Thickened soup for the post-election soul.
Working from husk till dawn.
“Campfire cowboy, cook this bread, Doo-dah, doo-dah . . .”
Master of nun.
Quit slinging mud at this hepcat.
It’s what’s for dinner. And lunch. And breakfast. And snack time.
What can I say? I’m a pod person.
West Texas’s claim on this fizzy, lemony cocktail is unprovable? We’ll drink to that.
Reel in this tasty catch any way you can.
It goes well with Fritos. And football.
Party planners, pack a pepper.
Preparing the perfect peppery pot.
Our state nut goes just fine with some cream and bourbon.
It don’t need no fancy name.
A tradition of the trail—without the hide, hooves, or horns.
Hold the sugar.
They’re spicy, crunchy, and fattening. What more could a Texan want?
It’s not easy being green. So make sure you start with some good avocados.
It’s famous, it’s frothy, and it’s making a comeback.
Out of the mud and into Houston’s melting pot.
These days, a good one is rarer than hen’s teeth—but a whole lot tastier.
They’re fluffy, they’re tasty, and they’re not that hard to make.
Yes, those Ruby Reds are tasty and nutritious. But they can also get you as drunk as a skunk.
The cheese, yes. But don’t forget the chile.
Hot, flaky pockets of goodness.
A bird in the pan . . .
Eat up, for gourd's sake!
Oil, masa, air bubbles, and the filling of your choice—do you really need anything else?
Now, this is finger-lickin’ goodness.
Bring some oompah to your summer picnic.
Add some spice to that next pool party.
You should really Czech out this recipe for the delicious pastry.
A little care and attention can raise your ribeye to new heights.
You won't roux the time you spend on this delicious stew.
A tasty way to bring good fortune.
Making this complex sauce is the most delicious meditative experience you’ll ever have.
What would the holidays be without this nutty side dish?
If you don’t make it to the state fair, you can batter and fry your own wieners at home.
This is what it tastes like, when doves fry.
Let us now praise the large bowl of cheese, so simple and yet so satisfying.
When the pride of Pecos gets overripe, you don’t have to throw it out.
They’re not actually barbecued, but one bite and you’ll forgive that.
Good enough to eat raw. But there’s a better way.
The breakfast antidote to whatever needs fixing.
We hold (the perfection of) this stew to be self-evident.
A recipe for when the hunters get home.
The creamy-crispy confection looms large in Texans’ collective taste memories.
Cheap, hearty, and eternally beloved.