Tootsie Tomanetz, for one, is capping off this pandemic year with lots and lots of Christmas lights.
Plus, a Netflix show featuring Tootsie Tomanetz, an Austin band’s wistful album, and a digital marketplace supporting local artisans.
Plus: are we ready for lab-grown barbecue?
The legendary Snow's pitmaster is still cooking barbecue for shipping, but the best joint in Texas has been closed to customers for a month.
Plus: The barbecue pit so long it required an official highway escort.
In the first episode of 'Fire & Smoke,' Daniel Vaughn tells us the story of one of the most celebrated—and humble—pitmasters in Texas.
For the third time in four years, the prestigious restaurant and chef awards recognize a pitmaster.
This story about the amazing Tootsie Tomanetz originally ran in our October issue. We’re posting it here in its entirety along with a collection of photos from Wyatt McSpadden. He was assigned with capturing the essence of Tootsie for the story, which he did masterfully, but we could only run so
Tootsie Tomanetz has been cooking barbecue for fifty years, an art she didn’t start practicing professionally until she was in her thirties. When she began her career in Giddings, offset smokers weren’t nearly as popular as they are today. Then, barbecue was cooked directly over wood coals, and that’s the
Every month we’ll bring you a profile of a photographer who has captured the people, the food and the spaces that make up the world of barbecue.Wyatt McSpadden – Austin, TexasI’ve been shooting pictures at BBQ places around Texas for better than 25 years. I’ve had the pleasure of
Pitmaster: Snow’s BBQ; opened in 2003.Age: 78Smoker: A steel smoker with an offset firebox for briskets, a direct heat pit for everything else.Wood: Post OakTootsie took her lunch break to talk with me while working her day job with the Giddings school district. After Texas Monthly named Snow’s BBQ the best barbecue
For some in the small town of Lexington (population roughly 1,200), Saturdays are as holy as Sundays. It’s hard to miss these devotees. They congregate at the end of Main Street, within view of some grain elevators dressed in a gingham rust—a line of farmhands, ranchers, well-off weekenders, and groggy
After driving three hours from Dallas to arrive in Lexington at nine in the morning, it’s hard not to suffer some validation bias no matter what you sink your teeth into. But it helps when it’s perfectly smoked and silky tender brisket. I invited a friend on a
A small wood-frame restaurant, open only on Saturdays and only from eight in the morning until whenever the meat runs out, usually around noon, Snow’s is remarkable not only for the quality of its ’cue—“outlandishly tender brisket, fall-apart-delicious chicken”—but for the unlikeliness of its story. The genius behind this meat