Before developers rolled in and cookie-cutter franchises took over every exit ramp, Texas had its own rhythm. A rhythm of smoke pits, metal roofs, cold tea, and locals pulling into gravel lots for food that filled more than your belly. It filled your life.
These weren’t corporate-owned spots with apps and rewards programs. These were the real ones—BBQ joints and diners where you could sit down sweaty from work, or river-soaked from tubing, and get served something unforgettable.
Most are gone now. But not from our memory.
Wimberley’s Lost Treasures: Burger Barn, 7A Ranch, and the Poker Game
If you ever drove through Wimberley before the influencers showed up, you know what I’m talking about. Two places stand out from those days: the Burger Barn and 7A Ranch.
The Burger Barn looked like an old Dairy Queen-style setup, but the food was pure Texas. Better than it had any right to be. No apps, no QR codes, just a few bucks and an empty stomach. That’s all you needed.
Down the road, 7A Ranch wasn’t just lodging — they served breakfast and dinner that drew locals too. I remember hearing the local football team would eat there. The sausage links, biscuits, and eggs were honest-to-God real food, not powdered fluff.
Then there’s the old story — one I still hear passed around — about how a bunch of restaurant owners in Wimberley once sat down for a poker game and ended up trading restaurants. Sounds like folklore, but something must have happened. Cypress Creek Café, John Henry’s, and what became Juan Enrique’s all shifted around. I remember Juan Enrique’s taking over after a flood — might’ve been 1998 — and for a while, it felt like every restaurant had a different name than the year before. Was it a rebrand? A real estate move? Or that legendary poker night? Maybe we’ll never know, but it’s sure fun to talk about.
Boerne BBQ: Buddy’s at the Ice House
Down in Boerne, on the south side, there used to be a BBQ joint called Buddy’s. It was inside an ice house-style store — no gas pumps, but cold drinks, tables, and the kind of smoky goodness that kept you coming back. I was roofing a metal top on a double-wide that summer, and every day after work, we’d head there for a plate.
The place was plain, but the food wasn’t. Whether you ate inside or out back in the breeze, it hit the spot every time. I still think about that brisket. I know I’m not the only one.
Canyon Lake’s Wooden BBQ Shack: A Local Legend
Between Sattler and Starrsville, on the right-hand side of the road, there’s still an old wooden building that used to sell barbecue. The porch is long weathered, and the whole place stands there faded by time and wind. Folks around here remember it as Buddy’s too — and they say it used to be the best place to get barbecue anywhere near the lake. I don’t know how many people remember eating there, but those who do still talk about it like it was yesterday. The sign may be gone, but the stories haven’t faded. If you were one of the lucky ones who ate there, I’d sure like to hear what it was like.
Starrsville Café: Sass and Service
Starrsville Café in Canyon Lake is still there — and if you know it, you know the waitress I’m about to talk about. She’s not rude; she’s real. Cuts straight through the fluff. One time I showed up late to a group meal and she said, “You don’t get water. You weren’t here. And you don’t get a salad either.” She wasn’t kidding. But it wasn’t personal — she treated everyone the same, and people loved her for it. It became part of the charm. You knew where you stood, and the food was solid.
Lockhart: Beyond the Famous Names
Sure, Lockhart’s still on the map for barbecue. But back before it became “the capital,” there were a lot of unnamed, family-run pits that made the town what it was. No hype, no Instagram posts, just smoke and cash. I’m not talking about the tourist stops. I’m talking about the real ones — run out of sheds, backyards, or tiny diners. Some of them had names, some didn’t. But everybody in town knew where to go.
Blessing Hotel: Still Standing
And don’t forget the Blessing Hotel out near the coast. Floors creak when you walk. Plates clatter when they serve you. It’s still doing things the old way — and thank God for that. If you ever get a chance to go, don’t miss it.
Why It All Matters
This isn’t just about food. It’s about Texas identity. These places fed us, sure — but they also raised us. They gave us memories, stories, handshakes, and a place to go when life got too fast. And now most of them are gone.comptroller.texas.gov
But they’re not gone if we remember them. They’re not gone if we talk about them.
So if you know the names, the stories, or have pictures — share them. Let’s light up the comments and remind this state what made it great before the franchises rolled in.
Hi. This is Brent Wiewel. Reporting the news as I know it. Follow me for the rest of the story.
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