I eat BBQ four days a week on average. Sometimes for breakfast if I'm honest about it.

So when a client flies in from California or Ohio and asks where to eat between showings in Boerne or Blanco or Canyon Lake, I have opinions, and I'll defend them at any picnic table you want to argue at.

Here's the ranking. Not alphabetical. Not diplomatic.

The ones worth the drive

1. Kreuz Market — Lockhart. 619 N. Colorado St. Post oak, no sauce, no forks for most of its history, and a brisket program that traces back to 1875. When they moved locations in 1999 they literally hauled hot coals from the old pit to the new one so the fire never went out. That's not a marketing story. That's a religion. If you're driving in from Bulverde or Spring Branch it's about 90 minutes and you should leave by 10:30 a.m. if you want the good stuff still on the block.

2. Franklin — Austin. 900 E. 11th. Yes it's a line. Yes it's worth it once. The brisket melts. I'm not going to pretend I stand in line for two hours anymore because I don't, but if you've never had it, go once, take a folding chair, and check that box. After that you graduate to the joints that don't require a chair.

3. The Salt Lick — Driftwood. 18300 RM 1826. Open pits you can see from the parking lot, family-style platters, BYOB at the Driftwood location which matters more than people admit. The ribs are the play here, not the brisket. And the smoke smell hits you a half mile before you see the building — you drive up over one of those cedar-covered rises and the whole truck cab fills up with it. That part is real. That part hasn't changed in 25 years.

The Hill Country tier

Now the local stuff. This is where I actually eat.

The Blanco BBQ scene has gotten better in the last three years, not worse. That's rare. Most towns that grow this fast lose their food. Blanco somehow hung onto it. If you're house-hunting in Blanco, factor a Saturday lunch into every trip and thank me later.

New Braunfels is a mixed bag. Some of the joints coasting on reputation don't deserve it anymore. I won't name them because I still have to work in this town, but if a place has a line of tourists in matching shirts and no locals in work boots, walk out. That's a rule that has never once failed me.

Canyon Lake has two spots I rotate. Neither is famous. Both know my order. That's the tier of BBQ I care most about — the place where the counter person nods at you and starts wrapping a half pound of moist before you've said a word. You can't buy that. You earn it by showing up.

Boerne — look, Boerne has money. Median home price hit $589,900 in July across 693 closed sales according to Resideline's six-month tracking. When a town's median crosses into that range, the BBQ tends to get "elevated" and served on slate boards with a microgreen on top. I don't want a microgreen on my brisket. I want butcher paper and a plastic knife I don't need.

The takes I'll actually defend

Sausage matters more than brisket. Anyone can smoke a brisket well on a good day. A great sausage tells you whether the pitmaster respects the whole animal or just the Instagram cut. If the sausage is dry or the casing splits weird, the rest of the meal is going to disappoint you too. Order the sausage first. It's the tell.

Sauce is fine. The anti-sauce people are performing. Kreuz doesn't need sauce because their meat doesn't need help. Your neighborhood spot on FM 306? Bring on the sauce. Both things are true.

Brisket at $34 a pound is not a scandal. Post oak isn't free, propane isn't free, a pitmaster who's been up since 3 a.m. isn't free. If you want $12 brisket, go to a chain and stop complaining.

The best meal I had this year was not at any of the places above. It was at a gas station off 281 that I'm not going to tell you about because the last time I told people about a spot like that, the line tripled and the owner started cutting corners to keep up. So — you'll have to find your own. That's part of the deal.

The money angle, since I can't help myself

Here's the part where the broker in me won't shut up.

When I'm driving buyers around, where we stop for lunch tells me more about whether they'll actually be happy here than any spreadsheet. If you order the brisket sandwich and complain there's no aioli, you're going to hate rural life. If you sit down on a picnic bench with wasps circling and just start eating, you're going to be fine.

The lifestyle test is the BBQ test. I'm mostly serious.

The other angle: short-term rentals in Fredericksburg, New Braunfels, and Boerne are pulling $200–$500+ a night for the good ones, and the number one thing guests write about in their reviews after "the view" and "the pool" is where the host told them to eat. If you own a rental or you're thinking about buying one, put together a real BBQ list for your guest book. Not the Yelp top 10. A real one. The bookings compound. I've watched it happen with clients who took that advice seriously.

If you're moving here and you want to actually live here — not just own here — start with lunch. Drive to Lockhart on a Tuesday. Sit at Kreuz. Order too much. Take the leftovers home in the pink butcher paper. Then look at houses on the way back.

That's the order. Food first. Foundation second.

You can search listings over at collab-rt.com when you're done eating.

Data sourced from Resideline's Boerne housing market report (July 2026). Verify current numbers with a local agent before acting.