Ask any Texas chef about the one must-stop spot on a road trip, and the response won’t involve an obscure taco stand or a legendary barbecue joint. Most likely, you’ll be pointed to Buc-ee’s, a chain of rest stops sprinkled along Texas highways.

A rest stop may not be the first type of place that comes to mind when thinking of Texas institutions; but in a state known for its robust driving culture and expansive freeways, Buc-ee’s is an icon, having set a new bar for the kind of service and offerings that an off-the-highway joint can provide.

“It’s got everything for everyone,” says Jason Dady , a chef/restaurateur in San Antonio . “If you want coffee creamer, there are 20 different options. If you want cherry sours, there are 15 varieties. There’s so much space. The bathrooms are clean. You’re never waiting in line to check out. You’re never waiting for a gas pump. They have thought of everything.”

Buc-ee’s , which now counts 37 locations in Texas (and growing!), was founded in 1982 by Arch "Beaver" Aplin III and Don Wasek . They saw that most rest stops failed to provide even decent versions of the most basic services, like clean bathrooms (Buc-ee’s was once voted “Best Bathroom in America”) , ample gas pumps, and a friendly staff. “Our goal was to change the experience for the traveling public when they stop, and become the stop of choice.” Aplin, 57, says.

One of the cornerstones of Buc-ee’s business—aside from the spotless bathrooms, 120 gas pumps, and mountains of Texas paraphernalia that greet guests upon arrival—is the food. A big part of the Buc-ee’s mission, Aplin says, is to up the caliber for rest stop fare. “Rest stops are the last place you would want to stop to get something nice to eat. You go into survival mode,” he says. “So when you stop at Buc-ee’s and get an amazing chopped beef sandwich or garlic jerky, it’s a surprise that it’s of the highest quality.”

Courtesy of Buc-ee's

And he’s right. Ford Fry , chef of State of Grace in Houston, calls Buc-ee’s “the gold standard for road-trip junk food.”

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The wide range of offerings specifically targeted to Texas tastes is key—smoked and dried meats, outrageously sweet pastries, and Tex-Mex-style fare all figure prominently on the menu. Everyone has something to obsess over, and certain snacks carry a cult-like following. For Fry, it’s the beaver nuggets, a bag of addictive caramel-coated corn snacks; for Kaiser Lashkari , chef of Himalaya Restaurant in Houston, it’s the fudge (it’s handmade on premises in special kettles); for Tony Street , chef of Y.O Ranch Steakhouse in Dallas, it’s the diverse selection of wild game jerky, which he says is as high quality as you’ll find anywhere; for Tim Love , chef/owner of a variety of restaurants throughout Texas, it’s the freshly-sliced brisket breakfast tacos.

Courtesy of Buc-ee's

Love is quick to point out, though, that the beauty of the food is not necessarily that it’s the best; rather, “there’s a reliability to it,” he says. “You’re not walking out saying, ‘Holy crap I have to go back,’ but you just know it will be better than stopping at 90 percent of the places on the highway.”

Alpin, too, wouldn’t put Buc-ee’s in the restaurant category. “We just try to have really well-respected, loved, high quality food in a rest stop,” he says. “We’re not a restaurant in a typical tradition because it’s a to-go format—we have to put thought into making the food manageable, something that you can eat in your lap while driving.”

For Texas drivers, Buc-ee’s has an almost magnetic pull—even when the tank is full, the multitude of attractions means there’s always a reason to stop in. “Even if I don’t need to stop, I find myself wanting to stop at Buc-ee’s,” says Love. “When a new Buc-ee’s opens, it’s like a new roller-coaster ride. You just want to go in and see it. You don’t want to be left out.”

Courtesy of Buc-ee's

On Mondays, when Lashkari has the day off, he and his wife will “always” stop at Buc-ee’s to buy something, whether it’s fudge or a beaver t-shirt (the cute critter is the restaurant’s official mascot). “We make it a point to go,” he says. “Even today, we will be visiting Buc-ee’s. It’s such a good feeling to go into that store.”

Street points to a certain “comfort level” he feels toward the store. “There’s a sign for Buc-ee’s every five miles when you get 100 miles away from one. We get really excited. It makes you want to wait an extra 30 minutes or so to stop [at Buc-ee’s] when you might be inclined to stop earlier.”

Courtesy of Buc-ee's

As Aplin prepares to open Buc-ee’s’ first location outside of Texas (in Louisiana) next year, he recognizes that he’ll have to change a lot about the offerings—the breakfast tacos, Willie Nelson t-shirts, and Texas-shaped waffle irons may need to be swapped out for more Louisiana-friendly fare. He’s most excited about “understanding the local cuisine,” and adapting the snacks accordingly, he says—so here’s to hoping that Buc-ee’s future involves po' boys and gumbo.

But one thing that likely won’t change, even as the store expands to other states, is its intangible Texas charm: the honks you get when you put a Buc-ee’s bumper sticker on your car, the cashier who rushes up to greet you like a long-lost cousin when you walk in, the guy hand slicing the brisket with the dedication of an Austin pitmaster.

After all, Buc-ee’s is special for all the ways in which it fully embodies the Lone Star State culture—insanely big, wildly accommodating, and unabashedly friendly.