Making the Meat Rounds, part 1

Hello again, blog. It seems that despite my assurances otherwise, I am once again neglecting you. Babies (Netflix)--what are you going to do? For now, I will try to appease you and your neglected spirit with these food pics. Just what the internet needs! 

We've been trying some of Central Texas's renowned BBQ of late, taking Sunday excursions with the baby about Austin. We've been to John Mueller's Meat Company a couple of times, and I'm happy to report that this spot made me realize I like, no, I love brisket.

Texas Cubed.

Baby is, perhaps, ready for solids.

Growing up, we had brisket often from the Smokehouse in Lindsay. At the Keck family reunion, the men would stay up all night tending to the brisket, a cauldron of beans, and a cooler of beer. The ladies were responsible for casseroles, kids, and everything else. I never really liked brisket, though I always ate a little. It made me feel nauseous, always just a little too rich, too smokey. 

All that changed when I got ahold of Mueller's brisket. Holy hell, it's nothing like what I grew up eating, God bless dear Tom Hancock and Cecil Keck's souls. First off, the bark. It's thick and black and peppery and good grief the meat inside is still tender and wait a minute, even the fat is delicious and my God how does he do it?

Beats the hell out of me, but he also prepared the first smoked rib I ever liked. See above. (That's not me.)

Photo: Wyatt McSpadden

John Mueller's gained some infamy for being a curmudgeon and apparently a good enough cook to have his troubles publicized. When he walked over and handed us our free Lone Stars a couple weeks ago, I actually felt sort of nervous*. Well, if not nervous, then really self-aware, wondering as he walked away, how was my thank you? too much eye contact? overly eager? Maybe it was the mirrored aviators. Maybe it was me. (It was me.)

Most of the time he's a pretty great Twitter follow, so if you're into that sort of thing (Twitter, BBQ, played-up assholery, etc.), then by all means, get on that. If Twitter isn't your thing, you should still get over to 6th and Pedernales. John Mueller might change the way you think about brisket...and beer at 10:30 in the morning. He'll run out of meat before customers run out of appetite, so get there early, and don't whine.

 

*Don't worry. This isn't all that odd. I get nervous making small talk with cashiers and, at 38 (38!) get the 17-year-old-trying-to-buy-beer butterflies going through the checkout line with a bottle of wine at Whole Foods.