Austin Field Notes

After my first visit to the People's Republic, with a bullet, straight to the top of the pops, Austin is my new favorite city. Jessica and I went down there for the wedding celebration of our friends, Ruby and Jorge. Here's a run-down:

FRIDAY:
From the moment we get off the plane, it's clear that live music is decidedly a core element of this town's landscape. There's a good band playing rhythm & blues, in the permanent Asleep At The Wheel stage situated right in the middle of everything, among the food court and bookstores, in an area through which anyone walking between the gates, baggage claim, security and ground transportation must walk. Austin sets the tone: the first and last thing you experience about this place is good live music. As we'd experience at every turn during this trip, the tunes are not just a bookend, it's the very fabric of the city.

The Hotel San Jose - checking into our super cool bungalow-style hotel is delightful. One step into the lobby and we see framed showbills from local clubs of Buddy Buy, B.B. King, Bobby Bland, Bobby Womack... behind the front desk is a Fabulous Thunderbirds showbill... the courtyard and outdoor lounge areas are cozy and tranquil for sitting, breakfast, a snack or cocktail.




Now we're checked in and whattaya know, it's happy hour! We're in the SoCo neighborhood (South Congress Ave.), and right across the street is the awesome Continental Club, where the Mighty Blue Kings used to play when I worked for them in the late 90s. Happy hour here means no cover + live music with the Blues Specialists. We enjoy a couple ice-cold Lone Stars and step across the street for a dinner of small plates at Snack Bar. The baked brie + diced pear, braised pork belly sliders, my my my... Now, we're off to The Highball, a Vegas-style combination diner, bowling alley, and first-class music venue where our just-married friends are headlining a rockabilly bill with their band, Ruby Dee & the Snakehandlers.

After a message from my friend Skeeter, a Texas man I work with in Seattle, we change beers. I believe he wrote, "Lone Star is Texas piss water. Try Shiner Bock, now that's a beer." We follow his tip and we're happy for it. Shiner Bock is a good beer, indeed. Next, we head back to the hotel (it's midnight) but first check what's going on at the Continental. It's a CD release show with legendary guitarist and ex-Fabulous Thunderbird, Kid Ramos, with his band Los Fabulocos. It's a fun blend of rhythm & blues with a mariachi front and a mambo back. Here's a minute or two of Kid tearing the place apart during a guitar-and-drums break:

And we're ALMOST done with our first night in Austin. A block up the road is the highly recommended pizza joint, Homeslice. A couple slices later, and we're quietly resting back at the hotel.

SATURDAY:
Room service breakfast today, which we ordered yesterday. Here, room service means a phone call from the front desk advising, "we'll meet ya in the courtyard in 5 minutes." Fresh fruit with cream and chocolate, croissants, a ham & cheese omelet for me, french toast for her, an urn of coffee, fresh OJ and a bottle of champagne (Jessica is a sucker for a mimosa).


Now we're off to Ruby and Jorge's house for their backyard BBQ wedding celebration. They cured some meats over the last few days for BBQ and the sides + desserts are pot luck. We bring a couple dozen cupcakes we got from a truck. Food trucks are an increasingly popular source of higher-end cuisine across the U.S. (makes sense, if the 3 most critical factors in the success or failure of a small business are location, location, and location: put your show on wheels, baby!), they're huge in Austin. Jessica is such a cupcake aficionado, she refers to herself as The Cupcake Tourist and has long considered writing a travel book using that motif and title. These are the best cupcakes we've ever had. Hey, Cupcake!

But we digest... the wedding party is simply perfect. Ruby and Jorge have always been the best hosts, as we know from previous Thanksgiving dinners at their place when they were our neighbors in Seattle. There's a traditional Tex-Mex band playing on the patio. People take turns working the grill and serving beverages. In a few hours, we enjoy more sunlight than we have during Seattle's first 100 days of 2011. Literally. The National Weather Service confirms this. Look it up.


Jorge dancing with his mom:

Now, after all this sun, it's nap time! We sleep heavy and long, wake up later than we want to, but a late start is better than no start. On Ruby's tip, we hit Curra's Grill for the best Mexican food we've ever had. We start with a Mexican Martini (that would be a margarita) and I can't even recall what Jessica had because my dish knocked me right on my tooshie. The Carnitas comes with your tortilla of choice (I'm a flour guy), guacamole, pico de gallo, beans of choice (I'm a pinto guy), rice, sour cream, diced tomato, and now for the money shot: shredded pork marinated in Coca-Cola, milk, and OJ. That's right. Ch-ch-checkitOUT:


After the Mexican gut bomb, we head out to the legendary traditional honkey tonk The Broken Spoke where longtime owner James White stands by the host area to greet every customer with a smile and a "thank you" on our way in. Class, defined. On stage, the similarly legendary Dale Watson puts a smile on every face and a Texas 2-step in every body ("slow, quick-quick, slow"). The audience spans 3 generations, from the twentysomethings to the barely above ground and everything in between. Skeeter has mentioned "dress jeans" and I've made fun of him, but here I see it and now I get it. Picture a guy wearing a nicely polished pair of boots, a pressed button-down cowboy shirt, his hair perfectly combed beneath a proper cowboy hat. What kind of britches is that guy gonna wear? Dark, unfaded, ironed, DRESS JEANS. Seriously, Skeeter, I swear: now I get it.



After a couple hours, we head back to home base. Above the Continental Club, there's an art gallery with a Hammond B-3 jazz trio playing. We sit at the small bar, have a couple libations and enjoy this ass-kicking ensemble for an hour or so before crossing the street for bedtime. Okay, maybe we hit Homeslice for some late-nite pizza, but this can be neither confirmed nor denied as the details were a little blurry at this point.

SUNDAY:
Okay, apparently we DID get a couple slices last night, judging by the box on the table. Good thing I kept the room temperature somewhere in the high 40s - the room is a fridge and we can share that one slice to tide us over before..
SUNDAY GOSPEL BRUNCH AT STUBB'S BBQ. This place is legendary, with an occupancy capacity of 519 it's where (for example) Tom Waits launched his "comeback" in '99, and in the 70s musicians who would “play for their supper” included Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Robert Cray, George Thorogood, Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, Linda Ronstadt and the Fabulous Thunderbirds. The brunch is amazing - for $18 (or $15 if you don't need a stagefront view of the band) we get every bit of what (for example, and no disrespect to HoB) we've gladly paid $40 at the House of Blues. Below: Biscuit + gravy, migas con chorizo y queso, garlic cheese grits, creme spinach, cornmeal-rolled catfish. Bacon.

I did not photograph Round Two: The Brisket. Some things are best kept private. Hey, did I mention the awesome gospel group? I'm an agnostic jerkbag, but I really enjoy me some uplifting gospel music.

After the brunch, we ask for a wheel barrel to get us outta there. Alas, no dice.

I'll say this about Stubb's and it applies to every place we hit all weekend: AWESOME staff, everyone is either happy to be there or they're doing an Oscar-worthy job of selling it - which I wouldn't buy, because my BS meter is sharp. People here are just nice and friendly and I believe it truly is that simple.

Yard Dog Gallery - after brunch, we hobble into the art gallery owned by a guy I've rubbed elbows with over the years enough to say I know 'im (a certain number of shared beers, tequila shots and a burger may be involved in this equation - not to assume he knows me, as I'm certain the aforementioned shared experiences don't put me in a particularly exclusive category!), in my opinion the truest Renaissance Man of our time, the great Jon Langford.

Back at the hotel, we nap, then turn on the television for the first time. Taylor. Newman. Ives. Ah, the film adaptation of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. What would a Tennessee Williams play be without booze, junk, and family drama?

Sunday night, we hit Antone's, the blues club from where the early careers of the Fabulous Thunderbirds and Stevie Ray Vaughan were launched. It's an Austin Blues Society membership drive event. I'm skeptical because this event in most cities (I've been to a few of 'em) registers somewhere between lousy and lame. But not here. Three bands and they all killed. They'd all be weekend headliners in any other city. 80something LEGEND Lavelle White shows up and rocks a few tunes. Amazing.



For a late dinner, we hit some place which is apparently well-known and a tourist trap for a bite. Jessica gets forgettable tamales and queso. I get unforgettable chilled shots of Sammy Hagar's Cabo Wabo tequila. It's our last night, so I step back into the Continental Club for a few minutes. It's Sunday and this is the club's THIRD show tonight. In most cities, venues are more commonly closed on Sunday. Not here. Playing here every Sunday is a cool, gritty, real country band called Heybale. It's a CD release show for them. I get a shot of Jameson with a water back, buy a CD and a bumper sticker, and return to the hotel within 30 minutes after promising Jessica I'd return within ten. [a] who can get across the street, pay a cover, have a drink, catch a couple tunes and cross the street again in ten minutes? [2] hey, some guys get lap dances, I get a drink and catch some music! Upon return, I'm far from in trouble. In fact, we "rent" a free DVD from the front desk. Fishing With John, the short-lived (six episodes) 1991 t.v. series. We watch the Tom Waits episode and then fall asleep during the Dennis Hopper. Rather than describe this, it's best that you set aside 7-8 minutes:


MONDAY:
We sleep in and hit Amy's Ice Cream. That's right, ice cream for breakfast. We're on vacation. Don't judge.

And now, for our last official act... we'll drive a bit to the town of Driftwood to experience what we've heard and will soon understand as the world's greatest BBQ. Salt Lick. A half-hour drive from the City Limits and (understatement) worth it, this fanfare-free and cash-only BYOB joint is simply the best and in a class of its own. The property is unpaved, the signs hand-made, the vibe warm & welcoming and everything about the service comes with the kind of laid-back slice of pleasantry that we city people tend to doubt. In other words: perfect. The brisket, ribs, sausage, potato salad, baked beans... best I've ever had.

Now THAT's a BBQ:


Austin, Texas. Big, clean, collegiate, progressive, easily navigated, good eatin', arts and culture everywhere, my new favorite town.