Buc-ee’s Curious? Here's What to Expect When the Texas Chain Debuts in Ohio
Plus, Krema gets out of the milkshake business, and Grandview gains a wine bar.
Road Trip
First Impressions from a Stop at Buc-ee’s
By Andy Dehus
If you haven’t heard of Buc-ee’s, you will soon. The first Ohio location of this Texas-based gas station (yeah, bear with me) is expected to open late this year in Huber Heights, about 80 or so miles from Columbus. I mention this because the grassroots hype for the chain (and its mind-boggling range of branded food options) is unlike anything else involving a gas station/convenience store in the social media era.
Though geographically located to serve as travel stops, Buc-ee’s 50 locations have become nothing short of a place of pilgrimage for Insta-Tokers and regular Joe’s alike. High profile British YouTubers have come to ooh and aah over Buc-ee’s superabundance of homespun curiosities, recounting their discoveries to both an American fanbase eager for affirmation of their Bucc-ee’s love as well as a British viewership that enjoys being befuddled by vulgar American excess.
There is no denying the excess of it all. With one Texas location boasting the world record for “largest convenience store” at over 75,000 square feet and 120 fuel pumps, Buc-ee’s stats led Huber Heights mayor Jeff Gore to say, “I’ve heard people call Buc-ee’s ‘just another gas station,’ but that’s like calling the USS Gerald R. Ford a paddleboat.’ ”
On a trip to points south, Bethia and I happened upon this gas station on steroids in Richmond, Kentucky, and decided to take a closer look.
Here’s what we found:
Upon leaving the highway, it was obvious that the entire exit had been extensively reconfigured to accommodate the traffic this Buc-ee’s location draws. Even so, the traffic was intense, with a much needed Walmart-sized parking lot to capture it all.
Inside, more than anything else, the first impression was one of a high-pitched, vibrating excitement among the crush of patrons, the kind that comes from a head-on confrontation with overwhelming choice. Which of those 75,000 square feet do you vie to occupy? Where do you even look first?
One major focal point, and seemingly the axis around which the rest of the convenience store revolves, is a sizable kiosk dedicated primarily to slicing, dicing and slinging Texas-style brisket sandwiches. Multiple employees hack away at mounds of smoked beef behind glass dividers, sliding foil-wrapped bundles down stainless steel chutes in a sometimes futile attempt to keep up with demand from the guests swarming the counter.
If that doesn’t capture you, maybe a wall of Buc-ee’s brand beef jerky will? Every possible flavor combination known to man is on offer, including some that probably shouldn’t be (their maple cherry was compared to a vape cloud by one YouTuber). Or Beaver Nuggets (corn puffs), found in flavors from sweet to savory and altogether too many shades in-between. Or candied items: pecans, sure, but also cashews, almonds, and—why the hell not?—jalapeños. Then there’s the fudge bar, with probably a couple dozen flavors, all made in-house.
I’m just scratching the surface here, but suffice it to say that Buc-ee’s is everything a Texas truck driver could ever possibly desire, packaged to sell to mainstream car-tripping America. And we’re clearly buying it … and enjoying it.
I did, too, kind of. It was fun; self-consciously silly, and Disney-like in its unalloyed peppiness, right down to the Buc-ee mascot roaming the store offering selfie opportunities and an occasional song and dance routine.
The social media hype squad notes all of this, but they reserve their enthusiasm most for extended on-screen tastings of the food that they invariably heap with superlatives. And that’s where we part ways.
Just about everything we tried—jerky, candied pecans, pickles and Beaver Bites—fell into the category of “perfectly fine.” The signature brisket should’ve been a standout (unadorned bites were delicious), but the sandwich was drowned in so much sickly sweet barbecue sauce that it could’ve been lumped in with the “candied” category. Maybe I could’ve asked for a sandwich with the sauce on the side, or maybe I overlooked an option without it. It doesn’t matter: Good as the brisket may have been, you can get better 80 miles closer to Columbus.
All of which is to say: Go for the fun, go for the spectacle, go to be a witness to a viral-because-it’s-bizarre phenomenon. But don’t go to Buc-ee’s just for the food.
Notes
Around the Columbus Food & Drink Scene
Krema Nut Co. announced that it has discontinued Krema Kitchen, a popular stop for milkshakes and PB&J sandwiches located inside Krema’s retail shop. “As our retail and mail order business have grown, so have the demands on our small staff and limited retail and manufacturing space,” read an announcement on Instagram. You can read our story about Krema’s Goodale Boulevard shop and production facility here.
Over the holidays, a new wine shop and bar quietly opened in the former Law Bird Supply House at 1306 Grandview Ave. Grandview Vinoteca, a sibling to Market Bar Vinoteca in North Market Bridge Park, features retail wines by the bottle, 20 wines by the glass, cocktails and Black Radish Creamery cheese and charcuterie boards. You can catch happy hour 4-6 p.m. Tuesday through Friday.
Rise Brands, the folks behind Pins Mechanical Co. and 16-Bit Bar+Arcade, announced plans to reinvent the iconic Bogey Inn, which closed in 2022 after the owner died. Long known as the “19th hole” of The Memorial Tournament, the Bogey Inn will be transformed into an “entertainment campus” featuring multiple bars and a 27-hole putting course. The Dispatch has more here.