OMG @ SXSW

The evening started out just right as I wove my way through medium traffic to the airport and out walked  my accomplice for the first night of SXSW. Perfect timing. She smoothly slipped into the car and all I could think was: Gentleman, start your engines.

Twenty minutes later we walked into Second Bar & Kitchen, it was love at first sight.  

Baby let me love you down

 
There's so many ways to love ya

GIN & JAM

 Baby I can break ya down  
There's so many ways to love ya

Got me like oh my god, i'm so in love.

 

BLACK TRUFFLE POMME FRITES 

I found you finally, you make me want to say.  
Oh,oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh my gosh.

 Girl you know i'm lovin your, your style.  
Check, check, check, checkin you out. 

Just to be clear, I'm borrowing Usher's lyrics here to describe my infatuation with this place, a star in it's own right on Congress. The lyrics are also intended to give my offspring a clever reminder that mommy wants to attend an Usher concert this spring.

The sign that hung above the bartender, who could do a friendly chat while mixing a precision beverage, said it all. I like a place that can show a sense of humor and keep it's oh so perfect interior from appearing too pretentious.

We ordered up a unique cocktail duo they call Gin & Jam. It is actually straight up Gin with your choice of sweet and savory jams (Strawberry & Basil or Pineapple & Cumin). It was a strong way to start the night just right.

We needed a quick bite to go with our powerful drinks and I had read rave reviews about the Black Truffle Pomme Frites. These little beauties, along with the Baked Ricotta & Goat Cheese did such a fine job of soaking up the alcohol we were ingesting, I credit them with keeping us out of any real trouble.

Never ever ever has a lady hit me on the first sight.  
This was somethin' special,  
This was just like dynamite. 

Well thought out design elements like the mixed seating and a variety of intriguing light fixtures provides a visually pleasing interior. The style factor continued in what appeared to be well seasoned wait staff who kept things moving at a relaxed pace. Even the graphic logo on the "Second Bar & Kitchen" is snappy.

She got it all.  
Sexy from her head to toe.  
And I want it all and all and all. 

Describes the dessert menu perfectly

Now you know I'm particularly nosy about everyone's dessert menu. It's my obligation as the mother of a pastry chef to keep an eye out for intriguing sweets. Taste combinations that the ordinary person would not think of were abundant.

What, you've never had foie gras butter cream atop of your oatmeal cookie? It just went on from there: blue cheese brulee with apple butter, chocolate sticky pudding with bacon ice cream, brownies with smoked ganache and orange pop rocks for goodness sakes. Did I mention the brown butter ice cream?

The only negative of the evening was the tiny sized portion of ice cream on top of the miniature pecan  tartlet. Even that could not dampen my blossoming enthusiasm for my new favorite spot on Congress Avenue.

If you're out at SXSW this week and run across my beloved Blissdom roomate make sure you give her a big Austin welcome. She'll probably look something like this:

Honey got a booty like, pow, pow, pow.  
Honey got some moves like wow oh wow.  
Girl you know i'm lovin your, your style.  
Check, check, check, checkin you out. 

OK, so this time I am professing my crush on my date for the night, the incomparable Margo Millure. You can check her out to at as the founder of The Travel Belles, where she'll tell you how to escape the cul-de-sac.

Right Back Where We Left Off

The frigid Chicago wind blew me in as I opened  the door of Bin 36. I walked  through the wine bar scanning for my query and I spotted her right away. Still tall and lanky, dark headed, subtly classy and graceful. I strode over and drummed my fingers on the tinny bar top. Instant smiles and hugs. She had ordered a Cosmo, I went for a glass of the house red. We chatted a few minutes as our grown sons arrived and scooted up to the bar.

My experienced lice picking eyes spotted a white speck in her otherwise very dark hair. Naturally I just leaned over and plucked the offending fuzz out of her hair. Right away the Prince is shocked, “ you haven’t seen her in 20 years and you’re picking her head like a mother gorilla?”  He continued, asking both of us, “don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

We just looked at each other and cracked up. It should have been odd, but it wasn’t. We were the kind of comfortable neighborhood friends who always had each others back. Peas and carrots. She’s the only thing I missed when we moved away from Chicago. And it was oh so good to share a table with her once again.

Andra & the son who is not a doctor

Ryan, no stranger to fun, tolerated my lick your mother commands

Trio of terror when they were wee tots

When my husband moved me to Chicago in the late 80’s for a climb up the corporate ladder, I was a reluctant participant. I had 3 little babies under the age of 6 and I had just lost my best friend (my mom) to breast cancer. It was the lowest point in my life. I was raw emotionally and functioning like a zombie.

It was a sunny, beautiful day when we pulled into our new neighborhood and stopped in front of our large (in my eyes) new home. I did what many crazy young mothers would do. I burst out in tears (and I am not a crier), “ I don’t want to live here with a bunch of rich snobs.”  I have to admit I fought liking anything about our job transfer. But I am, if nothing else, a practical puss. School was starting in one week and I had to deal. So, I did.

Swansway turned out to be, by far the most kickin’ neighborhood I have ever lived in.We lived, loved, fought, cock tailed, birthday partied and had pick up basketball games in each other's driveways. When we were selling our house 3 years later I remember telling buyers, “you may find hundreds of homes around here as nice, or nicer than this one, but you will not find a better bunch of neighbors.” And I can honestly say all of my 8 neighborhoods since then have been a disappointment. I’m still looking for a place that compares.

Andra comes from a big Greek family and her husband Mike was from a big Irish gang. I was fascinated by them. We had children around the same ages and we all clicked. Even Raymondo, who tends to be an introvert, couldn’t resist their magnetic pull. We were willingly sucked into their ethnic gregariousness and enjoyed every minute of it. We traded kids, recipes, ideas, secrets. When having to run out to do a preschool pick up we’d drop off the handset of the baby monitor so we would’t have to wake up napping wee ones. That’s trust!

I think I learned the art of hospitality from this friend of mine. She’s an intuitive cook capable of hosting large gatherings with amazing food. Yet she could make a party on the spot with a couple cans of tuna fish, bread and salad out of nothing. I was always so jealous she could dress a salad perfectly by shaking in some red wine vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper. I’m still making several of her family recipes on a regular basis, and now my grown kids are repeating the process.

One night, after having had a couples night out for dinner, Andra called to announce she was in labor. We shared a history of having a baby born at home. Armed with a fancy camera and their video camera, I recorded their only daughter’s birth. Let me tell you this tall Greek knew how to get down to business when it came to birthing babies! A few hours later I was back at home in bed basking in the nuance that only comes with the smell of amniotic fluid, blood and a newborn’s cry. (Sorry if that is too graphic for some of you weenies).

A few years after our move from the Chicago area,we met up to go on a trip to California together for an extended weekend. It was March and the weather was dreary and drizzly. Not exactly what you travel to the west coast for.

We  spent one morning out in the weather at the San Diego Zoo. This is where my husband received his nick name of Rain man. He doesn’t always play well with others, forever wandering around to the beat of his own drummer. After losing him several times, Andra’s husband Mike (who is funny let me tell you) saddled him with that moniker and it’s pretty much stuck and gotten shortened to Ray and transitioned into Raymondo, in honor of the popular Tom Cruise/Dustin Hoffman movie Rain Man.

Mike was probably fantasizing being Tom Cruise while imagining my husband in the role of Ray. After 2 days we gave up and drove to Palm Springs to spend a few days in sunny desert warmth.

Thanks to the wonders of social media we have reconnected some 20 years later. You may be wondering why, if we were such similar peas in a pod, we didn’t do a better job staying in touch?

The things that we had in common got in the way of that, I’d have to say. We expanded our families since then, she has 4 boys and 1 girl. I have 5 girls and 1 boy. Both being creative, ambitious and strong women, we share having the role of being the rock of our families. That job description is all encompassing in the time and energy department and leaves time for little else. If you are the rock in your family, you know exactly what I mean.

Do we look like rocks? I assure you, we are

When your bosom buddy is not readily available at the whisper in a phone or a baby monitor... you cope and life goes on.  Considering our age, I think we’re both still smokin’ hot. After as many babies as we have had no one could blame us if we had gone to fat or taken to padding around in house dresses and slippers.

It’s given me a gift to rekindle my love for this woman. I’m flooded with memories I didn’t even remember I had.  Yet, you know how it is when you look someone else in the face and you recognize the look of pain buried deep in the eyes? The economy of the Midwest in particular, and life in general has taken a toll on the both of us. I know it without even asking. The older I get, the more I recognize that no matter how perfect someone’s life looks, I guarantee you it isn’t. Everyone has their stuff to deal with.

Later that night, cleaning up the kitchen at the pimp pad, my son had some astute observations. He was truly amazed that his old buddy’s mother and I  would still have so much in common after all these years. We have been traveling a similar and parallel path. Finally, he met another peer’s mother who is so fiercely connected to their adult children, without being overbearing. “My God Mom, she’s just like you! She likes to hang out, and you can see they like hanging out with her too! She just mans up and hops the train to Chicago on a whim, exactly the same thing you’ve been known to do.”

It’s true. Two woman whose paths crossed a couple decades ago.

I do declare the conversation between us has just begun again.