As most readers know, every January TEXAS MONTHLY picks a Bum Steer of the Year, an honor conferred on whatever individual we feel has been responsible for the biggest screw-up, gaffe, fumble, stumble, train wreck, or humiliation of the past twelve months.
Hudson’s feels closer in to town these days, but Jeff Blank’s exotic game–centered cuisine still seems otherworldly. The Duck Diablos, bacon-wrapped bites of duck breast, are as delicious as ever, pairing perfectly with an amuse-bouche of summery watermelon gazpacho. A salmon filet had a horseradish crust that gave it a nice little kick; sadly, the accompanying truffle gnocchi were gluey and lacking in flavor.
On September 12, one month after Governor Rick Perry declared his intention to run for president, Luminant, the largest electricity generator in the state, announced that it would partially shut down a huge coal-fired power plant in northeast Texas, close the associated lignite coal mines, and lay off five hundred workers. Not a great headline for the governor to see, since the state’s already overburdened power grid barely kept up with demand during this past summer’s record heat wave.
Last month, more than sixty independent record stores across Texas kicked off the holiday shopping season with a Black Friday edition of Record Store Day, an annual promotion that features special vinyl and CD releases made exclusively for mom-and-pop record stores. It is intended to bring shoppers back to independent record stores, which offer what Internet retailers can’t: the element of human interaction between customers and clerks that often results in the discovery of a new favorite band or album.
A seat on the shaded patio is a great way to wind down the day, especially accompanied by an eclectic menu of house-made delights. We selected a variety of items to suit hankerings for both Asian and Southwestern cuisine, starting with guacamole-chorizo fundido served with crisp chile-dusted chips as well as a refreshing Thai-inspired chilled carrot gazpacho with snap peas and fragrant ginger yogurt.
On a clear, cool night in the early 1960s, a father drove his young, pajama-clad daughter to one of the T-head piers on Corpus Christi Bay to marvel at an object in the sky.
The first thing a visitor to the Texas A&M campus sees, as he comes into town from the west and makes the turn onto University Drive, is the football stadium, a giant hulk of white concrete with “Kyle Field” emblazoned on one side in huge maroon letters.