The December issue’s Top Tables article on old-school Tex-Mex restaurants—“Candy or Sherbet?”—makes my taste buds crave that extra cheesy enchilada dinner with carne sauce (double rice—no beans, please) every time I read it. Dick Holland’s piece, while spot-on in describing this distinctly Texas experience (sorry, New Mexico and California don’t even come close!), just scratches the surface when it comes to naming some of the top traditional Tex-Mex dining in Austin, let alone the state. For starters, one of my faves not mentioned in the story is El Gallo, at 2910 S. Congress Ave. Time seems to stand still there, from the ’60s-era Spanish dark wood/wrought-iron decor, serape-covered tables, lack of trendy scenesters, and also their prices. My two-enchilada dinner was a mere $ 7.95, which included—yes—choice of candy or sherbet for dessert. (I chose candy—pralines.) And my frozen margarita came in a tall pilsner-style glass, like how I imagine they were served back in 1971 when this frozen libation was first concocted in a Dallas restaurant.  This is one of my favorite places to escape when I’ve had too much of our ever-upward-and-upscale city and need to be somewhere more down-to-earth, where life feels a bit simpler.So, where’s your favorite #2 enchilada dinner in Texas? Best salsa, queso, fajitas, or margarita? Best Tex-Mex for the soul that ignores all foodie fads? We’d love to hear from you.

I make the trek up to the Red River and beyond on I-35 several times a year to visit family in Oklahoma, and now that the holiday season is officially upon us, I’m starting to steel myself for the trip, planning several stops to allay road fatigue and facilitate conversation once we arrive in the Sooner State. “How was the drive?” my grandmother will surely ask. And rather than comment on the traffic (same-old, same-old, ho-hum), I’d like to contribute an interesting experience to the conversation.

On my last journey, I got a late start out of Austin—what with the dogs and the packing, and the gift-wrapping and the last-minute tidying-up—and I found myself zooming into Gainesville a mere two-and-a-half hours before I was expected at dinner in Oklahoma City. I hadn’t planned to be so late, of course, and I had imagined sitting down to a leisurely afternoon meal at a little teahouse called Sarah’s on the Square, which came highly recommended by nearly everyone I called in Gainesville, from the folks at the Texas Travel Information Center to a Gainesville native I happened to run into at a museum opening a few months prior. “ Go check out Sarah’s on the Square,” they told me.

Well, I did check it out. But only briefly. I scanned the historic building, admired the brick walls (it used to be an old hardware or dry-goods store, I’m guessing), sat down for 15 minutes at one of a dozen antique wooden tables, and ordered a savory cup of corn-and-crabmeat chowder—perhaps not eye-rollingly out-of-this-world, but satisfying nonetheless.

On my next visit home, if I make it to Gainesville with time to spare, maybe I’ll try the Sarah’s Salad, made with mixed baby lettuces, sliced pears, toasted pecans, feta cheese, and champagne vinaigrette. And the triple-chocolate brownies with chocolate sauce and chocolate shavings sound tempting. If I succumb to a sugar coma, after all, Sarah’s operates a three-room B&B upstairs.  My waiter told me that the place used to be a brothel. I know my grandmother would be intrigued by that tale.