Writer Alida Nugent is deep into a relationship with her polar opposite. This week, they bring their appetites to bear on the saying that everything is bigger in Texas.
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We land in Austin at 9 p.m. I’m already sweating in the thick, sticky air as we stand by the baggage claim, waiting for the suitcase the guy at JFK grabbed right before we got on the plane.
I was on just enough Xanax (thanks, fear of flying!) to be amused by anything—if he lit the bag on fire, I would probably have thought that was a lot of fun. By now, it’s worn off just in time to watch the bag handlers in the Austin-Bergstrom Airport toss it like a trash bag onto the stuck carousel.
But who cares? I’m starving. And for the next few days, boy, am I gonna eat .
Technically, we’re in the great city of Austin for a friend’s wedding, but that’s not really why my boyfriend and I travel. Some people like to immerse themselves in a place’s culture, meet people, or walk around aimlessly on so-called adventures. You know, make memories and snap pictures of themselves and the great big world we live in. It sounds nice, but I have a different goal in mind: eat till I’m practically sick, take a nap, and eat some more. Maybe I’ll sit outside on occasion. Maybe.
We drop our bags off at the hotel and hail a cab. There is no time to waste here: I am wearing shorts that are a little too big. I intend to fix this issue as soon as possible.
Hellllooooo, queso.
DAY 1
Brooklyn has a lot of great food, and I find myself talking to people about it on this trip often. Almost every waiter asks where we are from, and then “what’s good to eat there.” I feel I’ve found my people, and also my pedestal from which to preach the Brooklyn food gospel. I tell them the same thing: you can step into any bagel shop and pizza place there is and probably find something good. It’s not that true, but it’s true enough.
Texas has its own great food to preach about. We are at Benji’s Cantina , one of the only places close to our downtown hotel that takes reservations at 10 p.m. I order queso blanco almost immediately, which is one of the reasons I am here. My boyfriend loves BBQ, so he’s in his element in the Lone Star state, but me? I could take long baths in melted, processed cheese for the rest of my days. It is almost a fetish.
Benji’s comes with avocado and is topped with hot sauce, served in what looks like a tiny witch’s cauldron. We also share frozen grapefruit margaritas, a platter of chicken and vegetable fajitas, and a side of black refried beans. For the first time in my life, I eat the mushrooms. As we are leaving, the waitress tells me my name sounds like her girlfriend’s name. I lick cheese off my finger and nod, my mouth still full of food like a deranged squirrel.
DAY 2
I have to fit into a beautiful floral cocktail dress for the wedding tonight, so it’s time we got some barbecue, which I am certain will keep me looking Beyoncé-level hot. Last time we were in Austin, we went to Franklin’s , which was a 6-hour hazy wait that I couldn’t do again, even though their ribs were the best ribs I’ve ever had. They could have been made of humans and I would have continued to eat them, but my tolerance for lines has waned so much that I will only wait if I know I can get on a Disney World ride at the end. So we head to Micklethwait Craft Meats , a small food truck that is supposed to be delicious.
There is still a line. I can’t escape it. But it occurs to me that this is my boyfriend’s equivalent to said Disney World ride. He is talking about fatty brisket like it is Mickey Mouse. There is free beer, and we also brought some beer to drink on line because we are from New York and would usually get a ticket for this, but Mickelthwait is BYOB, so I suppose we’re on private property and allowed to imbibe while we wait in the heat. Texas, amiright?!
We wait for two hours in front of a couple who turns around and suggests we search for a Conan video that we would like because “we’re from NYC.” Okay.
Almost everything gets sold out, including what I came here for—the beloved jalapeño cheese grits. We settle instead for brisket Frito pie, potato salad, beans, chorizo, and the brisket. I head back to the hotel burping and gassy, like the natural woman I’ve always wanted to be.
That night, we eat vegetarian wedding food: gnocchi with cauliflower, ratatouille, green beans, gin 75 cocktails, and wedding cake. We dance to Prince. The night ends with Garth Brooks’ I’ve Got Friends In Low Places. The bride is beautiful and glowing. I am full and sweaty, but apparently not full enough. I go back to the hotel and order room service with my boyfriend: an egg sandwich with tomato and guac and swiss cheese for him and chicken tenders with BBQ sauce and honey mustard for me. I eat two fries and one bite of sandwich before I pass out, like I imagine Marie Antoinette would do.
Give us all the barbecue.
DAY 3
This is a sleep-in kind of day, on account of being drunk enough last night that I danced with bare feet. We wake up and get some coffee, followed by a luxurious mango margarita at a touristy spot where they stare too long at my ID. I am 27 and drowning in college debt, I want to scream! Then, we book it to Torchy’s Tacos on Guadalupe.
Even if my boyfriend was here for BBQ, we can both agree: Torchy’s is why we love Austin, and perhaps why we were born to eat food and not get our nutrients from the sunlight. New York City has the bacon, egg and cheese—the sweet, innocent joy of paying very little for something simple and consistently delicious and greasy and filling. Austin has the breakfast taco, and it’s the same exact principle. We order $3 Sangria’s (bless Austin booze prices) and the tacos of the gods: a bacon, egg, cheese and salsa taco; a potato, egg, cheese, and tomatillo salsa; a fried chicken taco; and last but certainly not least, a fried avocado taco. And queso, obviously.
It is a disgusting mess of delicious, spicy flavors, sloshing around in my stomach like an orgy. By this point, I start to feel like I need some vegetables. I’ve eaten practically nothing nutritious in 72 hours, and if I had to run to escape something, I don’t think I could do it. I push this worry aside and get beers at Easy Tiger while petting my friend’s blind dog with wild abandon.
She (my friend, not her dog) wants Tex Mex. We drive to a place called Polvos , where I can only eat one bite of my vegetable quesadilla. That night, I watch Game Of Thrones and feel as fat as the now deceased Robert Baratheon. I am a shell of a person, if a shell could burp.
DAY 4
I wake up sluggish. You may not believe me from my writing here, but I eat like a health food nut in New York. To prepare for this trip, my diet was filled with green smoothies and beet juices, raw cashews and coconut sugar (which has a low glycemic index), soy protein and tilapia. I felt lighter than air the few days before my trip, and I am ruining it all. I crawl around on the hotel floor for a while, mumbling things like “sight-seeing” and “help me.”
We decide to get a quick breakfast from our complimentary breakfast buffet before walking to the Texas State Capitol. I eat a piece of wheat toast, cantaloupe, honeydew, and an omelet with tomato and spinach. I feel awake and alive. We visit the Capitol, which is full of stairs—a lot of stairs for somebody who is currently eating like Guy Fieri. I weakly salute a picture of George W. Bush; After Trump, and in my food haze, he doesn’t seem so bad. Perhaps the influx of American cheese has made me patriotic?
We visit the library near the capitol, where the security guard tells us “this isn’t really for tourists,” so we walk around more and stop at Frank’s for lime rickeys and vegan hot dogs with horseradish slaw. I’m not eating enough, I think. This vegan hot dog is like 400 calories. I’m disappointing myself. We walk around more, probably burning all those delicious calories, weaving in and out of the Austin city like two zombies in search of more flesh.
Our last meal is at Lambert’s BBQ, a fancy place where you can get queso and barbecue, so it feels like a true compromise. At this point, we have tricked our bodies into thinking we need more food to survive than we actually do. We order queso for consistency’s sake, and because I want to be sick of it to the point that I won’t miss it when we leave; pickled deviled eggs because we’ve been dating for four years and gas doesn’t bother us; a roasted chicken dish for me, and sausage for him. We split the mac & cheese and collard greens, because I fully believe that green for dinner completely erases all the other things I’m putting into my body. I barely get through any of it except for the mac and cheese. I could be dying, and I would find a way to eat more cheese.
More queso for the road.
DAY 5
We head to the airport at 6 a.m. I eat one more breakfast taco for the road. I fully expected for the guy at the airport to check me into baggage, on account of how bloated with cholesterol I now am. He doesn’t.
I land in New York and eat raw veggies for three days straight. I also immediately get sick with a stomach and head cold. It was a successful food vacation, indeed.
Craving more Southern food? Us too. Good thing tickets to Taste Talks Brooklyn Festival curated by Chef Sean Brock are available now. Grab yours here so you don’t miss a minute of South-meets-North deliciousness.
