TEXAS

@max brearley

@maxbrearley

I had imagined my lone star baptism would begin with a barbecue on my travels across the South. Instead, I’m on Dallas’ Margarita Mile having gone from loathe-to-love for the ubiquitous cocktail. At upscale The Rustic stacks of oak, pecan and hickory feed the grill. Thoughts that ‘real men’ don’t drink lurid cocktails rimmed with salt are dispelled. A grey haired, chiseled gent in a Stetson and finely buffed cowboy boots raises a margarita. At low-key Taqueria La Ventana we’re greeted by Mexican hip-hop, a busy trade in traditional tacos loaded with lengua (tongue), and yes, more margaritas.

Dallas is first up on a whistle-stop Texan tour, after driving across neighbouring Arkansas from Memphis, Tennessee. It’s an entry point to a state that, by journey’s end, will have revealed itself enough for me to know that Texas and Texans are beyond any flimsy stereotype.

Deep Ellum, an edgy, creative neighbourhood, heaves on a Saturday night. A hip crowd congregate at There’s a broader, drawn by a curious mix of house beats, gourmet tacos brimming with octopus and duck, and a potent Oaxaca Old Fashioned a break from the margaritas. The name, incidentally, is drawn from the owner’s alternative trade as a bespoke gunsmith. This is Texas.