Meemaw: Would this change your feelings?
George: Is that it?
Meemaw: The Holy Grail.
George: What changed your mind?
Meemaw: You not going to the picnic today, that hurt Mary and the twins. I cannot have that on my heart.
George: Is that so?
Meemaw: Absolutely.
George: Look me in the eye and tell me this is the actual recipe.
Meemaw: George, what you have in your hand is the exact step-by-step instructions on how to make my brisket. I have never written it down until tonight because I was afraid someone might steal it. But I'm entrusting this to you, and I hope that someday, when the time is right, you will see fit to share it with one of your children.
George: Connie, I don't know what to say.
Meemaw: Don't call me Connie. Call me Mom.
George: [CHUCKLES] Thanks, Mom.
Meemaw: You're welcome, son.

Mary: Mom, can you make the salad?
Meemaw: Sure.
George: Hey, don't put in any of those little tomatoes.
Meemaw: Hey, I don't tell you how to impersonate a lump of clay. You don't tell me how to make a salad.

Meemaw: I know this is hard for everyone. It's certainly hard for me. But no one... is more upset with George's passing than the Lone Star Beer company. That flag is at half-mast. [laughter] On the other hand, there's a lot of cows out there that are breathing a sigh of relief. As the king of brisket has put down his fork and ridden off into the sunset. [laughter] And, uh, I'll tell you something...
Missy: Why are they laughing at Dad?
Georgie: 'Cause they love him.
Meemaw: ...that I always kind of kept to myself, but... I wasn't always a big supporter of George and Mary being an item. As a matter of fact, whenever he came to visit, I would always invite Mary's slutty friend Janice over, hoping to catch his interest. [laughter] Hey, Janice. Thanks for coming. You're a doll. [Dale looks back] Anyway... George only had eyes for Mary. And of course brisket. [laughter] And over the years, he surely earned my respect. He was a good man. [voice breaking] And I will always be proud... to call him my son.

Sheldon: Meemaw? I assume you've read the Surgeon General's report on the dangers of smoking?
Meemaw: I'm gonna wait till they turn it into a movie.

Georgie: And I wasn't eavesdropping.
George: Don't worry about it.
Georgie: I just don't see why I got grounded.
George: What are you complaining about? You didn't want to go to church picnic anyway.
Georgie: I like complaining. I'm good at it.

Adult Sheldon: The average American consumes 55 pounds of beef per year. And then there's Texas, where we can knock that off in a couple of months. Maybe faster, if we're talking about smoked brisket. Curiously, the one cut of beef that Texans and Jews agree upon.

Adult Sheldon: Finally, the cooking began. 14 hours of cooking. And basting. And spritzing. And tending to the fire.
George: Oh. Rest, my darling. Rest.