central American chiles. It was to be the beginning of a long and delicious relationship which spanned 300 years and left its mark firmly on the cuisine. Flavors, techniques, and ingredients from south of the border remain evident in Texas today. And though Texas broke from Mexico in 1836, Texicans (as early Texans were known) never forsook the culinary staples of tortillas, retried beans, and enchiladas.

The chuck wagon was the country's first take-out restaurant. Drawn by horse or mule, it would follow the roundup twice yearly to the outermost reaches of the ranch and provide food, utensils, bedrolls, and medical supplies to cowboys. The "Cookie" would prepare food for the evening, the cowboys would help in the clean-up, and entertainment by harmonica would precede the night's hard-earned slumber.

In the early nineteenth century, many settlers came from the Deep South, introducing Texans to culinary traditions from states such as Louisiana and Arkansas. Consequently, the food ways of Southerners, including the defining culinary influence of African slaves, left a lasting impression on Texans' tables. Likewise, a strong French heritage—Cajun and Creole dishes arrived from the Texas-Louisiana border and the upper Gulf Coast—is also deliciously significant. From fried chicken to black-eyed peas to Cajun shrimp, many Texans' favorite dishes whistle Dixie.

Gastronomic impact also came from more unlikely sources. Throughout the 1800s, boatloads of German immigrants, fleeing political upheaval, disembarked along the Gulf Coast, particularly in Galveston, and made Texas their home. Many then made their way to the heart of the state, known today as the Hill Country. The influence of the Germans' skill at smoking meat and concocting pungent sausages is apparent in the classic Texas barbecue. And it's no coincidence that a chicken-fried steak—a staple of truck stops and country cookin' chain restaurants—looks a lot like a Wiener schnitzel.

Although seldom recognized for their cuisine, Native Americans—again, mainly through immigration-played important early roles in the state's food history and production. Texas is best known as a territory that was populated by Plains tribes such as buffalo-hunting Comanches, Apaches, and Kiowas. In fact, it has been home to more tribes than any other state. Vast land areas made Texas a logical deportation destination for displaced members of the Choctaws, Chickasaws, Cherokees, Creeks, and Seminoles. Uprooted from their homes in the southeastern United States, they were driven to Texas, where they continued their relatively sophisticated ways with food.

Many tribes were so advanced, culinarily speaking, they could prepare corn forty ways. And members of the Caddos tribe, native to East Texas, were accomplished farmers who raised corn, beans, and squash. Sixteenth-century Spanish missionaries who settled in the area were impressed by the display of cooking skills they witnessed. They described an early form of the tamale in their writings, a sort of cornmeal dumpling wrapped in a corn husk or banana leaf and steamed. Although we think of tamales as having Spanish roots, they are more likely of Native American origin.

The Texas citrus industry was established in the early 1880s when Don Macedonia-Vela planted seedling orange trees at the Laguna Seca Ranch in the Lower Rio Grande Valley. Grapefruit orchards were established in Texas in the 1920s-30s, and the success of these led to the state's reputation as a high-quality red grapefruit producer.

The varied geography and climate of Texas, a state somewhat larger than the country of France, also accounts for a vast array of ingredients, flavor, and techniques. Windy grasslands of the Panhandle suffer extremes of hot and cold. Desert mountains and ranges of West Texas and the Hill Country bask in hot days and cool nights. The fertile valley of South Texas, the coastal plains, and the Gulf Coast enjoy year-round mild temperatures. The farmlands of central and northeast Texas cycle through hot summers and wet, cold winters. And the piney woods and bayous of East Texas swelter in the same heat and humidity that dampens neighboring Louisiana. It's little wonder that the state yields such a variety of foods.

After World War II, Texan cuisine was also spiced up with variety. Up to and during the war, Texas had enjoyed an interesting, although unsophisticated, style of cooking that varied from area to area, but which enjoyed only scant influence from outside.

During the war, however, soldiers from all over the United States brought their tastes to Texas, which had become a major military training ground. More importantly, postwar Texas GIs returned from overseas having sampled foods they had never eaten at home. There were hints of change on the culinary horizon for Texans.

The postwar economy transformed Texas from a rural and largely agricultural state into an economic power driven by oil, finance, industry, and technology. Social changes and an increasingly mobile population created more curious and demanding consumers. Even though a few outposts of culinary civilization existed, such as the Old Warsaw in Dallas, the chili parlors, coffee shops, mom-and-pop cafes, and barbecue shacks remained the predominant eating emporiums.

At the Kim Son Restaurant in Austin, Diem Nguyen (co-owner Kim Tran's niece) holds up the specialty of the house: bo nuong xa or grilled beef roll.

The real change in Texas dining occurred via a source seldom credited with cultural advancement: the state legislature. In 1971, on-premise consumption of alcoholic beverages was legalized. Until that time, beer, wine, or any other alcoholic beverage couldn't be sold and consumed in the same spot—the reality was that customers brown-bagged liquor into even the finest restaurants. At about the same time, food awareness and culinary chic began in earnest on the East and West Coasts, fed by the popularity of television cooking shows and the growing interest in fine wining and dining.

In Europe, they had nouvelle cuisine; in the United States, it was New American. Regional cuisines—developed by young chefs interested in adapting fresh, indigenous ingredients and traditional recipes into haute cuisine—flourished in a national atmosphere of experimentation, curiosity, and demand for innovation.

The change in state alcoholic beverage laws came at just the right time for Texas to participate in the national awakening to regional cuisines. Houston and Dallas were the primary centers for the birth of a culinary style that would come to be known as Southwestern cuisine. Robert Del Grande brought his uniquely scientific style to Cafe Annie in Houston, creating wonderfully cohesive dishes from varying ingredients. Stephan Pyles, then of Routh Street Cafe, began creating fancy dishes out of simple food and was praised by Bon Appetit for "almost single-handedly changing the cooking scene in Texas." And Dean Fearing, of The Mansion on Turtle Creek, caused quite a stir with his innovative and stylish lobster taco: lobster meat rolled in a flour tortilla and served with mango salsa. Despite some conservative critique, consumers loved it and it's now one of his signature dishes.

All this sophistication hasn't dimmed Texans' love for the food of childhood. During spring and fall, barbecue and chili cook-offs abound throughout the state. Rival organizations devoted to the preparation of the perfect bowl of red, and to the consumption of large quantities of beer, hold world championship cook-offs each year in Terlingua, a remote, almost ghostly town in the Davis Mountains of far West Texas. Across the state, Czechs hold an annual festival in the town of West (between Dallas and Austin) to celebrate their favorite pastry, the kolache. San Antonio and Austin still have some of the best Mexican food in the state. And along the Gulf Coast, neighbors gather on a weekend afternoon for crab and crawfish boils.

Mario Cantu of Mario's Mexican Restarant serves up authentic Tex-Mex while a mariachi hand accompanies.

The food of Texas ranges from homestyle fare to more sophisticated preparations turned out by some of the most refined restaurant kitchens in the country. Many Texans are proud to say they appreciate both of these culinary extremes for their unique character and flavor. That's a heritage worth preserving.

The legendary 1.2 million-acre King Ranch lies twenty miles south of Corpus Christi, and was established in the 1850s by Richard King. Pictured here are Darwin Smith (foreground) and Tio Klehurg (background).

The Biggest and the Best of Texas

Fact, fantasy, and wishful thinking

by Caroline Stuart

It's hard for Texans to be humble. Their bumper stickers proclaim "I wasn't born in Texas but I got here as soon as I could" and "Don't mess with Texas/' suggesting that Texas is not only a state, but a state of mind. Typical residents brag that their state has the biggest and best of nearly everything, from the most stars in the sky to the world's biggest moon. They might even lay claim to living in "God's country" and declare that you have to go through Texas to get to Heaven. Doubters, they might tell you, are cordially invited to stick around and see for themselves.

While such bravado might seem shameless to the uninitiated, Texans needn't look far to find facts to support their pride. For openers, the Lone Star State is eight hundred miles wide with incredibly vast stretches of land and open sky, but that's only the beginning. Among its many ranches, Texas boasts the largest in the country. In fact, the King Ranch spreads across more than 800,000 acres. That's more acreage than the state of Rhode Island! In 1853, riverboat captain Richard King bought this South Texas spread for only three dollars an acre for 15,500 acres of land. Then he stocked it with longhorn cattle, at five dollars per head. Today, vast herds of cattle roam the ranges of King Ranch, known as the birthplace of the American ranching industry. And since its inception a century and a half ago, it has founded two American beef brands and produced some of the all-time top running and performance horses.

At the annual Chili Cook-off, held near San Marcos, chili aficionados throw their hat into the ling to compete against other contestants' concoctions. Some participants guard generations-old secret recipes, while other participants ingredients are, well, not so secret.

For the curious-minded who aren't steeped in the traditions of life on the range, Texas also has more dude ranches than any other state. Here, city slickers and cowboy wanna-bes can get a taste of ranch life. After a day in the saddle, a trailside cookout of sizzling Texas-sized steaks, baked beans, home fries, and pecan pie makes a home on the range pretty appealing—and might provide the casual visitor with some insight into the nature of Texan cuisine.

Whether on the range or in city restaurants—and no matter what the dish—plates come to the table piled high with huge portions. But beef is the preferred fare, and no wonder: Texas is the country's leading cattle-raising state, contributing a major share to the local economy. And select cuts of the stuff, served on its own or in a hearty chili, can be had in the state's many popular steak houses.

The Paris Cafe in Fort Worth is known for its famous chicken-fried steak—not to mention its colorful personality.

Texas is by no means strictly carnivorous however. Its farms provide an enormous supply of produce, including much of the nation's winter crop. Wheat, spinach, watermelon, cantaloupes, strawberries, pecans, chiles, peaches, potatoes, and black-eyed peas are all grown here. And Texas sweet onions—similar to Vidalia, Maui, and Walla Walla onions—are quite famous. Some folks (especially Texans) swear that they are the biggest, sweetest, juiciest onions in the world—and mild enough to eat raw like apples.

And speaking of sweet and juicy, some of the finest citrus in the country thrives in the ideal climate of the Rio Grande Valley, including the Texas state fruit, the Rio Red grapefruit. Rice is another important Texas crop. Exotic strains like Texmati, pecan-scented, and jasmine share the soil with the more familiar long-grain white.

If Texas valleys and farmlands contribute some of the best produce and beef to Texan cuisine, then Southeast Texas coaxes another ingredient from the Gulf of Mexico. Everyday, shrimpers bring in huge hauls of America's favorite seafood to be fried, boiled, sauteed, souped, and sauced. Local shrimp are prized throughout the state and shipped nationwide. To fulfill the constant demand, commercial shrimp farming supplements the supply from the Gulf.

With such a variety of foods native to the region, Texans love to celebrate the heritage that has contributed to their cuisine, and they pull out all the stops to do so. From one end of the state to the other, good folks gather the best from their crop, game, and cattle to honor an area's specialties. On the fruity side, you can partake in the Poteet Strawberry Festival, Fredericksburg Peach Festival, and Pecos Cantaloupe Festival. And the Luling Watermelon Thump is punctuated by a seed-spitting competition that the locals take quite seriously.

For those who prefer stick-to-your-ribs samplings, there's the Wurstfest in New Braunfels, with a decidedly German flair; the East Texas Poultry Festival in the town of Center, with a lively flying-chicken contest; the Black-Eyed Pea Festival in Athens; the World Champion Barbecue Goat Cook-Off in Brady; and the Official Shrimporee of Texas in Aransas Pass. And for the strong of tongue and heart, the Palestine Hot Pepper Festival, the "hottest festival in Texas," features a chile-eating contest. Attendees might tell you that, short of a blowtorch, there's nothing too hot for a bold Texan to put in his mouth, and here the chile reigns supreme. But the celebrations don't end there. Barbecue festivals turn up all over, and everyone awaits the results of the granddaddy of chili cook-offs in Terlingua.

But this famous down-home character is counterbalanced by the state's equally famous opulent glamour and conspicuous consumption. For every pair of broken-in cowboy boots dancing the two-step and making tracks to local barbecues and cafes, a stylish couple dressed in glitter and gold savors haute cuisine in Houston, Austin, or Dallas. Whether in a low-down honky-tonk down the road from the farm or at a refined upscale establishment in a big city, it's impossible to miss the genuine hospitality, warm southern drawl, and easy comfortable attitude that emanates.

In light of this fabulous diversity of cuisine and culture, one fact remains: the Texas soil, forever yielding and forever stretching to where it meets the sky, provides.

At La Fogata Restaurant in San Antonio, owner Johnny Cavillo helps his friend Maria eat queso flameado, prepared with Mexican sausage, cheese from Oaxaca, and corn or flour tortillas.

So if Texans speak of their fair state in bold superlatives, perhaps the bragging rights are justified, even if exaggeration does creep in from time to time. Who can blame Texans for taking pride in what is truly one of the most colorful of the United States, for celebrating their shindigs and state fairs, shining cities and sprawling plains, the best beef and barbecue in the world, and on and on. The state is surely blessed with bounty.

Mama Ninfa Law renzo herself serves up some of the best Tex-Mex the state has to offer at her self-titled establishment, Ninfa's, located in Houston.

The Mexican Connection

The exciting fusion of Tex-Mex takes Texas by storm

by Dotty Griffith

Although Texas freed itself from Mexico in 1836, Texans were never so foolish as to seek culinary independence. On the contrary, they've embraced the spicy flavors, colorful ingredients, and traditional techniques from south of the border and made them their own.

Tex-Mex cuisine grew out of the combined cultures of Texas and Mexico. Most of the dishes are simple fare, usually combining beans, corn, and a bit of meat. Tex-Mex icons include tacos, tamales, burritos, fajitas, enchiladas, retried beans, nachos, and Mexican or "red" rice, so-called because it is cooked with tomatoes. Variations on these dishes have spread all over the United States—arguably the world—in the form of fast food, although what is served in New York or Seattle seldom bears resemblance to the real thing.

Mexican cuisine (also known as "Mex-Mex") is dynamic enough by itself. Its source is in simple, no-frills food from a vast number of climates (deserts, mountains, rainforests, and temperate coastlines, for example), and it honors the traditions of Native Americans and Europeans, primarily Spanish. But it ranks as one of the world's most complex and varied cuisines, especially if one bases such assessments on the variety and refinement of sauces. With hundreds of salsas and moles, Mexican cuisine can strike as many chords as French or Chinese. Just imagine what it can accomplish when it's teamed up with Texan cuisine.

You'll find the strongest Mexican connection among Texas residents in San Antonio, where holidays such as Cinco de Mayo arid Diecises de Septiembre are celebrated much as they would be in Mexico. Here, young folk dancers participate in the revelry at the Mission San Josey San Miguel de Aguaya in San Antonio during a Mariachi Mass.

Tex-Mex flair isn't necessarily the same in all parts of the state. Indeed, aficionados will argue that the cuisine differs distinctly from city to city.

San Antonio is the most Mexican of all the Texas cities, and the food reflects that. This is where chili con carne (a bowl of red) was first sold from street carts by women known as chili queens. The carts were an antecedent to the chili parlors that were once as common in some Texas towns as Dairy Queens are today. San Antonio boasts restaurants like La Fogata—"The Torch"—where legendary New York Times writer Craig Claiborne "discovered" queso flameado (flaming cheese), an appetizer of melted white Mexican cheese flamed with brandy. Locals swear by El Mirador, with its distinctive fruit tacos and grilled goat. And no matter where you go in San Antonio, a party isn't a party without antic-uchos (grilled marinated beef or chicken chunks on a skewer).

Tex-Mex in Dallas was originally pretty simple: enchiladas or tamales with what Texans call chile gravy, rice, beans, and, almost exclusively, corn tortillas, plus a praline for dessert. This uncomplicated tradition spawned the two restaurant chains that for decades defined Tex-Mex cuisine: El Fenix and El Chico. Among small local operations, Martin's Cocina and Rafa's stand out, as does Mia's for fajitas. Gloria's offers an enchanting combination of Savadoran and Mexican cuisines.

Joe T. Garcia's in Fort Worth, perhaps the best known Mexican restaurant in Texas, also remains true to its simple roots. Family owned, this rambling restaurant has lots of outdoor seating and covers almost a whole city block.

Over in Austin, a bold restaurateur has dared to innovate. Matt Martinez' El Rancho Martinez has fed generations of University of Texas students cheaply but well. Now with three additional Dallas restaurants under his belt, Matt takes some of his tried-and-true fare and dares to improve it. One great example: the recombinant Bob Armstrong dip—a layered appetizer of guacamole, refried beans, and chile con queso (melted cheese dip)—which is named after the former Texas land commissioner for whom it was created. Also in Austin, consider Guero's, Las Manitas, and Angie's. The latter offers freshly made corn tortillas that you'll never forget. And for a fully authentic experience, Fonda San Miguel is a tribute to true Mexican cuisine.

The Las Manitas ("Little Hands") Avenue Cafe in Austin is an authentic Mexican eatery owned by the Perez sisters: Cynthia (middle) and Lidia (right). On the left is Elsa Lemus, one of the cooks at Las Manitas'.

Ninfa Laurenzo of Houston built a restaurant dynasty on the addictive properties of her warm guacamole salsa. Ninfa's remains one of the city's—and state's—best, retaining the integrity and flavor that made Mama Ninfa famous. Also in Houtson, Blue Agave serves a good up-scale Southwestern meal.

El Paso in the far western part of the state offers Mexican food like nowhere else, although it seems more akin to that of neighboring New Mexico than the rest of Texas, but without the blue corn. Roasted green chiles are the backbone of its daring cuisine, providing the distinguishing characteristic of its uniquely delicious Mexican food. The well-known La Hacienda is now even more remarkable for its setting than for its food, set on four acres and adorned with artwork and historical monuments. And the oddly named, but much loved, H and H Car Wash and Coffee Shop is an El Paso institution where everyone loves to "eat Mexican" in the small dive next to the car wash.

No discussion of the influence of Mexican culture and cuisine in Texas is worth having without paying tribute to some individual Tex-Mex specialties. The Mexican breakfast menudo, a tripe stew, is purported to cure even the worst hangover. While not for culinary cowards, other traditional dishes like migas (eggs scrambled with onions, peppers, tomatoes, and strips of day-old corn tortillas), or huevos rancheros (fried eggs on a corn tortilla smothered in salsa roja) are some of the easiest dishes of the Tex-Mex breakfast repertoire to embrace, especially when served with a side of silken retried beans, made smooth, glossy and incomparable with lard.

Fajitas have enjoyed a rise in national popularity. For years a traditional favorite on South Texas ranches where they originated, it wasn't until the 1980s that a nationwide fascination with regional dishes and Mesquite grilling combined to spread the word all over the state and eventually the rest of the country. A Dallas chain, On the Border, has preached the fajita gospel well beyond the Red River, into 27 states and as far north as Michigan.

Texas also gets credit for several modern Tex-Mex innovations. Whether you love 'em or loathe 'em, ballpark nachos (melted processed cheese poured over tortilla chips with optional pickled jalapeño slices) originated at the Texas Rangers home field in Arlington and are now served all over the country. And the popularity of fruit slush drinks catapulted the classic Mexican cocktail, the margarita, into the frozen drink limelight.

Johnny's Mexican Restaurant in San Antonio is famous for its cabrito—a delicacy of tender young goat meat traditionally prepared in an earth pit oven.

Frankly, it's utterly impossible not to find good Tex-Mex just about anywhere in Texas, although the closer you get to the border, the more likely it is you'll find something authentic and fresh. If you can't find it, just ask around. Every Texan claims to be an authority on where to get the best. At least you know you'll be getting one expert's opinion.

New tires and delicious barbecue, sold in one place. The slow-smoked beef brisket is a specialty.

Where's the Beef?

Chili, butt rubs, and big buns

by Caroline Stuart

Where's the beef? Texas has it! Beef and the backyard grill are practically sacred in the state, and a barbecue is the cornerstone for countless social gatherings. Politicians use barbecues as platforms for delivering campaign promises, and hosts of family reunions use them to ensure a good time had by all. Larger-than-life, cattle-baron-style events are still held, too, and any or no excuse at all will guarantee a crowd, whether the occasion is a church supper or the Fourth of July. But barbecues are not limited to large functions; it's practically mandatory for a Texan to be able to cook outside at home, and most Texans seem to have an insatiable craving to do just that. The many warm months make it possible to move the kitchen to the patio.

The word barbecue is commonly used to refer to the simple process of cooking outdoors. But the methods vary wildly, depending on whether the food is over a charcoal or a wood fire or on a gas grill. Grilling food over a hot wood fire is the oldest method of cooking. Nowadays, the wood fire takes the form of prepared charcoal chunks, or briquets. Grilling is a fast and effective way to cook, but little additional flavor is obtained, especially for quick cooking items. Smoking—that is, cooking in a pit barbecue or wood smoker—uses the heat and smoke of hardwood chips to cook meats slowly, gradually infusing them with the smoky taste real barbecue lovers demand.

The Mikeska brothers—or Barbecue Brothers, as they have come to be known—are meat-on-the-grill connoisseurs. Each of them owns their own barbecue restaurant, in six different areas of the state.

Every self-respecting outdoor cook has his or her own favorite method, temperature, times, rubs, sauces, woods, and specialties, the merits of which are often hotly debated. After the smoking process, some folks season their meat with a rub, a mixture of dried herbs and spices that is massaged into the meat before it is cooked, producing a wonderfully flavorful crust. Rub recipes are limited only by your imagination; sauces and mops are much the same. There are as many secret recipes for sauces as there are folks doing the barbecuing, but among the folks who prefer to add sauce, the tomato-based varieites predominate. Nearly everyone, however, agrees on the requisite accompaniments. Simply put, no barbecue would be complete without baked beans, coleslaw, and corn bread or that thickly sliced, crispy Texas toast. But a slice of white loaf bread will do just fine.

City Market Barbecue, located in Schulenburg, is famous for its jalapeño sausage, and is credited with its invention.

Year-round, you'll find good old-fashioned fun at Texas barbecue festivals or cook-offs. Just look for smoke, and follow your nose to the pits and pit meisters who start tending their smokers before daybreak. Soon, you'll join other barbecue fanatics, hundreds or even thousands, who travel great distances for the lip-smacking taste of long-cooked ribs, mopped chicken, highly seasoned sausage, and the piece de resistance, dry-rubbed brisket of beef.

Beef at its most basic—the hamburger—has had a secure spot in the hearts of Americans for years. Several states have claimed its invention, but Texas insists that it originated here in the 1880s, and Texan Fletcher Davis introduced it at the St. Louis World's Fair in 1904. Regardless, Texans love their hamburgers, and burgers served in Texas can pack in as much as twelve ounces of ground beef. The ideal hamburger is grilled crisp on the outside and juicy on the inside. Piled high with layers of cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, and pickle, and anointed with mustard or mayonnaise, it makes a good meal with a casual Texas attitude.

Beef has a long history in Texas. In 1893, Amarillo's population was "between 500 and 600 people and 50,000 head of cattle." It is used in countless dishes. Indeed, some surveys tell us that hundreds of thousands of the popular specialty known as chicken-fried steak (battered and fried steak) are eaten every day in Texas. Tex-Mex food showcases beef in beef-filled tacos al carbon, and in El Paso the signature dish is shredded brisket salpicon salad.

The Lone Star State works its charm on visitors, many of whom regularly succumb to buying a pair of cowboy boots and tucking into a big steak dinner or rack of ribs before crossing back over the border. Competition among barbecue joints is fierce—you can't drive far in the state without passing one. They're usually modest places where you eat from paper or plastic plates and sit at wooden picnic tables in the shade. But beef and barbecue are subjects passionate enough to make hearts flutter. So who knows, maybe those visitors won't leave Texas after all. Many don't.

Barbecue pork ribs are the specialty of the day at the Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church Barbecue in Huntsville.

Around the State

Creative chefs are redefining Texas cuisine

by Dotty Griffith

Texas chefs are a wild bunch. Many wear cowboy boots in the kitchen. Some strum guitars when they're not working. But all take dead aim at preparing food that is as imaginative and as distinctive as they are. Texas first showed up on the nation's culinary radar screen in the 1980s, when Dean Fearing, Stephan Pyles, and Robert Del Grande spearheaded the Southwestern cuisine movement. Their paths have since diverged in recent years. Dean Fearing, with several books and a television series to his credit, continues as executive chef of Rosewood Hotels and The Mansion on Turtle Creek in Dallas. His signature Southwestern cuisine is sublime.

Stephan Pyles detoured from the "new Texas cuisine" road when he opened Dallas' "global seafood" restaurant, AquaKnox. Later he joined forces with Carlson Restaurants Worldwide (parent company of T.G.I. Friday's), which put him on the trail of expansion, soon opening Star Canyon in Dallas. Now he's part of the chef stampede to Las Vegas, where he has opened a second Star Canyon. Also busy with books and television, Pyles is developing a casual, relatively inexpensive Mexican taco bar concept, called Canonita.

A waitress at the Granite Cafe in Austin clears out of the proverbial kitchen when a pretend quarrel between chefs heats up.

Houston's Robert Del Grande, known for taking cowboy cuisine upscale, continues as the creative force behind the award-winning Cafe Annie. He also created an easygoing taco bar, Taco Milagro, and Rio Ranch Texas at the Hilton Westchase Hotel.

While these three chefs continue to be the state's best-known restaurant personalities, a whole new talented crew is on the rise. And although Houston and Dallas, the state's largest cities, continue to dominate the culinary scene, Austin, Fort Worth, San Antonio, and El Paso are turning out first-rate restaurants and chefs of note and acclaim.

In recent years, Dallas-Fort Worth has become the third largest market for prime beef, behind New York and Chicago. That means steak houses are nearly as common as cowboy boots on the local streets. Places like Del Frisco's, Al Biernat's, Bob's Steak and Chophouse, Chamberlains, The (Dallas) Palm, and Pappas Bros. Steakhouse (in both Dallas and Houston) are always at the top of the list whenever someone asks for a good spot to tuck into a big porterhouse.

Of course, beef is not all there is to Dallas dining. Danielle Custer of Laurels the Westin Park Central Hotel, and Doug Brown of Nana Grill, at the Wyndham Anatole, are two of the city's best young chefs. Custer was even recently named a Food and Wine magazine Rising Star. Their global reach for ingredients, techniques, and daring combinations—including African, Asian, and American flavors—makes their food a wonderful adventure that is garnering national attention.

Chef Kent Rathbun, a disciple of Dean Fearing, was the chef to watch during his stints at the Landmark Restaurant and at Seventeen Seventeen. He went on hiatus for a brief period but has returned as strong as ever with the opening of Abacus, a stunning setting in which he serves equally stunning Asian fusion cuisine to crowds of happy Dallas diners. And elsewhere in Dallas, Tom Fleming is bringing the luster back to the Riviera, which in the past was considered one of the great temples of local French cuisine. Chef Chris Ward is doing double duty, making waves at both The Mercury and Citizen. At the former he serves plates that marry New American food with Mediterranean cuisine, while his more recent venture, Citizen, is a Euro-Asian combination restaurant and sushi bar. But when folks are hungry for good, old Mex-Mex food, that is, classic Mexican dishes, they head for Javier's or La Valentina.

Who concocted the original margarita? It's reportedly named after the woman who invented it—and Margarita Sames (pictured left) will tell you she's the one. Will that be frozen, or on the rocks?

Just thirty miles west of Dallas, in Fort Worth, Grady Spears of Reata serves cowboy cuisine that charms and satisfies. In addition to his Cowboy in the Kitchen cookbook, he has Cowboy Cocktails on the way, plus he has opened a second Reata on oh-so-glitzy Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Back in Fort Worth, Louise Lamensdorf pleases diners at her Bistro Louise, with its suave Mediterranean menu, and Michael Thomson continues to serves up contemporary ranch cuisine at his eponymous Michael's.

Reata Restaurant in Fort Worth-before the lunch rush.

Houston's restaurant scene is one of the most vibrant in the state. Michael Cordua, of Houston's Churrascos and Américas, was one of the first chefs in the country to look beyond Mexican cuisine to the tables of South America. A native of Nicaragua, Cordua gambled that Texans were ready for dishes like churrasco, beef tenderloin with a piquant chimichurri sauce. So far, he's winning.

Other chefs have been busy developing new ideas as well. The latest ventures of veteran Bruce Molzan, of the popular Ruggles Grill and the Galleria-based Grille 5115, is Bistro Latino, specializing in Latino cuisine and live music, as well as the Ruggles Cafe Bakery. As if that were not enough, Molzan plans to build the only independently owned restaurant in Houston's new downtown Ballpark at Union Station.

Tim Keating at DeVille, in the Four Seasons Hotel, sustains a high level of culinary creativity. His fundamentally French cuisine speaks with an American regional accent. Chef-owner Monica Pope also has a French connection. Her Boulevard Bistrot is about the closest thing you'll find to a French sidewalk cafe in Houston. Despite the carefully crafted European atmosphere, Pope's sometimes daring plates are a celebration of the New American kitchen.

San Antonio's Riverwalk is lined with outdoor cafes and attracts visitors from around the world.

Among the old-time venues in Houston is the well-known Tony's, serving Continental and Italian cuisines, as well as Rotisserie for Beef and Bird, which boasts a top-flight wine list. Chef Mark Cox, who spent time behind the stove at Tony's, is now earning recognition with his own place, Mark's American Cuisine.

Austin is home to the state's most enthusiastic food community, a crowd of diehard boosters who avidly embrace Lone Star wines and products. No chefs exemplify the Austin—and Texas—spirit more than Hudson's on the Bend chef-owner Jeff Blank and executive chef Jay Moore, who are known for their ways with wild game and other regional favorites. Their toques are literally afire on the cover of their new book, Cooking Fearlessly: Stones and Adventures. Austin is also the place to find David Garrido's Jeffrey's, one of city's most popular destinations. Garrido, a Stephan Pyles's protege, has also co-authored a lively cookbook called Nuevo Tex-Mex, which delivers dozens of recipes featuring his distinctive take on contemporary Texas cuisine. If you are a traditionalist, you might head instead for Fonda San Miguel, where the kitchen is renowned for its classic Mexican cuisine.

Founded in 1976, the Llano Estacado Vineyards is the first modern winery of Texas. Winner of national and international awards, the Llano Estacado has emerged as the state's fastest growing winery.

San Antonio stretches along the river of the same name. Here, New Jersey native Scott Cohen, chef at La Mansion del Rio Hotel, has taken well to Texas ingredients. His natural culinary curiosity inspired a quick study of indigenous herbs and everyday favorites like tacos and enchiladas, which he has recast in a new, upmarket style. His dinnertime crowds prove that San Antonio's citizens like what he is doing. Meanwhile, award-winning chef Bruce Auden, known for his Restaurant BIGA, opened Biga on the Banks in early 2000. Located on the riverside, it offers New American cuisine with a Mediterranean flair.

Because it is tucked down in the far southwestern corner of the state, El Paso sometimes seems closer in spirit to New Mexico than Texas, but it is actually a culinary world unto itself. Yet chef-owner Trae Apodaca's Cafe Central, with its expertly realized contemporary regional flavors, is a match for any restaurant in the state. Across the street, The Dome, in the Camino Real Hotel, is yet another treasure that calls this community on the Rio Grande home.

Chefs in Texas are growing in number and sophistication. While the state remains proud of its Tex-Mex and barbecue traditions, the men and women behind its restaurant stoves are creating an up-to-the-minute culinary reputation built on adventurous flavors, experience, and, most of all, expertise. In other words, this wild bunch is serving great food to appreciative Texans from one end of the state to the other.

Chef Miguel Ravage-is the founder of Fonda San Miguel, a well-known authentic Mexican restaurant in Austin. One of the Southwest's top chefs, Ravago is co-author of the award-winning cookbook Concina de la Familia and is a James Beard Award recipient.

City slickers and cowboy wannabes learn the basics of cooking outdoors at a dude ranch.