The Mexican food in Missouri sucks.

No really. I spent the last three years living at the Lake of the Ozarks for work and when I craved tacos(and didn’t want to cook) the best option was to make a run for the border. That’s right all things being equal #TacoBell was the best Missouri could do. Don’t get me wrong the staff at various restaurants were nice enough, and the food wasn’t low quality, the truth is it just wasn’t TexMex.

Now in all fairness #TacoBell isn’t really TexMex either, but the nostalgia of my days as a Texas teen still rolls back in every time I have a chilito. ( www.tacobell.com )

That’s why I decided to finally do something I have always wanted to do and start a blog dedicated to all the culinary delights, fascinating characters, and unique flavors the Lone Star State has to offer. In my life I’ve been fortunate to travel a good part of this world and I have seen countless examples of the way the food from where you grew up can have such an overwhelming pull beyond simple hunger. I’ve always believed that pull might be strongest for Texans.

Once many years ago I was with a small group of Americans who spent a few weeks outside of Moscow. Our host were very generous, serving us wonderful meals often straight from their own gardens. However, despite our Russian friends’ hospitality we all sat around in the evenings discussing the american food we could not wait to eat again. The hands down winner for our group was a tie between Whataburger and Tacos. And we drove straight there from DFW when we landed. There is just something that taste like home in a double double from #Whataburger ( www.whataburger.com ) or sitting on your tailgate at #FuelCity ( www.fuelcity.com ) eating tacos at 4 am.

Food isn’t just how we nourish our bodies, it is how we nourish our souls. My memories of life are intertwined with smells and taste from the kitchens of my youth. I grew up in a family of foodies before the word existed. My grandparents owned several chains of seafood restaurants, and my parents, aunts, uncles etc all were good to great cooks. I can remember picking the blackberries in the hot Texas summer then waiting what seemed an eternity for my uncle jay to finish making the ice cream from them. My grandmother’s buttered egg noodles ( I believe her secret recipe is one package egg noodles, 3 pounds butter, and salt and pepper to taste ) are a dish every child in my family grew up on. To this day if my mother ask me what I want her to cook the answer is Cheesy Chicken spaghetti for two reasons: 1) it’s the best thing she makes. 2. My mother has a propensity for slipping random mystery meat from her freezer into her beef dishes, but she always uses chicken for chicken dishes.

I could go on, and I will over time, but you get the idea. I wanted to write about the connections between the heart and the stomach. In hindsight maybe I should have named this “ The Blog of Love and Hunger” (sorry Marvel nerd moment). I wanted to have a chance to stop on some Texas backroad at a Taco stand or even buy a watermelon from the bed of some guys pick up and comeback and share that experience with others who understand it And are maybe even seeking the same thing.

If you find yourself getting a little hungry for your dad’s brisket, or grandma’s biscuits as you are reading this, good. Thats the story of this journey we are embarking upon together. The story of the food, people, and state we love.

I hope you will join me.

Stay hungry my friends,

Martin