Gruene, TX

Purple yellow dusk saw us in Texas Hill Country, heading towards Gruene, TX. Following signs towards "Historic Gruene" (pronounced like "green" and used to it full punning potential with places like the Gruene Apple Bed and Breakfast and the Gruene with Envy Boutique) brought us to a two-street town of antique chic--old small town store fronts with new insides, nostalgia played up to full capacity. What I heard was, "adorable," "quaint," "cute," "old-timey." And indeed it is, yet in the same way that Disney's Animal Kingdom is "exotic"--to the letter true, but genuine? Not so much. From the minute we parked in the town's vast (and full) parking lot and stepped onto a Main Street with county fair-sized crowds milling on a Wednesday night, I could sense something was awry. Small towns are supposed to be quiet, simple, understated. And Gruene probably was like that, once upon a time, but at some point since then quaint became a commodity.

The few restaurants in town were dining hall-sized and had scores of headphone-wearing hosts shepherding the crowds of diners. The food was unimpressive and generic and not even the interesting building--an old gristmill--at the place we ate could make it worthwhile, though drinking some local Texas wine was a unique experience. The half-handful of stores, instead of selling local antiques as some tourist towns would, were mostly souvenir shacks reminiscent of a Cracker Barrel's lobby.

Despite it all, there is redemption in the sage-colored Gruene River. Stories below a steep treed bank, it draws its arm around the town and you remember where you would have been.