No soy at this joint

                I was leaving College Station at one of the heaviest traffic times of the day – straight up noon – and Texas Avenue was bumper to bumper as far as I could see.

I tried to think about the Aggie landmarks I’d seen over the weekend to get my mind off my growling stomach.

There was the newly renovated Kyle Field featuring a huge bronze statue salute to the 12^th Man tradition. The Memorial Student Center’s request to not walk on the grass honored those who’d lost their lives in battle and it was impossible to walk more than a few yards without seeing something Aggie maroon.

My brain was totally immersed in “howdys” and “gig-ems” but my stomach was yelling “forget looking at Rudder Tower – look for the Taco Bell tower.”

It seemed every fast-food joint was clogged with long lines of frustrated drivers, so I kept going, thinking I’d find something less crowded on my way home. I saw all the familiars, but I wanted something more than a soy patty with a pre-measured squirt of mustard and ketchup on a stale bun.

By the time I got to Navasota, my stomach was ready to mutiny, so I pulled off. I saw the fast food golden arches, but I decided to check out the downtown area.

Whenever we travel, we often bypass the chains and look for an in-town eatery, and so I decided to give Navasota a try.

I wasn’t disappointed.

Just minutes past the busy highway were stately homes surrounded by sweeping green lawns and shaded by giant trees.

Pretty soon I was in the downtown area on Washington Avenue, and I saw a sign on the left-hand side in front of The Filling Station advertising the “Hell Burger” and “The Dead Texan.” That looked interesting, so I pulled in, my stomach thanking me.

A happy teenager welcomed me and handed me a menu. While she finished checking out a customer, I looked around at the diner that had once been a gas station. There was a homey feel inside, a welcome relief from restaurants that all look the same.

A few microphone stands and a set of drums stood out of the way by one wall, and the scuffed concrete floors said there’d been quite a few Texas two-steps danced in here.

I looked at the people in the restaurant and noticed lots of cowboy hats and cammo hats. Two young boys wearing baseball hats and cleats, their feet not quite touching the floor, talked sports with their dad in one corner while a businessman read a newspaper – not his phone – over a basket of chicken tenders.

When it was my turn to order, I asked the waitress for a recommendation. She said I’d be happy with their 100-percent beef burger because they went to the butcher and market every day. I took her up on her offer and got my burger and fries to go since I had a long drive in front of me.

To say she was right about that burger is an understatement. After a weekend of same-old, same-old cafeteria food, that hot, well-seasoned hamburger hit the spot.

I know the difference between soy burgers and real burgers, and this one was genuine. The fries were crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, and the veggies on the burger were cold and crisp.

Something tells me I’ll be back to this quiet gem just south of Aggie Land. I just hope The Filling Station’s got a slice of from-scratch apple pie reserved for a weary traveler.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.