Like most Austinites, I tend to stay on my side of the river. I know, I know. South Austin has plenty of incredible restaurants, but traffic makes me irrationally cranky. So while I happily devoured Valentina’s Tex-Mex BBQ’s famous Real Deal Holyfield breakfast taco anytime someone brought a bag into the office, I rarely trekked to the food truck and never made it to the Buda brick-and-mortar before the restaurant’s messy collapse.
Taco Flats, on the other hand, has been in my rotation for years. During the pandemic, I survived on spicy margaritas and Panchos. So when Taco Flats owner Simon Madera teamed up with former Valentina’s pitmaster Miguel Vidal to open Churchrow Tejas BBQ, I was intrigued. Was this the redemption story everyone seemed eager to write? That’s probably bigger than a restaurant review can answer. More importantly: Is it worth eating there?
The story behind Churchrow is complicated. Vidal built one of Texas’ most celebrated barbecue brands before Valentina’s expansion unraveled, leaving employees and creditors dealing with the fallout. Madera, who has known Vidal since their days at St. Edward’s University, brought him in to focus on what he does best – cooking – while Madera handles the business side.
Churchrow occupies the former Black Gold space on West Anderson, taking its name from a 1950s nickname for the surrounding neighborhood. Madera traded Black Gold’s formal feel for a relaxed, midcentury-inspired dining room filled with natural light, warm leather seating, lush greenery, and a handsome central bar. Outside, a sprawling patio with picnic tables, shaded seating, and a covered playground make it easy to linger, at least once the weather cools down.
The menu pulls from both Central Texas barbecue and Tejano cooking, with smoked meats sharing space alongside empanadas, enchiladas, and tacos. Valentina’s fans can still find a taste of the former restaurant in the Real Deal Holyfield breakfast taco – served with refried beans, potatoes, fried eggs, and a slice of brisket – available on weekends, alongside barbacoa.
The counter service setup is where the experience gets a little clunky. The sprawling menu takes a minute to decode, especially with a separate specials board tempting diners before they even reach the register. Popular items sell out quickly. During one visit, the daily empanadas were already gone before dinner, and both visits ended with an empty dessert case.
Once you’ve ordered, food arrives as soon as it leaves the kitchen, which sounds efficient until your entrée lands well before your cocktail. That happened both times I visited. It’s an odd mismatch; the beverage program is built for multiple rounds, but the rapid-fire pacing encourages diners to finish eating before the first sip.
That’s a shame because beverage director Caleb Chial has quietly assembled one of North Austin’s better cocktail menus. Ask for a recommendation; the staff genuinely lights up talking about the libations. The Fiery Saddle drinks like a polished Moscow Mule, layering vodka, ginger beer, and an Amargo Vallet floater beneath a punchy chile-salt rim. The Sombra Verde cuts through smoked meats with reposado tequila, bacanora, lime, and a vibrant house-made verdita. The Siesta balances tequila, grapefruit, and Campari with refreshing precision, while the Cult Classic wrangles mezcal, Smith & Cross rum, cinnamon-habanero syrup, pineapple, and Licor 43 into something remarkably cohesive.
For shareables, skip the loaded queso, which suffered from an odd texture and frustrating construction. Served in a plastic cup, the toppings completely buried the actual cheese, turning every scoop into an excavation project through salsa and guac. Thankfully, those chips remain gloriously Taco Flats: fat, bright orange, aggressively seasoned, deeply crunchy, and capable of disappearing by the basketful.
If the empanadas are available, order them immediately. Three generously sized chili-corn pastries arrive fried to a razor-crisp shell without a trace of grease. During my visit, they were filled with stewed chicken and finished with a drizzle of crema. They’re easily one of the menu’s standout bites.
The Holy Roller sampler offers a solid snapshot of the pit. Austin’s barbecue scene is a brutal place to serve merely good brisket, and Churchrow’s lands squarely in that category. The slice offers a peppery bark, though it leaned leaner and drier than I’d hoped. The pulled pork is the clear winner – smoky, juicy, and flavorful enough to skip sauce, though the bright mustard version is worth trying. The pulled chicken, available outside the sampler, might be the sleeper hit: tender, moist, and especially good tucked into house-made tortillas. The pork rib pulls cleanly from the bone with satisfying tenderness. The sausage delivers a respectable snap but isn’t life-changing.
Churchrow becomes more interesting when smoked meats wander into Tex-Mex territory. The Steak Tampiqueña layers smoked beef fajita over a chicken verde enchilada, essentially serving two entrées on one plate. The steak was slightly chewy but flavorful, while the creamy enchilada underneath stole the show. Served with Mexican rice, charred peppers, and borracho beans, it’s enough for dinner and tomorrow’s lunch.
The tortillas deserve their own mention. Madera and Vidal combined techniques from both of their families to create the final recipe, and the result arrives thick and pillowy. Platters come with white bread, but swapping it for fresh flour tortillas is the easiest dollar you’ll spend. Building little tacos with pickled onions became my favorite way to tackle the sampler.
A lunch special of two enormous stewed chicken tacos hardly fit the “street taco” description. Those tasty tortillas came stuffed with tomato-rich shredded chicken and Mexican rice and a side of beans.
For sides, don’t skip the mesquite-roasted Corn in a Cup. Sweet kernels get just enough butter, crema, lime, and seasoning to feel indulgent while still retaining a pleasant bite. The slaw is fresh and crunchy, but since the plates already come with a small scoop, I’d spend those dollars elsewhere.
Thanks to that empty dessert case, I never managed to try the carrot cake inspired by Vidal’s mother, Dolores. Given how much food I’d already eaten, maybe that was for the best.
Churchrow doesn’t need to be Austin’s next barbecue destination. It works best as a neighborhood spot where smoked meats, genuinely great cocktails, and a sprawling patio invite people to linger without devoting half a Saturday for a plate of brisket. The counter service pacing still needs polish, and the menu can feel overwhelming at first glance. But in a city that often treats smoked meat like a competitive sport, a little ease feels refreshing.
This article appears in August 14 • 2026.
