John Kelso has it wrong. It's not hell bein' #1 in Texas BBQ. The hell is just gettin' to Snow's BBQ in Lexington, Texas before the meat is all sold. I guess if a hajj was easy, everybody would get 'er done. However, most of the Islamic faithful don't make it to the Black Rock because it's just too damn tough and inconvenient (and costly) to make the trip. Gas is at an all-time high and this blogger is consumed with the goal of getting some Snow's smoked meat. After getting smoked myself last Saturday because characters like Kelso got there sooner (Take that, Okie-hater Kelso!) and emptied the meat case, I was making plans to go on another Saturday morning run to Lexington. Then, I open today's fishwrap and there is Kelso in full gloat over having snatched the meat right out of my grasp last Saturday. In addition, countless more yokels will be on the road to Lexington this coming Saturday thanks to Kelso, the town-crier. Nonetheless, my pilgrim's heart is resolved: I'll call in an order to Snow's tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM and mount up on Saturday morning and drive all of the way back to Lexington to pick up my order. I'd rather drive to Lexington twice than walk around a stupid Black Rock seven times; two beats seven anytime when it comes to wacko trips. If this is (fair & balanced) fanaticism, so be it.
[x Austin Fishwrap]
There's No Business Like Snow's Business
By John Kelso
I feel a little guilty writing about Snow's BBQ here in Lexington.
Texas Monthly has already made life hectic enough for this tiny place by naming it the best barbecue joint in the state in its June edition.
"It's a completely different lifestyle now," said Tootsie Tomanetz, 73, who runs the pits, and may find her second job as a custodian at Giddings Middle School a little less frantic. "I did it as a pastime, but now it's because — I don't know what you'd call it — it's really put a stress on us. It's unreal."
By the way, Tootsie refers to retiring Texas Monthly publisher Mike Levy as "Mister Mike." "Makes him sound like a hairdresser," said my friend Scott Wilson.
I can't argue with Texas Monthly's assessment of Snow's, in this small town (pop. 1,178) about 52 miles northeast of downtown Austin, on a shortcut route through the countryside for people headed to Bryan-College Station. This place is so out of the way that when a Chamber of Commerce volunteer finally called me back, she said she'd been having trouble finding the article since Peterson's Food Mart, the only place in town with magazines, didn't have Texas Monthly that day.
Other than the smoke-flavored brisket, moist chicken, great pork and the best potato salad I've ever eaten, Snow's has just about everything central casting would want for a Texas barbecue joint. When you pull up out front, you hear cows mooing nearby and chickens clucking. Nothing screws up good barbecue faster than selling it out of a strip mall.
It all fits. The owner, Kerry Bexley, used to be a rodeo clown. Photos of him dressed in circus attire while being messed with by large farm animals decorate the tiny dining room.
Tootsie Tomanetz and Kerry BexleyBut here's the biggie: Nobody outside the Lexington-o-plex had ever heard of Snow's until
Texas Monthly came along. Barbecue junkies love nothing better than uncovering a secret treasure.
Adding to the mystique is that Snow's is open only one day a week: on Saturday from 8 in the morning until the meat runs out.
Trouble is, thanks to
Texas Monthly, the meat runs out a lot faster than it used to. Around a quarter 'til 9 Saturday morning a guy on a cell phone was pacing around out front of the place, calling home to report in.
"All they had left was a half a brisket, and I got it," he said.
People are driving to Snow's from all over the state. On Saturday morning, there was even a black Mercedes with California plates. (Go to the back of the line.) High gas prices will stop Texans from making some types of trips, but long-distance barbecue runs isn't one of them.
On Saturday I ran into two guys who had crawled out of bed real early so they could drive down from Dallas and be at Snow's when it opened at 8.
"The
Texas Monthly came out, and it said BBQ," explained Michael Cassini, who had made the trip with his brother Joseph. "I saw Tootsie's picture in there, and I saw the little write-up they had. So I couldn't resist. I got five pounds of brisket, three pounds of ribs and two pounds of sausage.
An amateur barbecuer, Michael had brought his camera so he could get his picture taken with Tootsie.
"This is really just a little old weekend business, and it's really taken a toll on me," said Bexley, the owner.
The article has changed his life. On Saturday morning when he opened up, he was looking at two pages of call-in orders from all over the state.
"It's unreal, the driving distances people are coming from," he said. "Dallas, Houston, Fort Worth, San Antonio, Port O'Connor. I had one last week from Laredo."
Rather than talking about expanding his hours, Bexley mentioned he might hang it up if the work becomes too much for Tootsie.
"My concern is, we don't get so big that she doesn't enjoy it. But when it does, well, we'll quit," he said.
It's hell being No. 1.
[John Kelso, a New Englander, has been in Austin since the mid-1970s and has nearly perfected a redneck-persona. His column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Fridays.]
Copyright © 2008 Austin American-Statesman
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