You
would think a travel writer, for more
years than he can remember, would know
when to come out of the rain, but an
evening near Bastrop, Texas proved that
even experienced travelers get caught
in events that could have been avoided.
And it all happened because of a
hurried (partial) night's stay in a
mainly great state park, when the prime
purpose for being in the area was a
visit to the finest restaurant in Texas
(the world?) -- an hour away.
The
comic opera evening began early in the
day, during a trip to research scenic
drives in Texas. It was a busy fall
weekend, when most state parks were
filled, but we (Joyce was along on the
trip) were intent on camping -- and
were sampling as many state parks as
possible on this trip. After checking
other parks, and desperately wanting to
visit this famed restaurant for dinner,
we finally found vacant campsites in
Bastrop State Park, a fine park in the
pine woods about an hour from the state
capital.
The
small hiking tent was set up (I had
lost my tent pegs earlier) and I left
the tent and other gear at the
campsite. While there were
thunderstorms in south/central Texas,
the clouds seemed to be moving away
from Bastrop, and we set off for Austin
and our eating adventure without a
care.
Now,
you have to know that I was heading for
Threadgills, the seminal home of
comfort food in America. Founded in the
1930s by Kenneth Threadgill, as a gas
station and bootleg joint, and later
converted into a cafe, the place has a
long history as an eating place and an
incubator of young Texas musical
talent. Janis Joplin sang there before
she moved to LA. Singers and musicians,
many of them very well known, have long
sat-in on the restaurant's Wednesday
night jam sessions, playing for their
food.
After
current owner Eddie Wilson took over
Threadgills in the 1960s, he turned it
into a respected and eventually
lionized restaurant, serving what he
calls "Everyday Food." But Eddy
Wilson's cuisine is much more than
that. Growing over the years, with
added dining rooms, Threadgills has
become an icon of good eating, with a
wide-ranging menu that includes the
finest chicken fried steak in the world
(my rating), along with a host of other
"down home" dishes &emdash; smoked,
fried, spiced with cajun herb mixes,
and served with an amazing roster of
side dishes. The side dishes are so
famous that Wilson sells frozen chubs
of his vegetable concoctions in
supermarkets far and wide.
The
meal was simply great. We had reached
Nirvana, sampled two entrees and half a
dozen side dishes, including garlic
cheese grits, and beans floating in
bacon drippings. This is not the place
for anyone on a diet.
Full
to the gills and very pleased with
ourselves for finally reaching
Threadgills, we drove back to Bastrop,
heading toward some very angry clouds
that seemed to be skirting the park,
but looked a little too close for
comfort.
The
minute the pickup entered the park, the
sprinkles began. Then the winds rose,
and by the time I reached the campsite,
the rains poured. Of course, with no
tent pegs to hold it down, my tent had
collapsed, had blown to another
campsite, and with the rain now a
torrential downpour, and quickly
gathered two gallons of water before we
could rescue the drenched, tormented
piece of nylon &emdash; all in the
heaviest downpour I had ever
experienced (two inches in about ten
minutes).
Drenched
to the skin, and gathering the tent and
gear in this impossible storm -- heavy
thunder crashing and lightening hitting
nearby trees -- we departed the park
(it was 11 pm) and headed for the
nearest motel with a vacancy &emdash;
on the freeway, 80 miles away. No
fleabag economy motel was ever so
comforting.
Was
it worth it, this adventure in
gormandizing?
Of
course! A visit to Threadgills is worth
any inconvenience, storm, pestilence,
or plague. I'm going back soon (and I
have to drive more than 1,500 miles to
get there). The secret is to reserve a
hotel room in Austin.
Wilson
has recently published the Threadgill's
Cookbook, with many of the restaurant's
recipes.
An
afterword:
One
thing to remember on a South Texas
tour, is that Fall is the rainy season,
when huge rainstorms pummel the coastal
plains, and tornadoes are not uncommon.
Driving back to California, a tornado
touched down less than five miles from
our route.
And
another tip: Don't forget your tent
pegs!
Fraser
Bridges
