SCOTT LUDWIG: In Texas, head for the hill country

For the second year in a row, Cindy had to make a short business trip to Austin, Texas. Also for the second year in a row, we tacked on a few days after it was over for a short vacation in the Lone Star State.

How was Austin, you ask? Don’t, because we spent the extra days in Fredericksburg, not Austin — although I did stop by the capital to see if Gov. Abbott was available. (He wasn’t; apparently he was busy trying to convince the president that “Gulf of Texas” was a better name.)

Fredericksburg is out in the Texas hill country. We fell in love with the area last year and wanted to go back.

Most people recognize Napa Valley as the pre-eminent wine-growing region in the country. What most people don’t recognize is that the Texas hill country is an emerging wine region as well. The fertile soil and favorable climate is conducive to grape cultivation, which has led to the establishment of a plethora of vineyards and wineries in the area.

Don’t get me wrong: Cindy and I are not wine aficionados by any stretch of the imagination. But we do enjoy a nice red blend every now and then. One afternoon we stopped at a winery for a tasting of five different local wines. Cindy enjoyed them all and said she could detect the subtle differences between them. I enjoyed them as well, but they all could have been poured from the same bottle as far as I could tell – which is why I don’t understand why anyone would give a half-day’s pay for a bottle of expensive wine when they could get a bottle of Menage a Trois for less than $10.

But I digress. Getting back to Fredericksburg, one thing we really like about it is its German heritage. In fact, Fredericksburg even has a sister city in Deutschland: Montabaur. German cities are known for being litter-free, which is exactly how we found the streets in Fredericksburg. They sparkled and were absolutely spotless.

Here’s something else interesting about the streets throughout most of the city: They’re 50-feet wide. That probably explains why there aren’t any stripes in the middle of them. In a way that makes sense: Since the average vehicle is 6 or 7 feet wide, a street that wide leaves an awful lot of wiggle room when two cars approach one another from opposite directions. A white line would just be a waste of paint.

Of course, no German community would be complete without its own German brewery. In this case, it’s Altstadt, which produces their beer in accordance with the German purity law. That means their beer is made from just four ingredients: malt, hops, yeast and water. Altstadt’s brew master compares brewing beer to music, calling German beer strictly “classical” and American beer more “rock and roll.” As for me, I think of German beer as the nectar of the gods, whereas American beer is just beer-flavored water.

During our stay in the Texas hill country, Cindy and I enjoyed four wonderful dinners – none better than the barbecue we had for two of them: chicken from Backwoods BBQ in Fredericksburg on our first night and brisket from Black Board Bar B Q in Sisterdale on our last.

A brief pause for an important announcement. We stopped at Black Board last year as well. As we were waiting to place our order, Cindy asked if I wanted brisket.

Based on my last experience with brisket, which turned out to be 20% brisket and 80% fat, I told her no. The woman behind the counter, who owns Black Board with her husband, overheard me relaying my bad experience and asked me where it occurred.

When I said “Buc-ee’s,” all the cowboys in the restaurant broke out laughing. The woman went into the kitchen and returned with a slab of brisket.

“Try this,” she said. It melted in my mouth, so Cindy and I took some home from dinner. In my defense, Buc-ee’s originated in Texas, so those cowboys had no one to laugh at but themselves.

Speaking of cowboys, do you know what it’s called when you dress up like one? Ranch dressing.

Here’s an interesting tidbit of information should you ever find yourself driving through Texas. You can expect the speed limit to drop dramatically as you approach small towns such as Fredericksburg and Sisterdale. You’re liable to see the speed limit reduced from 65 to 55 to 45 to 35 (if not 25), all within a span of a quarter-mile or so.

To call it a speed trap doesn’t do it justice. Tourist trap would be a better description, because that’s what happened to me a year ago when I was pulled over after I missed the sign that dropped the speed limit to 25 after I had successfully navigated through the 65 to 55 to 45 to 35 gauntlet. Fortunately the officer let me off with a warning because he noticed I did in fact reduce my speed from 65 to 55 to 45 to 35 at the appropriate times.

As I said, I was lucky that time. The next time I might not get off so easy. In fact, the next time there’s a pretty decent chance it might happen on the way back from an afternoon of wine tasting or an evening at Altstadt. And if it does, I’ve already got my answer ready for the man in blue if he asks why I’m slurring my words when I talk.

“I’m not slurring, officer; I’m just speaking in cursive.”

So, Texas hill country, goodbye for now. See you next time on the dusty trail. (That is just how us brisket-eatin’ cowboys talk.)