Go Ahead and Take the Plunge with these Two Bros

Two Bros. BBQ Market
12656 West Ave.
San Antonio, TX




Smoking brisket is like taking the plunge into marriage.

The choices you make upfront can lead to results that are very good.

Or…

…Very, very bad.

Without the right commitment to quality meat, good rub, ideal hard wood, a top notch smoker and lots and lots of patience and time, you are in for a final product devoid of spice, flavor or tenderness.

It will be nothing but an expensive exercise in wasted effort.

You’ll be looking to sign divorce papers as soon as you bite into a bad brisket that tastes like a dry, tasteless hunk of unchewable roast beef.
Don’t even think about walking down that aisle unless you commit to doing it right.

I’m happy to report that the bros at Two Bros BBQ Market on the north side of San Antonio know exactly how to do brisket right.

Any doubt is dispelled the moment you pull up into the parking lot and notice the smoke billowing up from the smoker out back.

You’ll know you made the right choice as soon as you open the front door and are greeted by the sweet aroma of cow fat being slowly melted by the embers of Texas post oak.

Two Bros is nothing like the scary dilapidated old brisket smoke shacks down around Lockhart like Smitty’s and Black’s.

This place has been around for only four years, an infantile newcomer to the century’s old art of smoking briskets in the Lone Star State.

Rustically located under some old live oak trees -- a few of which grow right up through the middle of the restaurant -- it’s still hard to camouflage the new construction feel of Two Bros BBQ Market.

But what it lacks in old school credentials, Two Bros more than makes up for with its real deal authentic Texas barbeque.

The pit master sliced off a couple thick swaths of brisket and a smoked sausage onto my butcher paper.

Unlike in Lockhart, plastic utensils are available at Two Bros -- but you won’t need them.

The hunks of beef fall apart at the mere touch of your fingers.

The thick dark crunchy bark on the edge of each slice ignites a combustion of salty flavor in every bite.

The soft tender inside of the slice offers a smoky succulent counterbalance to the bark.

Each bite of decadent fatty beef almost melts in your mouth like bovine butter.

Absolutely extraordinary!

It’s like giving a make-over to Kate Upton, but I couldn’t resist the urge to dip a few hunks of brisket into Two Bros warm homemade sauce.

The sauce is completely unnecessary -- yet completely delicious with a nice balance between spicy tang and tomatoey sweetness.

The sausage approached heights of perfection as well.

Taught and smoky, each bite offered a nice snap of greasy meaty flavor.

Well done, bros, well done.

Even the sides were top notch.

The mac and cheese was thick and goopy the way your grandma made it.

The beans were a kaleidoscope of flavor, balancing the savory goodness of bacon with the sweetness of Texas peaches. You won’t find anything like this in the canned goods aisle of your local grocery.

That’s for sure.

Since it was the middle of a Suit757 workday, a Shiner Bock to wash all this Texas barbeque down just wasn’t an option.

So I went with the Texas BBQ Plan B Beverage -- a can of Big Red -- the syrupy sweet red soda that leaves your tongue stained with artificial coloring for 24 hours.

Big Red is so bad it has never managed to spread much beyond the borders of the Lone Star State.

But as Texas songwriter Robert Earl Keen explained in his song “Barbeque”, “a cold Big Red” is considered obligatory when dining on Texas brisket and sausage.

Like marriage, picking a place in Texas to eat brisket takes something of a leap of faith.

Sure, I did my homework and read about Two Bros awards as one of the top BBQ shacks in Texas, but until you commit to lifting that first bite of beef off your butcher paper you can never really be totally sure what you are going to get.

That’s where Suit757 comes in.

Consider me to be your brisket marriage counselor.

If you in San Antonio -- heck, if you are ever within 100 miles of San Antonio -- do yourself a favor.

Make the commitment. Tie the knot. Take the plunge at Two Bros BBQ Market.

You’ll live happily ever after.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!

A Texas Lunch Time Tragedy

Stone Werks
7500 Broadway St.
San Antonio, TX



I’m giving up burgers.

Yep. You read that right. Suit757 is swearing off burgers.

I know. That’s like the Pope giving up Catholicism.

Or Obama giving up Socialism.

Or John Mayer giving up snaking hot chicks.

But after choking down one of the worst burgers I’ve ever eaten in my life at Stone Werks in San Antonio, Texas…

…I’m done.

Finished with hamburgers. At least in restaurants.

Why is it impossible for restaurants to properly cook a slab of ground beef?

I know, I know. Some blood sucking lawyer out there will sue the restaurant if every microscopic trace of bacteria isn’t incinerated.

But if you insist on incinerating my meat into a dried up, hardened block of Texas sun-scorched cow dung, why don’t you just take it off the menu? Just stick to things that are supposed to be incinerated like chicken fried steak.

But don’t charge me twelve bucks for a burger and then ruin it.

You’ll just tick me off.

What especially ticked me off is I asked for it “medium.” You know, the way God intended a burger to be cooked -- a little char on the outside, pink on the inside and plenty of juicy goodness dripping onto my plate.

But almost no restaurant in our lawyerphobic American society serves burgers like that anymore.

It’s gotten so that I purposely order my burger rare -- even though I don’t want a rare burger. Just in the hopes that I can avoid a bone-dry hockey puck.

Of course even that doesn’t always work.

But here I am deep I the heart of cattle country and I make the mistake of thinking this place might actually know how to cook a mound of beef.

My “medium” bacon and smoked Gouda burger was nothing but a hard clump of grey meat.

Even the bacon was overcooked.

There is a fine line between the savory smoky flavor of good bacon and the bitter taste of burnt bacon.

The obnoxious flavor of charred bacon completely camouflaged the smoked Gouda. I’ll take their word for it that it was even on my burger.

Tasteless cheese. Burnt bacon. Dry overcooked beef.

This burger desperately needed some condiment salvation.

Unfortunately, none was provided. Except a ramekin of cocktail sauce.

Cocktail sauce?

Yeah, the bartender gave me cocktail sauce instead of ketchup for my fries. And then proceeded to run off and disappear for 15 minutes.

I’m glad I didn’t dump it on my burger. Of course, as bad as it was, it might have been an improvement.

The fries were a tedious bore -- even after the waiter reappeared and fixed his ketchup mistake a quarter hour later.

Okay. So far we have crappy, over-priced, over-cooked food. Lousy fries. And inattentive service.

Not a great way to earn a top Suits in Strange Places rating.

The only good thing about Stone Werks was the beer selection.

The place had a pretty decent range of tap handles from both national and Texas craft breweries.

The Lone Star State is not known for good beer, but being a good Suit, I knew I should try the local brews.

First up was Wild Hare, a pale ale by Shiner -- that little brewery in South Texas more famous for its bland Shiner Bock.

Unfortunately, Wild Hare is pretty bland too, confirming my theory that good breweries make good
beers across the board -- and vice versa.

Not that I want to slander Shiner Brewery.

I’ve done the brewery tour several times. It’s fun. Their beers are a nice alternative to the ubiquitous Coors Light cans decorated with the Texas state outline.

But, the fact is, Shiner just doesn’t make very flavorful beers.

Next I tried the locally brewed Ranger O.P.A., which stands for Oatmeal Pale Ale.

Now that’s something different.

I’ve tried oatmeal stouts. But never an oatmeal pale ale.

This one was smooth and creamy with sort of a fruity, bready aftertaste that pushed the hops normally associated with a pale ale to the background.

Not really a fan.

I guess I’m giving up on Oatmeal Pale Ales -- along with restaurant burgers.

I’ve never left a bar so depressed.

Is my backyard really the only place in America I can trust ordering a good juicy burger?

If I want my burgers done right, do I really have to do it myself?

How am I going to survive a burgerless life on the road?

How can I endure the indignities of modern day travel in America without my one redeeming red meat pleasure?

As I drove my rental car out of Stone Werks suburban hell parking lot and tried to make my way to the San Antonio Airport, I contemplated what a tragic experience this lunch had been.

I mean, it's not like Suit757 hasn't reviewed some pretty bad meals before.

But this was different.  The road ahead for Suit757 will never be the same.

Stone Werks -- you have ruined my life!

Rating: Clean Grill with Shirt.

Beating the Tourist Blues in San Antonio

Barriba Cantina
111 West Crockett St.
San Antonio, TX




One unalterable rule you quickly learn as a Suit in Strange Places is that you have to get away from the tourist mobs to find the coolest places to eat and drink.

Places packed with tourists 365 days a year feel no need to offer creative, interesting cuisine or exciting beers.

On the San Antonio Riverwalk the tourists will come – no matter what slop you throw in front of them and no matter how much you charge them for it.

And boy did they come in droves on this Wednesday night.

By the time I made my way past the Alamo and got down to the Riverwalk at 10pm, there wasn’t a bar stool or dinner table to be had. Anywhere.

But getting away from the tourist throngs doesn’t have to mean driving for miles out into the countryside down dirt roads in search of a long lost fish camp, ice house or dance hall.

Sometimes you don’t have to travel more than 25 feet.

Just when I resigned myself to hiking back to my hotel and calling Dominos, I heard the wailing of a harmonica above the tourist din.

Up a cobblestone set of stairs, set about 25 feet above the Riverwalk, I found myself in Barriba Cantina – with plenty of vacant bar stools.

Belting out the Texas blues was the Bob Bass Band, entertaining a small, but enthusiastic crowd downing margaritas.

Gourmet street tacos, local microbrews, good music and the Astros-Braves game on the giant flat screen.

No doubt about it – my evening was officially salvaged. Suit757 was in his element!

Now, don’t get me wrong. Barriba Cantina is no secret locals’ hideaway. When Bob Bass asked the crowd who was actually from San Antonio, only one hand went up in the entire place.

It’s just that 25 feet of stair climbing provides just enough of a disincentive to lazy tourists to ensure I have a place to plop myself on a busy Wednesday night.

That 25 feet of stair climbing also provides Barriba Cantina just enough of an incentive to offer fare a notch above the lowest common denominator tourist traps down below.

Trust me, the extra effort is well worth while.

On suggestion of the bartender, I ordered the “Chipotle Pork Carnitas Tacos”.

Just a few bites of marinated pork laid on three corn tortillas, the meal was a little skimpy for ten bucks. But there is no doubt the chipotle slaw, caramelized onions and avocado tomatillo salsa on the side conspired to generate an explosion of flavor.

Each bite produced a tantalizing ensemble of sweet and spicy from the slaw and onions.

Bowing to the delicate palates of the tourists, Barriba Cantina wisely provides the taste bud tingling hot salsa on the side. I gleefully poured it all over my three tacos.

And kept ordering beers to douse the fire.

First up, I tried a couple offerings from Real Ale Brewing Company in Blanco, Texas. The first was their “Full Moon Pale Rye Ale,” which surprisingly had no trace of the spicy hop kick you normally find in an ale made from rye grain.

The “Rio Blanco Pale Ale” wasn’t much better. Kind of boring.

But at least they are trying. Let’s face it. Texans value liberty, guns, big trucks and chicks with huge…er…hair.

Good beer? Not so much.

Most Texans I know subsist on a strict diet of Coors Light.

A few Yuppie-wannabe Texans drink Shiner Bock. Of course Suit757 is too polite to point out that Shiner Bock basically tastes like Coors Light with brown food coloring.

Texans just aren’t into flavorful real beer. So you have to take what you can get in the Lone Star State.

My final beer of the evening, a St. Arnold Amber, brewed in Houston, was the best of the bunch, by far. Amber style beers normally don’t pack much punch, but this one stood out – probably because my first two beers were so lackluster.

Local brews, tasty tacos and kickass Texas blues. I almost forget I was in a tourist hang out above the Riverwalk.

Almost.

I was quickly reminded when I got the check and realized they were charging me five bucks for each 12 ounce bottle.

But then it dawned on me. Isn’t a Suit in a Strange Place always a tourist, by definition?

Yep. I guess that’s why I happily paid the tab, threw a few bucks in the band’s tip bucket and went back to my hotel thoroughly satisfied.

And you know what? The next time I find myself in the Alamo City, I’ll gladly climb those 25 feet of stairs to Barriba Cantina and do it all again.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt.

Refried Beans: Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

Blanco Café
419 N. St. Mary’s
San Antonio, TX
Visited October 22, 2010

Beer selection: None.

Food: Traditional Mexican breakfast served all day.

I know the issue of illegal immigration is all the rage, but I just can’t relate.

Of all the places I’ve lived, the closest contact I’ve ever had with Mexican culture is the local Taco Bell drive-through.

Now, in some parts of the South, there has indeed been an invasion of obnoxious funny-talking foreigners who suck up our resources, fill the schools with their snotty-nosed kids and elect big government politicians who vote to strip the natives of their liberties.

They are called Yankees.

But illegal Mexicans? I’ve never seen one.

That might explain why my roof has had 13 leaks.

I think that’s why I always look forward to coming to San Antonio. It’s like going to a foreign country for me. Without the hassles of customs, passports and those annoying people who refuse to speak English.

San Antonio is the best of both worlds – great Mexican culture and cuisine but located right here in the good old U. S. of A. (Shout out to Sam Houston.)

For me, chorizo and eggs and breakfast tacos are an exotic culinary adventure, something to really get excited about.

Trust me, they don’t serve that stuff on the all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet at the Shoney’s two blocks from my house.

French toast sticks and grits, sure. But carne guisada? Uh…no.

You’ve got to come to ol’ San Antone’ for that.

That’s why despite my strong Suit757 aversion to mornings and the fact that I have had to wake up before 6am every day this week, I actually set my travel alarm for an hour early this morning just to indulge in a good Mexican breakfast – and avoid the shrink-wrapped donuts on the hotel “continental breakfast” table.

It was still dark out when I wandered into Blanco Café in downtown San Antonio.

Blanco is a family-owned place that’s been around for 36 years serving homemade tortillas and “breakfast all day.”

I was immediately faced with a dilemma. Chorizo and eggs or breakfast tacos?

That’s easy. Both.

You can justify that sort of decision when you realize it’s been 19 hours since your last meal and will be at least 16 hours before you get another (that luxurious First Class dinner of airline pretzels doesn’t count).

My next dilemma was, which breakfast taco? The menu listed 38 kinds. Some with stuff I had never heard of – and couldn’t pronounce.

I chose wisely. My country sausage taco made me forget my agony over getting up before the sun for the fourth day in a row.

The zesty sausage discs were covered in some sort of tasty orange sauce, all tucked into a freshly made flour tortilla.

Just one or two of those tacos would have made for a hearty breakfast.

But in this case, it was just an appetizer for the heaping plate of eggs and chorizo, refried beans, barbacoa and home-fried Mexican potatoes called “papas”. Oh, and as if that wasn’t enough, my waitress brought me out a little plastic container of still-warm flour tortillas and a jar of home-made green salsa.

Did I eat it all?

Are you kidding? Every bite.

The only thing better than scrambled eggs for breakfast is eggs scrambled with spicy Mexican sausage. My eggs & chorizo were delicious.

The barbacoa, which is loosely translated, Mexican barbequed beef, was actually a little disappointing. I expected a bit more flavor. But it wasn’t a problem the little jar of hot salsa verde couldn’t solve.

Was it the best Mexican breakfast ever?

I don’t know. It’s not like I eat refried beans and shredded beef for breakfast every day.
But that was the joy – if I can use that word at 6:45am – of venturing through the early morning darkness of downtown San Antonio to Blanco Café.

Discovering something different. Something exotic. Something unique to this corner of America.

That’s something worth getting up for every day.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt.

Assaulting the Senses in San Antone’

Mi Tierra Café
218 Produce Row
San Antonio, TX
Visited October 21, 2010

Beer selection: Excellent variety of Mexican beers.

Food: Top notch Mexican cuisine.



Part of the fun of this “Suits” gig is discovering those little hole-in-the-wall, out-of-the-way dives off the radar of most travelers.

Mi Tierra Café is NOT one of those places.

Mobbed with tourists and locals alike at literally any hour around the clock, dinning at Mi Tierra is an event – an obligatory experience for anyone who steps foot in San Antonio.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dined here. In fact, if it weren’t for the pictures, I might not have memories of some of those 3am post-Fiesta enchiladas I’ve enjoyed over the years.

That’s the kind of place this is -- no one feels the least bit bashful about pulling out the camera during a Mi Tierra celebration.

Heck, even Lyle Lovett sings about capping off a fun-filled night in the Mission City at Mi Tierra with his “San Antonio Girl” and a Polaroid camera.

A sprawling San Antonio landmark for 70 years that brags in bright neon “We Never Close”, Mi Tierra’s is loud, brash, ostentatious, over-the-top. An assault on the senses. And more fun than watching Salma Hayek lose a water balloon fight.

The armies of friendly waitresses are all dolled up in big poufy dresses the color of the Mexican flag. Huge brightly-colored murals of Mexicans famous and provincial cover every wall. Strolling Mariachi musicians troll for romantic couples and fun-loving groups willing to exchange five bucks for a song.

It’s just not physically possible to leave this place in a bad mood.

Of course, the giant margaritas and large selection of Mexican beers might have something to do with that too.

But, alas, this was a work day for Suit757.

Alone in a sea of frivolity, wearing a suit, drinking San Antonio tap water. And I still left in a good mood.

The fact that amid all the Christmas lights and vivid decorations, Mi Tierra’s serves outstanding Mexican cuisine certainly helps.

My Enchiladas Nortenas was the Thursday lunch special. Six bucks for enough food to last me another 19 hours before my next meal.

Of course, like every good Mexican restaurant, a meal at Mi Tierra’s is preceded by chips and salsa. But unlike your local corner order-by-numbers Mexican joint, Mi Tierra’s homemade salsa kicks your taste buds. Spicy and downright addictive.

The enchiladas were stuffed with shredded beef and topped with an avalanche of delicious Mexican sauce, melted Monterrey Jack cheese and fried potatoes. The plate was filled out with refried beans and rice.

Definitely one of the best enchiladas I’ve ever had. Like everything else about Mi Tierra’s, everything on my plate was at least a notch above the ordinary.

Of course it is literally impossible to dine at Mi Tierra’s without marveling at the 40 foot long display case of desserts and baked goods. You have to walk right by it coming and going. Tourists are snapping pictures of the pralines, sweet breads and empanadas like paparazzi on Wilshire Boulevard.

A praline or two is absolutely obligatory.

The Food Network once did an entire segment on the making of Mi Tierra’s famous pecan treats. Apparently, pumpkin is the secret ingredient.

Along with lots and lots of sugar. These pralines are so sweet, it feels like the sugar is going to melt right into your teeth.

While it wasn’t quite as fun as some previous 3am visits, I’m pretty sure I savored and appreciated my enchiladas and pralines a bit more this time. Assault on my senses complete, I ventured out into the high-noon Texas sun ready to face my Suit757 day with a smile on my face.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!

Steers and Queers

Luther’s Café
1425 North Main St.
San Antonio, TX
Visited October 18, 2010

Beer selection: A decent variety of Texan and Mexican beers.

Food: Burgers and bad chili for light-in-the-loafers Texans.



You have to be somewhat fearless to be a Suit in Strange Places.

I mean, by necessity I don’t think twice about pulling up a bar stool by myself any where in a strange city.

Dive bar. Bad part of town. Blue collar. White collar. No collar. Whatever.

You’ll find me sitting there in my suit with the locals, beer in hand, eating the house specialty, whatever that may be.

Fear? Nah.

However, Luther’s did remind me of one recurring…let’s just say…concern.

Concern that I might stumble into the wrong place in the wrong part of some big bi-coastal metropolis.

You know.

Beyonce videos playing on the flat screen instead of Monday Night Football and nothing but dudes in the place.

You know.

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t… a concern.

But certainly not here. Nosiree. Not here deep in the heart of Texas, land of cowboys, longhorn steers, 72 oz. porterhouses, 350 pound offensive linemen and the legends of manly men who chose to die fighting for liberty.

This isn’t Vermont. This is the great nation of Texas, goshdammit!

And Luther’s Café certainly doesn’t give off anything but that manly Texas-proud vibe.

It’s a Route 66 themed open air roadhouse known for beer drinking and giant burgers.

Just my kind of place.

My first…concern…was that the entire wait staff was male – at least in the strictly physiological sense.

But the way they pranced around the old roadhouse, you’d think they were auditioning for the sequel “Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood: Slumber Party!”

I mean, I have yet to meet a FEMALE in my multiple decades on this planet that acts that…feminine.

What is the deal? Sam Houston and Davey Crockett are rolling in their graves.

Sure, the bartender was a little strange, but I hadn’t really put the whole sisterhood thing together until it was too late – I had already placed my order for a cup of chili and the “Chipotle Ranch Burger” – which took FOREVER to come out of the kitchen.

The problem was, I didn’t have forever. I had exactly 40 minutes to wolf down my lunch and dash across town for a meeting so important I flew half way across the continent for it.

I really didn’t have the time – or patience – to wait for Snow White and her Seven Dwarfs to casually get around to bringing me my lunch.

By this point, even before I got my food, I knew I had made a poor choice. My Suit in Strange Places instincts failed me this time. Luther's looked cool on the outside. But in my mad dash to fill my narrow 40 minute allotment for daily sustenence, clearly I had erred.

Unfortunately, the cup of chili didn’t do anything to change my mind.

For a place that has no trouble displaying its flamboyance when it comes to hiring, Luther’s sure makes a bland, tasteless chili. It was awful – and $3.25 for about five bites? You’ve got to be kidding me.

It didn’t even taste like chili – more like childhood memories of my mother’s pot roast. Not good (sorry mom).

My burger finally came out almost 30 minutes after I ordered it. None of these “guys” were in much of a hurry. They were all too busy chatting about their hair or skin-tight jeans or whatever. I really tried hard not to pay attention.

I had exactly five and half minutes to inhale my lunch before my drop-dead-I-have-to-get-out-of-here-to-make-my-really-really-really-important-meeting time.

To be honest, the burger wasn’t that bad. Topped with decent onion rings, a little ranch dressing and good thick bacon, it was better than average.

Of course, as fast as I ate it, I can’t really be sure.

As I looked around the bar and the patio, I started to ease my mind a bit. The patrons were mostly normal looking couples. A few edgy college-aged types. But nothing that screamed, “Hey, Suit757, get the hell out of here -- NOW!!!”

The décor didn’t cause much alarm either. Coke and beer signs and Texas license plates on the wall. All very Lone Star. All very manly.

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid”, I thought, as I crammed the last hunk of beef into my mouth and grunted for my prancing bartender to bring me the check.

Just as I was started to feel a little better about the place, I made a mad dash for the men’s room to hose the burger grease off and make myself somewhat presentable.

That’s when I saw it. The unmistakable Texas state outline on a poster decorating the men’s room wall -- done up in tell-tale rainbow colors. An ad for some sort of "gala" event I’m sure I wouldn’t be interested in attending.

You might expect something like that up the road in Austin, where the hipster mantra is “Keep Austin weird.”

But deep in the heart of ol’ San Antone’? Just a few miles from the Alamo? Where Davey Crockett and 188 brave Texans chose to go down in a rain of fire and lead rather than surrender to Mexican tyrant Santa Anna in the hopes that one day their fellow Texans would be free and independent?

Somehow, I don’t think this is what Davey and the boys had in mind.

Rating: Clean Grill With Shirt.