Image source Cheezburger
After seven years on the East Coast, the Texan in me is pretty much neutralized. My accent is gone, I no longer blast the AC as soon as the weather hits 70 (degrees) and I finally sold the trusty steed I rode to school every day back in Houston. I’ll never stop loving chile con queso, though. Queso is more than just melted cheese and salsa — it’s practically the state dish. It’s free with the day-glo blue margs at Club No Minor. It’s amazing.
In the seven years since I defected to Yankee territory, I’ve found ways to get my fix. The best Valentine’s Day present I ever received was an overnight shipment of frozen queso and a few dozen tamales. I’m not above throwing a block of Velveeta and a can of Ro-tel in the microwave (I’ve used “cheese product” slices and canned chiles in a pinch abroad), and the Homesick Texan has a really good recipe.
The world beyond my former home on the range (where the deer and the antelopes play) thinks of queso as “cheese sauce.” Suffice it to say, Boston’s been a queso desert. Or it was until now, y’all! Thanks to Lone Star, the taco bar from my heroes at Deep Ellum, great queso is now within a lasso’s throw of my inner honkytonk fatty. Sometimes I order it at the bar with an on-draft Modelo Especial, but getting it to go is kind of my jam. People ask me all the time if I miss Texas. Between the Jurassic mosquitos, the ten-lane highways and the pro-Texas country music, the answer is only a little bit. I do miss queso though, so I’d like to take a minute to tip my proverbial ten-gallon hat to Lone Star for filling a big void in this Texas ex’s Boston existence.
Posted by Susannah