It's a matter of taste, Helen, but one of the things I miss about Texas, along with the music scene in a Austin, is the proliferation of barbecue joints where you could get great beef brisket. I still harbor fond memories of it's texture and smoky goodness. Lots of backyard chefs could make a good job of it as well.
Another restaurant experience, even longer ago than the one I related above, occurred at a small Italian restaurant in Greenwich village, Valentino's. My girlfriend and I were just digging in when a busboy(?) burst out of the kitchen and crashed into our table, sending water, wine, bread and antipasto flying, most of which landed on the couple next to us. As the guy scrambled for the entry door a couple of goons emerged from the kitchen and dragged him back in. The other diners barely noticed and went back to eating. The maitre'd offered to comp our meal but Mavis, in her wine-stained blouse, said let's get the hell out of here and I didn't argue.