Move over Muesli, I want Migas.

by Jess

   Since I’ve been in Enchilada withdrawal, we went to Austin with the goal of consuming as much Tex-Mex as possible,  but that didn’t mean we’d eat whatever. We are picky and wanted to find the truly great spots to eat. We certainly couldn’t cram them all into one week, so we compromised – one "write home to mama" spot a day. I had a few resources up my sleeve for how to find the best spots. I asked around to people who’d lived since before Willie Nelson was popular – at least popular around the country. Restaurants generally have a quick turnover, so any place that had stuck it out for longer than a decade (and was recommended by every person I asked, including the woman next to me on the plane) was automatically put on the list.

In this category there was Cisco’s, County Line, and La Fonda San Migeul. 

Cisco’s is a sixty year old restaurant on the poor, east side of I-35, which is the interstate that runs in a straight N/S line, just east of the capitol building. The downtown area, and most other neighborhoods of the city, are west of 35. Many people claim that the east side is poor, "black and unmanageable," said one landlord. The city actually set this area aside specifically for African Americans in the early 1930s. Any African Americans who wanted a job, had to agree to move there. Today it remains a racially divided town, although the experience is a positive one for most Hispanics. The east side certainly is pooerer, but it is full of treasures for those smart enough to ignore local warnings. (An interesting article on thriving East Side businesses)

Cisco’s is just one of these treasures. Rudy -the man said to have made Migas famous -opened his diner in the 1950s in a building next door to his home. His father had been a baker who sold his pastries door-to-door, and Rudy’s menu included his father’s buttermilk biscuits. It is still family run, although he passed away last year. His daughter runs the cashier, his nieces and nephews cook, and his grandson was rolling silverware while we ate. Of course Jon ordered the Migas. Upon first encountering Migas, you think that the kitchen has taken every ingredient they have in stock, – including the tortilla chips in the giant plastic bags – mixed well and served it to you.  Well yes, that’s just what they’ve done, and it’ s really damn good (Although, why for breakfast?) This dish posed a problem for my Swiss boyfriend. On the one hand, it’s against all his culinary rules to eat such a hodge-podge. And yet, the practicality couldn’t be denied. And with that excuse secured, he dug in and devoured them. The nature of Migas means there is no real recipe, but here’s a good one. Basically: eggs, cheese, tortilla chips, beans, veggies, chilis and spices, and whatever else you’ve got in the cupboards.

Cisco’s is not a fancy joint – there was a fly in my honey bottle and the waitress said, with a big smile, "I’m so sorry," and then swapped it with a bottle at an empty table. The interior looks like a mix between cafeteria and jail cell, with those great Corona bottle salt and pepper shakers.  I just loved the laid back ambiance and its that ambiance that has been bringing the local politicians to Cisco’s for breakfast during the week for as long as it has been open. LBJ is rumored to have come here for his morning Bloody Mary, before liquor by the drink was legal. The walls are lined with photos and autographs of the major politicians who appreciated a good, quiet meal and a friendly old man who kissed the wife and kids on the cheeks.

County Line (on the hill or on the lake) is just as famous as Cisco’s for being a staple restaurant of the city. The original (on the hill) is in a former speak-easy. We chose the lake – where during the summer, Austinites dock their boat on the deck and climb out for dinner. I was glad I didn’t have to see that – I already had my share of Texas envy. We arrived on Friday night and found it wasn’t so much a restaurant as a large hall, with an adjoining concert area. The "dining room" stretched on and on, and it seemed that everyone in Austin had come down to the lake for BBQ ribs.

I had a great time schooling Jon in the ways of BBQ. His eyes lit up in mixed greed and disgust as waiters walked by with trays that had meat nearly falling off the sides. The carcass that is the BBQ table after the diners leave and before the busboy arrives, is best avoided. Avert your eyes and try not to think about it. Focus on the smell of the meat that has been roasting for nearly 24 hours, and is waiting for you to devour. The typical meal at County Line is a mixture of meats: Ribs, pork sirloin, turkey breast, chicken, beef and sausages. You get cole slaw or baked potatoes, and a basket of rolls. This is BBQ. There is no option for a picky eater, and no thought at all  about your waistline. You come here for the meat and potatoes; it was perfect for Jon, as evidenced by this photo!

      

The final place we ate was La Fonda San Miguel. (Goodness their website is purty). This was a special treat. My parents, who left Austin decades ago, both said this was their favorite restaurant in memory. The lady on the plane backed that up, followed by a local novelist, and a man walking his dogs in the park. La Fonda is not actually Tex – Mex, it is interior Mexican. In the inner courtyard, which was overflowing with tropical plants, and lit by punched-tin lanterns,  we started with chile con queso and really good Margaritas. Then we moved into the dining room. The rooms are large and elegantly decorated, with large works of Mexican painters displayed on the walls. For dinner I had a mean tortilla soup, and a spinach salad with roasted Pasilla chiles and Panela Cheese – a recipe from Mexico City. Jonathan had the Ancho Relleno – a chile ancho stuffed with capers, almonds, olives and chicken. The owners are strict about using only authentic ingredients from the interior, and as the business has grown in the last 20 years, local markets have begun stocking for their needs. The result is wonderful, unique flavors. This is a place for gourmands and art lovers alike. If you go, go for the Sunday brunch, and let me live vicariously, as we missed this famous spectacle.

Of course, we had to leave room for spontaneous meals, and the cheap – but oh so Texan staples, like Whataburger. Even I had to try it, since we don’t have the chain in the northern states. Fortuitously, next door was a one-of-a-kind custard spot, where we walked to the window and ordered through a tiny screen, yelling our order over the noise of the television inside.

And finally, any list of Texas food would be remiss not to include road-side port-a-pits and jerky stands. In Luckenbach, I hit the jackpot . I got local beef jerky, a large cherry-limeade, and a pickle-on-a-stick.  But the "Y’all come back now, ya hear," was the real treat.