You take two-lane RM 473 from Comfort and keep on goin' when it narrows to Old San Antonio Road. Drive another nine winding miles, pass Old Tunnel parking and follow the sign to hamburger heaven. OK, so it doesn't say that on the sign, but you'll understand after you get there.
Alamo Springs, where "Anybody is nobody" so get your own damn beer. And musicians play soul-blues-country-rock on the patio stage weekend nights.
Inside, the Chef grills half a pound of fine local beef and serves it on a sweet cheese and jalapeno bun, piled high with avocado, grilled onions, green chilies and blue cheese.
I didn't say it was healthy, I said it tasted Texas-sized good. Every now and then a person needs a little substance to go with the salad.
And a LOT of napkins.
Denny and I split one. He had a side of sweet potato fries, I had an organic mixed greens salad with house-made Tequila-Lime Vinaigrette. I tasted Alamo's other made-from-scratch dressings too. The Chipotle Ranch is crossover nirvana.
We finished with the pastry chef's pie-du-jour. Yes, that's right, the pastry chef, doesn't every country way-station have a pastry chef?
The night we were there it was watermelon pie. Best, and only, watermelon pie I've ever had. I'll admit the seasoning and raisins reminded me of mincemeat-pies-past. Next time I'll go for the three-layer German Chocolate Cake. Or the local-peach cobbler. Or maybe the Key Lime Pie.
And I'll forgo the burger for grilled quail on a salad of romaine, baby corn, black olives, local tomatoes and feta cheese dressed with basil vinaigrette. So I have more room for pie.
Copyright 2009-2010 Kathleen Scott, for Hill Country Mysteries. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.