Black’s Barbecue – Lockhart, Texas

Yabba-dabba-doo!  After finishing another day of toiling at the quarry, Fred Flintsone rushes home to pick up his modern stone-age family for a drive-in movie, an exclusive one-night only viewing of The Monster.  Courtesy of Fred’s two feet, the family then proceeds to Bronto Burgers & Ribs Drive-In for an order of ribs.  Somehow a slim waitress manages to heft the behemoth ribs over to Fred’s car, but when she deposits them onto the carhop window service tray, the vehicle and all its occupants tip over.  Until our visit to Black’s Barbecue in Lockhart, Texas, we believed ribs that big were to be found solely in animated television cartoons. Now we know better! If the mention of Lockhart, Texas triggered involuntary salivation and an acute longing for smoked meats, you’re an inveterate barbecue aficionado.  Lockhart is a meat lover’s mecca, a town so synonymous with barbecue that it was officially proclaimed “The Barbecue Capital of Texas” (Resolution No. 1024) by the Texas state legislature.   Generations of barbecue lovers don’t just visit Lockhart.  They make pilgrimages to Lockhart–purposeful, inspired, meat-seeking missions to the town of some 15,000 souls that four of the most famous purveyors of low and slow smoked meats…

Gourdough’s Public House – Austin, Texas (CLOSED)

Donuts could have gone their entire existences fat, dumb and happy with a following–mostly cops, adult men my age (39) and households with annual incomes of less than $10,000–who expected nothing more out of them than we were already getting.  Essentially just fried or fruit-filled delivery mechanisms for quadruple our recommended daily allowance of calories, sugar and guilt, donuts have always been predictable, unchanging…reliably there for us.  Our expectations for these sweet, ring-shaped fried cakes weren’t exactly very high.  Then something changed.  Donuts became “gourmet,” experiencing a much-needed make-over.   In recent years, several foods have experienced a similar artisinal reinvention, metamorphosing from tasty enough moths into glorious, flavor-packed butterflies.  A more demanding public–especially those of us who self-gloss as foodies or gastronomes–didn’t want to leave well enough alone.  We wanted to explore possibilities, to actualize the foods we love most.  We did it with the most sacrosanct of plebeian foods such as hamburgers, hot dogs, sandwiches and donuts, transforming the prosaic into the inspired with new and different ingredients and preparation methods. No one is under the illusion that these so-called gourmet innovations have supplanted their staid predecessors or converted their loyal sycophants.  There will always be consumer base completely…

Lucy’s Fried Chicken – Austin, Texas

“I‘m only eating the skins, so the chicken’s up for grabs.” ~Joey Tribbiani Several of my earliest memories of growing up in agrarian Peñasco, New Mexico involve chickens.  Some of those memories–such as getting viciously pecked by my Grandma Piedad’s cantankerous old rooster–were rather painful.  Other memories, however, were of mischievous fun my brothers and I had with our friends Estevan and Gabriel Lopez.  Once, for example, we emptied the contents of an entire can of beer onto the corn and grain mixture fed to the chickens.  It was hilarious fun watching drunken chickens stumble about and especially seeing the old rooster become overly amorous with the young chicks but not being able to do anything about it because he couldn’t retain his balance.  One of our favorite spectator sports, a weird sort of mix between football and professional wrestling, also involved chickens. We would catch fresh water sucker fish from the Rio Santa Barbara and toss them into the chicken coop.  The chickens would tear the fish apart and chase each other around the coop trying to take entrails away from whichever chicken had them.  Estevan and Gabriel, by the way, would grow up to make Peñasco very proud. …

Contigo – Austin, Texas (CLOSED)

There are a phalanx of “best of” lists online and in print publications that celebrate restaurants deemed true stand-outs worthy of accolades.  Such lists are obviously very subjective though by no means definitive.  That holds true as well to the concept of restaurant review ratings, a mere snapshot in time valid really only to that reviewer at that very specific date and time of a visit.  Still, when we travel, I study the restaurant scene at our intended destinations, taking the pulse of what lay diners and cognoscenti have to say and yes, how they rate a restaurant.  When we visit a restaurant in a city to which we travel, we’re unfailingly well armed with information and know full well what to expect. More than “best of” lists and subjective ratings, I’ve come to value the notion of “essential restaurants” a concept posited by Eater that recognizes how much the experiential aspects of a meal really matter.  For Eater, “it’s not about the “best” or the most lavish or the trendiest or the prettiest or the coolest restaurants in the country.  It’s an open-armed embrace of all of America’s culinary achievements, a full-throated refrain for the beautiful, satisfying meals we…

Spencer’s Restaurant – Palm Springs, California

  Dean Beck: What do you have against preachers? Clay Spencer: It’s what they preach against I’m against. Dean Beck: I’m afraid I don’t understand? Clay Spencer: They’re against everything I’m for. They don’t allow drinkin’ or smokin’, card playin’, pool shootin’, dancin’, cussin’ – or huggin’, kissin’ and lovin’. And mister, I’m for all of them things. ~Spencer’s Mountain In the family-centric 1963 movie Spencer’s Mountain, hard-drinkin’, hard-lovin’ Clay Spencer (brilliantly portrayed by Henry Fonda) dreamed of building his wife Olivia (the stunning Maureen O’Hara) a beautiful home on a piece of land he inherited on Spencer’s Mountain. My dream was a bit less ambitious. My dream was to take my Kim to Spencer’s Restaurant at the Mountain, “one of the all-time great restaurants in the city” according to The Infatuation, an online recommendation service. To be named an “all-time great” bespeaks of Spencer’s longevity and to the sustained love the Palm Springs dining public has for this treasure set in the historic Palm Springs Tennis Club area at the base of the San Jacinto Mountains just a few blocks west of downtown Palm Springs. Named after the owner’s dog (an award-winning 110-pound Siberian husky), it stands to reason…

Cheeky’s – Palm Springs, California

Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw is widely credited with the aphorism “England and the United States are two nations divided by a common language.” My Kim and I had no idea just how different the Queen’s English is from the English spoken by the colonists until we were assigned to Royal Air Force Fairford. As part of the newcomers orientation, we were required to attend a course in which those vast differences were explained. Many of those differences were rather comedic, but we were warned, “if Yanks aren’t careful, we could perpetuate the dreaded “ugly American” stereotype widely held in some parts of Europe.” We learned, for example, that if an American serviceman walks up to an English lady and introduces himself with “Hi, I’m Randy,” he’s likely to get slapped in the face. Randy has an entirely different connotation in England where it means “frisky.” Similarly, we were instructed that if we were to hear an English citizen declare “I’m going to suck on a fag,” we shouldn’t take offense or feign being shocked. It actually means he or she is going to smoke a cigarette. For us, the term “shag” described a cheesy carpet found in the back…

Butters Pancakes & Cafe – Scottsdale, Arizona

“Spread your tiny wings and fly away And take the snow back with you Where it came from on that day So, little snowbird take me with you when you go To the land of gentle breezes where the peaceful waters flow.” ~ Anne Murray Every autumn, gaggles of geese, flocks of ducks, kettles of hawks and constructions of cranes begin their long, arduous migration from the continent’s northern regions to warmer climes in the South. They fly in formation to more idyllic and much warmer locales such as the Bosque del Apache in New Mexico. Similarly, large numbers of pasty-skinned human migrants from Canada and the northern tier of the fruited plains leave behind the rigors of snow shoveling, sub-zero temperatures, dark winter nights and bitterly disappointing fall television schedules. They journey by every motorized conveyance known to man to the southern United States and Mexico, toting their golf clubs, swimming trunks, SPF-400 suntan oil and bags of money. In polite company, we call these heat-seeking seasonal migrants “snowbirds.” Many of them, especially the blonde ones of the XX chromosome pairing, seem to favor Scottsdale, Arizona. We had thought the concept of snowbirds applied solely to migratory avian and…

The Turquoise Room – Winslow, Arizona

The concept of “fast food” had a far different connotation during the Southwest’s Frontier days than it does today. This is especially true if one traveled via railroad through hundreds of miles of desolate, open country. In the more densely populated and genteel east there were often several cities between most destinations. This allowed for frequent rest and refreshment stops. Passengers rode in relative comfort in Pullman cars with dining cars. In the wide open west, only twenty minutes were allowed during each of the infrequent stops. Further, the food was as miserable as the travel conditions. According to Keith L. Bryant’s History of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway, “meat was greasy and usually fried, beans were canned, bacon rancid and coffee was fresh once a week.” No doubt it was gastronomic distress that prompted the following ditty documented on the book Hear the Lonesome Whistle Blow by Dee Brown: “The tea tasted as though it was made from the leaves of sagebrush. The biscuit was made without soda, but with plenty of alkali, harmonizing with the great quantity of alkali dust we had already swallowed.” One man, an English emigrant named Fred Harvey was determined to change…

Geoffrey’s Malibu – Malibu, California

The walls at Geoffrey’s Malibu are festooned with copies of whimsical framed “doodles” created by Hollywood celebrities and movie stars who have dined at the posh seaside restaurant. Most are tongue-in-cheek self-portraits which probably speak volumes about the glitterati themselves–and not just whether they lack or are blessed with an artistic talent beyond their particular medium. Thematically, all the portraits include a heart. That’s because Harvey Baskin, the restaurant’s previous owner asked the artists to donate originals for publication and sale in support of a charity for children with heart disease. Jane Russell’s heart forms her shapely derriere at the terminus of legs which would otherwise go on forever. George Burns’ bespectacled heart puffs on one of his beloved cigars. Tony Bennett may have left his heart in San Francisco, but at Geoffrey’s Malibu it reputedly spans the Brooklyn Bridge. Geoffrey’s neighbor Johnny Carson, obviously knowing his limitations, drew a simple heart and signed his name beneath it. Woody Allen was clearly in his trademark dispirited disposition when he drew a broken heart The fact that guests can dine at Geoffrey’s Malibu and not even notice the celebrity caricatures is a testament to the spectacular beauty surrounding the cliff-side restaurant…

La Super Rica Taqueria – Santa Barbara, California

Truly legendary restaurants, those which can legitimately be called institutions–and there are very few of them–don’t just inspire return visits; they inspire pilgrimages. Institutions have generally stood the test of time by remaining consistent over time, thriving even against the onslaught of more polished and pristine interlopers. Institutions are beloved beyond the communities they serve, their fame and acclaim growing with each satisfied visitor, many of whom make pilgrimages from hundreds of miles away. One restaurant which has earned the distinction of being called an institution is La Super Rica Taqueria in Santa Barbara, California. Hungry patrons line up half an hour before the restaurant opens because they know that very shortly the waiting time to place an order will be an hour or longer. While they wait, they swap stories about their favorite dining experiences at La Super Rica Taqueria, usually recounting in epiphany-like loving reverence, their first visit or favorite entree. They talk about how far they’ve come either to revisit previously experienced deliciousness or to find out for themselves if the experience matches the hype. You can’t be in line to place your order without someone mentioning that La Super Rica Taqueria was the favorite Mexican restaurant…

Norton’s Pastrami & Deli – Santa Barbara, California

“I flew too close to the sun on wings of pastrami.” ~George Costanza January 14th has been designated “National Hot Pastrami Sandwich day.” The fact that a day has been designated to honor the greatness of the “most sensual of all the salted and cured meats” is wholly unnecessary for many of us. True pastrami paramours in the mold of Dagwood Bumstead, Shaggy Rogers, Joey Tribbiani and my friend Bill Resnik, don’t need a special reason or designated day to partake of pulchritudinous pastrami. To us, every day is pastrami sandwich day! Now, if your experiences with pastrami have been limited to the packaged Boar’s Head offering or worse, an occasional Subway pastrami sandwich, you’re probably wondering what the big deal is about pastrami. Offer Boar’s Head or Subway’s version of pastrami to a foodie from the East Coast or the West Coast, however, and you may as well be offering them snake tartare. If you’ve ever had pastrami from either Coast, you’ll understand why. Pastrami is deli food. It’s not meant to be extricated from a hermetically sealed package or consumed at a chain sandwich shop. Nor is it intended to be lean and trim. Pastrami is a rich…