My first day in Georgetown, I had no plan and a genuine appetite. I didn't know the streets yet, hadn't figured out which direction the square was from where I'd parked. I was just walking, taking it in, getting a feel for a town I was seeing for the first time. Then I came up on East 7th Street and saw the orange sign hanging under a limestone awning: Tejas Meat Supply. A Shiner Bock neon glowed in the window. A chalkboard sandwich board sat open on the brick sidewalk. I pushed the door.
Inside, exposed brick runs floor to ceiling behind the bar, with the Tejas name painted across it in bold block letters. Taxidermy mounts flank the wall. The wood floors are dark, worn in the right places. Through the windows on the far side, a bronze sculpture sits out on the square. The room holds a crowd without absorbing one, busy enough to feel like something is happening, quiet enough that you can still hear the person next to you.
The chalkboard behind the bar listed a chef's special that afternoon: Pulled Pork Tacos. Screens overhead cycled through the week's cuts. I settled onto a stool and ordered the steak sandwich.
It arrived on a metal tray lined with Tejas-branded paper, split into two halves on a soft hoagie roll, caramelized onions draped over the beef, melted cheese underneath, a bright herb sauce spooned across the top. A fat pickle spear lay alongside a pile of thin fries. I picked up one half and the juices ran straight to my knuckles. The onions were sweet and dark, the kind that come from a long, patient pan, not a fast sauté. The herb sauce cut right through the richness. The fries were finished hard, seasoned well, the kind you keep eating past the point of being full.
I had the opportunity to meet Chef Juan Ramirez when he came out from the kitchen. I shared with him how much I appreciated the sandwich, and that the fries were crispy and were fantastic. It was one of the better lunches I'd eaten in a long time. He smiled like a man who already knew but was glad to hear it anyway.
We got to talking. He told me about the butcher shop side of the operation, the case stocked with ribeyes, NY strips, beef, pork, poultry, and wild game, all sourced from Texas ranches. Said if you wanted to, you could eat lunch at the bar and walk out with a cut for dinner without making two stops. He wasn't pitching me. He was just proud of what they'd built, and that came through clearly.
As a local now, real talk: what Tejas gets right is something a lot of newer concepts overthink. The dual model works here because both halves are serious. The butcher case isn't a prop for the restaurant. The restaurant isn't an afterthought for the butcher shop. They pull in the same direction, local ranches, house-made sausages and charcuterie, scratch cooking, and the result is a place that makes sense whether you're sitting down for an hour or grabbing a pound of wild game to cook at home tonight.
The shop is open seven days a week, eleven to eight. The restaurant stays open until ten on weeknights and midnight on Fridays and Saturdays, late enough that it becomes the natural last call after a loop around the square. There's also a second location on Joe DiMaggio Boulevard in Round Rock if you're coming in from that direction.
By the time I finished eating, I had a plan to come back with my family. That first afternoon, East 7th was the street that made Georgetown feel like somewhere I wanted to know better. If you want to grab something sweet after a good sandwich, try the The Baked Bear on the square. It's a short walk around the corner. But start here. Start hungry. Trust me on this.
Tejas Meat Supply is at 101 East 7th St., Georgetown. Call (512) 763-1000 or walk in.