Roadtrip Home

We started the day at Taqueria Jalisco, an unimpressive looking place on Highway 71 in Bastrop, just across the street from the H.E.B. grocery store. I'm not sure what attracted us to the place, but a full parking lot had something to do with it. Inside, the Mexican music was blaring, giving the place a lively, friendly atmosphere right from the start. The restaurant is decidedly casual...extremely so...and that got things started on the right foot for me.

My wife ordered a taco de carne guisada (like the day before in Austin) and a taco de nopalitos (made with cactus "leaves" and egg). I did the same, but added a second taco de carne guisada, on account of my gluttony. Good stuff! The guisada wasn't quite as appealing as the Austing version, but the heavy taste of freshly ground chile powder made up for it. I would go back. I will go back.

From there, we wandered around Bastrop and got a close-up look at the Colorado River which was far, far beyond its banks. The surface of the river was not smooth, but neither was it writhing with turbulence. In short, it was deceptively quiet, but it was apparent from the occasional log or branch speeding by that the currents were very fast and very dangerous. After our gander at the river, we went exploring Bastrop and found many very attractive houses, some of which were large and beautiful and expensive, others just large and beautiful. The town is chock-full of turn-of-the-century homes (from the 19th century) and older ones, many of which have been well-maintained and others which have been completely renovated. Only once or twice did we see evidence of idiocy and conspicuous consumption gone mad...the typical monstrosities that scream "more money than sense...a stupid person lives here!" The rarity of those beasts was refreshing.

Finally, we headed north and ended up at lunchtime in Taylor, a small town northeast of Austin. Louie Mueller's is closed on Sundays and we have eaten at another big-name place (whose name escapes me) a few years ago, so we thought we'd try a place we'd heard about, the Taylor Cafe. The Taylor Cafe is on the edge of the railroad tracks, just under the edge of a bridge that allows Main Street to pass over the tracks. It's damn hard to find and the entrances are almost unmarked. Upon entering, we saw low-hung ceilings, a center service area surrounded by barstools, and a few chairs and tables on both sides of the room. It was dark and dingy but smelled delightful. An old part-timer was our server and he apparently was really part-time, really new, and really had never worked in the "hospitality" industry. He wasn't unfriendly, just aloof. But he took our order of a rib plate for my wife and a brisket sandwich for me. The food was OK, but the atmosphere was stellar. It made me think I had landed deep, deep, in a Larry McMurtry story in a small Texas town...the characters, including the old black man sipping his beer and ocassionally wiping tables, the group of firefighter trainees, who sat at the counter eating their ribs, speaking in Texas drawls so deep I could barely understand them, and the hispanic guy who kept coming on to the mid-forties waitress who joined our old man server late in the game.

The restrooms were horrendously filthy and smelly and any health department in the world would shut the place down just because of the open access to rodents under the walls, between doors and walls, etc. But the place has serious character. It was a shame I forgot to take my camera on this trip.

From Taylor, we drifted north and finally got on the Monster Highway, IH-35. It wasn't bad most of the way, I have to admit. But it is an evil road. The only saving grace were our stops: one in a little town called Bartlett and another just outside Italy. Even though we were stuffed, when we say the ramshackle little shack with its lean-to "dining area" and its hand-lettered sign, we had to stop. It was Perez Barbeque, a place we learned is open only on Saturday from 6:00 am to 5:00 pm and on Sunday from 6:00 am to 3:00 pm. It's obviously really only suited to take-out barbeque, because the "dining area" is too small for more than 3-4 people and, when we drove up, two workers and two of their friends were there. We decided we had to take something home, though, so we got some ribs and some sausage. We just couldn't pass it by. In fact, I have come to believe that the places that are open only when the owners don't have to work at their real jobs are the places likely to have the best stories and some of the best food.

Then, we stopped on the highway edge of the little town of Italy, where we went in to a market where they sell a huge variety of jerky and sausage (and they let me taste any jerky I wanted). We had stopped on the way down to Austin...and there was no reason not to stop on the way home. We were met outside by a country western musical group, who we took to be family members, just finishing up a number just outside the front door. They were good. But we had come for bathrooms, jerky, and an interesting new soda that my wife and I had developed a liking for...Izze. We particularly liked the clementine flavored sparkling water.

The stop refreshed me, so the 30-minute crawl once we got into Dallas didn't bother me too much, particularly since I got to see the reason for it, a minor wreck that backed up traffic for miles.

And then, home! And then, moments later, a downpour of biblical proportions. Next, wash the clothes and go buy a newspaper. And settle back and prepare for another week of wonder.