Tuesday, August 7
I think it’s amazing that Steinbeck breezed through Austin like it was some one-horse town. It’s also a downright shame. Maybe he had seen it before and knew there was nothing for him here. But being the capitol of the Nation of Texas, there should be at least a nod toward it.
Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum.
I started the day with a trip to the Texas State History Museum. All in all, the museum was a little gimmicky. I don’t mean that in a bad way, but it was definitely geared toward a younger crowd. I say that mostly because mannequins scare a little of the hell out of me. Museums with mannequins automatically lose a star in my book. What was great, however, was the Texas Music Roadtrip exhibit. The exhibit features the history of prominent Texas musicians by walking through each region of the state. I definitely learned some things. I had no idea Scott Joplin and Beyonce were born in Texas. For those of you who don’t know who Joplin is, here is my face. For those of you who are curious, here is your answer.
Just kidding. He’s here. 
Letter written from Lead Belly to Alan Lomax. He was a very polite guy, come to find out. The record is a first cut by Blind Lemon Jefferson.
One of my favorite parts of the exhibit was a letter written by Lead Belly to Alan Lomax asking if the governor liked his music. Lomax was on a tour through the American South documenting folklore and folk songs and stumbled upon Lead Belly in Angola Prison. Lomax liked his music so much he recorded Lead Belly singing and brought the record to the governor asking for the governor to pardon Lead Belly. Lomax effectively convinced the governor to pardon Lead Belly so that he could pursue a career in music. Because of Lomax, Lead Belly is now one of the defining voices that echo through the history of the blues.
The rest of the museum was great too. It does a pretty good job of explaining why Texas has been independent. I think it’s walking a fine line, though, between embracing Americanness and holding on to Texanness. It’s as if the museum doesn’t want to say, “But hey, we’re still Texans more than Americans.” And maybe that’s something that is becoming more of a novelty that sucker tourists like me eat up. Steinbeck called Texas a “state of mind.” Whatever it is, they are doing an excellent job of marketing it.
In speaking of Steinbeck, I think one thing that he missed out on was the food. Sprinkled through Travels with Charley are comments about the nation’s food. Sometimes it’s amazing and natural and real. Sometimes, which seems more often than not, it is empty and tasteless and plastic. I think what he needed in his foodfunk was some Texas barbecue.
I went for lunch at a place called Franklin Barbecue. It was one of the first choices on a list of restaurants that “You have just got to try in Austin.” As soon as I walked up, three things told me it was going to be good. One, the building was an unassuming, faint aquamarine and white painted cinder block with a wooden porch. It could’ve easily been a pawn shop or Mexican restaurant as anything else. Two, the smell. I think there is something about the smell of barbecue that triggers an ancient, pre-Paleolithic hunger. It’s the kind of hunger that starts a small fire deep in the hungered’s stomach and spreads into every nerve and fiber in the body until the very soul is consumed by hickory-smoked fumes and the primal urge to feast upon sweet, tender flesh. Three, the line of people about thirty deep just to get into the building. Nothing is that good, I thought. So I stuck around to prove myself wrong.
I took my spot in line behind two guys who were soaked in sweat. One wore a white shirt, gym shorts, and a slight, rugged black beard. The other guy wore a red original Donkey Kong shirt with shaggy reddish mop of hair. We exchanged the universal head nod–that’s a forward nod, not a back tip–and dipped into silence.
“So this place is pretty good, huh?” Yeah it was a weak intro. Sue me.
“Oh yeah, man. It’s great. You’ve never been here?” asked Donkey Kong.
“Nah man, this is my first time. First time in Austin.”
“Nice,” said the guy in the white shirt. “You came to a good place then. Are you in Austin for a while?”
“No, I’m actually leaving after lunch. Heading to Houston.”
“Oh, well then, yeah. You’ve definitely gotta eat here then. This is some of the best barbecue in Austin.”
On the door to the entrance, still about twenty or so people away, was a sign that said, “Hours: 11 a.m. until we sell out!” Donkey Kong explained that they make everything fresh every morning and pretty much go until it’s gone. Sometimes that happens at 3:00. Sometimes it happens as early as 1:30. While he was saying this, a hostess came out selling beers and saying that they were already out of ribs, but they would have enough brisket, chicken, and pulled pork. It was 12:16.
I finally thought to introduce myself. White shirt was Nate from California who had been living in Austin for six or seven years. Donkey Kong was Matt, an Austin native, Texan ex-pat, and had been back in Austin off and on for five years. Matt said he had seen the line stretch out to the middle of the parking lot–a solid twenty yards away from the building. The reason Matt and Nate were so sweaty was that they had just biked eight miles to come eat lunch here. Luckily the line was moving fast today and we would get a chance to gorge some brisket.
The inside was just as simple as the rest of the place. It was all wooden and old. On the walls were articles from different magazines: the Texas Monthly, Bon Appetite, and Edible Austin. There was a certificate from a local food organization calling it “The best barbecue in the history of the world.” I read in one of the articles that the owner, Aaron Franklin, fires up his grill at 3:30 a.m. six days of the week.
He was also the one slicing up huge cuts of brisket or pulled pork for his customers. A great way to do business, I thought. He looked like a younger, edgier Seth MacFarlane, and he laughed and joked with all of the customers. Nate and Matt told him I’m from Alabama and it was my first time here. He asked me if I wanted it with a little more fat or not. I know in a health-conscious society with people plagued by heart disease and obesity, he needs to ask that question. But for a second I paused at the absurdity of insinuating that I would even think about having less fat on my quarter-pound Texan brisket sandwich. He cut off a little extra brisket and asked, “How’s that look?”
“Amazing.” I choked back a tear.
I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten barbecue before. And I’m afraid I never will again. This was by far one of the best things I’ve eaten. Ever. The meat was incredibly tender. It melted in my mouth like a hot Krispy Kreme doughnut—a doughnut made of sweet barbecue. The whole sandwich melted in my hand. After I finished, I was left in shock and awe, and I wanted another. I could already feel a food-coma coming on though, and I needed to be in Houston in a few hours, so I opted out. But please, dear reader, go to Franklin’s in Austin, TX, if you have any shred of decency or appreciation for beauty and all good and holy things in this world.
This post is long, but there’s one more part to the BBQ story. Between mouthfuls of pork, Matt and Nate told me the story of Aaron Franklin’s rise to power. Several years ago, Franklin worked for a guy named John Mueller. Mueller was highly regarded as the master of Texas barbecue. His family owned a world-famous smokehouse, and he has spent years perfecting his recipes. According to Matt, Mueller enjoyed the bottle quite a bit. Due to constant abuse, his whole life fell apart and his business shut down. Franklin decides to buy Mueller’s smoker from him and open up a food truck of his own. From a parking lot somewhere in Austin, Franklin began churning out the best barbecue in Texas, and people were noticing. Now, ten years later, Franklin has his own place with a line that wraps around the building on a daily basis. Enter the fallen John Mueller. Seeing his younger ex-employee’s success has prompted Mueller to get back in the business. Now with his life back together and a food truck a few miles from Franklin’s, Mueller has vowed to reclaim the throne and reestablish his rule in the world of Texas BBQ.
How’s that for epic?
I’m now on my way to Houston, TX, which will be featured in the next post.
Limb of the Nation 
