Texas Monthly

3 days ago | texasmonthly.com | Sean O'Neal

Since the first mom demanded that her kid turn it off and go outside, television has gotten a bad rap as an inherently antisocial pursuit. But in an increasingly siloed age when movie theaters are struggling, terrestrial radio is all but obsolete, and I have to drag my own children out of fathomless YouTube rabbit holes, TV endures as one of society’s last remaining watercooler experiences (even as remote work is endangering watercoolers).

3 days ago | texasmonthly.com | Amanda Albee

In his Austin warehouse, Jonathan Beall sips water from one of his copper cups, an Ayurvedic practice said to stimulate digestion and increase immunity. He points to a hand-carved solid-copper vase made using traditional techniques, such as melting recycled copper into ingots and repeatedly annealing and forging the mass into shape, a skill he learned in Mexico.

4 days ago | texasmonthly.com | Hanif Abdurraqib

The modest houses look like those one might see lining middle-class neighborhoods in any American city. Lawns fade from lush green to light brown. Signs dot the yards: local ballot measures or county commissioner races. At the top of the block, on East Annie Street in the Historic Southside neighborhood of Fort Worth, sits a house that looks well loved, its front yard surrounded by a wrought iron fence and lined with shrubbery. This is where Opal Lee’s childhood home once burned.

4 days ago | texasmonthly.com | José R. Ralat

In every part of the United States, you’re bound to come across a local version of the hot dog. The Midwest has its Coneys, the meat slathered with mustard and chili and topped with diced white onion. In the South, franks are bright red and crowned with slaw. Seattleites like theirs with a squirt of cream cheese. And in Texas, we enjoy Mexican hot dogs. Various sources claim hot dogs were introduced in Mexico in 1945, when an American couple began selling them outside a Mexico City bullring.

1 week ago | texasmonthly.com | Clayton Maxwell

Last week, artist Jason Archer, his brush dripping in firecracker red, painted his murals on Ottine Mineral Springs’ sleek new brick and concrete bathhouse. For the men’s entryway, he’d depicted a swimsuit-clad prankster wearing a sombrero with a cat on top; for the women’s, a vintage pin-up cowgirl lounging in a pool float, drink in hand.