Just moved to Texas? Congratulations! You can now claim the same home state as Beyoncé. Born and bred in Houston, the 33-year-old tour de force is the world’s greatest performer—and arguably its most famous Texan. Her last album—the fourteen-track, seventeen-video masterpiece she surprised everyone with in December 2013—sold one million digital copies in less than a week.
Beer: Time was, when a Texan had a hankering for a cold beer, he would pop a top on a frosty Lone Star, Pearl, or Shiner. Nowadays, thanks to a thriving craft-brew industry, the possibilities are limitless. May the Texanist suggest a refreshing Hans’ Pils by Real Ale Brewing Company, out of Blanco?
It’s not entirely clear where grapefruit originated, but one thing is certain: Ruby Reds are native Texans. Back before the Roosevelt administration (the first one), all grapefruit was of a paler persuasion. But because these golden spheres of goodness don’t cross-pollinate, mutant offspring eventually appeared and really hit the sweet spot. The red variety—born of a mutation found on a pink-grapefruit tree in McAllen in 1929—has a skin like an Amarillo sunset.
No doubt you have cattle where you come from, but the Lone Star State has many, many more. “In this great staple article of food supply,” wrote newspaperman George H. Sweet in 1871, “Texas has a mine of wealth far more extensive than the gold diggings of California.” Eleven million cows make a lot of steaks, and the ribeye is king, a gorgeous hunk of crimson-colored meat shot through with pearly fat.
a. Classic Mexican: Close to what you would find in Mexico, these tacos—sometimes called street tacos—are usually made with one or two thin corn tortillas. Traditional fillings include pollo (chicken), barbacoa (beef cheek), lengua (beef tongue), and al pastor (pork and pineapple).
b. Modern American: Offered on either corn or flour tortillas, new-style tacos might include roasted corn, Monterey Jack cheese, fried plantains, New Mexico green chiles, or sour cream.
Native Texans are a proud lot, but they would be the first to admit that the state has long been shaped by newcomers. In fact, the story of Texas is the story of migration. The Plains Indians poured in to follow the buffalo. Cabeza de Vaca, who washed ashore on Galveston Island in 1528, was in pursuit of land. The Spanish later rode north from what is now Mexico, and the Anglos headed west from the United States. Sam Houston showed up after he beat a congressman in Washington, D.C., with a cane; George H. W.
“Piranha” is their code word. Maddie Marlow and Taylor Dye, the nineteen-year-olds behind the chart-topping country duo Maddie & Tae, text it to each other during uncomfortable—or even predatory—situations as a cue that it’s time to leave. It’s their go-to when a conversation with a fan descends into sexual innuendo or when an interviewer talks down to them. Most recently, they used it to bail during a songwriting session in Los Angeles with a collaborator who dismissed them as bubblegum country.