Brooklyn in Dallas

An ego trip into the West Texas Desert.

By Brooklyn Rodgers | MAY 14th, 2025 | 7:00 AM  

It’s been about a month since I returned from my self indulgent quest into the West Texas desert, and I’m still not entirely sure how I made it out and back. But make it I did — my eight-hour drive was fueled by one too many Celsius, and the pure, movie-like ecstasy of watching an ACTUAL tumbleweed roll across the abandoned highway in front of my car.

Writing about eating in Marfa has given me a lot to chew on — partly because I ate a lot over two days stranded in the six-block-wide desert town, and partly because it’s impossible for me to talk about the food alone.

Marfa is an ego trip. Probably one for people annoying enough to drive eight hours into the desert just to visit for two days (me), but especially for the crowd of millennial outlaws who’ve shipped themselves out there to live. Like, actually live. And to be fair, moving to the desert is an insane lore-building move. You almost can’t hate them because of their unnerving commitment to the bit.

But I was a little unnerved. As I ducked into coffee shops, wine bars, and sandwich counters to escape the dry desert silence — I’d find myself in bustling little grottos filled with the most aggressively hipster people I’ve ever seen. The contrast was everywhere: windblown, abandoned buildings next to bright, pop-colored shipping container Airbnbs. Again, I can’t be too critical — I was, after all, a direct supporter of their tourism economy.

One coffee shop, housed in a building older than time itself, donated proceeds to local journalism with its windows plastered with advertisements for the town’s monthly Full Moon Walk. The gimmick of Marfa felt oddly real in places like this. And then, boom: I’m being checked out for an iced coffee on a $3,000 Mac desktop using Square. Every Marfa watering hole mirrored this dynamic — curated, cool, and caught somewhere between authentic and absurd.

They’ve imported the culture of New York and LA wholesale. One unnamed wine bar had a menu entirely built around tinned fish. At coffee shops, favoritism towards alternative milk has reversed, and whole milk is back as the default. Drive a few hundred miles into the desert, and you’ll find yourself in Marfa — an eternal fountain of otherness.

When I left, I still wasn’t sure whether I loved or hated Marfa — its people, its self-indulgent businesses, its art and shopping. An old friend I met up with there told me that lots of Aquariuses are drawn to Marfa. So whether it was the stars or my own compulsion to lean into my sense of otherness, I can confirm: I was drawn.

What follows is a chronicle of the food I ate — which, honestly, feels less important than the whole bizarre cultural bubble it spawned from. If you’re somehow also feeling the magnetic pull of Marfa, maybe check your star sign — and also, add these places to your hit list.

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Marfa Spirit Co.

For strong drinks, especially of the tequila variety, head straight to the bar at Marfa Spirit Co. I loved the High Desert Margarita made with Chihuahuan desert sotol, a spirit similar to tequila and mezcal but made from the sap of the sotol plant instead of agave. It’s brighter, more vegetal — and when paired with a Chihuahua dog (yes, real), you physically can’t have a bad time.

Bonus: Marfa Spirit Co. is a great spot for people watching. I accidentally crashed a wedding rehearsal party here and apparently ran into all of Marfa high society. Oops.

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The Sentinel

A charming little coffee shop that somehow does it all — supports local journalism, hosts community events, promotes art, and serves Bisquick-esque pancakes. It reminded me of the true hippie cafes I visited in Wisconsin and Minnesota last summer. I can confirm: the Marfans have caught a vibe.

Get the iced latte, feel morally superior for supporting local journalism, and enjoy the fluffy box-mix pancakes with fresh strawberries, shaved butter, and maple syrup.

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Bordo

I am not a sandwich person. I routinely refuse them. That said, this sandwich shop was hands-down my most memorable meal of the trip — for both the food and the atmosphere.

From the outside, you see a line of people spilling out of a doorway to seemingly nowhere. Inside: another world. The counter was the most Instagrammable setup I’ve ever seen, complete with a sign that read “Please ask for permission for photos” (🙃). For your viewing pleasure, I sourced one from their Instagram anyway.

To drink: a pistachio Italian cream soda, made to order and served with a wide dry pasta noodle straw — which I ate before finishing the drink. Sweet, a little salty, perfectly pistachio.

Then: the sandwich. I had the Emiliani, complete with Prosciutto di Parma (DOP), Parmigiano Reggiano (DOP), lemon, smoked honey, basil, arugula, and crumbz.

Covered in parm, balanced by lemon, and anchored by salty prosciutto and chewy bread. I pocketed half of it (plus a pepperoncini) for the drive home. Still slapped the next day. Completely worth the eight-hour drive, for this sandwich and soda alone.

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Hotel Saint George

Including this hotel pool bar solely for its vibe. Want to drink piña coladas and margaritas by the coolest pool in town? This is your spot. Can’t speak to the food — unless four cocktails on an empty stomach counts as a meal.

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Cochineal

I had high hopes for Cochineal. It was a James Beard semi-finalist the past two years in a row, and the Hotel Saint George pool bartender hyped up their tasting menu to me somewhere around drink #3 at the pool that afternoon.

Cochineal wasn’t my favorite, but I suspect that’s my fault. I sometimes order badly. The interior was gorgeous and the food showed flashes of greatness, so I’d go back — but here’s a quick breakdown of what I tried:

• Artisan Bread & Whipped Cultured Butter with Sage Salt and Garlic Confit: Mid. You can probably tell from the photo the butter wasn’t giving.
• Mushroom Croquettes with Truffled Aioli: Best thing I ate here. Looked like hairy coconut balls. 10/10.
• Gemischter Salat with Cucumber-Dill, Carrot-Orange, Beet, and Pecan: Too compartmentalized. Even the candied pecans couldn’t save it.
• Ancient Grain Spaetzle with Herb Pistou, House Ricotta, Spring Peas: Cold, one-note, and not nearly cheesy enough.

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Honorable Mention – $75 worth of snacks at The Get Go

Because every great trip needs great midnight snacks. Still dreaming about Spanish brut paired with vanilla quadratini under the desert stars.

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Final Thoughts

Would I return to Marfa? Absolutely. In the end, I think its charm overpowered my self-aware horror at its more heavy-handed quirks. Next time, I’d bring a witness to the absurdity.

If you made it to the end of this post, that’s you. Text me for a cookie.