Let's Not Eat Mexican!

As a supplement to Let's Eat Mexican!, here are ten of my favourite San Antonio diners and restaurants which aren't Mexican in no particular order. Usual terms and conditions apply.

Hung Fong, 3624 Broadway, TX 78209.
Established in 1939, Hung Fong is the oldest Chinese restaurant in Texas which - aside from being in America rather than England - vastly differentiates it from most of the Chinese restaurants I grew up with over the pond, most of which seem to have been established in the seventies so far as I understand. The American version of Chinese food seems to be additionally substantially different from the English translation of the same although they're recognisably related - and, of course, such generalisations are made on the doubtless ludicrous basis of Chinese food being definable as one consistent gastronomic continuity. Anyway, while I find a lot of Chinese food has, in my limited experience, a sort of stewed quality I'm coming to enjoy less and less as I get old, Hung Fong distinguishes itself as serving dishes which taste as though they've been prepared fresh by an actual chef just on the other side of that wall, which makes for a pleasant change. It's no longer my favourite cuisine, but when I'm in the mood for it, there's nowhere quite like Hung Fong. The staff are also great, particularly Jeff who is an old friend of my wife's family; so if you're reading this, hello Jeff!

Tandoor Palace, 8783 Wurzbach Rd, TX 78240.
My general cooling with Chinese food at some point within the last decade or so has corresponded to my increased appreciation of Indian, so I'm not sure what that's all about. It isn't that I ever really disliked Indian food but it was never my first choice, and yet now it tastes amazing to me, for some reason. Happily, San Antonio has a ton of Indian restaurants - contrary to my expectations. Apparently our Health Science Center, associated with the University of Texas, presents quite a draw for overseas students and medical practitioners and so most of the Indian restaurants are in that part of town, as are most of the middle eastern places as it happens. I haven't had a bad Indian meal in San Antonio, but some places have been more to my liking than others. Bottom of the list was probably ruthlessly authentic something or other - bland formica tables like a transport café, Bollywood piped directly to all three wall-mounted television sets - the kind with cathode ray tubes - bored staff and a menu of just three dishes, each of which was brown and hotter than the surface of the sun. Tandoor Palace, on the other hand, reminds me of several places I've eaten on the Foleshill Road in Coventry, so I don't know what the difference is, but I assume it's authentic to something and therefore ticks my boxes without necessarily being the Indian equivalent of McDonalds. My vote is additionally swayed by the excellence of their all you can eat buffet and the fact that the staff remember us every time we visit.

Good Time Charlie's, 2922 Broadway, TX 78209.
Charlie's may actually be my all-time favourite place to eat. I kept track of my urban eating habits for the duration of 2019 and Charlie's came out top with thirty-one visits. The salad is amazing, the steak is amazing - particularly the cilantro jack steak - the fries are amazing, the onion rings are the best onion rings in the known universe, the waitresses are wonderful - particularly Jessica - and the service is great. I don't know if it makes a difference that Good Time Charlie's is a single establishment rather than one of several, or even a chain, but it might account for the suggestion of good home cookin', and if you suspect the claim of good home cookin' is usually just advertising copy, you need to eat at Charlie's. The cuisine, if we really must call it that, is what my wife refers to as general American, so it's steak, chicken fried steak, a few local variations, some Mexican influence. Actually, it's a lot like what you would eat at Jim's, although while Jim's is wonderful, Charlie's is sort of like the Platonic perfect diner of which Jim's is merely the noumenal expression.

Sea Island Shrimp House, 322 W Rector, TX 78216.
Amongst the more common myths regarding life in the United States is that you can't get decent fish and chips such as you might find on the front at Skeggy. While it's true that we don't have a chippy on every street corner due to being an entirely different country, Sea Island comes pretty close and, to be honest, does it better than more or less all but two of the chip shops I had cause to frequent when living in England; although for that matter, the same could be said of the Long John Silver's chain. The chips aren't the big, fat greasy ones traditionally served in newspaper, but neither are we talking McDonald's potato-style snack fries. The food is pretty great at Sea Island even though yes, it is indeed a chain, but the whole chain restaurant thing seems to be different here in Americaland, and everything served at Sea Island is fresh and properly cooked by human beings. Although it might be pointed out that Americans don't seem to understand sausage in batter, they compensate with hush puppies which are deep fried balls of the kind of sage and onion stuffing associated with an English roast dinner, and which work very well with fish and chips. America also has the additional attraction of not being Skegness.

The Hungry Farmer, 7015 Interstate 35 Access Rd, TX 78224.
This may actually be the most profoundly Texan place I've ever been - 1930s tractors in the parking lot, hood ornaments, tin-plate gas station advertising, firearms on the walls, and country music playing while you eat - and I mean the proper stuff too, none of your autotuned crap and definitely no fucking alt-country, whatever the hell that is. Under almost any other circumstances it would be obnoxious, but the Hungry Farmer is a one-off and the real deal so it's not even an affectation or a sales pitch. The food is mostly simple - steak, fries, things involving jalapeño peppers and so on - but prepared with the genuine loving care of that good ol' home cookin' you're always hearing about. Also of note is their own garlic dressing which is so astonishing as to present the temptation of just poking a straw into the jug and drinking it like a milkshake. The staff are great too, except the one who was refusing to wear a mask when we were there a few months ago, but they had her back in line in time for our subsequent visit. Also, they no longer have A1 sauce so it's wise to take your own. We asked a waitress and she said whoever runs the place had decided it was too expensive.

Jim's, everywhere.
I've had periods of near evangelical devotion to Jim's, and I know it's not just me. They're a chain, but a local one with a lot of diners in San Antonio. I've a feeling there may also be one in Austin by now, but I'm not sure. On paper, Jim's may not seem like anything special - sort of like Denny's with less polish and a more local flavour - but it's pretty difficult to get a bad meal at Jim's, excepting an uncharacteristically chewy chicken fried steak I had back in 2013; and wherever you are in San Antonio, you're never more than five minutes drive from a Jim's, plus they seem to be open all the time, possibly even Christmas day for all I know. I go through phases but at the moment it's the huevos rancheros which gets my vote as the greatest thing on the menu (and possibly in the universe), but all of their breakfasts are exceptional; and, I'd swear, with healing properties under certain circumstances, such as those experienced when one is somewhat worse for wear, having been on the sauce.

Longhorn Steakhouse, 7439 San Pedro Ave, TX 78216.
I'm not sure why but the first time I ever went to this place, I thought it was amazing, and it's been mostly good since, but never quite like that first time. They're a chain and are therefore everywhere, so maybe it's simply that the first place had a better chef on that night. They're kind of like an expensive version of the Hungry Farmer or, if you like, where the Hungry Farmer might be missing a few teeth and have straw and bits of twig in its beard, upmarket rappers of the kind who enjoy being seen to have money probably wouldn't be too embarrassed to be seen to have money while dining at the Longhorn Steakhouse; and although I say expensive, it's actually very reasonably priced. The steak is usually more than respectable, the mashed potato is nearly always wonderful, and although it could be argued that the décor is kind of corny - pretend oil paintings of western scenes, mountains, cattle rustlers and so on - I actually kind of like it, excepting the weird portrait of a gentleman resembling Enoch Powell by the entrance - probably isn't him but it's still a bit odd.

Cracker Barrel, 6330 N Interstate 35, TX 78218.
Also jokingly referred to as Caucasian Barrel, Cracker Barrel is a vast corporate chain which bills itself as an old country store - complete with rocking chairs out on the porch for those who might wish to set a spell - and yet somehow gets away with it, because the food is great and even the store is not without a certain charm. Aside from the signage, you really wouldn't think you were inside one outlet of a chain and each branch might, I suppose, be deemed unique in terms of décor by virtue of all the old shit they fix to the walls - more or less anything predating 1950, washboards, old photographs, box cameras, mysterious agricultural tools, vintage tractor parts, and tin-plate advertising for anything you've never heard of - Nargon, which was allegedly America's favourite cola back in 1932, for example. The downside to this surfeit of Americana has usually been the presence of at least one family of fellow diners sporting MAGA hats, a sartorial trend which is now hopefully on the wane for obvious reasons. Cracker Barrel's fried chicken is, in all honesty, so fucking fantastic that it cannot be described without swearing - as I've just demonstrated - but most of their menu is pretty great. I once had something called, I think, tater tot casserole which was so good that I still think about it from time to time, even though I don't seem to be able to find it on the current menu and therefore presume it must have been some kind of special. For what it may be worth, the associated store is sort of folksy and leans heavily on gift items, old style candy, faux bottles of Nargon, and country & western paraphernalia, but most of the stuff seems to be quite good quality, or at least above what you might expect. A few years ago they had a stuffed toy horse in the store, a battery operated one which walked forward and did a little wiggle when you threw the switch on its back. Despite the fact that I'm very much not an eight-year old girl, it seemed like the cutest thing I'd ever seen and it took all my powers of self control to keep myself from buying the little guy and taking him home. I look for that horse every time I return to Cracker Barrel but he's gone from the shelves. I don't know why I just didn't buy him at the time. I'm a fucking idiot, nothing but a damn no-horse-havin' fool.

Demo's Greek Food, 7115 Blanco Rd #120, TX 78216.
There are three of these and we normally go to the one on St. Mary's, but I'm sure they're all pretty much the same deal. There's not much I miss about life in English cities, but one thing is the mighty doner kebab and I'm sure I've had at least a decade during which I ate nothing else. It's not that you can't get a doner kebab here in Americaland, but that which you are served when asking for the same tends to be different. I don't know if it's actually a more authentic relation to the original Greek template, or as much a regional variation as whatever those things were that I used to eat in England, but it tends to be served in a lighter, puffier flatbread, and never comes with chilli sauce. This may be on the grounds that everything else in San Antonio does come with chilli sauce, even ice cream in the more Hispanic neighbourhoods, but I nevertheless find it disconcerting, for as my former Royal Mail colleague Vince once observed, a kebab without chilli sauce is like an elephant without a trunk. Anyway, leaving aside anything too close in spirit to my father's partner expressing disgust at being unable to get a decent plate of egg and chips in certain EU countries, of all the Greek or Mediterranean places in San Antonio, Demo's seems to be about the best, or at least is my favourite by some margin; and their kebabs are so close to what I would consider a proper kebab as to greatly reduce the conspicuity of the absent chilli sauce. I realise that probably doesn't sound like much of a recommendation, but it is.

Bill Miller Bar-B-Q, 4500 Broadway, TX 78209.
Mary, who technically would have been my stepmother had my father opted for a third marriage, once asked, what do they eat in Texas? before answering her own mostly rhetorical question with, it's all barbecue innit. For the sake of quantifying the report, she also told me that the thing she liked about President Trump was that you never hear anything bad said about him. Needless to say, it's really not all barbecue - a cuisine to which I've never fully acclimatised, because most places serving it tend to overdo the rustic charm - bits of rusty tractor nailed to the wall and all that - and just ain't that great unless you're into diarrhoea and hangovers. Bill Miller, on the other hand, being a chain and one of those with a diner on nearly every other street corner, sort of rescues barbecue from its own authenticity and serves something edible, mostly delicious, and with a genuine hint of home cooking which tastes rich, spicy, just unhealthy enough to be pleasurable, but which won't exile you to a lavatory cubicle for the next twelve hours. Technically, I'm cheating here as most branches of Bill Miller are presently working curbside service only due to disease and stuff, and it's actually a couple of months since I visited one; but I told myself I'd write about ten restaurants or diners here because it's a nice round number, and Hooters - where my wife and myself ate last night - didn't quite make the grade.