Reverand Bubba's triumphant return from the dark continent and more Hill Country shenanigans

As hurricane Ike threatened to destroy Houston, Mike Edmond and I made our way to Llano and Blanco for bbq, beer and croquet. It seemed like another great Trifecta.

Our first destination was Cooper's barbecue in Llano. We pulled up at exactly the right time, they had just loaded up for the lunch crowd and we were among the first there. By the time we had made it down the gauntlet a line was forming around the corner of the building. As it was a Friday there were many more locals than tourista filth like ourselves.

The place had the right smell to it, and these folks clearly knew what they were doing when it comes to searing and smoking the flesh of various and sundry hill country mammals and birds.

During our lunch we clearly asserted our place at the top of the foodchain, and partook of:
Beef Ribs
Brisket
Cabrito
Chicken
Pork Loin
Sirloin
Jalapeno Sausage
All of it was amazing, succulent and deserving of the accolades that have been bestowed upon them by others. Even though it was a larger operation than any of the other places visited, everyone was attentive, and clearly put pride in their work. The sauce was different than those that we had encountered on previous outings. They also opt for the choice of having your meet dipped in the sauce at the end of the pit instead of offering it on the side or at the table. Simple and exceptional!

The Beef Ribs were far and away the best that I have ever had, and everyone's pick for the #1 spot that day. It was one of the best servings of beef that I have ever had. It clung to the bone and had the taste of marrow that complimented the mesquite smoke. This is the only thing that we went back to for seconds.

Edmond and I gave #2 to the Chicken. It was half a chicken that tasted as if it had been fed nothing but butter for the last weeks of its' life. It was dusted in Cooper's rub and perfectly grilled. Moist and just the right balance of moisture, spice and mesquite goodness. The rest was all great, and is down to personal preference. It should be mentioned that the Sirloin was shockingly moist and a perfect medium. It was only my second time having cabrito, so I don't feel that I'm in a position to comment further than to say I liked it and would order it again from them without hesitation.

On our way to Blanco we decided to stop off in Johnson City (not named for LBJ, but his uncle) where we saw LBJ's boyhood home had an ice cream cone and got directions to the Benini Sculpture Ranch.

The Sculpture Ranch is one of the cultural jewels of the Hill Country and absolutely worth a visit. They don't only have over a hundred acres of land with sundry different styles of sculpture, they also have a gallery featuring Benini's paintings as well as a rotating group of other artists. Not only that they without fail offer a free cup of espresso to enjoy while you take in the art. Pretty civilized ladies and gentlemen. They don't take donations and they don't charge admission either.

After getting our quota of culture for the day we headed to Blanco for a tour of the Blanco Brewery. Every Friday they open their tasting room from 2-5 and give a brewery tour at 4. They generously poured a number of their selections for us to try, but it soon became clear that we needed to get the hell out of there as it was far too crowded and the rooms average IQ dropped significantly with the new arrival of each guest. If I heard 'like' to describe something actual I would be tempted to throw elbows. We asked the hostess where in town we could acquire their Sisyphus Barley Wine, and hit the road. About a half mile down the road we picked up our Barley Wine.

Mike then directed us to what was absolutely one of the most absurd and unexpected sights that I have seen in the Hill Country. A world class croquet court, complete with spectator stand. This is right in the town square and is behind a 10' wall to keep the riff-raff out. It could have been straight out of Alice in Wonderland. We made it to a restaurant across the square and when I inquired if they got much trouble from the croquet crowd, I just got a confused look. It quickly became clear that lifetime residents had no idea whatsoever what transpired on the other side of the walls in the center of their own town. Clearly a class-divide. We had a couple more beers before heading home to Wimberley.