“You can, apparently, rent laptop computers at the Austin airport. And they have airport Salt Lick and Amy’s Ice Cream. In case you need that one last little taste before you go back to wherever. I already had my Salt Lick. We’ve got another couple of hours until our flight, which is more than enough time to shove in some Mexican Vanilla from Amy’s and maybe a brisket sandwich. One more Shiner. I’m not actually hungry, though, since I’m still working on that Freebird’s from last night. And the pepperoni rolls from Double Dave’s. I had both for dinner. Yes. Both. A king among peasants.” — Christastrophe
I was just talking about Double Dave’s pepperoni rolls last night. And on a night like this, some Salt Lick would be perfect. With a Shiner. Austin gives me food nostalgia. Continue reading
When the Ghetto Gourmet comes to your town, don’t miss the chance to eat good food in a stranger’s house. You might end up reuniting with old friends. Tandi, Julie, David (not pictured) and I worked together more than ten years ago at UT. Chef Josh was our boss back then, and that man has a way to make your evening turn into… well, kind of what you see here.
May I also recommend taking your balloon-animal-hat party over to Brass Monkey for late-night, reckless Karaoke.
Yesterday I made a list of people I needed to call to schedule appointments. At the top of the list: allergist. Mom called yesterday morning and said, “Have you seen the wheat doctor yet? I really want you to be able to eat bread again.” I think the next time I come to town, she’d like to be able to serve “normal food” again. It’s very difficult to eat like a proper Polish girl without pierogies. Also, I don’t like life as much without pierogies. Continue reading
Damn you, Kelly Clarkson.
If you had walked into my bedroom any night of my high school years, there was a 85% chance you were going to hear this album playing. I would often turn it on to mask the fact that I was on the phone, hiding under the covers, in the dark. The opening notes of this song still remind me of staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, tears in my eyes, my fingers tangled in phone cord, as I yearned to be wherever it was the person holding the other end of the line was standing.