The small town of Grapevine is the official Christmas capital of Texas, with more than 1400 festive events scheduled over 40 days.
For a Christmas getaway that takes the festive season to another level, make a bee-line for Texas’ Christmas capital, writes Kim Knight.
“Chuckatooree.” Repeat after me. “Chucka. Too. Ree.”
Congratulations! Y’all can now confidently order a platter of cured meat in Texas.
This linguistic lesson is, I admit, based on a sample of one – the Grapevine Wine Tours guide and bus driver, outlining what to expect from tonight’s itinerary.
In this meat-producing state, charcuterie was a given. But who knew Texas made wine? Or that it might be served as a giant slushie?
Grapevine (named for the mustang grapes that once grew wild here) sits between Fort Worth and Dallas. In 1843, it was where representatives from 10 American Indian nations signed the treaty opening north Texas to white settlers; in 1934, it made headlines for its proximity to a Bonnie and Clyde shooting. In 2009, an entirely unexpected claim to fame: By state legislature decree, Grapevine became the official Christmas capital of Texas.
Europe might claim Santa’s actual hometown, but if you’re looking for a festive rush less than 14 hours’ flight time from New Zealand, pack your spangliest candy cane earrings and head for small-town Texas.
With 1400-plus events across 40 days, Grapevine is the wildcard destination of your Christmas dreams. Is it even December if your pickup truck isn’t wearing antlers and fairy lights?
Three faux reindeer greet me at the Hilton DFW Lakes Executive Conference Centre carpark (15 minutes via a free shuttle from the airport). The lobby soundtrack is tuned to Christmas and guests write cards to military heroes who won’t be home for the holidays. Suggested opener: “Dear Warrior . . .”
In Texas, people wear their politics on their chest.
My visit was eight weeks out from Donald Trump’s inauguration. Every second store sold sweatshirts emblazoned with his face and seasonally-adjacent slogans (“Get me to the White House for Christmas”, etc).
“I like this, but I just don’t know how the kids will feel,” said a woman holding up a “Trump Girl” shirt. “Your house, your rules,” replied her friend.
Shopping with locals is a great way to acclimatise. At 10.38am, three separate firearm purchases were in progress at the Bass Pro Shop. We were there for the huntin’ and fishin’ Santa’s Wonderland photo opp, but I happily browsed crossbows, outdoor turkey fryers and the “scent aisle” (red fox urine, coyote juice, et al).
Local lore says that in the 1980s, a handful of Grapevine main street businesses discovered a colonial past hidden under modern aluminium facades. They ripped away the new shopfronts and made a destination-worthy future out of the old. The result is a town that is vintage-pretty year round - and catnip for Christmas lovers.
Its crowning glory is a resurrected vintage railroad. Board 1920’s luxury coaches for a 1950’s diesel locomotive powered trip on the North Pole Express. Tickets sell out in hours and my evening excursion was packed with multi-generational groups enjoying hot chocolate, cookies and musical elves. Matching Christmas pajamas optional; carol singing obligatory.
“Wholesome is our middle name,” says Grapevine city councilwoman Sharron Rogers, who spends most of December dressed as Mrs Claus.
She remembers when the town’s festive efforts comprised a token snowman, Santa and candy cane. In 1985, her $2500 request for new decorations was declined. Four years later, she received $25,000. Today, purpose-built storage is required for all the off-season polar bears (and a few hundred thousand fairy lights).
“I learned, a long time ago, you can get a lot done if you don’t care who gets the credit,” says Mrs Claus.
Grapevine’s vintage reinvention means anything new is built to look old. Thus, Main Station borrows from the grand tradition of 19th-century rail travel. Its 12-storey observation tower offers views of an 18m fir tree, pop-up ice skating plaza and, yes, Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders HQ in the far distance.
Going big is a given in Texas, but it’s hard to overstate the scale of Grapevine’s Christmas commitment. I spotted a dog with its ruff dyed holly green and a Christmas cookie wine match that paired zinfandel with snickerdoodles. Chicken N Pickle served Blitzen Be Trippin’ cocktails, the art deco Palace Theatre was screening Home Alone and prairie Christmas celebrations at the historic Nash Farm included tin-punched Olde Worlde decorations.
Vetro Glassblowing Studio experts helped me create my own festive bauble. The Holly Jolly Bar’s carol themed pub quiz was a lesson in cultural divides (how has Texas never heard of Snoopy’s Christmas?).
Grapevine is no town for old grinches. Even the food is dressed for Christmas.
Highlights included Esparza’s Restaurante Mexicano, where I ate corn chips decorated with (what else?!) red and green corn chips. Meat-stuffed, deep-fried avocado was an experience, the con queso dip – a piquant, melty bath of cheese – transcendent.
That charcuterie and homemade apple chutney at Winestein’s, the first of three tasting rooms on our Grapevine Wine Tours excursion, was terrific; the wine slushie at our next stop was a crime against viticulture. We finished with (more) drinks and spaghetti on a pizza while the band played The Star-Spangled Banner.
On another night, I went to Tolbert’s Chilli Parlour, named for a historian and newspaper columnist whose love of the hot stuff led to this family restaurant and a long-running competitive cook-off. The special is “a bowl of red” but, sincerely, the “cup” was plenty. Other tips: Texan chilli contains no beans, “frito pie” is simply chilli with corn chips and “donkey tails” are the greatest deep fried cheese-and-tortilla-wrapped frankfurters you’ll eat in your life.
While I added chopped raw onions to my Tolbert’s cup (when in Texas) locals lined up deckchairs on the historic main street. Cheerleaders – tick. Marching bands – tick. Highly competitive “dad’s clubs” who devise ever-grander floats for their respective kids’ schools? Tick, tick, tick.
Wear tinsel and prepare to be southern-charmed at the Annual Parade of Lights. It had serious Friday Night Lights vibes, and not just because I’d been introduced to both a former sports journalist and an assistant football coach whose careers intersected with the real-life 1988 Texas Permian High School Panthers team that the book, movie and television series was based on.
How cold is nine degrees Fahrenheit? Very. At the Gaylord Texan (1814 guest rooms and – not a misprint – 4.5ha of meeting space) you’ll need the heavy parka that comes with your ticket to ICE! Forty artisans spend six weeks carving the storybook attraction. Visitors are warned not to stand on, sit on, or lick the ice. All bets are obviously off when you get to the room with giant ice slides.
Inevitably, there’s a moment when it’s too much Christmas. Head to Grapevine Mills mall for outlet stores and (also not a misprint) a full-size aquarium. Santa is scuba diving, but it’s the rescued sea turtles that will steal your heart.
Also in the mall: Meow Wolf, possibly the world’s hardest to explain, and absolutely umissable, immersive art adventure. Enter a life-sized house to solve a missing person mystery. Step through a refrigerator door and – well, plan to lose hours in dazed amazement.
Five of these extraordinary multiverses (created by almost 2000 artistic collaborators) operate around the United States, with new openings pending in Los Angeles and New York. It reminded me of a workplace Secret Santa gift exchange - you’re expecting a novelty mug, but end up with the best present ever?
Meow Wolf is that. And so, perhaps, is a small-town Texan Christmas.
GRAPEVINE, USA
GETTING THERE
Fly from direct from Auckland to Dallas Fort Worth International Airport, Texas, with American Airlines.
DETAILS
www.grapevinetexasusa.com
New Zealand Herald Travel flew courtesy of American Airlines and was hosted by the Grapevine Convention & Visitors Bureau.