During a lull in the conversation at the Dallas Petroleum Club, my lunch companion looked past me and nodded toward the corner of the room. “That’s Bunker and Herbert Hunt over there,” he said. “What sort of deals do you suppose they’re working on?” It was the early nineties and one of the first times I’d dined in the elite lunchroom of Dallas’s oil-igarchy.
An El Paso spokesperson said the city will spend nearly $7,000 to reconfigure its city council chambers so that Ann Morgan Lilly will no longer have to sit next to fellow council member Lily Limón, who, Lilly claims, distracts her by making frequent sotto voce comments throughout council meetings.
In 1946 four brutal crimes occurred in less than three months in Texarkana. Three were violent attacks on young people parked on lovers’ lanes on the Texas side of town; the fourth was the shooting of a middle-aged couple in their rural farmhouse on the Arkansas side. At the end of the spree, three people had been seriously wounded and five had been shot dead. The traumatized survivors gave the police little to go on. Fear paralyzed the town.
On November 13, wine enthusiasts across the country will celebrate International Tempranillo Day, a red grape widely planted throughout Spain and Portugal. This varietal, characterized by its moderate acidity and aromas of mushroom, blackberries, strawberries, leather, and tobacco, has become one of the most popular in the world, with new plantings in Australia, Washington, California, and Oregon. It's also become a sort of signature red grape at many Texas wineries.
KILGORE, Tex. — East Texas is about to be booming. Not from the fracking that is waking the small cities outside of Dallas, but from an arts revival that is tapping into another local resource — one of the country’s highest concentrations of mid-20th century Aeolian-Skinner organs.
During my teenage years, which I spent wandering the Tex-Mex desert of suburban Atlanta, I would make frequent visits to a strip-center “Mexican” restaurant, looking for some semblance of my native Texas in the form of cheese enchiladas. The kitchen would invariably deliver a scalding plate upon which a pool of rather bland sauce cradled a row of tough, burnt-edged tortillas whose stuffing of processed white cheese somehow remained in refrigerated shreds. I ate every last bite.
The consumption of eggnog is as integral to the holidays as cold weather and retail overload. In some families, graduation from “virgin” to “spiked” nog is a rite of passage, and recipes are a closely guarded secret, passed down through the generations with ritual flourish.
Chef Jesse Griffiths is hardly old—he’s 39—but he seems like an old soul. Partly it’s that impressive beard, which makes him look like a village elder, or a friendly brown bear. Partly it’s that since 2006 he has been a mentor to Austin’s food community, being one of the first to go down the path of local, seasonal, and nose-to-tail eating. (For eight years he ran a series of fanatically popular pop-up dinners known as the Dai Due Supper Club.
The high school football playoffs began this week, and if you aren’t already cheering for a child’s school or an alma mater, might we suggest adopting the Booker High Kiowas as your home team away from home. The tiny town at the top of the Panhandle, population 1,516, only has 29 players on its team. But with a former prison guard as coach and a pair of cousins smashing state records, they’ll give you that warm feeling about football you’ve been missing since Friday Night Lights went off the air.