Goode Co. Barbeque When it comes to native pride -- the kind that makes you want to hook your thumbs inside your overalls and throw your chest out -- no state in the union does it quite like ours. Everything is bigger in Texas; everything, that is, except for irony. Hey, we are bigger than France, aren't we? The entreaty tattooed on the side of Jim Goode's barbecue barn is no thrift-store kitsch phrase -- it's earnest, it's the real deal: "You just might give some serious thought to thanking your lucky stars that you're in Texas." The old-timey jukebox, the DIY ice chest of beer, the assorted horns and antlers on the wall and ol' Jim looking like the lost fourth member of ZZ Top -- in a culture of affectation, premature nostalgia and placeless chain eateries, these are artifacts without artifice. So slather up a plate with our finest national export and ask yourself this question: Is there anywhere you'd rather be?