Guten Tag, Mein Freund...
How's this place look?
Zimmerhanzel's Bar-B-Que. When you're missing a Q, cut a notch in your O. And make sure people know you're open. Two signs are always better than one.
Had a chance to swing by this place on my way back from Houston late afternoon last week for a quick bite to eat. Opened the front door and walked right into my elementary school cafeteria, milk money in hand.
Yep. Six sided folding tables, rock hard chairs, dropped ceiling, cafeteria line, and lunch ladies. But with a meat processing plant immediately next door, I hoped the quality of the food was better than the hot pack/cold pack variety I used to get. And it was.
Hold on a second.
Duck, duck...wait, deer, deer, deer, deer, BOBCAT!
And I secured a chair. Ok, so this place isn't really exactly like my elementary school cafeteria, as we lacked the dead animals on the wall, but it was a good pit stop on my drive nonetheless.
As happens periodically at the central Texas small town barbecue joints, my late arrival limited my choices to just chopped beef and sausage, so I had them pile both on a bun with some onions and went to work.
Sausage was fantastic, cut in half lengthwise and placed lovingly on a soft bed of chopped beef, the juices of which permeated the bottom bun to the point of making it difficult to eat as a sandwich, but packed with flavor. I was a bit disappointed with the chopped beef having been stewed in their sauce prior to serving, as I like to control my sauce and also sample the flavor of the beef itself before seasoning it. That said, the beef was flavorful and tender, with just the right mix of fat, meat, and bark, and the sauce, extra of which was available center hexagon in a used 60oz Heinz ketchup squeeze bottle, was thin and vinegary with a hint of heat. The sausage was packed with flavor, with the casing providing a perfect snap, and really made this sandwich. If I do it again, I'll skip the onions, which were thinly sliced whites which tasted like they'd been cut well in advance and left to sweat, which when taken in stride with the size of the cut, took away nearly all of the crunch and coolness I love and expect of onions on a sandwich as a stark contrast in texture from the tenderness and heat of the meat.
The sides behind the sneeze guard, consisting of the basic slaw, potato salad, and beans, looked run of the mill almost as if out of a tub, but as the massive piles of wood and smoker out back indicated, you're not here for those. So I passed.
All in all, a good stop, but not worth a pilgrimage. If it's that you're looking for, continue on to Prause's Market in LaGrange, and get there early.
Oh, nearly forgot, stopped in the butcher shop/processing plant next door.
I have high hopes for this. Two small cases of meat hidden behind dirty and foggy plexiglass, a giant bloody table, plenty of knives and slicers, and very friendly proprietors. I used my last $12 (cash only at both places) to get some hickory-smoked, rind-on bacon, and some homemade hot links, which I plan on throwing on the smoker next time I fire up a butt.
Summary
Atmosphere: hole in the wall cafeteria-style barbecue joint, a place where everyone knows your name...well, not mine but everyone else in there
Food: barbecue
Dog Friendly: no
When to Go: lunch
Crowd: locals, locals, and locals
What to Order for the First Timer: sausage
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