15 April 24 - 30, 2025 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents TAKING TEXAS BITE BY BITE Brit and one-time Texan returns to Texas for 96 hours of meat. BY GAVIN CLEAVER E nglishman Gavin Cleaver once served as the Dallas Observer’s barbecue critic and web editor. He offered a humorous and in- sightful take on brisket through the eyes of someone who grew up eating that weird pea stuff with fish and chips (so we pre- sume). He’s been back in England for over a decade, but he recently returned with friends in tow to relive the good ol’ days of proper Texas meat sweats. Here’s an account of his travels. WEDNESDAY I first moved to Dallas in February 2011, roughly the week North Texas hosted the Super Bowl. Having done no research and assuming I was moving to a desert with cacti, guns and tumbleweeds, I had packed only T-shirts and shorts. It was, of course, 13 degrees Fahrenheit. Almost 14 years later, I returned to Dal- las for the first time. Having done no re- search, I assumed Texas would be its usual 70 degrees Fahrenheit, late-winter self, overcast but pleasant. I packed only T- shirts and shorts. It was, of course, 13 de- grees Fahrenheit. People learn from their experiences, gen- erally. My time in Dallas has left a lasting im- pression of a liberal, progressive city in a sea of red, unfairly typecast by the world at large as a cowboy town with nothing to do. I have tried to defend you in Europe. Europeans are bemused by the idea that Dallas might be all right, that there might be a genuinely ex- cellent food culture and a thriving music scene. I have remembered all of this and told people at length, but I didn’t remember the weather in February. Our brief Dallas adventure starts, as all drives to Dallas must, two hours south at Czech Stop in West. As we pull up, a three- car convoy on the road from Austin, it’s so cold that it isn’t even quite snowing, there’s just the odd little snowflake in a bone-dry wind. Thankfully, Czech Stop has approxi- mately 17,000 kolaches, several microwaves and no queue. I can’t resist some sort of Byz- antine pecan nightmare alongside my usual berry and cream cheese kolache. We huddle around the few tables in the corner for warmth and lay out the microwaved feast. It’s good! It’s also basically no money! For some people in the group, this is their first introduction to the concept of good food being served in a gas station, a true Texas tradition. One of the most enduring stories I tell about Texas is that the more your tamales or elotes purchase feels like a drug deal, the better the tamales or elotes are bound to be. Meeting someone’s grand- mother with a tamale hookup at a gas station near Denton is the sign of high cuisine. Back in the car, we are pursued to Dallas not only by snow flurries but by the face of that dastardly beaver, with a new billboard containing Gen Z lingo every three miles. It’s undoubtedly a very effective marketing technique, because Buc-ee’s is all I can think about for about 100 miles, until I am informed that Maskaras Grill, our restau- rant for the evening and the venue for a meeting with old friend José Ralat, has closed early because of the cold. It’s not even icy! I had forgotten how much Dallas drivers panic any time the temperature dips below the catchy 32 degrees Fahrenheit, you have nominated as your freezing point (controversially, the rest of the world has gone with “zero”). When we first moved to Texas, neither my partner nor I could drive, having lived in the mythical “walkable cities” of Europe. As a result, we arrived, hilariously, relying on the Dallas bus system to obtain groceries for our spectacularly unfurnished apartment. Amid the entire region being frozen solid, we tried phoning DART to ask if there would be any buses so we could eat. “Ma’am,” they firmly told my partner, “there is a lot of snow and ice.” Yes, I can see it. Does that mean there will be any buses? Perhaps someone might grit the road? “Ma’am. There is a lot of snow and ice.” DART hung up. In an attempt to show my companions that Dallas has one walkable area, we choose Bishop Arts for the evening, or more specifi- cally Lockhart Smokehouse, scene of several former personal birthday parties. We are in- credibly blessed to bump into owners Jill and Jeff Bergus, who are at their restaurant helping some YouTubers film something about barbecue, as YouTubers are wont to do, I suppose. | CITY OF ATE | t Dish >> p16 Gavin Cleaver A feast from Goldees was on the itinerary.
