Our final day in Austin was only a half day, as we were flying out around 2:30 for our trip home. We ate kolaches at a local kolache place my sister liked. They were tasty enough, but I took issue with their using the term "bacon" in the title of my "bacon, egg and cheese" kolache, as the kolache contained merely the memory of bacon within its doughy center and not any actual bacon that I could detect.
The sister saw us off at the airport, we checked our bag and started through security. For some reason, my bag was flagged as containing objects of interest and the TSA folks had to rescan it twice before asking me if they could search it. All it had in it were a bunch of wires, adapters and a funny-looking usb/AC outlet/car adapter, so I had no problem with them searching anything. I just found it odd that beyond the many graphic novels I picked up while I was in Austin, there wasn't much else different about the bag than it was when I first went through security in Charlotte.
Now, with the ongoing financial troubles the airlines have been having, we all know about the increase in fees that some airlines charge for checking bags. They did this allegedly to make money to offset rising costs. However, I suspect they have not actually accomplished that goal. It may not be universal, because some airlines still allow you one check bag per person and then charge you $15 for any additional bags checked, but American Airlines just goes ahead and charges you $18 for your first and then the price goes up from there. So now, instead of people checking their luggage and going about their flight, everyone tries to smuggle as much of it aboard as carryon. Both of our flights on the way home left 15 minutes late because it was taking so long for everybody to get their carryon luggage crammed into the overhead bins. Similarly, it took extra time to deboard for not only the same reason in reverse, but also the seeming inability for people to do the math and realize that they needed to get their shit together BEFORE it was time for their row to deboard, not wait until that moment to finally unbuckle and get up and try to pull down their massive bag. We didn't miss any flights because of this, but we hardly had any time to scarf down some food between flights in Dallas because of it.
On our leg from Dallas to Charlotte, we had another annoyance in the form of a passenger on our row. Normally we like to fly in the D&E two seat row side of the plane, but for this particular leg we had no choice but the B&C seats of an ABC row. When we arrived, the A-seat passenger was not seated by the window, which meant there was no point in belting up until he or she arrived, as we'd have to get up to let them in. Across the aisle from us was a man with a thick Australian accent, who was seated in the E seat by the window and was working on his laptop. I only knew he had an Australian accent because a few minutes later, the actual ticket-holders for seats D & E arrived and pointed out to him he was in the wrong seat. I knew exactly where his correct seat would turn out to be, and sure enough it was the A seat next to my B. What kind of myopic dumbass can't tell and A from an E?
"Bruce" was all smiles and amiable enough about his error, as we did the across the aisle shuffle of him, his laptop and his carryon laptop bag, so I hoped he'd be a decent enough seat-mate. I might have even enjoyed chatting with him and hearing what his story was, except that he immediately began annoying me with a consistent yet seemingly absent-minded flaunting of airline regulations, which he continued for the rest of the flight.
It started out when the stewardess came on the intercom and told everyone to put away their personal electronic devices. Dude was still engrossed in whatever he was doing on his laptop and wasn't in a hurry to stop being engrossed. He took a good four minutes or so to actually shut it down and put it away, during which my estimation of him as a fellow traveler decreased with each passing second. We were still on the ground, mind you, so I didn't think it was all that big a deal, but the flaunting of regulation still got under my skin. Then, immediately upon putting his laptop away, he whipped out his iPod, plugged in his headphones and turned it on. What was next, a cell phone call?
Being a non-confrontational soul, I just sat and seethed. I've often suspected that the necessity to turn off electronic devices during takeoff is bullshit. After all, they let us turn them on once we're in the air. But who really knows? I mean, until Mythbusters busts or confirms it, right? My inner self, however, was screaming at me that I should lean over, yank one of his earbuds out and assure him that were our plane to crash due to his rule-breaking, the crash investigators would indeed find his corpse with an iPod wedged up its ass.
A stewardess happened by soon enough, saw his transgression and gently told him off. However, we were no sooner in the air than out came the iPod once again, several minutes before the go-ahead was given. I quickly put my own earbuds in and fired up my new Zen XFi-2. I expected he would fire up his laptop, but he kept it stowed until later, preferring to watch some sort of rodeo videos on his iPod. When we were about five minutes away from landing in Charlotte, though, he fired up the laptop again and started looking over some horse-training material, just in time to be told to put it away again over the speaker. Again, he took his time in shutting down.
Now, I realize that none of this really matters at all in the grand scheme of things. His actions were hardly endangering anyone, they weren't making me nervous, and the man didn't seem to be operating with any kind of malice (in fact, he was all smiles and good-natured attitude when we saw him at baggage claim fifteen minutes later--you know, after we had to wait for all the people in the rows ahead of us to get their shit and luggage together and then a move on). Really, it shouldn't bother me, but it does. It chaps my ass that he was either A) taking his time to follow regulations when not busy flaunting them on purpose; or B) just not paying attention to what he was being asked to do. They're equally bad, in my book. And I wasn't the only one annoyed by him. I could tell that my wife was irritated by him as well, and she probably would have told him off, but she wasn't sitting directly next to him. I could feel her willing me to say something, but knowing how unimportant it was in the grand scheme.
After we were in the terminal and out of earshot, I turned to her and said, "So... Aussie cowboy?"
"Yep. That was my guess," she said.
We didn't leave the airport until nearly 9 and then had several hours to get back to Borderland. Our only chance to eat like assholes on the way home was by stopping at a Jack in the Box on the way out of town, and we were only assholes for thinking we'd get good food there quickly. (In my experience, Jack in the Box food looks far better than it actually is and almost always takes about five minutes longer to receive than you really hoped it would. In fact, I once literally--and, as usual, I assure you I am in no way misusing the word "literally"--waited over 25 minutes for food at a different Charlotte-based Jack in the Box because the particular restaurant I was at was concentrating all their attention on filling drive-through orders and didn't care so much about the mass of customers like myself who were still waiting for their food. In their defense, that particular store on that particular night seemed very much as if it were being managed by morons--though probably only figuratively in this case.)
When we got home, the cat was happy to see us. The dog had to wait until the following morning to be picked up from doggy jail. She'd developed a case of kennel cough while in the clink, too, but unlike the previous stays there did not develop a bladder infection. We've decided that for our next vacation we'd prefer going somewhere we can take her, too.
That may or may not happen, as in the time it's taken me to write this up since we returned from Austin, we've actually added a fuzzy new family member--one who'll certainly factor into things for future vacation plans.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Surprising Septuagenarians in the South West (or "Eating Like An Asshole Week: Day 6 PART II")
I've visited my sister in Austin a total of three times now. Each time I've been, I've sworn I was going to visit the legendary Salt Lick and until this trip I had failed to do so.
Technically, I guess I've been to the Salt Lick before, but not the one in Austin, nor any other town in Texas. Instead, I have eaten twice at a now defunct Salt Lick spin-off restaurant that existed for a time in Tupelo, MS. The place had come recommended to me back when I lived in Tupelo, but it took me a while to actually go there. The Tupelo Salt Lick was located in a tobacconist shop in down town, but there was a kitchen in the back and a few tables scattered about, just right for a quick lunch. My wife, then girlfriend, went their and enjoyed brisket tacos that were amazing. While we dined, we read the table tents that detailed how the Salt Lick: Tupelo was a spin-off of the Salt Lick Austin and their meat was prepared with similar spices if not the same wood fired clay pit oven. This was all the brainchild of, I believe, but don't quote me, the daughter of the owner of the Austin Salt Lick, who'd relocated to Mississippi. By the time the wife and I tried to visit it again, a few months later, the kitchen part of the tobacconist shop had relocated to a tiny alley-based shop around the corner and were only serving cold meat sandwiches and no brisket. They said their cook had left.
Since then, I'd seen the Salt Lick Austin on a number of TV shows (including Man V. Food) and had heard tales of its greatness from people who'd been, but had not been able to get there myself. I was determined to change this, but I had doubters among our crew. It was pointed out that the Salt Lick was, like, a 40 minute drive outside of town and the wait to be seated once we arrived would likely be at least the same. Our other major option was Five Guys Burgers, which, while very appealing, was also a good drive away and through thick afternoon traffic. Our decision finally came down to the fact that traffic wasn't so bad in the direction of the Salt Lick and while we love Five Guys Burgers, we've already had that experience. Salt Lick was the way to go.
For all its reputation and popularity, the Salt Lick is actually a fairly simple operation. They only accept cash (ATM on premises), they don't serve alcohol (it's BYOB all the way, including the little jar of Grand Marnier my wife brought which she thought might not be welcome) and they have a fairly limited menu, but they don't have to be anything other than what they are because what they offer is something very few other restaurants on the planet can claim: the best barbeque ever. The Salt Lick is located on what looks like an old ranch, with a large dirt parking lot and a stone walk leading up to the door of what might have once been a barn. Inside there lies magic.
We knew we'd made the right restaurant choice before we'd even walked in the door, because what was cooking over that clay pit could be smelled from far out in the mud & gravel parking lot. Inside was an expanse of wood plank floor covered with bench-lined tables full of very happy people. However, I'm afraid the decor and people were mostly lost upon me as I was immediately distracted by the immense barbeque pit right at the front of the place, which was covered in the most amazing looking array of meats I've ever seen. Spread out atop the grill were chunks of brisket, sausages and ribs and ribs and ribs. It nearly brought a tear to my eye.
I have little memory of the immediate minutes surrounding that, except that we were soon taken to a table where our waiter brought us menus and a tub of ice for the remaining Blue Moons that I'd BYOBed. When he learned we'd never been there before, he just grinned knowingly, like a parent taking his kid to Disney World, looking on with knowing pride as they walk into the Magic Kingdom for the first time.
Now, Salt Lick's menu contains has some economically-priced offerings, such as the barbeque sampler plate for around $11. However, we had been advised in advance to ignore all options except for that of Family Dining. For $18 each, the Salt Lick brings to your table all the meats (as listed above), all the side dishes (potato salad, slaw, beans) and bread and they keep bringing them as long as you can keep eating them. And with all of the above in plentiful supply there, we very quickly had a table full of bounty spread before us, into which the six of us hungrily dug.
"Bring you some more meat?" our waiter asked a couple of minutes later.
"Meat... more..." we said, well-cleaned bones jutting from our collective maw. "Potato salad... more," we added. Seconds later both appeared. On the edge of the meat plate, I spied a charred corner of brisket and grabbed it. This was from one of the outer pieces of brisket, seared to what I hoped was perfection. I saw Adam on Man V. Food eat just such a piece on that show and he had to be excused for a personal moment afterward. Popping it into my mouth, I knew exactly how he felt. It was like a religious experience, so savory, so wonderful, so meaty. It was everything I had expected, but so much more.
And the ribs... OH, THE RIBS!! Despite my triple use of the word some paragraphs ago, I'm not particularly a rib man in day to day life. I love the taste of them, sure, but I cannot usually abide the mess that comes with eating them. For these, however, exception was necessity--nay, mandatory! Just sweet and succulent and falling right off the bone fantastic. The sausages too were a worthy thing. We gorged ourselves until we could feel our intellects sliding downward into stupidity.
"Bring you some more meat?" our waiter asked again, grinning his knowing grin.
Our plates brimming, the meat plate loaded with only a couple of sausages, we knew we weren't going to be able to fit much more, but we nodded, mouths full. Magically, another plate piled high with meat appeared.
When we could hold no more, we still had a goodly stack of meat before us. The waiter returned.
"Anyone have room for dessert?" he asked.
We did not, but somehow our mouths still said, "Yes." I ordered pecan pie a la mode, as did the wife. My sister ordered cobbler. While we waited for it to arrive, we ate a little more barbeque. Then it was there, and we were scarfing down pecan pie the way pecan pie was meant to be. Enormous, thick of crust and with no skimping on the pecans. I ate every bite. The wife saved half of hers. The waiter already knew where we were going next and brought us to-go boxes in which we packed up all of the remaining barbeque and sides. We then rolled ourselves toward the door, paid our bill and were gone.
As you can see from their website, there are other Salt Lick locations, including one at the Austin Airport. My sister has been advised, however, that the original Driftwood location is the one to visit, though I'm sure the others are fine. If you're ever in Austin, though, you NEED to get you some Salt Lick.
NEED.
Technically, I guess I've been to the Salt Lick before, but not the one in Austin, nor any other town in Texas. Instead, I have eaten twice at a now defunct Salt Lick spin-off restaurant that existed for a time in Tupelo, MS. The place had come recommended to me back when I lived in Tupelo, but it took me a while to actually go there. The Tupelo Salt Lick was located in a tobacconist shop in down town, but there was a kitchen in the back and a few tables scattered about, just right for a quick lunch. My wife, then girlfriend, went their and enjoyed brisket tacos that were amazing. While we dined, we read the table tents that detailed how the Salt Lick: Tupelo was a spin-off of the Salt Lick Austin and their meat was prepared with similar spices if not the same wood fired clay pit oven. This was all the brainchild of, I believe, but don't quote me, the daughter of the owner of the Austin Salt Lick, who'd relocated to Mississippi. By the time the wife and I tried to visit it again, a few months later, the kitchen part of the tobacconist shop had relocated to a tiny alley-based shop around the corner and were only serving cold meat sandwiches and no brisket. They said their cook had left.
Since then, I'd seen the Salt Lick Austin on a number of TV shows (including Man V. Food) and had heard tales of its greatness from people who'd been, but had not been able to get there myself. I was determined to change this, but I had doubters among our crew. It was pointed out that the Salt Lick was, like, a 40 minute drive outside of town and the wait to be seated once we arrived would likely be at least the same. Our other major option was Five Guys Burgers, which, while very appealing, was also a good drive away and through thick afternoon traffic. Our decision finally came down to the fact that traffic wasn't so bad in the direction of the Salt Lick and while we love Five Guys Burgers, we've already had that experience. Salt Lick was the way to go.
For all its reputation and popularity, the Salt Lick is actually a fairly simple operation. They only accept cash (ATM on premises), they don't serve alcohol (it's BYOB all the way, including the little jar of Grand Marnier my wife brought which she thought might not be welcome) and they have a fairly limited menu, but they don't have to be anything other than what they are because what they offer is something very few other restaurants on the planet can claim: the best barbeque ever. The Salt Lick is located on what looks like an old ranch, with a large dirt parking lot and a stone walk leading up to the door of what might have once been a barn. Inside there lies magic.
We knew we'd made the right restaurant choice before we'd even walked in the door, because what was cooking over that clay pit could be smelled from far out in the mud & gravel parking lot. Inside was an expanse of wood plank floor covered with bench-lined tables full of very happy people. However, I'm afraid the decor and people were mostly lost upon me as I was immediately distracted by the immense barbeque pit right at the front of the place, which was covered in the most amazing looking array of meats I've ever seen. Spread out atop the grill were chunks of brisket, sausages and ribs and ribs and ribs. It nearly brought a tear to my eye.
I have little memory of the immediate minutes surrounding that, except that we were soon taken to a table where our waiter brought us menus and a tub of ice for the remaining Blue Moons that I'd BYOBed. When he learned we'd never been there before, he just grinned knowingly, like a parent taking his kid to Disney World, looking on with knowing pride as they walk into the Magic Kingdom for the first time.
Now, Salt Lick's menu contains has some economically-priced offerings, such as the barbeque sampler plate for around $11. However, we had been advised in advance to ignore all options except for that of Family Dining. For $18 each, the Salt Lick brings to your table all the meats (as listed above), all the side dishes (potato salad, slaw, beans) and bread and they keep bringing them as long as you can keep eating them. And with all of the above in plentiful supply there, we very quickly had a table full of bounty spread before us, into which the six of us hungrily dug.
"Bring you some more meat?" our waiter asked a couple of minutes later.
"Meat... more..." we said, well-cleaned bones jutting from our collective maw. "Potato salad... more," we added. Seconds later both appeared. On the edge of the meat plate, I spied a charred corner of brisket and grabbed it. This was from one of the outer pieces of brisket, seared to what I hoped was perfection. I saw Adam on Man V. Food eat just such a piece on that show and he had to be excused for a personal moment afterward. Popping it into my mouth, I knew exactly how he felt. It was like a religious experience, so savory, so wonderful, so meaty. It was everything I had expected, but so much more.
And the ribs... OH, THE RIBS!! Despite my triple use of the word some paragraphs ago, I'm not particularly a rib man in day to day life. I love the taste of them, sure, but I cannot usually abide the mess that comes with eating them. For these, however, exception was necessity--nay, mandatory! Just sweet and succulent and falling right off the bone fantastic. The sausages too were a worthy thing. We gorged ourselves until we could feel our intellects sliding downward into stupidity.
"Bring you some more meat?" our waiter asked again, grinning his knowing grin.
Our plates brimming, the meat plate loaded with only a couple of sausages, we knew we weren't going to be able to fit much more, but we nodded, mouths full. Magically, another plate piled high with meat appeared.
When we could hold no more, we still had a goodly stack of meat before us. The waiter returned.
"Anyone have room for dessert?" he asked.
We did not, but somehow our mouths still said, "Yes." I ordered pecan pie a la mode, as did the wife. My sister ordered cobbler. While we waited for it to arrive, we ate a little more barbeque. Then it was there, and we were scarfing down pecan pie the way pecan pie was meant to be. Enormous, thick of crust and with no skimping on the pecans. I ate every bite. The wife saved half of hers. The waiter already knew where we were going next and brought us to-go boxes in which we packed up all of the remaining barbeque and sides. We then rolled ourselves toward the door, paid our bill and were gone.
As you can see from their website, there are other Salt Lick locations, including one at the Austin Airport. My sister has been advised, however, that the original Driftwood location is the one to visit, though I'm sure the others are fine. If you're ever in Austin, though, you NEED to get you some Salt Lick.
NEED.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Surprising Septuagenarians in the South West (or "Eating Like An Asshole Week: Day 6")
The following morning was a bit hectic. My sister's car had been having trouble for a couple of days and had symptoms of a bad battery. We'd had to jump the car off after returning from Artz the night before and it only grudgingly started again afterward. So this was of great concern to the parents when they phoned at 8:30 in the morning, because they were afraid they might have to give us a ride to a battery place and they didn't have a lot of time on their hands--at least, according to them.
See, on their way to Austin from Dallas, days before, they'd very nearly missed their plane. They said they'd left their hotel in plenty of time, but with a side trip or so and rental car return they'd arrived for check-in so late that they were advised by the airline agent not to take the time to check their bag or they'd miss the flight for sure. They arrived at their gate in the nick of time, and were told that they should have missed the flight as the plane was past time for shutting its doors. (I have a theory as to why that was the case, which we'll get to in another entry.) The previous night, after helping us jump the sister's car, dad had announced they would be turning in early so they could arise in time to get to the airport early in order to avoid a repeat. It was heavily implied that if we wanted to eat breakfast with them or get a potential life to a battery place, we'd need to arise early too.
Eight thirty may not seem very early, but for those of us who stayed up til all hours drinking White Russians, not to mention those of us needing to sleep off our food benders, it was. Now, the previous evening, while drinking the White Russians, my sister and I had already determined what the parents would want for breakfast, there in the capital city for not only Texas but also of the very concept of Amazing Breakfast itself: yep, McDonalds.
And, surprise surprise, when dad called at 8:30, he said that in order to help facilitate their rapid escape to the airport in plenty of time, he was suggesting we all stop off at McDonalds. Now, my family has a long and storied history of loving McDonalds and, these days, the parents eat there nearly every morning. But there was no way in hell we kids were settling for Mickey Greeze when there were ginger-bread pancakes to be found elsewhere. Still, we agreed to accompany them there in order to spend time with them before they had to leave--which was actually the other thing we were amused by. Despite the fact that my sister lives ten minutes from the Austin airport, and despite the fact that there are plenty of great breakfast places in the neighborhood, the parents wanted to scarf down their McMuffins and be at the airport by 10 a.m. so they could get to the airport in plenty of time for their 11:30 flight.
We had to jump off the sister's car in order to get to McDonalds, and again after breakfast in order to get to Auto Zone, but we saw the parents off by 10 and got a new battery installed shortly with no real problem. Then, as the parents were no doubt settling into their seats at the gate for a nice long 90 minute wait, we settled into a booth at Kerbey Lane for heaping breakfast tacos and pancakes. Our waiter seemed just a little bit annoyed by something. We couldn't tell if it was us or any of the five other tables he was responsible for, but he didn't have a lot of the standard customer service beaming-attitude. (Kerbey Lane wait staff tends to be drawn from multiply-pierced and tattooed Indie Music scene day-job types.) It was kind of refreshing, really, as he seemed very much like a real person and not a plastic servant to our needs. And as a former waiter myself, he proved to be my hero in that department in how he dealt with a table full of granola neo-hippie types who were seated near us mid-way through our meal. From the moment they sat down, they began plying the waiter for what sort of food the place served without bothering to open their menus or even pause for him to take their drink orders. After about three such questions on pancake flavor options, or vegan content, all of which could have been answered far more efficiently by the document in front of them, the waiter said, "You know, you could just try looking at the menu." There was a pause as it seemed to dawn on them that they could indeed do that and that it wouldn't violate their free-spirited nature to do so, and gave him their drink orders. We couldn't help but laugh out loud.
By 5, we weren't hungry, but were starting to think about it. Especially since our dinner destination was going to be a bit of a drive. We were headed, as I might have mentioned before, to the Salt Lick.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
See, on their way to Austin from Dallas, days before, they'd very nearly missed their plane. They said they'd left their hotel in plenty of time, but with a side trip or so and rental car return they'd arrived for check-in so late that they were advised by the airline agent not to take the time to check their bag or they'd miss the flight for sure. They arrived at their gate in the nick of time, and were told that they should have missed the flight as the plane was past time for shutting its doors. (I have a theory as to why that was the case, which we'll get to in another entry.) The previous night, after helping us jump the sister's car, dad had announced they would be turning in early so they could arise in time to get to the airport early in order to avoid a repeat. It was heavily implied that if we wanted to eat breakfast with them or get a potential life to a battery place, we'd need to arise early too.
Eight thirty may not seem very early, but for those of us who stayed up til all hours drinking White Russians, not to mention those of us needing to sleep off our food benders, it was. Now, the previous evening, while drinking the White Russians, my sister and I had already determined what the parents would want for breakfast, there in the capital city for not only Texas but also of the very concept of Amazing Breakfast itself: yep, McDonalds.
And, surprise surprise, when dad called at 8:30, he said that in order to help facilitate their rapid escape to the airport in plenty of time, he was suggesting we all stop off at McDonalds. Now, my family has a long and storied history of loving McDonalds and, these days, the parents eat there nearly every morning. But there was no way in hell we kids were settling for Mickey Greeze when there were ginger-bread pancakes to be found elsewhere. Still, we agreed to accompany them there in order to spend time with them before they had to leave--which was actually the other thing we were amused by. Despite the fact that my sister lives ten minutes from the Austin airport, and despite the fact that there are plenty of great breakfast places in the neighborhood, the parents wanted to scarf down their McMuffins and be at the airport by 10 a.m. so they could get to the airport in plenty of time for their 11:30 flight.
We had to jump off the sister's car in order to get to McDonalds, and again after breakfast in order to get to Auto Zone, but we saw the parents off by 10 and got a new battery installed shortly with no real problem. Then, as the parents were no doubt settling into their seats at the gate for a nice long 90 minute wait, we settled into a booth at Kerbey Lane for heaping breakfast tacos and pancakes. Our waiter seemed just a little bit annoyed by something. We couldn't tell if it was us or any of the five other tables he was responsible for, but he didn't have a lot of the standard customer service beaming-attitude. (Kerbey Lane wait staff tends to be drawn from multiply-pierced and tattooed Indie Music scene day-job types.) It was kind of refreshing, really, as he seemed very much like a real person and not a plastic servant to our needs. And as a former waiter myself, he proved to be my hero in that department in how he dealt with a table full of granola neo-hippie types who were seated near us mid-way through our meal. From the moment they sat down, they began plying the waiter for what sort of food the place served without bothering to open their menus or even pause for him to take their drink orders. After about three such questions on pancake flavor options, or vegan content, all of which could have been answered far more efficiently by the document in front of them, the waiter said, "You know, you could just try looking at the menu." There was a pause as it seemed to dawn on them that they could indeed do that and that it wouldn't violate their free-spirited nature to do so, and gave him their drink orders. We couldn't help but laugh out loud.
By 5, we weren't hungry, but were starting to think about it. Especially since our dinner destination was going to be a bit of a drive. We were headed, as I might have mentioned before, to the Salt Lick.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
Friday, October 16, 2009
Surprising Septuagenarians in the South West (or "Eating Like An Asshole Week: Day 5")
As much as we'd adored Casa Maria when the sister took us, we thought we had to bring the parents there, too. Everyone ordered the migas plate again, except for me. Wanting to be more adventuresome, I ordered the machacado plate--which turned out to be almost exactly the same thing as migas, only without tortilla chips and with dried beef instead of chorizo sausage. (That's okay, cause I just added tortilla chips on my own.) Once again, their flour tortillas, used to wrap up our breakfast-matter, were amazing, heavenly cakes of pure goodness. One major revelation of the meal, though, came when the waitress told us that the tortillas were actually made at a completely different restaurant owned by the same people and imported. That means that potentially there exist even fresher tortillas which could only be better, right? The concept boggles my mind.
Let me say a couple of words about barbeque: good stuff. I don't deny it. However, barbeque is kind of one of those foods that people take really personally. The regions of the country famous for making it each have their own spin on it and each region claims there's is the best. Now, I'm able to enjoy nearly all kinds of barbeque because I'm not terribly picky, though I do confess to not eating ribs often because I just can't deal with the mess of them. My wife is not so blessed as me. She's a vinegar-based barbeque gal and is even pretty choosy within that sub-genre. And it is because of this reason that until the day before our trip, we had not dined at the local barbeque joint in Borderland. Then, the very night we left to drive to Charlotte, on our way out of town, we decided to give it a try despite the fact that it claimed to be barbeque of a style more at home in a major mid-south city, as opposed to NC or Austin. Our logic in this was that we would soon be in Austin and were planning to head to the world famous Salt Lick restaurant at some point so we may as well get the barbeque party started early. We needn't have bothered, for it turns out that our local barbeque joint is aggressively sub par in nearly every way. We were pissed off.
So, for Day 5's dinner, we decided it was time to head to the Salt Lick. Before we could leave for it, though, we talked ourselves out of it. From what we'd been told, and what Mapquest suggested, the Salt Lick was a 45 minute drive at minimum and usually had a wait for a table of around the same. Instead, we headed to Artz Ribhouse, on Lamar. The sister had heard it was good, but not tried Artz herself. Turns out, she heard right. There was a table the size of our party readily available and the live band that fired up was of exactly the correct volume to allow for conversation. I ordered a brisket plate, but I should have ordered the ribs. One look at my sister's rib plate and I could see and smell my error clearly. The wife took one look at them and ordered one rib of her own to accompany her cheeseburger. I wound up having a bite or two myself and can attest that they are pretty awesome.
However much I enjoyed Artz Ribhouse's ribs, though, I may never set foot in the place again due to the the ribs I ate the following evening when we finally did make it to the Salt Lick.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
GASTRONOMICAL JOURNAL FOR DAY 5
Breakfast: Return to Casa Maria for Machacado.
Lunch: -
Dinner: Brisket and ribs at Artz Ribhouse
Let me say a couple of words about barbeque: good stuff. I don't deny it. However, barbeque is kind of one of those foods that people take really personally. The regions of the country famous for making it each have their own spin on it and each region claims there's is the best. Now, I'm able to enjoy nearly all kinds of barbeque because I'm not terribly picky, though I do confess to not eating ribs often because I just can't deal with the mess of them. My wife is not so blessed as me. She's a vinegar-based barbeque gal and is even pretty choosy within that sub-genre. And it is because of this reason that until the day before our trip, we had not dined at the local barbeque joint in Borderland. Then, the very night we left to drive to Charlotte, on our way out of town, we decided to give it a try despite the fact that it claimed to be barbeque of a style more at home in a major mid-south city, as opposed to NC or Austin. Our logic in this was that we would soon be in Austin and were planning to head to the world famous Salt Lick restaurant at some point so we may as well get the barbeque party started early. We needn't have bothered, for it turns out that our local barbeque joint is aggressively sub par in nearly every way. We were pissed off.
So, for Day 5's dinner, we decided it was time to head to the Salt Lick. Before we could leave for it, though, we talked ourselves out of it. From what we'd been told, and what Mapquest suggested, the Salt Lick was a 45 minute drive at minimum and usually had a wait for a table of around the same. Instead, we headed to Artz Ribhouse, on Lamar. The sister had heard it was good, but not tried Artz herself. Turns out, she heard right. There was a table the size of our party readily available and the live band that fired up was of exactly the correct volume to allow for conversation. I ordered a brisket plate, but I should have ordered the ribs. One look at my sister's rib plate and I could see and smell my error clearly. The wife took one look at them and ordered one rib of her own to accompany her cheeseburger. I wound up having a bite or two myself and can attest that they are pretty awesome.
However much I enjoyed Artz Ribhouse's ribs, though, I may never set foot in the place again due to the the ribs I ate the following evening when we finally did make it to the Salt Lick.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
GASTRONOMICAL JOURNAL FOR DAY 5
Breakfast: Return to Casa Maria for Machacado.
Lunch: -
Dinner: Brisket and ribs at Artz Ribhouse
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Surprising Septuagenarians in the South West (or "Eating Like An Asshole Week: Day 4")
Okay, lemme just tell you, if you're interested in breakfast and you're in the Austin area, you need to head up to the Original Pancake House in North Austin. My sister had told us tales of the incredible things to be found there. So we made the 20 minute trek north and braved the additional 20 minute wait time for an 11 a.m. table, by which time we were starved. However, the meal was WELL worth the wait. Original Pancake House is a wondrous, wondrous place because not only is their food fantastic but nearly every meal combination they offer comes with delicious buttermilk pancakes. And for a slight fee, you can have those pancakes exchanged for nearly any other kind of pancake on the menu. So, for instance, when I ordered my Meat Lover's Skillet, I had my buttermilk pancakes exchanged for bacon pancakes. That's right: Bacon. Pancakes. That means pancake batter mixed with chunks of bacon in it, then slapped lovingly into a skillet, fried up and served with syrup on the side. They were outEFFINGstanding!
After breakfast, the parents departed for a field trip to see some friends of theirs in the area, leaving us to our own devices. First on the agenda was to visit a comic shop we'd passed by on the way there, Capstone Comics. I'd not been to Capstone before, but it was quite an impressive place with a fine selection of books. Unfortunately, they didn't have the two collections of THE GOON I was looking for, but they did have plenty of FABLES, so I picked up the "War & Pieces" trade.
For "lunch" we hit another of our favorite places, Amy's Ice Cream, in down town Austin. Amy's is similar to Cold Stone Creamery, offering many flavors into which toppings can be mixed. I had Coffee and Heath ice cream with Oreos and Nutter Butters mixed in. It was not the only time we'd visit Amy's that day.
Our supper was at Umi Sushi Bar & Grill, a destination we'd planned after assuming the parents would be eating with their friends. My parents aren't known for their adventurous eating and in the past we've nearly had to nearly force them to try more exotic fare. (Which I always find ironic, since it was my dad who used to have to force my sister and I to try new things.) In fact, during our last visit to Austin, I'd started to feel guilty that we had insisted we would be eating Indian Food at the Clay Pit restaurant--that is, until my dad suggested we keep breakfast light one day and just eat at McDonalds instead of one of the many fantastic Austin-based breakfast establishments. However, sushi is something of a different creature, cuisine-wise. The wife and I love it, but the sister and parents hadn't really had anything beyond Chinese buffet sushi, and the real thing is not for everyone. Still, they said they were up for it, though once we were at the restaurant we learned that my step-mother's stomach actually wasn't feeling too good, unrelated to the sushi.
The sushi at Umi Austin, while pretty good stuff, did not arrive in the proportions I've come to expect from dining at other sushi restaurants. After polishing off our own double-roll orders within minutes, the wife and I wound up ordering an additional sampler plate to share with the table (i.e. my sister, as the parents were not going to stray from their chicken teriyaki).
As a refreshing palete-cleanser, we all headed back to Amy's, albeit a different location. I was even able to guess the movie quote on the blackboard ("Somebody blows their nose and you want to keep it?") and won a free topping. I love Amy's.
GASTRONOMICAL JOURNAL FOR DAY 4
Breakfast: Original Pancake House-- had a meatlovers skillet and bacon pancakes!
Lunch: Amy's Ice Cream Heath & Coffee Ice Cream with Oreos and Nutter Butters
Dinner: Umi Sushi Bar & Grill
Dessert: Amy's Ice Cream (different location) Dirt Cake (chocolate cheese cake ice cream with Oreos) plus Nutter Butters.
After breakfast, the parents departed for a field trip to see some friends of theirs in the area, leaving us to our own devices. First on the agenda was to visit a comic shop we'd passed by on the way there, Capstone Comics. I'd not been to Capstone before, but it was quite an impressive place with a fine selection of books. Unfortunately, they didn't have the two collections of THE GOON I was looking for, but they did have plenty of FABLES, so I picked up the "War & Pieces" trade.
For "lunch" we hit another of our favorite places, Amy's Ice Cream, in down town Austin. Amy's is similar to Cold Stone Creamery, offering many flavors into which toppings can be mixed. I had Coffee and Heath ice cream with Oreos and Nutter Butters mixed in. It was not the only time we'd visit Amy's that day.
Our supper was at Umi Sushi Bar & Grill, a destination we'd planned after assuming the parents would be eating with their friends. My parents aren't known for their adventurous eating and in the past we've nearly had to nearly force them to try more exotic fare. (Which I always find ironic, since it was my dad who used to have to force my sister and I to try new things.) In fact, during our last visit to Austin, I'd started to feel guilty that we had insisted we would be eating Indian Food at the Clay Pit restaurant--that is, until my dad suggested we keep breakfast light one day and just eat at McDonalds instead of one of the many fantastic Austin-based breakfast establishments. However, sushi is something of a different creature, cuisine-wise. The wife and I love it, but the sister and parents hadn't really had anything beyond Chinese buffet sushi, and the real thing is not for everyone. Still, they said they were up for it, though once we were at the restaurant we learned that my step-mother's stomach actually wasn't feeling too good, unrelated to the sushi.
The sushi at Umi Austin, while pretty good stuff, did not arrive in the proportions I've come to expect from dining at other sushi restaurants. After polishing off our own double-roll orders within minutes, the wife and I wound up ordering an additional sampler plate to share with the table (i.e. my sister, as the parents were not going to stray from their chicken teriyaki).
As a refreshing palete-cleanser, we all headed back to Amy's, albeit a different location. I was even able to guess the movie quote on the blackboard ("Somebody blows their nose and you want to keep it?") and won a free topping. I love Amy's.
GASTRONOMICAL JOURNAL FOR DAY 4
Breakfast: Original Pancake House-- had a meatlovers skillet and bacon pancakes!
Lunch: Amy's Ice Cream Heath & Coffee Ice Cream with Oreos and Nutter Butters
Dinner: Umi Sushi Bar & Grill
Dessert: Amy's Ice Cream (different location) Dirt Cake (chocolate cheese cake ice cream with Oreos) plus Nutter Butters.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Surprising Septuagenarians in the South West (or "Eating Like An Asshole Week: Day 3")
My vision restored, we awoke mid-morning and headed out for breakfast with the `rents. Our chosen destination, our favorite purveyor of breakfast tacos: Juan in a Million.
I wrote about Juan in a Million in a previous incarnation of the blog. Since then it has appeared on Man Vs. Food to much-deserved acclaim. Everything I wrote back then still stands. Go read it. SonofaBee the Don Juan is a massive amount of breakfast taco goodness, but especially when paired with their tortilla chips, guacamole and a hearty handshake from Juan himself. We stuffed ourselves into stupidity, and I was still the only one of use who finished his entire plate of food--bunch of amateurs.
Which brings me to a major point: when most people head to Austin, they come for the atmosphere, the shopping, the music, the vibe. We come for the food. No where else that we've been has such a concentration of truly delicious restaurants at reasonable prices. It was our stated goal to get up very early every day so we could fit in an extra meal and enjoy that much more of the food to be had--our diets be damned. Trouble is, our intestinal transit time was not as swift as one would need it to be in order to accommodate the kind of quantities we were envisioning. Very quickly we found that we could realistically only eat about two meals a day, with almost no snacking in between. Sad, really.
We spent our day running the wife and step-mother to find a good bead shop where we stranded them, leaving to go find a proper comic shop. We didn't find it. What we should have done was driven immediately to Austin Comics & Books which, with every visit, further cements itself as my favorite comic shop ever. Instead, we went to find a different comic shop that my sister had never been to. We found it and it was pretty tiny and not at all what I was looking for. By the time we found it, though, we didn't have any time to go to a good shop before having to return to the bead store and rescue the ladies. I would have to wait for comic shop goodness.
GASTRONOMICAL JOURNAL FOR DAY 3
Breakfast: Juan in a Million's Don Juan.
Lunch: Leftovers from Cheesecake factory in which I ate the remainder of the wife's shepherd's pie.
Dinner: Hills Cafe's Original Burger and fries.
Beer Journal: Lone Star beer at Hills Cafe (pretty standard beer). More Blue Moon later.
Beer Journal: Lone Star beer at Hills Cafe (pretty standard beer). More Blue Moon later.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Surprising Septuagenarians in the South West (or "Eating Like An Asshole Week: Day 2")
Our game plan was to leave Borderland on the day before Dad's birthday, stay the night in Charlotte, and then fly out the following morning for Austin. Dad wasn't scheduled to arrive there until the day after his birthday, so we'd have a full day of hanging out with the sister and eating glorious, fantastic Austin food. And that we did. We even managed to keep our yaps shut when Dad called the sister that afternoon, no doubt snooping to see if he could hear us in the background. We made not a peep. And I phoned him later on to wish him a happy birthday, but waited until I knew he was at his F-8 pilot reunion, so we'd show up on his phone as having called without having to say anything untruthful about our whereabouts.
Our next item on the agenda was to crap on Dad's expectation that we were indeed in Austin to give us at least a small surprise buffer for all our sneaky planning effort. It wouldn't do for the sister to pick the `rents up from the airport and bring them back to her place to find us waiting there. It would be much better for there to be no evidence of our presence at all and for us to be elsewhere entirely. She could let them relax around her place for a good couple of hours, then take them out to dinner that night, where they would find us waiting at the restaurant. Not having a car, and not being willing to rent one to pull off that gag, we'd toyed with the idea of simply whiling the time away at the shopping center near our chosen restaurant, the Cheesecake Factory. Something about this plan seemed frought with potential to go awry, though. It would be just like Dad to suddenly develop an aversion to cheesecake or a stomach concern that would not allow for the consumption of tasty food. We'd have to reveal the "surprise" and then the joke would be on us.
Instead, the wife and I decided to go swimming in her apartment's pool, figuring we could work off some of our Kerbey Lane brunch and while away a couple hours. The sister could pick them up, bring them back, lull them into a false sense of our nonpresence for a while (our luggage well hidden) and then offer to take them on a tour of the complex that would end at the pool, where we would be waiting.
The plan worked like a charm, though the ultimate execution was not without some flaws. The biggest of these came from my love of swimming underwater and my lack of swimming goggles. I know that doing this will usually result in some hazy vision due to the chlorine, but mine started going hazy within half an hour of being in the water. And by the time we got out to lounge and read while we waited, it was pretty hazy indeed.
After an hour and a half, I got a text from my sister that they were headed our way for the "tour" so the wife and I got back in the water and hid behind the lip of the pool until we heard them approach some minutes later. Then we popped up from the water and surprised Dad but good. We later were able to get him to admit that he suspected we would be there, but that he'd had second thoughts when we weren't waiting at the apartment.
On the way to dinner, my vision seemed to be getting worse. Usually chlorine haze begins to fade after an hour or two, but mine was increasing to the point that I could barely see due to the haze halos I saw around streetlights. (Fortunately I was not driving.) This didn't stop me from having a fantastic meal at the Cheesecake Factory, of course. I'd never been to one before, though I have eaten cheesecake from there. The food can be pricy, depending on what you order, but is of great quality and satisfying quantity. After all, there's little I hate more than paying a lot of money for an entree and getting two French fries with it. Glad to report that my Fish & Chips had q&q in both the fish and chip departments, and the proportions of everyone else's meals seemed as good.
Before our dessert arrived, I left the table to track down our waiter to let him know that when it came time to bring the bill it was to be given only to me. There were two other men at the table, both known for politely swiping the bill and I wasn't taking any chances on them doing it. Not long after I returned to the table, the waiter brought out our cheesecakes and my dad's had whipped cream and a candle. The wait staff did the traditional Happy Birthday and we dug in. I immediately asked the wife and the sister if they'd told the waiter about the birthday, because I hadn't mentioned it. They'd assumed I had. Now, we must have mentioned it aloud at some point during the meal for the waiter to have overheard it but it was an impressive pull all the same.
When it came time for the bill, the waiter brought it to me as ordered. I took a look at it and realized I couldn't see the numbers very well. It was very dim in the Cheesecake Factory and that combined with my still worsening vision made the figure difficult to see without getting comically close to the bill. I didn't want to pass it to anyone else for confirmation, so I finally squinted until I was pretty sure I had it.
The fact that my vision wasn't getting any better disturbed me. The wife suggested that the extra-chlorinated pool might have stripped away some of the essential oils from my eyes, causing them to dry out in the air and not function properly. My dad suggested I smear some Vaseline in them, and in a pinch I might have, but the wife pointed out it wasn't sterile. Instead we popped by Wally World and picked up some medicated ointment, which felt soothing pretty quickly and had reestablished my vision by the time I briefly woke around 2 a.m.
GASTRONOMICAL JOURNAL FOR DAY 2
Breakfast: Casa Maria's Migas platter with extra thick home-baked tortillas. Holy crap this was an amazing meal and the best tortillas I've had stateside. We ordered extra just to sit and inhale their heavenly aroma.
Lunch: Quick light lunch of pastries we bought at Casa Maria's bakery.
Dinner: Cheesecake Factory fish & chips platter, Adam's Peanut Butter Cup Cheesecake
Beer Journal Day Two: Blue Moon from Cheesecake Factory, with a slice of lemon, chosen because a friend of the sister's told me to always bet on Belgian when it came to beer. He was right. Delish. Bought a six-pack of it later.
Our next item on the agenda was to crap on Dad's expectation that we were indeed in Austin to give us at least a small surprise buffer for all our sneaky planning effort. It wouldn't do for the sister to pick the `rents up from the airport and bring them back to her place to find us waiting there. It would be much better for there to be no evidence of our presence at all and for us to be elsewhere entirely. She could let them relax around her place for a good couple of hours, then take them out to dinner that night, where they would find us waiting at the restaurant. Not having a car, and not being willing to rent one to pull off that gag, we'd toyed with the idea of simply whiling the time away at the shopping center near our chosen restaurant, the Cheesecake Factory. Something about this plan seemed frought with potential to go awry, though. It would be just like Dad to suddenly develop an aversion to cheesecake or a stomach concern that would not allow for the consumption of tasty food. We'd have to reveal the "surprise" and then the joke would be on us.
Instead, the wife and I decided to go swimming in her apartment's pool, figuring we could work off some of our Kerbey Lane brunch and while away a couple hours. The sister could pick them up, bring them back, lull them into a false sense of our nonpresence for a while (our luggage well hidden) and then offer to take them on a tour of the complex that would end at the pool, where we would be waiting.
The plan worked like a charm, though the ultimate execution was not without some flaws. The biggest of these came from my love of swimming underwater and my lack of swimming goggles. I know that doing this will usually result in some hazy vision due to the chlorine, but mine started going hazy within half an hour of being in the water. And by the time we got out to lounge and read while we waited, it was pretty hazy indeed.
After an hour and a half, I got a text from my sister that they were headed our way for the "tour" so the wife and I got back in the water and hid behind the lip of the pool until we heard them approach some minutes later. Then we popped up from the water and surprised Dad but good. We later were able to get him to admit that he suspected we would be there, but that he'd had second thoughts when we weren't waiting at the apartment.
On the way to dinner, my vision seemed to be getting worse. Usually chlorine haze begins to fade after an hour or two, but mine was increasing to the point that I could barely see due to the haze halos I saw around streetlights. (Fortunately I was not driving.) This didn't stop me from having a fantastic meal at the Cheesecake Factory, of course. I'd never been to one before, though I have eaten cheesecake from there. The food can be pricy, depending on what you order, but is of great quality and satisfying quantity. After all, there's little I hate more than paying a lot of money for an entree and getting two French fries with it. Glad to report that my Fish & Chips had q&q in both the fish and chip departments, and the proportions of everyone else's meals seemed as good.
Before our dessert arrived, I left the table to track down our waiter to let him know that when it came time to bring the bill it was to be given only to me. There were two other men at the table, both known for politely swiping the bill and I wasn't taking any chances on them doing it. Not long after I returned to the table, the waiter brought out our cheesecakes and my dad's had whipped cream and a candle. The wait staff did the traditional Happy Birthday and we dug in. I immediately asked the wife and the sister if they'd told the waiter about the birthday, because I hadn't mentioned it. They'd assumed I had. Now, we must have mentioned it aloud at some point during the meal for the waiter to have overheard it but it was an impressive pull all the same.
When it came time for the bill, the waiter brought it to me as ordered. I took a look at it and realized I couldn't see the numbers very well. It was very dim in the Cheesecake Factory and that combined with my still worsening vision made the figure difficult to see without getting comically close to the bill. I didn't want to pass it to anyone else for confirmation, so I finally squinted until I was pretty sure I had it.
The fact that my vision wasn't getting any better disturbed me. The wife suggested that the extra-chlorinated pool might have stripped away some of the essential oils from my eyes, causing them to dry out in the air and not function properly. My dad suggested I smear some Vaseline in them, and in a pinch I might have, but the wife pointed out it wasn't sterile. Instead we popped by Wally World and picked up some medicated ointment, which felt soothing pretty quickly and had reestablished my vision by the time I briefly woke around 2 a.m.
GASTRONOMICAL JOURNAL FOR DAY 2
Breakfast: Casa Maria's Migas platter with extra thick home-baked tortillas. Holy crap this was an amazing meal and the best tortillas I've had stateside. We ordered extra just to sit and inhale their heavenly aroma.
Lunch: Quick light lunch of pastries we bought at Casa Maria's bakery.
Dinner: Cheesecake Factory fish & chips platter, Adam's Peanut Butter Cup Cheesecake
Beer Journal Day Two: Blue Moon from Cheesecake Factory, with a slice of lemon, chosen because a friend of the sister's told me to always bet on Belgian when it came to beer. He was right. Delish. Bought a six-pack of it later.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Surprising Septuagenarians in the South West (or "Eating Like An Asshole Week: Day 1")
It's been kind of quiet here on the blog, but not quiet in my life. Unfortunately, I couldn't write about any of it for fear of spoilers.
See the wife and I flew out to Austin, TX, last week to stay with my sister for a few days. Beyond the fact that we love hanging out with my sister and LOOOOOVE Austin--particularly its food--we had a primary goal before us as well, which was to surprise my dad on his 70th birthday.
Back in June, I approached my step-mother, Myra, about Dad's impending October birthday and mentioned that the wife and I thought it would be fun to throw him a surprise birthday party. In our envisioned plan, we and my sister would fly in to my home town in Starkville, MS, a day or so before the party, stay with friends, have everything set up for the party in advance (place to have it, food, etc.) and then on his birthday Myra would take Dad out for a small birthday dinner only to turn up at the party location where we would be waiting with all of his friends. He'd be surprised, have fun and we'd all eat heartilly and party til dawn or 9:30, whichever came first. Myra thought this sounded good. Naturally, Dad wasn't going to make it that easy.
Not long after we returned home to Borderland, Myra informed us that Dad had announced that there was a reunion of F-8 pilots in Dallas on his birthday and he wanted to go to it. He was a pilot in the Navy and flew F-8s for a couple months. He'd even contacted the organizers for permission to crash it--the reunion, not the F-8s. So we decided to relocate the party to my sister's in Austin, because Dad would certainly pop over to see her for at least a day if he was in the area. Of course, no sooner had we all adjusted the plan then Dad called to let us know he was going to be in Texas on his birthday in case we wanted to come down... HINT HINT.
Dammit!
We decided that even if he hoped we would come, we wouldn't say anything about it and would actively make like we weren't planning to come. Besides, it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for Dad to change his mind about the trip. We went ahead and bought plane tickets and left it to Myra to convince Dad not to change his mind.
A couple weeks ago, my sister called to point out a flaw in the plan. While we'd assumed Dad & Myra would stay in a hotel while they were in Austin, allowing us to stay with my sister, Dad would be assuming they'd be staying with the sister and wouldn't make reservations. It was a good point. So we let him go on thinking that and reserved a hotel for them as part of the birthday present package.
Meanwhile, we were becoming increasingly of the opinion that Dad wasn't going to be surprised in the least at us showing up for his birthday--after all, he'd suggested it. And while we couldn't count on the surprise factor being strong, we could at least play with the execution of it in ways he wasn't expecting, thus leading to something of a surprise.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
GASTRONOMICAL JOURNAL FOR DAY 1
Breakfast: shitfer waffles, a bagel and a banana at the hotel we stayed at in Charlotte (where our room smelled like feet and that was the nicest thing we could say about it).
Lunch: A hamburger, fries and a breakfast burrito, plus several bites of the wife's gingerbread pancakes at Kerbey Lane.
Dinner: Indian Food from a nearby buffet.
Beer Journal Entry #1: Lobotomy Bock (which was bitter and not to my liking), and my safety beer choice of Dos Equis Ambar.
See the wife and I flew out to Austin, TX, last week to stay with my sister for a few days. Beyond the fact that we love hanging out with my sister and LOOOOOVE Austin--particularly its food--we had a primary goal before us as well, which was to surprise my dad on his 70th birthday.
Back in June, I approached my step-mother, Myra, about Dad's impending October birthday and mentioned that the wife and I thought it would be fun to throw him a surprise birthday party. In our envisioned plan, we and my sister would fly in to my home town in Starkville, MS, a day or so before the party, stay with friends, have everything set up for the party in advance (place to have it, food, etc.) and then on his birthday Myra would take Dad out for a small birthday dinner only to turn up at the party location where we would be waiting with all of his friends. He'd be surprised, have fun and we'd all eat heartilly and party til dawn or 9:30, whichever came first. Myra thought this sounded good. Naturally, Dad wasn't going to make it that easy.
Not long after we returned home to Borderland, Myra informed us that Dad had announced that there was a reunion of F-8 pilots in Dallas on his birthday and he wanted to go to it. He was a pilot in the Navy and flew F-8s for a couple months. He'd even contacted the organizers for permission to crash it--the reunion, not the F-8s. So we decided to relocate the party to my sister's in Austin, because Dad would certainly pop over to see her for at least a day if he was in the area. Of course, no sooner had we all adjusted the plan then Dad called to let us know he was going to be in Texas on his birthday in case we wanted to come down... HINT HINT.
Dammit!
We decided that even if he hoped we would come, we wouldn't say anything about it and would actively make like we weren't planning to come. Besides, it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for Dad to change his mind about the trip. We went ahead and bought plane tickets and left it to Myra to convince Dad not to change his mind.
A couple weeks ago, my sister called to point out a flaw in the plan. While we'd assumed Dad & Myra would stay in a hotel while they were in Austin, allowing us to stay with my sister, Dad would be assuming they'd be staying with the sister and wouldn't make reservations. It was a good point. So we let him go on thinking that and reserved a hotel for them as part of the birthday present package.
Meanwhile, we were becoming increasingly of the opinion that Dad wasn't going to be surprised in the least at us showing up for his birthday--after all, he'd suggested it. And while we couldn't count on the surprise factor being strong, we could at least play with the execution of it in ways he wasn't expecting, thus leading to something of a surprise.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
GASTRONOMICAL JOURNAL FOR DAY 1
Breakfast: shitfer waffles, a bagel and a banana at the hotel we stayed at in Charlotte (where our room smelled like feet and that was the nicest thing we could say about it).
Lunch: A hamburger, fries and a breakfast burrito, plus several bites of the wife's gingerbread pancakes at Kerbey Lane.
Dinner: Indian Food from a nearby buffet.
Beer Journal Entry #1: Lobotomy Bock (which was bitter and not to my liking), and my safety beer choice of Dos Equis Ambar.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Small Deaths #9 : Behold a Fresh Victim
(An ongoing pictorial series chronicling the poor, small, stuffed animals my dog Sadie has murdered during the course of her life. Not for the faint of heart.)
Oops. Called that one a bit quick.
Oops. Called that one a bit quick.
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