(almost) wordless wednesday
On our recent barbecue pilgrimage on The Outskirts of Town, a contingent of our blogging buddies met us in Lockhart, the home of Black's, Smitty's, and Kreuz Market. They'd already visited one spot on the list, and we were headed their direction after visiting four BBQ joints on the north end of our jaunt.
Upon our arrival, as our group furiously flipped away on phones checking-in, checking-out, and checking-all around, I got the word. Mary and Mad Betty, along with their plus ones, found ice cold beer at a joint down the street called Lilly's. I trust these folks. I was on my way.
Now, we foodies--certain of us have a nose for certain things. For some, it's fancy. For some it's exotic. For me and mine, well, we are blessed, it seems, with the innate ability to sniff our the cool, when it comes to food, and, well, liquor. And if this cool comes in the form of crusty, delightful, wacky, hip, or otherwise notorious, well, all the better.
My friends 'done good' with Lily's, and this short stop set the stage for what promises to be a longer, let's see what kind of characters this place draws visit, and soon. Looks just like the type of place a drunken Hemingway might have called home away from, um, the elements. It's perfect.
Meet me at Lilly's? Lone Stars are on me.