Puzzle
The pick of the flicks.
The pick of the flicks.
Tastes in livestock are as whimsical as tastes in fashion. This year petite is in.
In a Twilight Zone-like pocket near UT there are some kids who aren’t ready to grow up.
Out of Africa is lavishly done up but emotionally dehumidified; Young Sherlock Holmes is more Hardy Boys than Conan Doyle; Revolution is nothing but a megabucks disaster.
A year of altered antlers, bunkum bars, cloddish coaches, defoliant diets, enervated elephants, filched flamingos, gunshot guitarists, haywire holidays, intoxicants’ incentives, jejune judges, kissing K-9’s, lousy lobster, and misdirected Michener.
When southern pine beetles attack a Texas forest, there are only two cures: cut the trees down or let nature take its course.
The Dallas Citizens Council has a new look, but it’s singing the same old tune.
The only excitement of the Dallas Opera season came from a couple of fortunate gambles, while the Houston Grand Opera triumphed by bringing Faust alive for contemporary audiences.
A monument to everything money can buy.
For a singing telegram with a little something extra, just call the Hip-O-Gram Girls.
In the current Rauschenberg exhibit at Houston’s Contemporary Arts Museum the artist finds his first thirty years a tough act to follow.
Jim’s rub, one of many being used all over the country today, enriches not only beef but also pork and lamb.
Although Jim Goode uses his BBQ Mop for basting smoked meat, it’s flavorful enough to use as a sauce for cooking brisket, and you’ll barely miss the smoky flavor.
This could be the most sensational baste ever.
Houston restaurateur Jim Goode took the three Texas food groups—barbecue, Tex-Mex, and burgers—and built an empire.
Part of it was my fault. But I insist on sharing the blame with Tommy Tune, Judi Buie, Dan Jenkins, Mort Cooperman, Dandy Don Meredith, New York Daily News gossip columnist Liz Smith, a terrible—and now mercifully defunct—restaurant called the Dallas Cowboy, numerous Texas-based kicker-pickers like Willie Nelson, Jerry
Why do the towns that have oil also have the best football players?
Blessed art thou, who hath created Tex-Mex.
The race war on the range.
Ever worry that your trip overseas could turn into a disaster? We certainly didn’t—until a speeding bakery truck collided with our Italian vacation.
Okay, now, listen up. This story is about Bill Yeoman, a really good football coach. Read it or run three laps after practice.
A doll-like statue of sugar-cane fiber and clay came to San Antonio from a village in Mexico. Twenty-four hours a day, residents of the West Side visited Our Lady of San Juan de los Lagos.
Robert Sakowitz set out to be a retail Renaissance man. Like his hero Leonardo da Vinci, he was going to do everything. And he did—including something he never imagined: fail.
Helmut Newton, world famous for his bizarre, sometimes shocking erotic photographs, turns his lens on another exotic subject—Texas tycoons.
Recipe from La Griglia, Houston4 oz. extra virgin Italian olive oil 3 large cloves garlic, minced 1 small yellow onion, finely chopped 4 Tbs. capers, rinsed 1/3 cup black pitted olives, rinsed 1/3 cup green pitted olives, rinsed 1 35 oz. can Vallone* tomatoes 1 tsp. sugar pinch dried oregano
Recipe from La Griglia, Houston1 stick butter, melted 1 stack pack saltine crackers (about 40) 16 ounces cream cheese, softened 2 17.5-ounce cartons mascarpone cheese (soft Italian double cream cheese—four 8 ounce cartons can be used) 6 eggs 2 Tbs. flour 4 Tbs. each chives and green onions finely minced
EVEN IF LA GRIGLIA were completely empty—which is highly unlikely—the enormous bawdy murals, busy mosaics, and bustling wait staff would give the impression of great activity. This popular eatery, located in the River Oaks Shopping Center, is a place to see and be seen—inevitable, since the restaurant is one of
Mexico’s bureaucracy thwarts Texas land heirs; a new poll has bad news for the guv; taxing times for the state budget; ending a boondoggle for colleges.
What evil lurks at the San Antonio Convention Center? How does a would-be Kenedy Ranch heir make a buck? Who helps keep the space shuttle aloft?
Once upon a time the His and Her Gift reflected a Texas that was extravagant and maybe a little gauche. Now the gift is no less extravagant, but it’s a lot less, well, innocent.
Christian recording mogul Chris Christian knows what the Rock of Ages really means.
New records from Texas bands have only one thing in common—stubborn individuality.
In Sweet Dreams, Jessica Lange is a dynamo of female gumption; Hail Mary makes the Immaculate Conception an inconsequential miracle; Joshua Then and Now is entertainingly busy and uncouth; Twice in a Lifetime is twice too often.
When the wife goes back to work and the husband takes on chores and children, the real problem is not laundry or lunch boxes. It’s the battle between love and ambition.
A dog’s best friend?
One man’s answer to nouvelle cuisine.
The Ups and Downs of Theophilus Maitland had more ups than downs in Dallas, but Memorial Candles didn’t have much memorable melody.
Charles Portis’ Masters of Atlantis is anything but believable and nothing if not enjoyable. A Small Town, Shelby Hearon’s ninth novel, is a hit-and-miss proposition.
Next time you want to go from Wichita Falls to Paris, take the Red River Bus Line.
People who have watched a certain prime-time soap opera think they know what goes on at the Petroleum Club. They don’t.
They’re cheesy, they’re tasteless. But each black velvet painting is a one-of-a-kind work of art.
My father had to have an answer for everything—adultery, spiritual crises, the pigeons defecating in the church gutter. No wonder I didn’t become a preacher. The miracle is that my sister did.
The genteel practice of law is dead. Nowadays lawyers fight for clients, raid each other’s firms, and bill, bill, bill.
Fast becoming a master soda jerk, Marilyn Shackelford, manager of Johnny B’s Old-Fashioned Soda Fountain, showed us how to make a fresh Lime Rickey at home.1 juicy lime Crushed ice 1 1/2 oz. cherry syrup (Jubilee brand is good)Fill a pint glass with crushed ice. Squeeze in juice of one
IT WASN’T BECAUSE I was touring West Texas that I ate a cheeseburger for breakfast. It was after stumbling upon Johnny B’s for lunch the day before. Never mind the open sky and distant mesas, the cheeseburger at this inviting luncheonette was all I could envision.Open only since November (and
The sincerest form of plattery; imaginative new serving pieces for the holiday season.