Despite brutal hangovers, we were up and out sharp this morning heading towards the Trinity Hall Irish Pub in Mockingbird Station. I had called them last night on the off chance that they’d be showing Celtic’s Champions League qualifier against Astana and they’d said yes. When we got there, just after 9am, it turned out that they’d opened up the pub 2 hours early just for us. Really touching hospitality, which made up for an otherwise grim game of football.
At half time, I leafed through a random selection of paperbacks on a shelf. Aficionados of 1980s Scottish football and..er…sectarianism would be as baffled as I was to see ex-Rangers player Ted McMinn’s autobiography among a pile of Irish history books. And further bemused by the fact his real name is Kevin, he’s had four wives and had his foot amputated a few years ago.
Refreshed and better informed about the erstwhile “Tin Man’, we headed to Lockhart Smoke House for lunch. I would never order ribs back in the UK – too fiddly, too much hassle – but I was convinced to get them here and, yeah, the experience today was incredible. Watching the guy in the back shop chop out a rack, cook them and then dole them up with some homemade coleslaw and a root beer was a lovely bit of food theatrics. But they tasted great as well – big chunks of smoky meat just falling off the bone was a revelation.
I stopped on the way out to admire the Dr Pepper coolbox in the picture below (when I was a kid, my sisters were convinced that my love of Dr Pepper was singular proof of an emerging weirdness). The bartender here told me that it’s Texas’s very own soft drink, first made in Waco 140 years ago – pre-dating the production of Coca-Cola.
The guy also told me that – even despite that – Texans never ask for a soda or soft drink. It’s Coke — no matter what they’re ordering.
A bit like ‘ginger’ back in Scotland…
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