Beefing Up Eats in Oglethorpe County

If you ask a resident of Crawford, Georgia, how many red lights his city has, he'll tell you, "Just one."

If you ask a resident of Oglethorpe County in Georgia how many red lights her county has, her answer will be the same. Hint: It's the same light.

For the longest time, that red light had an old car dealership on one side. I drove past it every time I went from Athens to Evans and vice versa when I was in college. It had some antique cars in the showroom and new wheels outside. The dealership closed a couple years back and the beautiful white building sat vacant. Crawford is a rural area — all of Oglethorpe County is, honestly; there's a reason why it only has one stoplight and that's because there's a lot more farmland than anything else — so part of me wasn't overly surprised to see a big, shiny place like that close shop in a tiny city. But I did wonder what would go there next.

I'm never a fan of progress for progress' sake. Small-town Georgia shouldn't be overrun with commercial businesses and fast food franchises [y'all don't even get me started on That One Giant Clothing Store That Opened In Downtown Athens ...], in my humble opinion. But at the same time, that was a gorgeous, historic building. It had potential. And I'm not talking about the "big developer from big city wants to tear it down and build high-rise apartments" potential. I'm talking this place could be anything and draw people to Crawford, people who may learn to appreciate the charms of this little place as more than just the only place in Oglethorpe County with a stoplight.

A former Ford dealership gets new life as Crawford,
Georgia's latest restaurant.

One day a few months back, I scrolled through Facebook and stopped at a picture of a familiar building. That old dealership was getting a makeover as a barbecue place! And even better, it was going to be owned by some of my favorite beef friends in the state, the Gretsch family. Yes, it's the same family that owns the guitar company.

The first day I saw the "coming soon" sign up on the building, I was so excited that I accidentally forgot that I was at a stoplight and I drove right through it. Sorry Oglethorpe PD; that's my bad.

G Brand BBQ (the name coming from the "G" brand the Gretsch family uses to market its Angus beef cattle, under the moniker Gretsch Brothers Angus) opened to the public last week, and y'all know I was there opening day!

I rolled up after work and was a little concerned I wouldn't be able to find a parking spot. Let me tell you, the place used to be a car dealership, but it barely had space for the amount of BBQ fans coming out to eat and to support this new venture for the Gretsches! The building itself is spacious, with plenty of seating on the right-hand side and a large waiting room area and to-go counter on the left. There's nothing fancy. It's Southern, it's homey, there's some pig decorations; it's exactly what I want a barbecue place to be like.

The menu is straightforward: you choose your meat(s) and your side(s). Plates come with two sides, or you can snag favorites a la carte. Meat choices include chicken, St. Louis ribs, babyback ribs, pulled pork and brisket. Sides are stew, beans, coleslaw and applesauce. I got JE a half-pound of pulled pork, which comes with bread in case you want to make a sandwich, and for myself ... I couldn't help but get the brisket sandwich plate.

Pause for reflection ... I met the Gretsch family in about 2012 or '13, not long after I started working as the communications director for Georgia Cattlemen's Association. Now, when you work for Georgia Cattlemen's Association, or you're a GCA member, or you know a GCA member or maybe you just show up for a random membership meeting, you don't eat fish. You sure as heck don't eat chicken. You can maybe get away with pork. But you are 99.999 percent more likely to be eating a hamburger, a steak or brisket for whatever meal is provided. We ate A LOT of beef brisket. So it seemed completely appropriate to indulge in some nostalgia on opening day of G Brand BBQ.

Brisket is the cut of meat that comes from the chest area of a beef animal. Think of it as the beef version of the chicken breast. Because that's a pretty heavily muscled cut of meat, it's best done rubbed down or marinated, then slow-cooked or smoked to get it nice and tender. Then you can chip it or slice it. My sandwich was chipped brisket (a little messy; don't be me and wear a white shirt, as you will regret that life choice) and I could've eaten two, I was so hungry. The meat had that iron-rich flavor of beef and was a little dry, but it had such good taste that was fine by me.

The stew was a tad sweet, thanks to the corn inclusion. I loved its consistency — very even, not overly chunky, but not runny, either. (Wow, that was a lot of commas in that sentence.) It got eaten straight with a spoon, but I bet if there was an option to serve it over rice that would be incredible. Since I'm into spicy food lately a touch of heat wouldn't have been a bad addition.

And the slaw! There are only two places I will now willingly eat slaw, and this made the list. It's crunchy, a little sweet and tastes good on top of a brisket sandwich or mixed with the stew or by itself. I love that it had mayonnaise as the binder, but it wasn't watered down and gross like a lot of Southern slaws tend to be in my mind.

A brisket sandwich, stew and slaw from G Brand BBQ.

Now, I didn't get dessert ... but G Brand also has dessert options, including banana pudding, peach cobbler, cakes and brownies. Some are provided by a local bakeshop called The Crafty Spirit, and I believe the 'nanner puddin' and cobbler are in-house. By the time I got there, it looked like there were only a couple slices of cake left, so that's going to be a return trip treat for sure! And maybe I'll grab some peach cobbler while I'm at it (y'all know how I feel about bananas ...) for, you know, taste-test purposes.

I'm going to be hard-pressed not to stop in on every single dad-burned trip to and from Evans. It's hard for me to say "no" to BBQ, especially when there's so much more on the menu left to try! Like, I am pretty sure the ribs were gone within hours, so they were long-gone by the time I was able to slip out that far down 78. In fact, they were sold out of everything on opening day before 8 p.m!

Between the food and the family who owns it, I think G Brand will be a destination joint for Athens townies, Georgia fans on their way into town and residents of Oglethorpe and Oconee. You should find time to stop in, too. I'm a firm believer in supporting our farmers and entrepreneurs. Patronizing these locally owned, family-run, one-of-a-kind businesses is what keeps them around. And as much as I love me some McDonald's French fries ... there's a whole lot more charm to your meal when you can take a left just after a county's only stoplight and know your brisket sandwich purchase helps keep a family farm afloat to feed the rest of your country.

Comfort Food + the New Normal

Food has always been a source of comfort for me. Not necessarily in the sense of when I'm sad/have feelings I eat a lot (though I fully admit I'll grab a piece of chocolate to sate those emotions), but more along the lines of associating food with a sense of comfort; of happiness or unhappiness.

When I'm happy, I eat. I eat good food. Quality ingredients. Local restaurants. Award-winning chefs. Go out of my way to find incredible things to put on my tastebuds. The typical foodie shit.

When I'm — I hesitate to use the word depressed, because I have never been diagnosed with depression, and I don't want to negate the serious implications associated with this battle so let's go with — less-than-happy, I still eat. But I eat food that's not "good." It's usually fast food. It's usually me being lazy. It's usually me fighting this overwhelming sense of "I'm not good enough." I can't explain this feeling. I can't control it, but I got very good at hiding it. And for a good, long while, I got very good at hiding it from myself.

I would wait up late at night at eat pizza or chicken fingers or a QPWC or (my personal favorite) a take-out Philly cheesesteak when J got home, sometimes as late as 1 a.m. I would wake up the next morning and lay in bed, fighting the urge to get up, wondering what was so wrong with me that x-part of my life was such a failure. My small business failed. My job was a shambles. My life was a shambles. But I had a constant. I had to be the strong one, because though I do not have clinical depression, I was deeply, deeply in love with someone who fought mental battles I could never imagine; only do my best to be there for him. I thought I was sure that things would be OK. If we could only get over this hurdle. That obstacle. Fight another battle of one of us having these awful feelings that we could do nothing right.

We couldn't. I'd like to think we tried our damndest, in our own ways. But sometimes things aren't what they seem.

Getting there.

As a suddenly single 28-year-old, I had a choice to make. J made the one that was right for him, and though it took me a couple months to realize it, I think the choice he made was the right one for both of us. There was a new normal to get the hang of.

During the past few months, I changed my eating habits and how I was living my life, and the happiness level has upped itself. Slowly but surely, I'm able to be at a weight I am beyond happy over and still treat myself to good food that makes me happy, eaten alongside people that make me feel the same way.

I met new people. I dance a lot. I'm not 100 percent back to being my sassy sexy self, but I'm getting there. And if you're reading this, you probably know what role you play in that. So thanks a ton, humans; y'all da real MVPs. I've had to get used to a new normal. And as much as it sucked when it began, now I'm excited about the future. It's still terrifying, of course, as any change is for me. But again, we're getting there.

One of the ways I'm healing is making new memories with my comfort food. Those places J and I went together as two people who we thought would one day get married ... now they're places I am slowly reintroducing into my life with different people. One of these days I'll write about North River Tavern (probably the onion rings, to be completely honest; they're SO GOOD). But today I'm going to give y'all a little snippet of Sandy Springs Diner.

This is a place J and I went together. We went with his parents (they found it, so shout-out to them for this one!). We went with Daddy after he and I ran our 5K last September. And today, it's a place I can go with family or friends and still love it just as much.

And by "it," I mean the French dip sandwich. Like holy crap.

Having grown up in the South where our idea of a diner is WaHo, I can't say I have much experience in the realm of diners. Note to self: write about The Majestic and The Grill. But I have it on good authority from J's parents that this is precisely what a diner should be like. It's not much to speak of, atmosphere-wise, with burgundy (my least favorite color next to beige) as the main hue in the decor, but the food man. The food.

In the unfortunate off-chance you are unfamiliar with French dips, they are a hoagie roll stuffed with cheese and thinly-sliced beef served with a side of au jus to dip in. In the extra unfortunate chance you are unfamiliar with the French dip served at Sandy Springs Diner ... y'all just come on up and I'll treat you to one. Seriously. This is not a joke. I need more human interaction and more of this sandwich in my life.

The French dip at Sandy Springs Diner

The dip at Sandy Springs has three key components that make it stand out: the thinly sliced tender roast beef; the perfectly toasted hoagie roll (crispy just on the crust and fresh-baked soft on the inside); and the dipping sauce. Au jus, by the way, is the fancy French way of saying "meat-flavored oil to dip a sandwich into." This au jus is au yeah. The bread soaks it up, the meat soaks it up, so each bite melts in your mouth.

It's the second-best French dip sandwich I've ever had. The first is at a restaurant in Aiken, South Carolina, and honestly the main reason that one gets top spot is because of the fries. At this particular restaurant, or at least the last time I ate there (it's been at least a decade, whoops) the fries were divine. That perfect middle ground between McDonald's and potato wedges (at Sandy Springs Diner, the fries are more akin to potato wedges).

But I can get over the whole fry thing in honor of having this French dip within walking distance of my house, especially now that I am able to walk there to make new memories with different people. I heard once from a wise woman named Elle Woods that walking is the type of exercise that gives you endorphins.

Endorphins make you happy. And determined women who are happy with a bellyful of this sandwich don't want to kill people. So really, this French dip is a service to humanity. You're welcome, world.

I'd Tap(as) That

Once upon a time (approximately until five years ago), I thought the fancy French word "hors d'oeuvres" was pronounced "whores due vors" and therefore was a synonym of "or dervs." Knowing this about myself, it was with great trepidation I accepted a dinner invitation to a locale with an entire menu dedicated to the Spanish version of "whores due vors."

Thankfully, having once almost added a Spanish minor to my two college degrees, I already knew how to pronounced "tapas" and didn't have to embarrass myself in front of the wait staff. And in case you don't know how to say it, repeat after me: "top ahs." Not "tap ass." Just a general FYI on that.

Tapas are the tiny dish of choice at Barcelona, an Atlanta-area wine bar with two locations, one in the Inman Park neighborhood and another one on the Westside, near my best friend Kayla's home. I'd been stuck in the city all day for work, and when that happens, what better way to wind out the day (read: avoid rush hour traffic) than meeting up for a choice bev and bites? After getting lowkey ditched for a whiskey mandate with Kayla's husband, Kayla convinced me to come with her to this place and have an impromptu girls' night.

Now, let me pause to tell y'all a story about the difference in my and Kayla's tastebuds. It is no secret I am going to order the most off-the-wall meat-related thing on the menu. Kayla once came close to tears because the Sigma Alpha national sorority put mayonnaise on her sandwich in a boxed lunch. I say this because it's an indication that Barcelona offers small and shareable plates for the picky eater and the experimental diner alike. But you should probably not bring your kids.

Tapas are an interesting thing because there are a couple different ways to order them. You can each order one or two and share them, or you can order one or two each and eat those as your meal (and swap bites or something). With the portion sizes at Barcelona, I definitely recommend ordering at least two if you're hungry. I finished both of my dishes and was sufficiently full, but not stuffed, and the richness of my selections made for a satisfied stomach.

Tapas are also the way to go if you're me and are therefore one of the most indecisive eaters on the face of the planet. I'm really good at narrowing my choices down to a top two or three, and then it comes to crunch time and the poor waiter is still waiting on me to make a final call. But with tapas, I know I'm going to get two things, so it's perfect. No pressure!

Though the menu has a great variety of appetizer-size options, I ordered the grilled calf's liver with pearl onions, as well as the roasted bone marrow.

The liver and onions arrived first, and were pretty remarkable. Not that I've actually cooked it myself, but after eating it other places, I find liver can get tough pretty easily. This at Barcelona was well-done in terms of texture and flavor, and the recipe is based on that of famed Basque chef Gerald Hirigoyen. His native cooking traditions come from northern Spain, and though I'm not sure of the nuances of what makes the Yankee Spaniards' cuisine differ from the southerners', I can tell you he did wonders with this recipe. The liver had that expected iron-y flavor, but had a light, meaty glaze on top and a delicate smokiness imparted from the grill. I also appreciated that it was cut in chunks instead of slices (probably a note that helped the liver not get overcooked). I feel the onions fell short, however. Where the liver was cooked to excellency, the pearls could've used a few more minutes. I prefer pearl onions so cooked they melt in your mouth, and these were still nice and crunchy.

The real star of the meal though was the bone marrow. Also something I've had before (at the fabulous Spence restaurant, RIP) ... but holy cannoli Batman. This was the creme de la creme — or, since we swapped from French terms to Spanish earlier in this post, lo mejor — of bone marrow. Y'all ... I ate this meal like, two weeks ago and I can still remember how perfect this bone marrow tasted. Heavenly days.

In consistency, bone marrow is easiest compared to meat jelly. Like, I know that sounds unappetizing. But trust me on this one. It's not gelatinous, necessarily, so imagine a lighter, sponge-y textured substance (Yoplait Whips? Maybe?) that spreads easily across the rustic grilled bread it's served with. You scoop a small amount of the buttery, luscious marrow on top of a bit of bread, then layer it with the pepperoncini relish (which is equal parts salty, tangy and spicy) and you've got a mouthful of texture and flavor like none other. Foodgasmic, honestly. Sitting here writing about it I would so go back. Like right now. Immediately. So if you're in the vicinity, get in your car at your earliest convenience and pit stop.

OH! And I forgot to mention, this place is insanely affordable. The only reason my meal was more than $20 was because I got a drink. Which means ...

Boozy Bonus >> I have no idea what the name of this cocktail is, but it's what I got, and it's so tasty. The drink has Four Roses bourbon, maple syrup, lemon juice, lavender bitters and cardamom. I couldn't taste any lavender (which is cool by me, because flowers aren't my favorite thing to eat), but I love how the syrup and cardamom brought out a delicious cinnamon- and vanilla-y quality to the bourbon. The lemon juice added brightness, perfect to spruce up a cocktail that otherwise may have been more suited to fall. Major points to Barcelona for also serving this with one of those ginormous pieces of ice — greater surface area means it melts slower so your drink is less likely to get watered down — something I hope all spirit programs get behind if they haven't already.

Kayla also recommends the sangria, but be forewarned: the red sangria looked more purple than crimson while we were there, and the white sangria has St. Germaine + wine, so imbibe at your own risk. Both were excellent and went quickly.

Suffice to say, we'll be tapping those tapas again sooner rather than later. There's a slew of cheeses I want to try, plus the top-recommended octopus (pulpo) ... and you can order an entire pig's head for the table. I'm so down for that.

My Meatloaf Has Antlers.

Disclaimer: Please excuse terrible iPhone photos. I promise I'll do better next time. :)

One of the things J and I do at least once a month now (OK, starting last month, but whatever) is go to dinner and a movie. We kicked off this new tradition by heading to one of those fancy theaters with the reclining cushy seats and cocktail bars to see Benedict Cumberbatch star in his Marvel debut: "Doctor Strange."

Before I tell you about dinner let me confess to being a Cumberbitch. Yes. That is what my man Benedict's fanclub of fangirls is called. We are Cumberbitches. If anyone is looking to get me a Christmas present, a Cumberbitch shirt would be amazing. Preferably with a cape so that I can pretend I too am a Tilda Swinton-devotee-time-traveling-time-bending-mirror-dimension-fighting-superhero-who-takes-on-Mads Mikkelsen-the-white-ninja-with-a-cape-related-to-Aladdin's-magic-carpet. That is the plot of the movie, in case you did not get that part.

On the way out, J looked up nearby restaurants that were open and said, "Hey, here's Sage Woodfire Tavern. I've always wanted to go there since like high school."

That's the super-interesting story of why we decided to go here.

My first impression? Oh shit; I did not dress appropriately. See, the word "tavern" in the restaurant title is a tiny bit misleading. When I think tavern, I think hyper-masculine place with beer served in flagons, burgers, steak, mounted game on the walls ... you get my drift. Sage Woodfire Tavern is not that kind of tavern. It's a dark, moody restaurant on the inside with glossed wood tables and candlelit accent lights with live music and high-class decor. "Sage Woodfire Super Fancy Restaurant" would have been a better name. Thankfully, the dark lighting hid my ripped jeans and Converses from public view.

We started off with an appetizer of calamari, which is fried squid. Delicious. There are two ways to mess up fried squid: one, cook it so it's too tough (ew) or two, bland breading (ugh). Sage did neither of those things! The calamari was lightly breaded in a seasoning that had just enough kick to complement the spicy dipping sauce it was served with, but not enough to overpower your palate. The texture was also nice. Each bite required chewing, but it wasn't like you were trying to gnaw through raw, chilled, uncooked pork fat or anything. I thought the garnish of red pepper strips was a weird touch, but I ate them anyway because I do enjoy red pepper.

Along with the appetizer, our server brought bread. The bread was whatever. The dipping oil though? Y'ALL. I would go back just for that. Salt. Oil. Herbs de provence (I asked). Balsamic drizzle. Green onions. Tomatoes. The flavor in this little bowl was amazing! It had everything I could possibly imagine to mix in a dipping oil and then some. Like imagine this on a pasta dish, right?! Hold on; making a mental note to try that.

I had to do some major resisting to avoid eating all of the bread.

The star of the show, though, was this insane meatloaf thing I ordered. LOOK. IT HAS ANTLERS. My meatloaf has. antlers. I have never seen a garnish like this. I'm not sure what I think of it, especially since being a weird meat science person I happen to know that none of the three types of meat in this meatloaf have antlers (beef, veal [baby beef] and pork). But it caught my attention, for sure.

Let me break this entree down for you.

The meatloaf, as I mentioned, was a combination of Angus filet mignon, veal and pork. Those are all three pretty decadent in themselves, but combined? I have never eaten a meatloaf with this much depth of savory flavors. Angus is one of the most common types of beef cattle in America — they're the big black ones you'll see in fields all over the Southeast, especially. It's so popular that it has its own brand with specific requirements to market beef: Certified Angus Beef. The filet mignon is the retail name for a specific cut from the tenderloin, and it is the most tender cut of beef. It also happens to be my favorite, so!

Now, before y'all start yelling at me for eating veal, let me school you a moment.

Veal is baby beef. Beef is technically a meat derived from a steer (castrated male bovine) that is harvested at 12 to 18 months of age. Sidenote: If you're buying grass-finished beef, it's probably closer to 18 to 24 months. Because grass-only puts less fat on meat than a grain-and-grass diet, it takes longer for these animals to get a similar fat covering and thus flavor. Veal calves are harvested younger than 12 months old, and enjoy a mostly milk-based diet. There are also lots of regulations regarding how they are raised in a safe manner with the health of the calves paramount ... but that's another post for another time. Anyway, because the animals are harvested at such a young age, veal is ridiculously tender. Butter-soft. And also naturally mild-flavored (goes back to the calves' diets).

So let's review. The meatloaf has pork (naturally rich and flavorful, because fat is amazing). It has Angus filet (read my lips: t-e-n-d-e-r). It also has veal (tender-er).

I kid you not: forkfuls melted in my mouth. Combined with the mushroom bordelaise sauce, which includes red wine and marrow in its ingredient list, plus soft and fluffy Yukon Gold mashed potatoes and salty wilted spinach ... this is foodgasm-level good. (If you look on the menu, you'll notice the vegetable side was supposed to be steamed vegetables. Gross. I subbed in the wilted spinach.)

Oh, and have I mentioned the portion size yet?! You may think $17 for a meatloaf is bat-guano-crazy, but you get a lot of meatloaf/potatoes/veg for $17. I turned it into three meals. Three so-good meals.

This will definitely be a repeat place — also on the specials menu is tiramisu cheesecake ... what! — but I will probably wear something a little more appropriate for the atmosphere.

The Meatetarian Eats Dallas

The Meatetarian did a lot of traveling during the past few weeks! Today I’m taking you for a brief jaunt into the city that was named after me.

That’s right: Dallas, Texas.

This trip was for my annual Mary Kay Seminar, so most of our dining was done during the conference … but arriving a day early meant I was able to partake in a couple of the city’s finer eats within walking distance of our hotel.

Ellen's Southern Kitchen

Ellen's came highly recommended from our concierge. I thought I wasn’t hungry enough for soul food, but the group I found myself with that afternoon was from Boston, had little experience with “Southern kitchens” and I decided to indulge the girls’ fancy.

At this restaurant I found a sandwich that rivals the Carnivorgasm in height. And of course, being the Meatetarian, I ordered it.

The towering open-face meatloaf sandwich

It was a hearty open-faced meatloaf sandwich. There is a slab of juicy beef meatloaf covered in thick, hot brown gravy, on top of a piece of toast. All of that mama’s kitchen cookin’ is then stacked on top of a generous scoop of silky mashed potatoes.

As if that’s not enough to sink your teeth into, there’s stuff on top of the meatloaf too. I guess it’s served open-face because it’s hella hard to get another piece of bread to stay on top of a fried egg, crispy fried onion rings and grilled pepper rings, huh?

The lunch feat before me was most impressive. I ate every bite, down to the last scrape of mashed potatoes doused in a mixture of gravy and egg yolk. Whoever decided that meatloaf needed to be topped with ketchup clearly missed a grand opportunity to make fried eggs and gravy topping a food trend.

My favorite thing about this meatloaf is how juicy it was. Texture-wise it was more like eating a hamburger patty, since meatloaf – notoriously restaurant meatloaf – can come out dry, crumbly or both. This healthy slice stayed together despite me eating it with a fork and heaping it with all of the other stuff that came on the “sandwich.” Needless to say, I did not have room for dessert, and wasn’t sure I’d have room for supper, either!

Wild Salsa

Funny story: the group I was with for dinner asked the hotel valet how far “Wild Bill’s” was. We got that cleared up mighty fast after the looks they gave us and then rented a stretch Hummer for a half-mile drive to the most authentic Mexican restaurant I’ve ever eaten at.

The atmosphere at Wild Salsa is cool. There is no other word for it, as cliché as “cool” sounds. The lights are dim. The decorations are tequila bottles, Dia de los Muertos skulls and a palette of warm colors. It’s close quarters inside and yet I didn’t feel crowded. I’ve never been to a Mexican cantina, but I feel like Wild Salsa did a good job recreating one.

If you remember from my visit to The El Felix earlier this spring, you know the love I have for Mexican and Mexican-inspired cuisine. The flavors are bright, fresh and balanced. With a big kick.

Having eaten enough lunch to feed a family of four, I settled for lighter fare and went with what sounded the most exotic: a tongue taco.

Have I ever eaten tongue? Nope.

A taco that's easy on the eyes ...
and heavy on the tongue.

Have I removed it from a bovine carcass during a meat science lab and been impressed by how much meat was on it? Yup.

Was I excited to relish the flavor of tongue on my tongue? You betcha. I was bouncing with anticipation, because trying a new meat is such an awesome experience for me.

Oh, y’all. I don’t know how I’ve never eaten tongue before.

It is the carnivore’s version of tofu (and yes … I have eaten tofu.) – tender, smooth, not at all spongy. Which makes sense, when you think about it being such a strong muscle in life. This tongue was marinated, giving it a great subtly spicy beef flavor. Since marinating is a way to tenderize meat, that probably added value to the great texture these cubes had.

Also on the taco was a spicy tomatillo salsa and pickled red onions. The chefs at Wild Salsa did an excellent job putting together spice, salt and sour in each bite. I will say, I like a little spice, and it seemed like a few dishes ordered by my tablemates might have been on the lotta spice side – so check with your server before you order something that may get clear your sinuses!

The side dish of cilantro rice also deserves an honorable mention. Normally I like rice salty, and this rice was not. However, it was fresh and had that great unmistakable essence of cilantro cooked in it and sprinkled on top. Given the intense flavors on the taco, it was great to have such a mild-mannered side dish next to it. Overall, dinner was a great balance of personalities that worked well together – just like the women in the company we were in town to celebrate.

Guest Post: Mama Visits San Antone

A Note from the Meatetarian: Being from the good ole Augusta, Georgia, area, you know three things to be unavoidable -- death, taxes and an influx of tourists the first full week in April as the Masters golf tournament descends on the Garden City. That means the rest of us fly outta there like bats outta Hell. This year, Mama and her sister Aunt Robbie flew (like, actually flew on a plane) to San Antonio, Texas. I asked Mama to share her thoughts on a favorite meal. Here y'all go.

Starting off a San Antonio evening with
bread and a brew. Photo by Terri Duncan

As a child of the South, I was practically birthed into the world of barbecue. Fresh out of the womb, I was raised to understand that those north and even west of the Mason-Dixon line were dead wrong when they referred to this Southern delicacy. They were even grammatically incorrect since they referred to grilling as "barbecuing," bless their hearts! Everyone in the South knows that real, genuine barbecue is a noun defined as a hunk of pork that is smoked low and slow and smothered in a vinegary, tomato or perhaps mustard-based sauce. Until recently, I would have argued that no region outside the South was capable of competing with the mouthwatering barbecue that has always been a staple in my diet. Then I went to Texas and discovered that maybe I have been misled for almost 50 years.

I should have suspected that Texas barbecue would give my Georgia meat some stiff competition because as soon as I hit the Lone Star State, the surprises started slapping me upside the head. For instance, that delightful little river walk area in San Antonio actually stretches for some 13 miles, and one of the greatest cultural influences in that area is not about cowboys and Indians like I was brought up to believe. Imagine my surprise to discover that the Germans brought their own unique styles and customs across two continents to Texas! Then, there was the discovery that this state is one of the largest producers of wine in the country! Lord have mercy! What other surprises would this state hold?

A warm welcome to San Antonio's Pearl area. Photo by Terri
Duncan

During my stay in this Western nirvana, I definitely expected some fine Tex-Mex cuisine as well as tequila-enhanced refreshments, and I was not disappointed. What I did not expect was some of the best barbecue ever to pass through my innards! We were visiting the Pearl area, a former brewery and cannery that has been transformed into a retail and dining mecca. Our goal that evening was actually not barbecue, but local brews, so our final destination was to be The Granary ‘Cue and Brew. The establishment featured selections from craft breweries around the state and appeared to be the perfect destination for our purpose.

As soon as we walked in the door, we felt right at home in the restaurant’s interior. I felt as if I was fixing to embark on an upscale picnic. As we perused the extensive drink menu, we asked the server for her recommendation for our entrée. I was skeptical of her suggestion, which was the barbecue board. Obviously, she did not realize that our discriminating palates were accustomed to the “real” stuff originating from pork, not the beef brisket and ribs she described. Nevertheless, we were feeling brave and took the plunge. I am so glad we did.

The sign beckoned us -- not to mention the
smoky, meaty aroma wafting toward us!
Photo by Terri Duncan

When the food arrived, the brisket and ribs were literally served on a board along with a selection of traditional side dishes: baked beans, potato salad and homemade bread and butter pickles. The sauce was also served on the side. My intention was to stick to the side dishes, but the  smoky aroma was simply too enticing. I took my fork and knife expecting to have to saw through the beef, but I could have used a spoon. That brisket fell apart as soon as I touched it. I lifted a forkful drizzled in sauce to my mouth, and Lord have mercy on my soul! I swear I heard the angels singing! That brisket was the best stuff I have ever put in my mouth. The sauce was tangy, but not overpowering, and that smoky goodness almost melted it was so tender. You barely needed to chew. The ribs, which were more reminiscent of that to which I am accustomed, practically fell off the bones. The sides did not disappoint either; I could have eaten a quart jar of the sweet, paper-thin pickles. I also devoured the flavorful baked beans. Why, there were as many chunks of meat in that bowl as there were beans, and the potato salad was perfectly seasoned; lots of real flavor and not swimming in mayonnaise.


As a Southerner, I am proud of my heritage, but y’all, I am now a barbecue convert. Beef is indeed intended to be the primary ingredient in this delicacy. The South may have met its match with Texas-style barbecue!

Terri Kaye Duncan is a published author and songwriter. Her works have been featured in a number of anthologies, including Chicken Soup for the Soul and Not Your Mother's Book On ... Her most recent book, Camping Reservations: Body of Lies, a murder mystery geared toward middle school readers, is available in print and for the Nook.