75 Things We Love About Texas
Bluebonnets? Check. Enchanted Rock? Yup. Barton Springs? Duh. You probably guessed those. But what about buckle bunnies? Or goat barbecue? Or Thong Island? From Texas trademarks to personal favorites to the just plain weird, you’ll find everything here. And we do mean everything.
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34. The caverns of Sonora
Reading the billboards along Interstate 10, you suspect a classic tourist trap. Then you get inside these desert caves and realize you’re seeing things you won’t find anywhere else. With its unprecedented preponderance of helictites—neither stalactites nor stalagmites but growths that twist and turn out from the caves’ walls—nearly every inch of Sonora, not just the floors and ceilings, bursts with complex colors and formations. And unlike the trails in most show caves, Sonora’s put you right on top of it all. The guides have an infectious enthusiasm and a singular take on things that’s just as rare. John Morthland
35. Tejano dancing
My first attempt at tejano dancing occurred in the name of research. I was a college senior writing about music and identity, so it made sense that I should learn. Several spins around a vast dance floor in San Antonio had me doing the tejano update of the tlacuachito, a Mexican American dance form that emerged in the thirties. With the modernization of conjunto music into tejano, a younger Mexican American generation added countrylike moves and made the tlacuachito a sleeker affair. University of Texas professor of American literature and anthropology Jose Limón describes it this way: “The idea is not to skip, hop, and jump or pump our arms, as Anglos often do when they attempt this dance.” With the waning of the tejano music industry, there are now fewer clubs to go for a dance, although a resurgence in conjunto music has led to the reopening of long-defunct dance halls. Still, I wistfully remember those days of endless spinning around the floor and the way that life then felt so whole and perfectly composed. Cecilia Balli
36. Cat Osterman
As a Longhorn senior, the tall, round-cheeked softball pitcher from Houston is still in quest of a national championship at Texas. But last year she had a record of 30-7, with an ERA of 0.36. In her three seasons with the Longhorns she’s thrown fifteen no-hitters and averaged fifteen strikeouts a game. Plus she led the United States to a gold medal in the 2004 Olympics. Texas is known for its fastballers: Clemens, Ryan, Street. But because she’s left-handed and will have a short career—prospects for a post-collegiate league are not bright, and the sport won’t be in the Olympics after 2008—I liken her to Sandy Koufax. Players go to the plate against her feeling as if they have a toothpick in their hands, not a bat. Jan Reid
37. The Pecos Rodeo
Although Pecos (population: 9,501) is hidden away in Reeves County, in far West Texas, professional rodeo cowboys from around the country still make the long trip to compete at the old arena on the last weekend in June, in part because of tradition (Pecos could very well have hosted the world’s first rodeo, in 1883) and also because the small and often struggling Pecos businesses still raise about $200,000 each year for the prize money. One thing that makes Pecos’s rodeo weekend really special is the rodeo parade, perhaps the greatest celebration of old-fashioned American patriotism you’ll ever see. Skip Hollandsworth
38. Food
My favorite? Definitely the lemon meringue pot at Wink, in Austin. And the truffled egg custard in an eggshell at Aurora, in Dallas. Oh, also the goat cheese appetizer with morita-chile-and-Mexican-brown-sugar sauce at Liberty Bar, in San Antonio. And absolutely the dry-Jack-cheese-crusted lemon sole with citrus beurre blanc at Hibiscus, in Dallas. But wait: the Parmesan-topped focaccia at Taverna in Austin and Dallas. And I could not possibly live without the enchiladas de Michoacán at Las Manitas, in Austin. Or the Don Mamón salmon ceviche at Red Onion Seafood y Más, in Houston. And the posole at Rosario’s, in San Antonio. Oh, oh, oh—the saag paneer at Indika, in Houston. And yes, the green-chile-chicken enchiladas at El Asadero, in Fort Worth. And … Patricia Sharpe
39. Donald Judd’s installations, Marfa
When I first visited Marfa more than twenty years ago, the late Don Judd had been there for more than a decade and was still installing the planet’s most avant-garde objects in an abandoned cavalry outpost. It was a rare chance to see history in the making, because Judd’s Minimalist monuments are already venerable masterpieces of twentieth-century art. Merging the factory with the sculptor’s atelier, Judd filled the old armories with rows of precisely machined aluminum boxes and arrayed a procession of hard-edged concrete megaliths across a half-mile of desert like a futuristic, in-line Stonehenge. Years before Marfa enjoyed its current trendiness, global tastemakers made the pilgrimage to West Texas and returned home to invest everything from architecture to furniture to retail design with Judd’s austere, industrialized, yet transcendent aesthetic. In this tiny town, Judd didn’t just change the way the world looks at art; he changed the way the world looks. Michael Ennis
40. The Texas Legislature
When it is good it is seldom very good, and when it is bad it is horrid. Paul Burka
41. Our own way of pronouncin’
Manchaca = Man-shack
Mexia = Ma-hay-ah
Palestine = Pal-es-teen
Miami = My-am-ah
Humble = Um-bull
Burnet = Burn-it
Iraan = I-ra-ann
Manor = May-ner
Refugio = Ruh-fyur-ee-o Christopher Keyes
42. Big Hill
For many years this steep formation prevented El Camino del Rio, the river road (FM 170), from connecting Lajitas and Presidio. Even with the road, this is one of the most isolated places in Texas. The 15 percent grade challenges trucks and RVs. From the scenic viewpoint at the crest, the Rio Grande lies a thousand feet below, and Mexico is so close you might be tempted to throw a rock into it. Paul Burka
43. Farm-to-market roads
The result of the Colson-Briscoe Act of 1949 to “get the farmer out of the mud,” today they serve city folk who want to escape their concrete canyons and get into the backcountry. Traffic is light, development even lighter, and vistas can be grand. Farm (and ranch) roads take you through the national forests of East Texas, into the heart of the brush country of South Texas, deep into the emptiness of the Trans-Pecos, and, best of all, along the rivers and ridges of the Hill Country. Paul Burka
44. Mustang Donuts, Dallas
Let the masses have their Krispy Kremes. Since 1983, Dallasites have flocked to the tiny doughnut shop across from the Southern Methodist University campus. I started going there with my high school girlfriend, when we’d pick up a bag of treats: thick chocolate cake doughnuts, creamy èclairs, and anything with sprinkles. Each time we’d stop in, I’d try to impress her by answering the daily trivia question—ranging from SMU history to current events to Russian literature—which would have earned me a free glazed doughnut and untold admiration. For years, I never got one of them right; when I finally did, it no longer mattered. By then, my girlfriend had been my wife for more than ten years. Brian D. Sweany
45. Queso
The texture is vaguely plastic, the color resembles an overripe mango, the taste—well, more about that in a minute. From any rational culinary standpoint, queso cannot be defended. I mean, we’re talking about Velveeta melted with Ro-Tel tomatoes and chiles. Please. But something about the salty, oozy cheese (excuse me, pasteurized prepared cheese product) and the spicy, sweet tomatoes makes it impossible to stop after one bite. Which is why, for decades, no game-watching party, bridal shower, or open house in Texas has failed to include a big pot of queso in the middle of the dining table. You could serve queso flameado—the true Mexican ancestor of the National Dip of Texas—and every one of your guests would applaud. But I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts that if you put them out side by side, the queso will still be bubbling away when the queso is long gone. Patricia Sharpe
46. The Other Place, New Braunfels
I like to vacation in Santa Fe, Aspen, London, or Paris as much as the next person, but it’s so damn hard to get there. When my family has a few spare days, we sneak over to New Braunfels and (mostly) ignore the insanity of Schlitterbahn, preferring instead a cottage at the Other Place. Yes, the wooden cabins can sometimes smell musty, and the lighting is not for those predisposed to cataracts, but it’s quiet, clean, cheap ($150 a night), and kid-friendly in a laid-back way (seesaws, swing sets), with a kitchen and no TV. All you get is a metal rocker on a wide porch overlooking the emerald-green Comal and the drunken tubers floating by—in other words, near-perpetual serenity. It’s the place that proves time travel is possible, even if it’s only to Central Texas circa 1960. Mimi Swartz
47. Lower Westheimer Road, between South Shepherd Drive and Brazos Street, Houston
The collection of shops and restaurants here defies and defines the word “funky” and also happens to be one of the few parts of Houston where street life exists outdoors, even on the most blistering summer day. Sip coffee at the hip Empire Cafe or the even hipper Brasil and watch the parade of gays, straights, street people, and society matrons, or sample the best food in town at Da Marco, Churrascos, or Mark’s. Between meals, you can scavenge for mid-century modern furniture or the occasional Stickley rocker, try on recycled designer clothing, and even get a tattoo. Mimi Swartz
48. Crush’ns at Amy’s Ice Cream
“People can have the Model T in any color, so long as it’s black,” Henry Ford is rumored to have said, thus breaking a fundamental rule of sales: The customer may not always be right, but he should always have a choice. This is the beauty of the “crush’n.” At any of the thirteen Amy’s locations throughout Austin, San Antonio, and Houston, you can combine your choice of (a) ice cream with your choice of (b) fixings to create an endless number of personal variations. I’ve tried too many to count, finally settling on something simple: coffee and Heath Bar, small. Christopher Keyes
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