Texas Pit – St. Thomas

I got pretty skeptical on my daily drive past a chain of metallic trailers. Barbecue may have humble origins, but eating anything that comes out of a tin-can diner has to be the pits. And it was the pits. The pits of a Texas smokehouse grill.

I didn’t exactly have high hopes for this place, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that a restaurant shaped like a giant sausage would be a casing for delicious meat. I also found 15 dollars a plate to be a bit pricey, but I found a way around that, so let me drawl you some directions.

They tell you that the six-dollar special cut is a smaller portion of brisket or pork, but everything is big in Texas. This “smaller” portion is plenty big for one and more than enough for me. (That’s what she said). The Brisket is simultaneously smoky but tender, salt and peppered to perfection, with a smokiness that gives the beef a fuller flavor. It’s tender all the way through, and the spicy barbecue sauce makes some of the best brisket I’ve ever had even better.

The Chicken is a seven-dollar steal, and half a bird in the hand (with a side of rice) is well worth two in a bush. It’s hard to know whether it’s the barbecue flavor or the encircling sauce that penetrates through all that meat, but when you remember that the meat is encircled by a trailer, you remember not to think too much. The side of Mac n’ Cheese costs extra so you may need to pass on the three-dollar Taco Hell upgrade. I say spend that money to chase a well-Krafted dream, especially when that dream is infused with barbecue sauce.

I really didn’t expect much from Texas Pit, but that just goes to show that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and you shouldn’t judge a barbecue by its trailer. If nothing else, come to Texas Pit just for the experience of eating barbecue off the back of your car in a parking lot. You may never find a Texas-sized plate of fun like this again, and if you can find a good football game, you’ll have yourselves a tailgate.

Taco Hell – St. Thomas

If the hospital cafeteria didn’t convince you that my food drought has ended, here’s a hopping history of my frequent encounters with Taco Hell. Allow me to tickle your tastebuds with a most titillating review of my encounters with a taco shack. And yes, this is every bit as exciting as it sounds so if you stop reading right here I won’t hold it against you. I might actually lose a little respect for you if you keep reading…

If cheap eats were a kingdom, Taco Hell would be their king. Two dollars buys nothing that doesn’t come out of a gumball machine or a can these days, but at Taco Hell you get an entire taco, complete with meat or refried beans and a couple sprinkles of lettuce and cheese. An extra dollar slaps on tomatoes and sour cream, plus an extra layer of beans underneath. Be careful, big spender, those tomatoes are terribly tempting…

The Beans Taco is what I’d make at home with a can of refried beans and a bag of shredded cheese. Except I wouldn’t add lettuce because I’m way too lazy to cut it up and rinse off the cutting board. So I’ll happily pay for one of these tacos, just for the lettuce. If laziness were an Olympic sport, I’m pretty sure I’d take home the gold for that one.

The Beef Taco tastes pretty processed, but its resemblance to the beloved chain of Taco Bell is uncanny. If it’s fast food you’re in the mood for, fast food is exactly what you’ll get.

The Chicken Taco features delicious shredded, marinated, perfectly seasoned chicken. I can’t make chicken this good for any amount, and believe me; it’s not for my lack of trying.

The problem with a cheap taco stand is that it can be but is not always for the enjoyment of the sober. But no worries, one tequila, two tequila, three four-dollar tequilas will fix that pretty fast. For those with the opposite of sobriety, three dollars also buys a can of Red Bull. That ought to keep awake for at least long enough to enjoy your taco.