asinaustin

I finally visited Scholz Garten at the most recent Texas Music magazine readership appreciation party AND got to see one of my favorite songwriters perform - Walt Wilkins. Great biergarten out back with a big stage. Dined inside - food was good and the beer was COLD. The inside bar definitely has a historic feel to it—I always LOVE old Austin stuff!

Recognized as historical building in Austin,Texas, Jaime’s Spanish Village restaurant & bar has been around since 1931 serving generations of patrons hungry for great Tex-Mex food in Austin, Texas. I personally love, love, love their verde sauce on some chicken enchiladas. They’ve got some rockin’ margaritas (love the peach), their queso is always good, and their salsa hot!

This place was first established in 1953. I like visiting old Austin institutions, so I’ve added El Patio to my Places I want to visit!

Established in 1934, this place has an “old Austin” reputation as a truly unique eating joint with home-style cooked meals. I hear The Hoffbrau has the friendliest staff, who will give you tips and suggestions on a la carte and that the pies are simply irresistible.

Tucked into a dusty bend alongside Mt. Bonnell Road, the Dry Creek Cafe is the dive to end all dives. The beer selection sucks, but that’s okay — it’s cheap and served in bottles from one of those vintage fridges with the latching handle. There’s a neglected pool table in the back and a jukebox that plays old .45s. The delightfully ornery owners insist you bus your own table by handing in empties before buying more. Sometimes it’s mysteriously closed.

So why go? Two reasons. One: The sunset view from the rooftop patio is one of the most majestic and sublime in Austin. Two: Its charm cannot be denied. There’s nothing self-aware or ironic about Dry Creek.

El Rancho is an Austin institution, operating since 1952. You’ll see generations of families coming back again and again. I grew up dining here and also grew up with Matt’s grandson in Travis Country (near Oak Hill).

I get beef fajitas with Portabellos added. Sooooo good! The margaritas will kick your butt, so be careful. When we take a couple of generations, we always get an order of the Bob Armstrong Dip—queso with guacamole and ground beef. So bad for you, but oh so good! :D

I found this write up by a 55-year-old fifth generation Austin native and now I HAVE to go!

“I went in today and Ross was by himself, keeping store. You walk through the swinging screen door and it’s like a Faulkner novel come to life. Well, maybe that’s too strong, but you do feel like you’ve landed in a part of the old south. It’s a memory trip that spans back to a sunny childhood afternoon in your life when getting a Coke and thinking about which library book you were going to read next were the only things on your mind. You can come in here and Ross and a helper will be putting sandwiches together, from scratch, right in front of your very eyes. Now OK, you can go to certain franchise places and get this process done, too, but these are old fashioned sandwiches like the King Bee and the Queen Bee that somehow have more soul—even if you get them on white bread.

Two aisles stacked with goods. The Chronicles and other papers outside, cash register up front, drugs and sundries behind the cashier, sandwich shop in back with the menu above it. Yep, that’s about it. Austin’s oldest continuously running grocery store. Way beyond slackerhood. Way too much going on here that matters.

National TV commercial outfits have actually used Ross’ place for spot settings before. Can’t blame them. Where else are you going to find a store like this where you’ve got hardwood floor, an ice cream freezer you reach down into, little plastic bins full of vegetables, four different kinds of root beer and all kinds of student food? When I drove over there, I passed a guy sauntering west on 45th who weighed about 300 pounds, had a bright flower-print shirt and cutoffs on and was sporting a Santa Claus do with a headband. Just somehow sets the tone, know what I mean? Well, if you haven’t eaten a King or Queen Bee (I recommend the Queen with jalapenos on a French roll) whilst sitting on one of the picnic tables outside, you haven’t been to Austin. Heck, I felt better just from buying a bag of Chili Cheese Fritos and gobbling the contents on the way home.”

The joint has an unusual cast of characters: Allen Freed, Wolfman Jack, Fats Domino, Ritchie Valens, Mr. Blue, Buddy Holly. All on a bun. These are a few of the 20 named burgers that distinguish Hut’s, the laid-back restaurant that lies in the shadows of one of Austin’s fast-exploding trendy areas at Sixth and Lamar streets. But it wasn’t always that way. The spot we know and love is a marriage of two Austin traditions. One was a building, launched in 1939 as Sammie’s Drive-In on West Sixth Street. The other was the hamburger business of Homer “Hut” Hutson, which opened the same year on South Congress Avenue. Sammie Joseph, the first proprietor, remodeled the drive-in in 1947, adding the east dining room, and again in 1954, adding the main dining room. The business was sold twice before Hutson bought the lease in 1969. Hut’s had spent 20 years on South Congress before moving in 1959 to the location where GSD&M’s Idea City now sits. A decade later it moved to the present site, where the business changed hands a few times until Chuck Gist and Mike “Hutch” Hutchinson bought it in 1981. It escaped the 1981 flood which devastated the surrounding Shoal Creek area and remains a burger haven. Try the Ritchie Valens ($4.95), a hamburger with guacamole, grated cheese, chopped tomatoes, onions, jalapenos, mayonnaise and mustard or the Mr. Blue ($4.95), with bleu cheese dressing, Swiss cheese, bacon and lettuce. And don’t skip the big, thick, pepper onion rings ($2.50 for a full order), which are among the best in the city.

On a hot Saturday afternoon (as well as every other day of the week), cars loop around the small stand that has been a fixture on Barton Springs Road for a half-century. While they wait for the drive-through, others park on the side or in front of the building, where diners stand in line for a snack or a meal. The secret here is volume; it has to be because the prices are cheap, the products are good and the frozen custard is seriously soooo worth ruining your diet for! In a garnishment that must have originated in the Lone Star State (why else would they call the hotdog version a Texas hot?), Sandy’s serves a burger with chili, cheese and onions ($2.25). It may be a little messy, but it sure is tasty. The regular burger ($1.89) has several pieces of iceberg lettuce, sliced tomatoes and pickles served, naturally, with mustard. The fries (89 cents), which seems an automatic accompaniment to almost every burger you’ll see leave the window at Sandy’s, are soft and salty. The shakes and malts (99 cents, $1.25 for large) are so thick your straw simply flattens rather than allowing the ice cream mixture to traverse the tube to your mouth. Follow the regulars; we always ask for a spoon. If you’re eating on-site, join other diners at the picnic tables behind the building and chow down to your heart’s content.

OK, so technically I’m fudging a bit. The Frisco Shop is only 48 years old, but the business and the burger that it’s named after go back two more decades. And that adds up to well over a half-century on the grill. Besides, when it comes to Austin’s social history, few places have contributed more to 20th century change. The Frisco was part of the Night Hawk chain founded by Harry Akin, who served as mayor of Austin in the late 1960s. But it was earlier in the decade when Akin, through his restaurants, was the first to integrate public dining facilities in Austin. The home of the “Frisco Burger,” the signature dish of the Night Hawk chain, thus helped move the Capital City forward. Today, all that’s left of the chain is the Frisco Shop, one of the first restaurants in North Austin, which was sold in 1994 to R. Harry Akin, the nephew of the founder, and Lawrence Baker. The place may have changed hands, but the original burger is there in all its glory. The famous “Frisco” is served with lettuce, cheese, pickle relish and Russian-style dressing on a toasted bun enclosed neatly in its own paper envelope. With the platter ($6.25), you can add sides of marinated cole slaw and crisp French fries. And while you savor the Frisco, you can think about the way an individual affected history, the way a burger was the vehicle for progress.