Czech Festival in Flatonia

That's where we drove today..... to the small town (aren't they all small up here in the hills?) of Flatonia. They were having their annual Czech Festival, complete with two cook-off contests... chili and barbeque. As the contestants were getting their foods ready for the judges, they were offering samples to anyone who asked. I didn't ask. (Meat is not my thing.) My husband asked. He loves chili, loves meat, especially BBQ-ed meat. And living in Texas has taught us one thing (among a zillion others)-- no one does BBQ like Texans.

I don't know what the fascination is for men who would never be caught dead behind a four-burner kitchen stove, but just give them a smoker in the shape of a steer (seriously-- my husband took a photo of one today) and they will cook red meat and baste it tenderly with a hundred secret spices after they have soaked that beef or pork in their favorite beer. And the finished product-- slabs of fork-tender meat (steaks, ribs, whatever) that is cooked to perfection and the chef is standing there with his just-sharpened knife and he's saying Now come to papa! as he does the ceremonial carving.

So there we were..... walking around the closed-off-to-traffic Main Street of Flatonia, my husband tasting chili in little cups and BBQ ribs wrapped in paper towels. He was in meat heaven. I was trying to stay out of the way of the knife-wielding chefs, and their assistants running towards the judges' tent with a dozen of their cookbook-photo-worthy just-sliced beef or pork ribs.

They also had a pie auction....... apparently, the best bakers in town had baked up fruit pies and they were being sold off for unheard of prices ($75 and up).... we were guessing that the money went to a local church or charity, or maybe they save it up to pay for all the propane tanks that were lined up along Main Street for the BBQ and chili chefs. (A bad connection in just one of those propane tanks would have blown us all to California.)

Even though I don't eat meat, the aroma of all that cooking got me to searching for something that I could eat. Food vendors selling corn dogs and hot dogs and hamburgers were lined up at the end of Main Street. I didn't want (nor do I eat) any of those. I looked for a Kettle Corn vendor, but didn't see one. (How can there be a Texas festival without kettle corn?) I found a vendor selling "Fabulous Funnel Cakes." I love funnel cakes, but I don't usually eat them because it's just fried dough that's sprinkled with powdered sugar. Totally delicious, of course, but totally loaded with calories. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I bought a Fabulous Funnel Cake. And it was fabulous. I brought some of it home for the chickens-- they thought it was fabulous also.

We have no idea what made today's festival a celebration of the Czech community of Flatonia. There was nothing Czech about it, unless you count the chili chefs who tweaked the spelling of their recipes to read "Come Get Our Czechili."

Each of the chefs were working under their own tent today, each had a BBQ-cooker or a smoker or wooden kitchen all decked out in their own personal style. The sidewalk kitchens alone were worth the drive. One particular chili chef had a very elaborate outdoor kitchen set up, all made of old wood and wrought iron, with shotguns hanging behind the stove and vintage kitchen stools set up in front of the bar. Right in front of the stools was this sign: "This ain't Burger King. You're not goin' to get MY food YOUR way. What you WILL get is MY food MY way. If you don't like it, then you ain't gettin' a damn thing to eat."

And that just about sums up the difference between Texas BBQ chefs and the BBQ chefs in the rest of the country.