Why Buzzie’s BBQ in Kerrville Closed: Remembering a Texas Legend

The Last Plate: Saying Goodbye to a Kerrville Legend, Buzzie’s BBQ

If you have spent any time at all in the Texas Hill Country, you understand a fundamental truth. Barbecue here is more than a meal. It is a religion, a community gathering point, a tangible link to the past written in smoke and spice. For generations in Kerrville, the undisputed heart of that tradition beat steadily at the corner of Sidney Baker and Main Street, within the unassuming, time-worn walls of Buzzie’s Bar-B-Q.

So, when the news began to ripple through town, passed along in hushed, disbelieving tones at the grocery store and the post office, it felt like more than just a business closing. It felt like the end of an era. The simple, stark message on their door and social media confirmed it. Buzzie’s, after serving Kerrville for over half a century, had closed its doors for the final time.

The story of Buzzie’s is not just a story about a restaurant. It is the story of a family, a town, and the smoky, savory essence of Texas itself.

The Man, The Myth, The Pitmaster

To understand the weight of this closure, you have to start with the man himself, Buzzie Mertz. He was not a classically trained chef from a culinary institute. He was a businessman with a passion for good food and a keen sense of community. In 1968, he took a chance on a small barbecue joint, a decision that would cement his family’s name in Kerrville lore for decades to come.

Buzzie was a fixture, a character in the best sense of the word. He was often seen holding court in the dining room, his warm, gregarious personality as much a part of the recipe as the salt and pepper on his brisket. He understood that he was not just selling pounds of meat. He was selling an experience, a feeling of coming home. Under his stewardship, Buzzie’s became the place for reunions, for after-church Sunday lunches, for sealing business deals over a shared plate of ribs. It was where you took out-of-town guests to show them what real Texas was all about.

The magic of Buzzie’s was its beautiful, unpretentious consistency. Walking through that door was like stepping into a time capsule. The air was thick with the perfume of post oak smoke, a scent that would cling to your clothes for hours, a delicious reminder of the feast you had enjoyed. The walls were a patchwork of faded photographs, local high school team banners, and handwritten signs, each artifact telling a small piece of Kerrville’s story.

You would grab a red plastic tray and shuffle along the cafeteria-style line, a ritual as familiar as Sunday service. The menu was a study in classic, no-frills Central Texas barbecue. You did not come here for mango-habanero glaze or espresso-rubbed tri-tip. You came for the fundamentals, executed to perfection over decades of practice.

The Hallmarks of a Legend

The brisket was the undisputed star. It arrived on your plate, a slab of blackened bark giving way to a miraculously tender, pink-smoked interior. It was not pre-sauced, not needing any gimmicks. The flavor was pure smoke and salt, the texture so tender it could almost be pulled apart with a gentle tug. It was the benchmark against which all other local brisket was measured.

Then there were the ribs, their crust glistening with a simple, tangy sauce. The sausage, with its satisfying snap and perfectly balanced seasoning. The turkey, surprisingly juicy and infused with that signature smoky flavor, a testament to the fact that every protein in the smoker was treated with respect.

But barbecue is only part of the story. A true Texas barbecue plate is a symphony, and the sides are the essential supporting instruments. Buzzie’s sides were legendary in their own right. The potato salad, cool and creamy with just the right amount of crunch from celery and pickles, was the perfect counterpoint to the rich meat. The pinto beans, slow-simmered and smoky, were a meal in themselves. The coleslaw provided a crisp, vinegary brightness that cut through the fat. And who could forget the bread? Those soft, plain white bread slices are a Hill Country barbecue staple, the ideal vehicle for sopping up every last bit of sauce and flavor from the plate.

This was not fancy food. It was honest food. It was food made with a craft honed over countless fires, a recipe for success built not on trends, but on tradition.

The Changing Tides and a Quiet Goodbye

The world, however, does not stand still, even in a place like Kerrville. The barbecue landscape began to shift dramatically in the early 21st century. A new generation of pitmasters emerged, championing a style often referred to as “craft barbecue.” This movement, celebrated in food magazines and television shows, emphasized heritage-breed animals, intricate dry rubs, and a theatrical, open-pit presentation.

These new temples of barbecue often came with long lines, digital queue systems, and a “sell-out” mentality, a stark contrast to the homey, all-day reliability of an institution like Buzzie’s. The competition for customers, for staff, and for sheer attention intensified.

Behind the scenes, the challenges mounted. The rising costs of goods, from beef to bacon, put a squeeze on margins. The struggle to find and retain reliable staff in the post-pandemic service industry landscape is a story familiar to restaurant owners everywhere. These are not small, family-run operations, but massive, systemic pressures.

Perhaps the most significant factor was the inevitable passage of time. Buzzie Mertz, the charismatic founder, passed the torch to his son, Butch Mertz. Butch carried on his father’s legacy with dedication, maintaining the recipes and the welcoming spirit that defined the place. But as the years went on, the physical and mental toll of running such a demanding business, one that operates 365 days a year through blistering Texas summers and hectic holiday rushes, is immense.

When the closure was announced, there was no dramatic story of a fire or a sudden bankruptcy. The statement was simple, heartfelt, and cited the classic, yet crushing, reasons. The owners expressed that it was “time to retire” and thanked the community for its decades of loyalty. It was a quiet, dignified end for a loud, flavorful institution.

More Than a Restaurant: The Void Left Behind

The reaction from the community was immediate and visceral. Social media feeds flooded with memories. “My heart is broken,” one longtime customer wrote. “I proposed to my wife there,” shared another. People posted faded pictures of family birthdays celebrated in those wooden booths, of four-generation photos taken proudly in front of the iconic sign.

This collective mourning underscores a crucial point. Buzzie’s was a civic institution. It was a neutral ground where ranchers, artists, doctors, and students all sat side-by-side, united by the shared experience of a great meal. It was a place where you were guaranteed to see someone you knew. In a world increasingly dominated by digital connections and fleeting trends, Buzzie’s was a physical anchor, a constant.

Its closure leaves a void that extends far beyond the loss of a favorite lunch spot. It represents the fading of a certain kind of Texas, a slower, more personal Texas. It is the loss of a landmark that oriented you, both literally and emotionally. “Meet me at Buzzie’s” was a phrase that needed no further explanation. Now, that certainty is gone.

For the employees, many of whom had worked there for years, it was the loss of a second family. The pitmaster who knew exactly how you liked your brisket trimmed, the cashier who always asked about your grandchildren, the line server who never skimped on the potato salad. These were the human connections that turned a transaction into a tradition.

A Legacy Written in Smoke

So, what remains when the smokers go cold and the red trays are washed for the last time? The legacy of Buzzie’s is secure in the memories of a community. It lives on in the taste memories of countless visitors, in the stories told at family gatherings, and in the very fabric of Kerrville’s identity.

It also leaves behind an important lesson for food lovers and communities everywhere. It is a reminder to cherish your local institutions. Support the family-owned diner, the old-school bakery, the neighborhood barbecue joint that has been there forever. These places are not simply businesses. They are the keepers of a town’s soul. They are repositories of shared history and collective identity.

The story of Buzzie’s is a quintessential American story. It is a story of entrepreneurship, of family, of community, and of a simple, perfect idea executed with unwavering passion for over fifty years. It is a story that began with a man and a dream and grew into a cornerstone of a city.

While the building at the corner of Sidney Baker and Main may now sit quiet, the echo of its history is loud and clear. The scent of post oak smoke may have faded from the air, but it is permanently etched into the heart of Kerrville. The last plate has been served, but the legend, like the best Texas brisket, will stand the test of time.

So, here is to Buzzie’s Bar-B-Q. Thank you for the meals, the memories, and for reminding us all what it means to be a true Texas original. You will be deeply missed, but never, ever forgotten.