Hill Country

The messages started trickling in and within hours my inbox was flooded. First there were e-mails. Then there were text messages. Then there were voicemails. There were even Facebook wall messages. We were all on our toes. Warrior was coming to town on his East Coast tour.

I’ve known of Warrior for almost twice as long as we’ve been friends. We were members of Connecticut Swimming as terror tots, but we never swam for the same team. He was always somebody’s crush on my swim team. Fast forward a decade. My high school YMCA coach Murph, whom I was very close with, became the coach of the Harvard men’s team. While I was in college I moved up to Cambridge for the summer to train with him. It was there that I met and partied with Warrior and several of the other Crimson boys who are, to this day, some of my closest friends. Warrior even introduced me to Swimster back in the day.

I was trying to think of a name for Warrior that depicted what he’s been through over the past year. Nothing seemed to accurately reflect his Navy SEAL BUD/S training in Coronado but Warrior. I joined Facebook for the sole purpose of reading his updates, or “Notes,” from the island. It was some of the craziest s— I’ve ever read in my life: running at least ten miles a day, swimming in 50 degree water and staying up during “hell week” for five days straight are just some of what comes to mind. He survived some of the hardest and trying — emotionally and physically– months of his life and somehow it was on my shoulders to welcome him to the Big Apple, invite all his local friends and show him a good time.

Warrior’s the type of guy who has friends (and girls) in every city and state. I believe he visited Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, Boston, Maine, New York…there may have even been a sixth city on his East Coast tour. And judging by the photo albums that popped up on Facebook, he had a grand ol’ time.

I was in talks with a few of his friends on what to do. My initial idea was 1492. I recently had a baby shower dinner at 1492 with Carebear and a bunch of our friends from out-of-state. It was a great deal: $50 for food and all you can drink for two hours. The food was free-flowing and so were the cocktails. 1492 reinvigorated my faith in tapas consumption. The portions were extremely generous and none of us – big boys included- went hungry. Despite my push for 1492, a number of the loyal Crimson poo-pooed the idea out of worry not everyone would make dinner and we wouldn’t get our money’s worth. They were probably right. After several more stressful phone calls, desperate e-mails pleeing for suggestions and Web searches on NY Metro for “group friendly” places, we came up with Hill Country.

When I first looked at the Web site, I couldn’t tell if it was barbecue propaganda or the real thing. The only barbecue I’ve eaten in Manhattan was at Dinosaur, and to me, that was great. It was filling– the kind that makes you sick– but great. Hill Country’s Web site made the place look a little corny, almost like Disney’s Frontierland where the Country Bear Jamboree was going to bust out with its banjos. I was a little concerned, but we went with it. There was no more time for indecisiveness.

I met Warrior and one of his friends at an apartment and we cabbed down together to the HC. We were all excited to check it out and feast. Several of us met earlier and drank at the bar and once the full party arrived, we checked in at the hostess stand and made our way downstairs to the mess hall. HC feels like a big western cafeteria, downstairs especially. It has a big open feel to go with its big food. The walls are covered with pictures of Texas and cattle and other “Home on the Range”-inspired nostalgia. Downstairs is where they play live music and all the tables are extra large for groups.

Similar to Katz’s, you get cards at the HC. And like Katz’s, I believe there’s a fine if you lose your card. Once we sat down, we decided to go upstairs for the grub in teams. I was thankfully on the first team. There was a long line but it seemed to move fairly quickly. As I was people-watching, I spotted a familiar face. Gail Simmons, of the judges’ table on Bravo’s Top Chef, was standing in front of me with a group of friends or co-workers. I’ve seen my fair share of celebrities, and though I wouldn’t put this in the same category as my Madonna/Nicole Kidman spottings on the running trails in Central Park, it was still exciting to see a food-ebrity.

The HC offerings are scribbled on a chalk board above the serving station, and when I glanced up, they may as well have been written in kanji. I tried looking at what other girls were ordering, what guys were ordering and thinking I’d copy the order of someone of similar stature as me. That plan went out the window when I saw what Lion ordered. It was beef brisket or bust. You could get it lean, moist, shoulder or prime rib, not to mention the pork and chicken options. And the best part? There are no plates at HC. You receive your barbecue on big open slabs of thick brown paper, like the butcher would throw at you if he forgot to wrap your order at the deli counter. If you didn’t feel like a barbarian with the barbecue you ordered, you will now.

I watched the team of men behind the counter listen and cut, listen and cut, listen and cut. There was no time for questions. If you’re not the barbecue pro, fake it like you do when you order your Starbucks skinny-no-whip-extra-foam-grande-in-a-venti-cup latte. Don’t be fooled, this isn’t what I order at Starbucks, but I swear I’ve heard those words spoken.

I went with two kinds of brisket, the lean and the moist. Lion ordered a rib and I figured I’d just share his. Then you get to the “sides” counter and your jaw dislocates from shock and wanting to fit all of what you’re seeing in front of you in. I didn’t realize I was supposed to save room for all these options: sweet potato bourbon mash, mac and cheese, baked beans, cornbread pudding, chili and green beans to name a few.

I went with my sideline favorite macaroni and cheese. There were desserts as well, but I knew we had a long night of drinking ahead of us, and if I killed myself at dinner I wouldn’t wake out of my food coma.

The pieces of barbecue I ate were the juiciest, most tender pieces of meat I’ve ever tasted. I didn’t know it was physically possible to make it this way. Backyard Chef, I’m going to have to challenge you to make me barbecue like this. I could have eaten my barbecue with a plastic spoon. Next time I would probably just go with the lean. I’m not so hardcore as to chew through fat and think it’s OK. Excuse this picture below. It was really dark in our corner of downstairs and this was the best I could do. The macaroni and cheese was on the bland side, but honestly, anything after the barbecue just wasn’t going to cut it. As I reached across for some of Lion’s, I wished I had ordered more of the brisket.

After about fifteen minutes or so, each team had returned to the table with their brown paper batch of barbecue. There was a lot of cross-fork action going on. One person grabbing the brisket he left upstairs or the side he didn’t choose from the next person. This is part of what made it so fun. On top of the sea of brown paper, our table was riddled with beers and shots. The casual atmosphere of HC made us all feel relaxed and comfortable and able to concentrate on what really mattered that night– Warrior, his stories, his friends and our smiles in each other’s company.

For a moment I lifted my head from my food and noticed Warrior in the middle of the table with his big signature grin. He’s been to hell and back and he is still the same guy who just loves a laugh and a party. That night we brought the party to HC. I wonder if they knew they were feeding a real warrior. From the looks of our table when we got up to leave it appeared they’d fed several.

1492: 60 Clinton St., nr. Rivington St.
646-654-1114

Hill Country: 30 West 26th St., nr. Broadway
212-255-4544