INTRODUCTION

I bet that you didn’t know that the word Texas comes from the Native American word tejas, which means “those who are friends.” And no matter what you might hear, Texans are the friendliest people in the world. I learned that very quickly when I moved to Dallas and found myself being asked to “come on over,” “sit right here,” “pull up a chair,” and “have another,” as I was introduced to both the hospitality and the meals of folks all across the state. Home cooked, around the campfire, in backyards, or in the restaurants of my friends, I got to experience the most amazing foods—good old-fashioned meals like my mom made, ethnic dishes that I had never tasted, grilled meats on an open fire, and innovative dishes in a restaurant setting. It didn’t take long for me to become an aficionado of Texas cuisine.

When I began my career in the kitchen, I had no idea that I would end up wearing cowboy boots in front of the stove. I was a Kentucky boy trained in the classic French culinary tradition when I arrived in Texas almost thirty-five years ago to be the fish cook (poissonnier in French) at the Pyramid Room in the Fairmont Hotel, the finest French restaurant in Dallas. From there I was invited to be the opening chef at Agnew’s, Dallas’ first fine-dining restaurant featuring “modern American cuisine” rather than Continental or French.

The cooks that I worked with were mostly from Mexico, and I found I loved the foods that they prepared for their own meals. And they loved nothing more than introducing me to the ingredients and recipes taught to them, usually by their mothers. Off times in the kitchen I was able to learn the basic salsas, enchiladas, tamales, moles, and snack foods of their homeland. Since each cook came from a different region, I got to taste many different regional cooking styles. They had grilling, marinating, and braising techniques that were completely new to me, and the ingredients were unheard of—a variety of chiles, herbs like cilantro and epazote, citrus, mango, tomatillos, cactus paddles, chayote, dried corn, and so many other extraordinary products. I vividly remember calling my produce supplier in 1979 and asking for cilantro with his response “What’s that?” Sometimes the cooks would bring me the produce they grew, and sometimes they would take a trip “home” and come back with sacks of new things to try. Agnew’s became the first fine-dining restaurant in Dallas to use these “ethnic” ingredients, and it was where I began to see the direction I wanted to take my cooking. It was, for me, a major stepping-stone to the evolution of modern Texas cuisine.

“Oh, Lordy,” as much as I loved my immersion in the foods of Mexico, it didn’t take long for me to fall head over cowboy boots in love with Texas—the larger-than-life people, the climate, agriculture, music, and wide-open spaces, and, most of all, the beautiful blend of cultures that had settled the state, and the foods that reflected that mix in an extraordinary way. It all couldn’t have been further from the discipline and rigorous adherence to the past that I was trained to observe. Texas was—and is—an amazing place to live, learn, and cook!

I began to really stretch my culinary wings at the Mansion on Turtle Creek, where I, along with a number of other young chefs throughout the state, inaugurated the “new Southwestern cuisine,” introducing everyday “ethnic” ingredients into four-star dining. When Bob Zimmer, president of the Mansion, asked me to join the team, I told him that I would do so only if we could promote “Southwest” cuisine, using local purveyors and local ingredients in the restaurant. He agreed and the Mansion became the first internationally known boutique hotel and restaurant to feature an authentic Texas dining experience.

I like to think that this was also the beginning of the “locavore” movement, as we cooked with those Mexican, Native American, and other regional ingredients that were grown on farms, in small plots, and in gardens all through Texas. We looked at the past in a different way as we incorporated the ancient foods of Native Americans, the simple cooking styles of frontier settlers, indigenous game, ingredients used in the meals of early immigrants from Germany and Eastern Europe, the rich cultural and agricultural spirit of the American South, the diverse seafood found in the Gulf, and, most of all, those bold, flavorful tastes of the Mexican population. We were taking what ordinary Texans had been doing in the kitchen for generations and fusing that cooking with classic culinary techniques and a sense of adventure. In the end, what we created was nothing less than a four-star experience using local ingredients, and along the way “new Southwestern cuisine” was born.

In 2007 I opened Fearing’s at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, my dream restaurant. Not only is the restaurant a reflection of my own vision of Texas design and comfort, but it is also where I embraced the richness of the state’s agriculture, folkways, artisanal foods, and lifestyle. The restaurant itself is filled with the colors and light that so identify the openness of the land, and our staff’s welcome is relaxed and neighborly, the same greeting I received when I first arrived. There is no dress code—jeans and cowboy boots are as fancy as we get. I often travel the state exploring the wonderful products and cooking styles that have made Texas such a leader in new American cooking. Throughout my restaurant career I have kept a diary of the regional recipes and foods that have caught my attention. I have a large collection of old cookbooks that grows through the generosity of home cooks who frequently send me their own handwritten recipes and hand-me-down recipe books. Over the years so many people have asked me about Texas ingredients, “Tex-Mex” cooking, and how I incorporate all of the various “ethnic” styles to make recipes my own that I began to create my own Texas food bible as a resource for my cooks. It is something we constantly use.

I easily recognize that the “new” Texas cuisine that I serve daily has come about through years of evolving “new” ingredients, “new” farming methods, “new” cooking methods, “new” immigrants, and even “new” appliances. And I also know that, to quote that old song, “Everything Old Is New Again.” This is particularly true in cooking, where through the past twenty years we have seen “heirloom” produce, “artisanal” craftsmen, and “farm to table” reintroduced. And, since we know that in Texas everything is bigger, all of this has had an even bigger impact on my Texas Food Bible.

Before we get to the nitty-gritty, I’ll give you a brief rundown on the main influences in how Texans cook. In the beginning, we had the Native American tribes of the Southwest who raised sheep (but, for the most part, didn’t eat them) and cultivated the holy trinity of “beans, squash, and corn” while they treasured the gifts of the land. The exploring Spaniards of the seventeenth century introduced a meat-protein diet, adding poultry and pork along with rice, onions, and tomatoes. And, since they had arrived through Mexico, the explorers also introduced chocolate, tropical fruits, vanilla, avocados, chiles, and nuts that were indigenous to the pre-Columbian world.

As the United States spread westward, new foods came with the travelers, some of whom settled on homesteads throughout the state. Foods that had typically been prepared only in the Southern states (primarily by domestic servants) very quickly became everyday meals on the range. New settlers from Europe, particularly those from Germany and Eastern Europe, brought recipes that are now part of Texas culinary lore. Our famous chicken-fried steak is nothing more than an adaptation of the classic German Wiener schnitzel, and it is said that the familiar barbecue evolved through the skill of German butchers smoking and curing pork. Texans will travel quite a piece to get to West, Texas (the town, not the area), to buy kolaches (sweet or savory) from the Czech Stop. Of course, we can’t forget the cowboys who spent weeks and sometimes months moving cattle and cooking on an open fire. Although the experts say that barbecue came from the Germans, in my opinion it more likely came from range cooking and the ranch cookhouse.

Chili, Texas’ best-known dish, seems to be lost in its heritage. Some say it came from trail cooks, some from Mexican home cooks, some from a Texas ranger, some from a Spanish nun teaching Native Americans a new dish. I’d say that it is a legendary dish made from legend. The only thing that you need to know for certain is that Texas chili does not contain beans or tomatoes and you will learn how to make an authentic version in The Texas Food Bible.

In recent memory, we have the enormous influx of Mexican peoples, whose foods are now a part of every American’s diet—burritos, tacos, enchiladas, and on it goes. Did you know that salsas now outsell ketchup, an amazing statistic to a lover of that signature American condiment? And, finally, there is the bounty of the state: the Gulf provides superb seafood; longtime cultivation along the Colorado River makes Texas the fourth-largest producer of rice; cattle ranches offer some of the best beef in the world; game farms provide a wide array of meats; citrus groves flourish; and orchards abound. Bigger in Texas and better in Texas, I’d say.

Now, all this leads us to The Texas Food Bible.

In the following pages we will first take a look at the ingredients that make Texas cuisine explode with bold, rich flavors. Then we will give a heads-up to those sauces and salsas and other good things that help the cook take an ordinary recipe to new heights. Recipes will range from traditional to modern interpretations of the classics through my personal favorites, old and new. We will wander from Navajo fry bread to sweet potato spoonbread from the South, from tacos to shrimp diablo “tamales,” from Granny Fearing’s “paper bag–shook” fried chicken to chicken-fried Texas quail on bourbon-jalapeño creamed corn, and from Texas-style chili to bacon-jalapeño biscuits. Simple taco and salsa recipes will have a starred place right beside the culinary treasures that make new Texas cuisine internationally famous. I’ll show you step-by-step methods and techniques for grilling and smoking. In addition, you will get to meet some of the many other chefs and artisans whom I’ve met and worked with along the way. While it’s educational, I hope that The Texas Food Bible will also serve as a daily reference in every cook’s kitchen.

Pull on your boots, push back your Stetson, and come join me for some of the world’s greatest food deep in the heart of Texas.

—Dean Fearing