Over the holidays my dad took us to his favorite place. I slid on my new cowboy boots, and off we went to Louise Mueller BBQ in a small town outside Austin– Taylor, Texas. We parked and navigated through the maze of Rams and were immediately greeted with a Texas flag mural. I knew we were in the right place.
As we walked through the unassuming screen door, the smell of brisket filled the room, the smoke seeping into our clothes, our hair, our veins. Nostalgia covered the walls– an old beer sign, here, old business cards, there.
It’s a simple place. A no frills place. A “we’re out of jalapeño sausage for the day,” hollerin’ place. A brisket-so-tender-it-falls-off-the-bone place. A friendly place. A “Don’t Mess with Texas,” place. A don’t-mess-with-a-good-thing place. A sweet tea place. A sweet place.
“It’s happening,” my dad says, as we inch our way toward the front of the line, passing the time by telling us story after story…like his close brush to fame as he was interviewed by Guy Fieri while eating lunch at Louie’s. Or my personal favorite, the story of how my great-grandpa was good friends (and on the same bowling team) with one of the greatest pitmasters to have ever lived, Fred Fontaine.
Going to Louise Mueller’s will be a new tradition. It was the best BBQ I’ve ever had…the brisket, jalapeño sausage (we got the last two), ribs, BBQ sauce, and the banana pudding were all soooooooo, mouthwateringly good. I recommend it to everyone, especially since the line ain’t too darn long, and the smells are free.
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