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It was getting dark when I headed south out of Austin. Houston was my destination for the night, but I’d gotten a tip about the ribs at Dos Rios, a Tex-Mex restaurant in New Braunfels. It was a heck of a detour, but I was getting desperate. I’d been searching the state, following leads from strangers, to find a great rack of Tex-Mex ribs. After seven restaurants, and just as many disappointments, I held on to hope as tightly as I gripped my steering wheel on Interstate 35 during rush hour. Driving through New Braunfels, I passed the massive Bavarian murals painted on the building that houses the annual Wurstfest. The sight spurred a moment of clarity. I was forced to face the fact that…
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