Hill Country, it’s called Hill Country. Must remember that.
After the Times’ review, Guy and I and some friends really wanted to go. Obviously. We are Barbecue Pals. And lo—good new barbecue review on the day before we all have dinner plans! Is fated!
Was crowded. Half Hour wait turned into Over Hour wait. Was a mite chaotic. Had bad bottled beer.
All of this surprised me not at all. We were there on The Day After a good review—not several weeks after or months after but One Day After. Of course there was a wait. And of course the restaurant underestimated the wait—they are only a month old and had no way to anticipate or prepare for last night’s rush. And the bad bottled beer was noted in the review.
But for whatever reason, others in our party were surprised: “This is not okay. When I go to a restaurant, I like to sit down and have food. Also, the beer selection really sucks. Miller? Seriously?”
Um, yeah. Get over yourself.
And while you’re at it, get real. This is
And back to the barbecue. It was GOOD. Not “what is this, it delights me with its complexity” but just plain good. As barbecue ought to be. We didn’t actually get the moist brisket as they gave the last of it TO THE WOMAN RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME NOT THAT I’M BITTER, but the sausage was greasy and great and the ribs were very juicy.
And I have to say, despite what Mr. Meehan may think, I thought the sides were pretty darn tasty. We tried the bourbon sweet potatoes and the green bean casserole and the mac & cheese and corn pudding, and while the corn pudding wasn’t quite as good as my mother’s, they were all yummy. It was suggested that they maybe got a guy to come in a beef up their sides after the review, which I think is unlikely, but hey, all’s I know is I was happy. And the green bean casserole had mushrooms which Guy doesn’t like so I had it all to myself. Much like how Guy had the banana pudding with Nilla wafers all to himself, but I’m told that was very good as well.
And then we held our stomachs gingerly and hobbled our way over to Webster Hall to see a bunch of Brits. Quite the culture shock, except not really because food aside, Hill Country bears very little resemblance to anything Texan (they didn’t even have Lone Star, for God’s sake), and Maximo Park are so over-the-top-ly British that they seem almost not-British. There were bowler hats. I thought they were fun. Guy decided that, even though this was a band that he likes, that he didn’t enjoy the show because they’re not a jam band and he really likes jam bands, so it was kind of boring.
Logic and taking into account things you knew ahead of time were not features of any part of the evening.