“I have to work on a project tomorrow and need a designated eater. It’s on desserts. You game?”
Not five minutes through the door when Julia fired this loaded question. I don’t even like sweets. As a kid I stockpiled Halloween candy all year to use as currency in the inter-sibling economy established between my brother and I. But Julia, whose chosen profession requires her to test and report on all things edible in San Antonio- and at times beyond- wouldn’t be sampling just any old treacle. Or so we thought. In any event, I was game.
You know you’re baked into the food community when you’re on speed dial to receive text messages like, “I have a baby wild boar in my freezer. Do you have a party coming up? Shitty part is that they removed the head and the feet. Bastards!”
And when you’re Julia, your natural response is, “OMG. Fuck a party. Let’s just you and me eat that baby.”
Five days in the Lone Star State and I wasn’t impressed by the offerings so far. Granted, the bulk of my ingested experiences were clocked at an amusement park and a high school football game. Not the best food foot forward (or possibly the very best, depending who you ask). While I was pleasantly surprised by the proliferation of kombucha throughout the state, incarnated in everything from cocktails to sorbets, with the exception of this and a small handful (mouthful) of well-assembled plates, the “lone star” could snarkily refer to Yelp reviews of the fare at large. By far the most appetizing ingredient in Frito pie is the plastic spork used to eat it. And a visit to the State Fair of Texas verified what one could easily deduce from the average patron’s waistline: that the default technique is to deep-fry. When in doubt, deep-fry.
Not five minutes through the door when Julia fired this loaded question. I don’t even like sweets. As a kid I stockpiled Halloween candy all year to use as currency in the inter-sibling economy established between my brother and I. But Julia, whose chosen profession requires her to test and report on all things edible in San Antonio- and at times beyond- wouldn’t be sampling just any old treacle. Or so we thought. In any event, I was game.
You know you’re baked into the food community when you’re on speed dial to receive text messages like, “I have a baby wild boar in my freezer. Do you have a party coming up? Shitty part is that they removed the head and the feet. Bastards!”
And when you’re Julia, your natural response is, “OMG. Fuck a party. Let’s just you and me eat that baby.”
Five days in the Lone Star State and I wasn’t impressed by the offerings so far. Granted, the bulk of my ingested experiences were clocked at an amusement park and a high school football game. Not the best food foot forward (or possibly the very best, depending who you ask). While I was pleasantly surprised by the proliferation of kombucha throughout the state, incarnated in everything from cocktails to sorbets, with the exception of this and a small handful (mouthful) of well-assembled plates, the “lone star” could snarkily refer to Yelp reviews of the fare at large. By far the most appetizing ingredient in Frito pie is the plastic spork used to eat it. And a visit to the State Fair of Texas verified what one could easily deduce from the average patron’s waistline: that the default technique is to deep-fry. When in doubt, deep-fry.
 Agronomists have engineered a self-frying carrot genome. The end is near.  Big Tex didn't grow 55 feet tall by eating only fried butter. Or maybe yes?  Of all the things one could carve out of 3000 pounds of butter, the committee chose THIS?! |  HA HA! CORNDOGS ARE FUN!  The infamous frito "pie". |
There is one engineering ingenuity that deserves a degree of reverence: Deep-fried liquids. Coke, lattes, beer, sweet tea. I don’t know how they do it, but if we put a man on the moon, the oily alchemy of liquid to a solid state doesn’t seem so miraculous. As I meandered down the stalls, I wondered if the government had considered creating a branch within the Department of Defense, and offering these wily chemists a seat in the Situation Room. The “Battery” would take on a whole new meaning.
 Important distinction: "Most Creative" vs. "Best Taste" |  Whatever happened to loving liquids just the way they are?  But the real freak show is the secret to how they deep-fry liquids. |
But San Antonio is a food town. And I don’t mean just Tex-Mex. “A city on the rise”, I was delighted to observe an all-but-abandoned Chipotle, the residents opting in favor of local flavors over the corporate burrito chain. So on Saturday morning, after a rookie mistake of downing five breakfast tacos (YOU try choosing between chorizo, nopales, al pastor, al Mexicano, and chicharrones), we launched into our sugary survey through the city.
 Decision making is not one of my strong points. |  Tres "BLEH"ches cake. @ Carmelita's |
The problem with Julia is, when you order one dessert, they bring four. It’s a thing of beauty to witness Julia in her element, gabbing with chefs, bartenders, managers, wait staff, friends, strangers- even other food critics. One of Julia’s friends mockingly vented a lesson she learned early on- that any dining excursion with Julia required at least an additional 30 minutes for trade talk and personal catch-up. The way I saw it, the more time between me and the next bite was a good thing. But twelve hours, nine restaurants, and fourteen desserts later, I wanted nothing to do with saccharine stuff again. My companion suspected as much after we spooned the tenth of the day, a sticky olive oil lemon cake, when my words became Jabberwocky and I fell asleep upright on a bar stool. The dance of the sugarplum fairy was temporarily suspended.
 "The tea was nice," and other euphemisms. @ Bird Bakery |  The slave driver and her marching orders |
There is a place that is neither heaven nor hell, but both. @ Cured
After an emergency resuscitative nap, and a liberal application of Sensodyne to my aching dentines, Julia had the sense of humor to suggest not only that we finish the assignment, but also make room for “real food”. Real food entailed vegan summer vegetable curry with noodles, fideo with fried chicken hearts, and a fortuitous stop at a food truck for cochinita pibil. Somehow we tucked these away between two more solid desserts, three apricot spirit cocktails, and a flight of kombucha. At one point Julia enthused that we should travel to Oaxaca and eat our way through the state. I’d have to survive the weekend first.
 Kombucha flight (clockwise from center front): Milky oolong, Green tea, Jasmine-hibiscus, Smoky black. @ Alchemy  The 11th hour. @ The Old Main Assoc. |  Balkan apricot spirits, lifting ours. @ Dorćol  Off-menu order. @ Dorćol |
It was reassuring to know that Julia had never attempted a feat quite like this before, and that even in spite of my initial setback of far-too-many breakfast tacos, I was keeping pace with the pros. But it was still only Saturday, and Sunday loomed threatening brunch, gelato stop, and huge homemade dinner of roast chicken and all the fixin’s.
 Ladies who lunch. And point at lunch. @ Brigid |  Ready for some aerobic piñata-batting to burn off the gluttony. |
I called up a family friend in New Orleans to make arrangements for the next leg of my journey. As we exchanged parting words she pressed inquisitively, “...And we’re going to eat, right?”
Riiiiiight.
Riiiiiight.
Hungry in San Antonio? Jade’s top picks:
Toro Taco Bar BBQ lengua, shrimp & chorizo
Carmelita's Breakfast tacos with homemade tortillas. (Just don’t order 5 of them)
Cured Probably anything
Alamode (get it?) Gelato & panini
Brigid Yum.
Alchemy Kombucha flights, cocktails, and everything from fried chicken to vegan entrees
The Old Main Assoc. Favorite among local chefs. Can’t go wrong.
Carmelita's Breakfast tacos with homemade tortillas. (Just don’t order 5 of them)
Cured Probably anything
Alamode (get it?) Gelato & panini
Brigid Yum.
Alchemy Kombucha flights, cocktails, and everything from fried chicken to vegan entrees
The Old Main Assoc. Favorite among local chefs. Can’t go wrong.
