Tootsie Tomanetz: “Queen of Texas Barbecue”

Tootsie Tomanetz didn’t ask to be famous. But if you walked with her through Fair Park in Dallas, Texas, on the morning of the 11th Annual Touchdown Club Barbecue Fundraiser, you might think you were trailing a head of state. People pointed, whispered, smiled, and approached with a reverence typically reserved for country legends or Hall of Fame quarterbacks.

"Honey," one woman said, tugging on her husband's arm as he nearly bumped into her, "you almost ran into Barbecue Royalty".

Miss Tootsie, 89 years old and turning 90 next month, just smiled.

She’s been coming to this fundraiser for five years now, serving as a "celebrity judge" for the over 60 teams competing in brisket, ribs, and appetizers—all to benefit The Rise School of Dallas, a nonprofit school dedicated to children with special needs.

Thanks to a friend involved with the Touchdown Club, I had the privilege of spending the day with her. Their photographer was out sick, and I was invited to step in, camera in hand. I picked her up at her hotel, escorted her throughout the day, and did my best to keep up.

From the moment we entered the crowd, it was clear: Tootsie isn’t just admired. She’s cherished. People didn’t just want a photo—they wanted a moment, a memory, something to hold onto.

Sitting across from her, you notice the eyes first. Clear and kind. Then the lines around them—evidence of almost nine decades of smiling, of laughter, of grieving, of getting up and doing the work anyway. Her face tells a story that can't be staged. The kind of wear that makes a life not just interesting, but unmistakably hers.

She never chased the spotlight. But when Texas Monthly named Snow's BBQ the best in the state back in 2008, the spotlight found her. Crowds swelled. Cameras rolled. Suddenly, the pitmaster who rose before dawn each Saturday was a celebrity. She never changed a thing.

In 2018, she was inducted into the Barbecue Hall of Fame—a rare honor, and one she received with characteristic humility. Then, in 2020, her story reached the world. Netflix featured Tootsie in its critically acclaimed Chef's Table: BBQ series, devoting an entire episode to her life, her faith, and her fire. Viewers around the globe fell in love with her. Pilgrims began making their way to Lexington, Texas.

"I still feel simple," she once said. And she meant it.

To understand the present, you have to go back. Norma Frances "Tootsie" Tomanetz was born in 1935 and raised on a farm outside Lexington, Texas. She married White Tomanetz, a Korean War veteran and local butcher. In 1966, when her husband needed help at City Meat Market in Giddings, she stepped behind the pit. She learned barbecue from Orange Holloway, a Black pitmaster whose style defined Central Texas cooking: meat grilled over hot coals, not smoked, and basted by hand with mop sauce. She worked six days a week, raised three kids, and later ran the market herself.

In 2003, after White suffered a debilitating stroke and she stepped back from owning a business, she joined Kerry Bexley at Snow’s BBQ, a small Saturday-only operation in Lexington, open from 8 a.m. until they sell out. What began as a side gig turned into something else entirely after the 2008 magazine nod. Snow’s became a pilgrimage site. Miss Tootsie became a legend.

Still, she kept her full-time job with the Giddings school district—hauling trash, scrubbing stadium bleachers, and working maintenance five days a week. These days, she’s scaled back to part-time. Just mornings now.

But behind that warmth is a depth shaped by loss. In 2015, her husband White’s health declined, and she had to make the painful decision to move him into a nursing home. Not long after, her son Hershey—just 50 years old—was also diagnosed with cancer and passed away the following March. She lost her best friend. Then her child.

What could have crushed her instead shaped her. She believes that God, in His mysterious way, opened a new door. If White and Hershey were still alive, she says, she would have been home, caring for them full-time. But in their absence, she found a new purpose—one built on presence. She now spends her days at school with the kids, at the pit with her community, and out in the world, offering kindness to everyone she meets.

She doesn’t just believe in beauty for ashes—she’s lived it. Because ashes, it turns out, don’t just mark what’s been lost. They enrich the soil for what’s yet to grow.

Her test became her testimony.

When I asked her what keeps her going, her answer was immediate: "The love of people. The love of God. And to be around people. The young, the old, the strangers, the people I know. It’s just to be with people."

And if she could offer one piece of encouragement?

"Get out and visit with people, even though you don't know them. You will find love in their hearts, and love in your heart for them. To love one another."

She told me once about a sermon she heard that changed her life. The pastor looked out at the congregation and said, "You are the church." For Tootsie, it was a revelation. Sunday wasn’t just about coming to church. It was about going out and being the church.

"That stuck with me," she said. "That’s what I try to do. Just love people. That’s what we’re here for."

At one point during our time together, I asked her if she preferred one job more than the other: the barbecue pit or the school.

"That’s a hard question," she said, smiling. "They’re so different. I love both. And at this point in life, I can still do both. So I do."

Then, after a beat: "I think God still has a plan for me. I’ve got more work to do."

Later that evening, as the fundraiser wound down, Tootsie stood on stage to help announce the winners of the competition. Before reading off the names, she looked out at the crowd and said:

"When I look out, I don’t see strangers. I see friends. And I love you all."

Tootsie’s story is one of heartbreak and barbecue, faith and firewood. She doesn’t see herself as exceptional, and maybe that’s what makes her so.

In a world full of disconnection, curated personas, and performative warmth, she is a lighthouse of sincerity. She is what happens when someone allows pain to make them tender instead of bitter.

She is 89. She is still working. Still cooking. Still praying.

And God willing, she’s still got more work to do.

Miss Tootsie turns 90 next month, on April 21st. Happy early birthday to the Queen of Texas Barbecue.

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The Touchdown Club's 11th Annual Barbecue Fundraiser raised money for The Rise School of Dallas, a place that empowers children with special needs through education and support. The Touchdown Club of Dallas is a nonprofit organization that supports the school year-round through community events, volunteer efforts, and fundraising. To learn more about the Rise School, visit this page, or to make a donation, visit this donation page and select Ashford Rise School under "campaigner" if prompted. Though Krafft Studios was not officially affiliated with the event, I was honored to witness it, to photograph it, and to share a story that matters.

Hand kraffted, always,