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