First of all let’s pay a tribute to the homeland of Whole Foods (this paradigm of Boboland turned paradise that will be the subject of a full next post soon) by starting the day with an organic blueberry-pineapple-keffir-valencia-shake with the last fad : hemp powder to protect our stomach lining from what is to come later.
The green stuff on the side of the glass is not henna but hemp, (free of cannabinol, this is no space drink!). Then, let’s follow the French motto : « Comment ne pas bronzer idiot » , (how to tan without looking stupid). Before getting into the idea that we are going to commit a crime against the planet, i.e. eating more animal proteins than an indian family in a week (or rather a year ? or a life for vegetarians, of course) therefore hastening deforestation and ozone émissions, we stopped by Fritz Henle exhibition in University of Texas. You might not know him (I didn’t) but as early as in the 30s this versatile photographer pionnered most of what we take for granted now in terms of fashion, ads and landscape photography aesthetics.
Mexican Henle's muse called Nieves 1935 Then we headed for « Salt Lick » (named after the block of salt Texans give their horses to lick), which is rated among top 5 barbecues in USA. It is nestled in an oak wood, a 30 minutes drive away from Austin among huges ranches. Don’t expect to see anything like cattle or cowboys, all you can spot are wood fences, some properties can be as big as several thousands acres and you can drive hours without meeting anybody or a single cow.
« Salt lick » is an institution, catering for thousand customers every day, in you want digits, just look at the website : http://www.saltlickbbq.com/, it is BIG.
Crowds of locals wait patiently for their numbers to be called or rather « flashed »,( you are given that little device in many US restaurants now), quietly drinking at picnic tables beers they are retrieving from their own coolers (this county is « dry », selling alcohol is forbidden in restaurants premises but you can bring your own, call it hypocrisy ?)
For 90 minutes we waited on the shade, sipping on fresh lemonade while listening to a guitar playing cowboy. At first, acoustical Jimmy Hendrix was not bad at all but after an hour, the happy medley started taking a toll on my european ears and my rumbling stomach. Like every weekend, at 5pm more and more patrons were gathering, with the local sheriff and his boys directing the non stop traffic of hundreds of very expensive cars into the parking.
I had plenty time to « jaw drop » at the gargantuan pit, cheerfully invited by the staff to come backstage in the kitchen to shoot as much as I wished as I was starting to drool with anticipation.
The origins of grilling meat on a pit if the object of much controversy but we know for sure the smoking and the pork (hence the sausages) is due to turn of the century German immigration.
Here beef brisket is served, sometimes ribs also but pork spare ribs and sausages are very popular. Every barbecue has its secret dry rub spiced mix and/or special basting sauce. Sauces are mostly ketchup based, with different proportion of sweet and sour and chili addition.
We went for « family style », all-you-can eat barbecue with Tex Mex sides : coleslaw, potato salad, beans, brioche like bread with sesame seads, differents sauces, raw onion and tear inducing jalapenos.
The pork ribs melted in the mouth, the sausage was addictive, the brisket rightly smoked and not too fat. The coleslaw and potatoes were very mildly sweet, which can be considered a miracle in the South.
I tried to follow a friend’s advice (thank you P.) : « Put down your fork between two bites », « bring food to you mouth and not the opposite », « chew and enjoy »
I only had meat and coleslaw and when I bravely pushed away my plate I could still move (I was actually very proud of myself, maybe it also had something to do with seing throngs of customers three times my size gulping down a whole herd of Texan cattle).
We were wise enough not to have dessert and had a pecan pie wrapped to go for breakfast next morning.
Don't expect anybody to cook with butter here, Crisco is the King of shortening, it gives a pale and crumbling dough which leaves that margarine feeling on the tongue. The filling happened to be not too sweet or fat, a rather good surprise.
On the way back, we stopped by a huge indian temple and ashram just a mile away from the temple of carnivores.
We silently removed our shoes and tiptoed into a very kitchy praying room. Surrounded by posters of the guru taking dozens of dramatic poses in a flashy coloured indian studio (was he mimicking Mahabharata ?), a few devotees were uhmmmmpaduhhmming in the cool room. Was it some kind of ceremony on the remembrance of the holy Texan slaughtered cows that were so nicely filling our stomachs with bliss ?
I wouldn’t tell…
And, to paraphrase a dear friend of mine who will recognize himself :
"Now, where did I put that PeptoBismol?"
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