A hitchhiker's guide to Austin: How to show off where we live with beer, barbecue, Tex-Mex and Whole Foods

My cousin was too polite to say he was burned out on Tex-Mex. I didn't think to ask before we took him to Rosie's Tamale House the first night he was here.

Who'd figure that a guy from Washington state could be tired of Tex-Mex? Just because he'd had it the night before with another cousin in Houston. Just because he actually likes the Mexican food better back home. That's right, in Washington.

It started with the best intentions. When my cousin Erik Nelson came to Austin a few months back, I wanted to take him to a few emblematic places around town. What emerged is a possible itinerary for any out-of-town guest: Rosie's, the University of Texas, a food trailer, Whole Foods Market, a bar and a tour of barbecue history in Lockhart.

A little background: Nelson served in the Army for 26 years, including combat tours in Iraq in 2004 and 2008, retiring as a master sergeant in 2010. He's the catalyst for my dad's side of the family, making the circuit from Washington to Minnesota to Texas to Arizona and anywhere else our roots have spread, trailing with him the threads of news that bind us in a way no email string can.

That's the generous assessment. Some of us think he's an itinerant couch surfer, breaking away from the real world weeks at a time to crash our restaurants and win the loyalties of our kids.

He started stealing my kids at Rosie's by jousting over a bowl of queso with the youngest, not bothering to shush her when she got loud. Rosie's is our family spot, just 10 minutes from the house. It's a Velveeta-style cheese and brown chili gravy kind of place, where you can order a Willie's Plate ($8.95) that starts with a crispy taco and guacamole salad then builds to a hot-plate crescendo with a beef enchilada, queso and rice and beans.

Nelson skipped past all the combo dinners in favor of carne asada ($10.95), a cut of grilled sirloin with sweet onions and peppers. It's something to order when you can't get Rosie's terrific fajitas, available only on Tuesdays and Saturdays.

My oldest daughter always finishes with a sprinkle of Sweet & Low over a steamy corn tortilla, something she started doing at age 3.

The part with the beer

The next day started bright and hot. We parked south of the river and trekked to the Capitol, where we marveled at the vertigo-inducing rotunda as a high school choir serenaded the tourists.

We walked to the University of Texas, where we saw the Gutenberg Bible and the world's first photograph at the Ransom Center. At my old dorm, I told Nelson about the years I spent there without air conditioning, perspiration dotting my papers. There I was telling my academic war stories to a guy whose squad in Iraq had to drink the rancid swill from an abandoned ice chest when a firefight lasted longer than their water supply.

He rescued my pride by telling me I walk like an infantryman: fast, with purpose and utterly without fatigue.

We tried to have lunch at a trailer court by UT, but only the cupcake and vegetarian places were open. Those two things might say "Austin," but not in front of the master sergeant, please.

So we walked to Whole Foods Market, a tourist magnet disguised as a grocery store. But we who live here know something the tourists might not: You can drink beer here. And hot food calls like a street market from counters, kiosks, stations and food bars all over the store.

We steered past some sorry-looking barbecue and decided instead on the bistro station's plate of three side dishes for $6.99 with seared sweet potatoes, Sicilian cauliflower and tri-color bell peppers. Erik grabbed a block of white Cheddar from the cheese shop, and we split $3.99 bowls of carrot-ginger and chicken-poblano soups with miniature pain de campagne loaves for 79 cents, plus spinach-feta-pecan salad from the food bar at $7.99 a pound.

We sat at Whole Foods' new Bar Lamar, the most well-lit micropub in Austin, where people were elbowed-up and swearing so prodigiously we might have been at the Horseshoe Lounge, except that the Horseshoe isn't pouring vermentino from a keg and there's no shuffleboard at Whole Foods.

From a dozen or so taps of wine and beer, and we ordered two beer flights, one with three local brews for $4 and another trio anchored by the heavyweights Old Rasputin and raisiny Dogfish Head Midas Touch for $5.