So I’m back from my big weekend up in Fort Worth. I’ve been up there since Thursday afternoon at a conference, which went extremely well for us, but bears no more discussion than that. We do this one every year, and this was probably more successful than in previous years (as has been the general trend) and the only real thing to say about it is that the dread I felt on setting out on Thursday turned out to be unfounded. Sometimes these things can be painful, other times they turn out less so. This was one of those other times.

My main surprise and pleasure came from being in Fort Worth. I’ve never really spent a lot of time in Fort Worth, except for an overnight trip where a co-worked insisted that we had to stay at the Stockyards Hotel, one of those national historic hotel places that features cowhide furniture and boot jacks in each room and is soooo not for the vegetarians at heart.

Fort Worth tends to get lumped in with Dallas (they’ve even hyphenated themselves together: Dallas-Fort Worth), and is usually treated like Dallas’ semi-retarded stepsister who is along for the ride only because bringing her along was a condition for getting the keys to the car.

Fort Worth has come into its own, however, and Fort Worthers are very proud to tell you all of the reasons why they’re better than their more brash neighbor to the east.

Fort Worth has its origins in the cattle trade, once having been the end point of the famed Chisholm Trail that brought the cows down from Kansas. If you go to the Stockyards, they still run the cattle around the block every day so that all the tourists can take a break from wearing blisters on their ankles (new cowboy boots) and move the stetson hats out of their faces and take pictures of the moo-cows as they run through the middle of the city.

On the other hand, there’s something chic about the new Fort Worth – you can always tell a local from a tourist by the way they wear their boots and hats.

The new heart of downtown Fort Worth is Sundance Square, where they have lots of western kitsch shops and a couple of local institutions. There is actually a place called Retro Cowboy, but it sells the same sort of crap that every honky tonk Texas themed store at the D/FW airport sells, so I moseyed out as quickly as I moseyed in. Leddy’s Ranch sells real stuff, real cowboy shirts (starting at $110), real stetsons (don’t ask), and real boots, along with a real, honest-to-god cowhide boot shine stand. I moseyed out of there pretty quickly, mainly because I was afraid that I might touch something and be required to purchase it as a result.

Sundance Square

Fort Worth also has another claim to fame, personified by the hotel where we stayed. We stayed at the Hilton Fort Worth, which used to be the Radisson Plaza, which used to be the Hotel Texas. The Hotel Texas is where JFK and Jackie stayed on November 21, 1963, i.e., the night before he was assassinated in downtown Dallas (other point of interest: they flew from Fort Worth to Dallas, a trip of about 45 miles). There’s a little too much “last day of his life” memorabilia in the hotel, including a reproduction of a hand sketching of the hotel with explanatory caption hanging right in every bathroom for you to ruminate upon while you take care of other business. It’s a little morbid, that’s all I’m saying.

The New Voice of Fort Worth

I shot a good number of these photos on Saturday afternoon after our second session at the conference. The other point to bringing up the changing ownership of the Fort Worth Hilton is that apparently when the group signed the paperwork with the hotel to host their conference, it was still the Radisson, and when Hilton took over, they remodeled and shrank the number of conference breakout rooms. Hence, our Friday session had 80 people squeezed into a room designed for 50. On Saturday, we had a good 35, in a room in another building — but on the 26th floor, featuring spectacular why-didn’t-I-bring-my-camera views of downtown Fort Worth, including the Tarrant County Courthouse:

But the real highlight, as we discovered, is the food that you can find in the new Fort Worth… I made my happy food face (as Natalie calls it) quite a bit over the weekend.

Let’s begin with Reata, which you’re looking at in the above photo.

Reata was founded in Alpine, Texas, which is the next town over from Marfa, a place that has been in the news a lot lately as the new hip artist colony in the middle of nowhere (see: Taos, etc.)

Reata advertises itself as new southwest cuisine. Anything that advertises as “new” generally piques my interest, because even if they serve the same old stuff (enchiladas) that you’re used to in southwestern cuisine, they tend to present it in new and interesting ways with new and interesting incredients (barbecued shrimp smoked so fine that they neither tasted nor had the texture of shrimp). The three of us greatly enjoyed our time at Reata (the cute, if obviously straight, waiter was a bonus), from the beverage selection to Allegra’s carne asada and Natalie’s chiles rellenos with roasted corn bisque. The dark chocolate bread pudding-stuffed tamale for desert (with a side of dulce de leche ice cream) was also just a bonus, but it’s nice to be on per diem sometimes, as I think we each spent our entire day’s alottment on one single meal.

On Friday night, Natalie’s friend Leann, who is a die-hard Fort Worther, took us to what she swears is the best restaurant in town: Piranha Killer Sushi.

Let me begin by saying that I do not, as a rule, care for sushi that much. I’ve had sushi before, and it’s OK. I neither like it nor dislike it, it’s just there. If more sushi tasted like this stuff, I would have a radically different opinion. I had sushi that didn’t taste like fish. Let’s start off with the most unbelievable thing: the so-called “merry-me roll” (shrimp tempura, ginger cream, avocado, topped with avacado, tuna & strawberries). Yes, you read that right. Strawberries. Or the Dr. Fran Roll (shrimp tempura, eel, cream cheese, masago, scallions, topped with tuna & avocado). Was I squeamish about eating the sashimi tuna? Yes. But the wasabi cream made it spicy, and the texture was simply unreal.

This is not your grandfather-san’s sushi place, and if you have the chance to go to Fort Worth and are even remotely interested in sushi, make reservations before you go (we waited 2 hours for a table, which Leann simply. does. not. do.)

Before heading back on Sunday, Natalie and I ventured over to the Kimbell Museum, one of the impressive new installments that make up Fort Worth’s cultural district. They had an exhibition on Hatshepsut (she who became King, there being no word in the ancient Egyptian language for “queen”), and it was very well put together. Certainly more interesting in composition than the exhibitions in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, if for no other reason than they didn’t have every piece that they own on display.

And so, today (Monday), I’m doing loads of exciting things around the house like laundry, and recovering from two weekends in a row working.

Tomorrow, I’ll have my smartass back on (Madonna and the Malawian baby, anyone?) and resume my regularly scheduled sneering.