National Pie Day

I was reminded by an article in today's newspaper that today is National Pie Day, and while I normally am a cynic about such pronouncements – most of which are designed to advance some crass commercial agenda – I must make an exception for this one, which celebrates what is surely one of the high points of God's creation.

There are very few things in life that can't be improved by the liberal application of pie. To paraphrase the esteemed philosopher and raconteur, Pogo, the health of the world improves with each dose of Vitamin Pie. This philosophy can – and should – be applied to famous quotes, as well. To wit:

• When you come to a pie in the road, take it. (Yogi Berra)


• A pie in time saves nine. (Ben Franklin)


• 100% of the pies you don't take don't go in. (Hockey legend Wayne Gretzky)


• To pie or not to pie, that is the question. (Shakespeare, and the answer is obvious, isn't it?)


• You can have everything in life that you want if you just give enough other people pie. (Zig Ziglar)


• Great pies are performed, not by strength, but by perseverance. (Samuel Johnson)


• I never met a pie I didn't like. (Will Rogers)


• Outside of a pie, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a pie, it's too dark to read. (Groucho Marx)


• Pie is more important than knowledge. (Albert Einstein)


• Pie is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. (Robert Frost)

I hope this has been edifying because, after all, a day without pie is like a day without sunshine. And, the answer to the question I know is burning in your mind: it's cherry, followed closely by chocolate cream with chocolate sprinkles on top. If you need a delivery address, you know how to contact me.

Best Mexican Food in Midland?

I have all kinds of ideas for serious, thought-provoking, pithy posts. But, really, there's not much in life more important than good Tex-Mex, so those other things will wait. Plus, it's Janie's fault for bringing up Wall Street Bar and Grill.

Here's my list for where to find the best Tex-Mex/Mexican dishes in town. Feel free to try to convince me otherwise.

• Fajitas - Romie's


• Stacked Enchiladas - Abuelo's (especially with a fried egg on top)


• Asado - Dos Compadres


• Tortilla Soup - Jorge's (Big Spring & Loop 250; recipe is different at Midland Drive location)


• Tacos (plain) - Rosa's


• Tacos (exotic) - Casa Lopez (Soft Tacos Durango: beef, chorizo, avocado, fresh pico de gallo in soft corn tortillas)


• Nachos - Dos Compadres


• Seafood Enchiladas - Cancun Grill


• Huevos Rancheros - Wall Street Bar and Grill (I know, I know...but have you ever tried 'em?)


• Breakfast Burritos - Jumburrito (chorizo, huevos y queso con salsa verde)


• Chips & Salsa - Tie: On the Border & Abuelo's


• Brisket - Casa Lopez


• Chile Relleno (traditional) - Dos Compadres


• Chile Relleno (exotic) - Cancun Grill (shrimp and crab smothered with corn queso)

Notably missing from my list are nominations for best sopapillas, flan, menudo, rolled enchiladas, and non-breakfast burritos. It's about time you guys started pulling your weight around here!

All's right with the world, again

I snapped this photo *before* completing my shopping trip. If you were at H-E-B this morning after 9:04 a.m., you saw a different scene. Better luck next time.

None is the loneliest number

I've decided that the Gazette's theme for 2008 will be a daily cellphone photo of dubious quality taken inside a grocery store to illustrate and even define the great issues of life. I'm pretty sure I have the material to stretch this through, oh, say, today.

Halloween came early today, as I was confronted by this horrific scene at the local market:

These sadly empty shelves are where the Blue Bell ice cream is supposed to be. If you squinch your eyes in just the right fashion, you'll make out two lonely half gallon cartons of Breyer's, which are probably left over from 2006.

I think you'll agree that this is a problem of apocalyptic magnitude. Someone needs to do something.

But what would you pair with a nice tapioca?

We spent the holiday weekend at Kyle's country estate (well, what would you call a house that has its own professional recording studio?) outside of Austin, from which we ventured forth to engage in activities as varied as a half day browse through the Ikea store, a quick visit to the Apple store (more about that later), and a couple of visits to the neighborhood H-E-B grocery store.

While cruising the aisles at the market, this label caught my eye, and I had to share it with you via camera pic:

Now, I'm far from being an oenophile – most of the humor in Sideways escaped me completely – so I'm completely at a loss to concoct a scenario under which one might be charged with writing a description of a recommended wine/food pairing and the comestible that comes to mind would be rice pudding.

OTOH, depending on how you feel about rice pudding (I happen to like it, by the way, and I know at least one other highly intelligent and respected blogger who shares that affection), one definition of hell might be the provision of an infinite supply of the gooey confection along with the charge to find the wine that best accompanies it – with the diabolical twist being the requirement that the wine cost less than $8.

"Hello, my name is Phineas and I'll be your lunch for today..."

MLB met a few of her friends for their traditional Christmas luncheon yesterday and she snapped a camera photo of one of their entrées.

They didn't think the presentation was intentional, but if you're planning on having lunch at Café at the Gardens, please order the chicken salad sandwich and give us a report as to whether yours resembles a Sesame Street character.

OK, in order to preempt an exposé on Snopes.com, we will confess that the "nose" was added after-the-fact. But everything else came straight from the kitchen in the state you see it.

I think I've set a record for using "é" in a post. Whether I've used it correctly is a whole other issue.

Cinnin' and Grinnin'

The news that Jack in the Box is coming to Midland didn't set off any fireworks in my personal universe. It's been so long since I've sampled its wares that I forget if there's anything worth getting excited about.

On the other hand, the confirmation that we'll soon have one of these in our neighborhood* is a horse of a different color. I'm a sucker for cinnamon rolls to begin with, and those made by Cinnabon are, frankly, a vice that I can't resist.

Of course, at 730 calories and 24 fat grams (funny; Cinnabon doesn't list nutrition information on its website), I'll have to bicycle close to an extra hour to counteract the effects of one of those bad boys.

Yeah, I can do that. ;-)

*If you live in Midland and haven't yet seen the sign, the new store will be on the south side of Wadley, just east of Loop 250, across from Academy Sports and Mardels. That's right – same general area as the new Jack in the Box. The Cinnabon store will be combined with a Schlotzsky's and a Carvel (I think) ice cream franchise.

What this world needs...

...is more cherry pie.

New Restaurant in Midland

Update (7/18/07): An alert reader visited the restaurant and got some clarification on the name – it is "Southern Velle," not "Southern Belle." The rather unusual title apparently comes from the name of the owner. Thanks, Marci, for the clarification!

I'm a big advocate for locally-owned businesses, and especially restaurants. While there's much to be said for the consistency provided by major chain restaurants, they frankly don't provide much in the way of memorable experiences; one rarely leaves a Chili's or an Olive Garden or an Outback thinking "wow...that was really great!"

So, it's important that for every Outback we have a Wall Street Bar and Grill; for every Olive Garden, we have a Luigi's or a Venezia; for every Chili's, we have a KD's Barbecue or a King and I or a Casa Lopez. It's even better when we have something for which there is no major chain equivalent.

Which brings me to the main point of this post, an introduction to a relatively new restaurant in Midland called "Southern BVelle."* My wife and I learned about it a week ago after a dance class, and we decided to try it out last night, again following a class. And we walked out thinking, "wow...that was really great!"

Southern BVelle is located across the tracks – literally. It's on Terrell Street, just across the railroad tracks that run parallel to Highway 80/Business 20. It's down the block from Birkhead Feed Store, if you know where that is. If you're coming from Odessa and not familiar with the area, take Business 20 past downtown, and turn right at the first traffic light east of Main Street.

It's in a big unassuming block building, painted white; the sign outside declares it to be the home of "Taste of the South with a Touch of Jazz," [Ed. – Slogan corrected] and it lives up to the billing on both counts.

Inside, the place seems as big as a football field, nicely decorated with well-spaced tables sporting white tablecloths. The centerpiece of the restaurant is the large stage at one end, fronted by a spacious dance floor. A few tables are available on the dance floor itself; the remainder of the tables ring the floor, and more are in a separate dining room for those who want a somewhat quieter dining experience.

The restaurant features live music on Friday and Saturday nights. The band last night was Millennium Jazz, and it was excellent. (We recognized the name as it was the featured band for one of the Ballroom Dance Society's monthly affairs that we'd missed due to other commitments.) The band played a mix of jazz and pop standards, from Peggy Lee to Stevie Wonder.

But this is primarily a restaurant, not a dance club – the food is the main attraction – and it didn't disappoint. The menu is eclectic, with the obligatory chicken fried and ribeye steaks and fried catfish, but also featuring items like brown sugar pork chops and homestyle fried chicken, fried cabbage, collard greens, cheese grits, and cornbread that just begs to be drenched and eaten with sweet milk (however good you think the Cracker Barrel is going to be, I assure you their cornbread won't hold a candle to Southern BVelle's).

I had the aforementioned pork chops (you can also get them grilled, without the brown sugar glaze, although I can't imagine why you'd want to); my wife tried grilled chicken breast served with cornbread dressing. We were both quite impressed with the quality of the food, and the Milky Way cake we split for dessert was, simply, delectable. Entrées range in price from about $8 to about $18 (I'm basing this on my imperfect memory, so don't hold me to the exact details).

The service was solicitous, and a bit leisurely, but we didn't mind because the music was so enjoyable. Total cost of the meal, excluding tip (and we just had water to drink) was about $26, and worth every penny.

I'm making a big deal out of this for a couple of reasons. First, as I said at the beginning, I think it's important for Midland to cultivate home-grown businesses, and I hope you'll at least give Southern BVelle a try, and pass the word along if you enjoy it. I especially like the idea of a new business flourishing in a location that hasn't always enjoyed the best of reputations (and even now, it sits adjacent to a less-than-toney nightclub).

Second, there are darned few nice places to go to dance in this area, where the music doesn't showcase a steel guitar and songs about longnecks (neither of which are bad in and of themselves; we just need a bit more diversity, sometimes), and where you can get a good meal in a non-smoking environment. Whether you want to sit and listen to the music, or practice your rumba or foxtrot, Southern BVelle may just be what you've been waiting for.

Give it a try and let me know if you agree with my assessment. The restaurant is open for lunch and dinner (including Sunday lunch).

*Update: There seems to be some confusion as to the name of the restaurant. Here's a scan of an ad that ran in the 7/11/07 edition of our local newspaper:

The stylized text of the restaurant's name matches that on its sign. Perhaps my brain is interpreting the name according to context and past experience, but I read it as "Belle" and not "Velle," even though the font is ambiguous. However, you'll note that the ad proclaims the appearance of the "Southern Velle Jazz Band." So, either the copywriter misinterpreted the name, or I've misinterpreted the sign. I'll have to wait until we return to the restaurant to clear this up, unless some alert and inquisitive reader can do it for us. (And if it is "Velle," I'd really be curious to know what it means. Because as far as I can tell, there's no such word.)

Wherefore art thou, Chantico?

Big companies make big deals out of new products, especially menu additions at retail food and beverage outlets. But the demise of failed products is rarely noted (except, perhaps, by the competition, which can be so catty sometimes).

Thus it is that I've finally put my finger what that hole in the Starbucks menu board once held: the pretentiously-named "Chantico drinking chocolate," the introduction of which I hailed – sort of – two years ago.

It may well have been absent from the Starbucks lineup for a year, for all I know, but I'm just now noticing it. I tried it once, and found that despite assertions to the contrary it is, indeed, possible to have too much of a good thing, even when that good thing is only an ounce or two of melted chocolate. The drink was obscenely rich in calories and fat grams, but this was also at a time when the American public was in thrall to Krispy Kreme, so it's not like the demand for food pørn was unplumbed. It also had an odd flavor, which I decided without the burden of any insight whatsoever was some kind of additive – diesel, perhaps? – designed to keep the chocolate liquefied.

Apparently, people lined up in droves to not order Chantico, and thus it's been relegated to some future entry in a Trivial Pursuit game. But I do have to wonder if somewhere, some poor product designer has an edited Dilbert strip affixed to his or her cubicle memorializing the one that never quite made it out of the infield.

Easter Hill Country Tour 2007

For the past 20+ years, we've spent Easter weekend in the Fredericksburg/Kerrville area of the Texas Hill Country, participating in the aptly named Easter Hill Country Tour, a bicycling event jointly sponsored by the bike clubs of Fort Worth, Lubbock, San Antonio, and Houston. This year's event was the 34th annual tour, and will go down in history as one of the most interesting, thanks primarily to the wintry weather conditions.

Over the years, as we've, um, matured (read: grown wiser), this event has become less about the bicycling and more about enjoying our time together. In the beginning, we were avid (read: stupid) cyclists and rode a couple of centuries -- or, to the uninitiated, 100 mile rides completed in one day. I'm sure there are more difficult feats that the average non-athlete could attempt, but I'm not interested in confirming it.

Nowadays, if we ride 100 miles in three days we're quite pleased with ourselves, and we've found that we can eat just as much -- the real reason people cycle -- plus there's the added bonus of actually being able and willing to get back on the bike without waiting a month.

However, this year's trip holds the distinction of providing the lowest cycling/driving mileage ratio of any that we've taken: almost 800 miles of driving in order to ride 42.4 miles on a bike. More on that later.

Because I'm such a considerate and thoughtful host (read: OCD), I've organized this report into sections, and you can use the following links to skip to the one(s) you find potentially interesting. (I've not, however, provided a link to the bottom of the post so that you can skip the whole thing. Shame on you for even thinking that.)

Sections: The Riding | The Eating | The Bedding & Breakfasting | The Nature Gazing

The Riding

As with most EHCTs, the schedule for the three day weekend consisted of several routes on Friday leaving from Fredericksburg, several routes on Saturday (including the traditional century) leaving from Kerrville, and a couple of relatively short rides on Sunday morning to wrap things up.

We normally try to arrive on Wednesday afternoon in order to do a self-guided ride on Thursday, but MLB's work schedule didn't allow us to leave until Thursday after lunch. Thus we weren't able to get on the bike until Friday morning around 10:30, when we departed from the Fredericksburg courthouse and headed north out of town. Our route took us up Lower Crabapple Road, then to the west within glimpsing distance of the amazing Enchanted Rock, and finally back south into town on the Old Mason Highway until it met up with Highway 87. We could have stretched the route to almost 60 miles with various optional additions, but since our tandem training mileage this year totaled on 130 miles, and despite our realization that the weather forecast didn't bode well for the rest of the weekend, we decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

The ride was enjoyably challenging, hard enough to feel a sense of accomplishment without ever having to resort to on-bike crying (never a good sign). We rode all the hills (not everyone did, but being 70 years old is always a valid excuse in my book), and had some interesting conversations at the rest stops. Our recumbent tandem usually guarantees that we'll get to visit with a few people who are fascinated by the contraption.

We finished the ride feeling as though we could have gone further, but not regretting stopping when we did, particularly since the clouds were beginning to thicken, a precursor to the front that was about to hammer all of Texas.

Here are a few photos snapped by MLB from the back of the bike during the ride; click to view a full-sized uncropped version. From left to right: a view of Enchanted Rock on the steep downhill section of Welgehausen Road, just west of Hwy 965; bluebonnets along Welgehausen Road; more bluebonnets.

The Eating

"Eat to ride. Ride to Eat." That's the cyclist's mantra, and it works remarkably well, even when moderation is exercised on neither account.

Fredericksburg is home to some excellent restaurants, and even though our stay was shorter than usual, we made sure to patronize two of them. We ate dinner Friday night at the restaurant at the Fredericksburg Herb Farm, a cozy little eatery surrounded by all manner of flora, much of which makes it into the dishes the chef prepares.

We took a chance and walked in without reservations -- we tried to call ahead but our cell phones weren't playing well with the local service -- and waited while the hostess consulted with the chef to make sure we were worthy of the honor. I assume we looked sufficiently solvent, and so we were seated, and at one of the prime tables at that. Never underestimate the value of wearing a Fire Ant Gazette hoodie into the finest dining establishments. (Kidding. Really.)

MLB had a fine talapia cooked en papillote, prepared with "Mexican herbs" and served with green rice. Muy delicioso.

Not to be outdone, I had one of the off-menu specials, something you don't normally find in a sit-down restaurant with white linen tablecloths: cabrito. I'm here to tell you that if you ever have a chance to eat cabrito in that setting, don't pass it up. I didn't catch the waitress's explanation of the herbs used in the preparation, despite asking her to repeat it (there was something about "root beer flavor, but very mild"), but that was the best goat I've ever eaten, falling-off-the-bone tender and juicy in that way that only cabrito can be. Normally, Abbye would have benefited from a few carryout scraps, but she was out of luck that night. (I'd ask you not to tell her, but she sniffed my fingers as soon as we got home, and she knew. She's still not speaking to me.)

The only disappointment of the evening was dessert (and, really, that's major). We split a serving of Lemon Verbena Peach Cobbler (with homemade vanilla bean ice cream), and it wasn't up to the restaurant's usual standards. Of course, the last time we had their peach cobbler, it was in the middle of peach season so the fruit was fresh off the tree. Still, the crust was too doughy, and the lemon verbena was...weird. I don't recommend it (but if they have plain cobbler during the summer, go for it).

Pricing? Ooh, you don't want to know. We were pushing $100 and that was without wine.

Our dining destination Saturday night was our Plan B from Friday, in case we were turned away. Pasta Bella serves some of the best Italian food around, and it's a gem of a find right in the middle of this German community. There's nothing fancy here, just basic pasta dishes, and the usual parmigiana entrées. Again, we arrived without reservations, and we did have a short wait, but it was worth it. Normally on a Saturday night, you'd want to call ahead, but keep in mind that we were out in the middle of an ice storm, and that kept the crowd down a bit.

The food was typically good, tasty and filling, and much more reasonably priced than the night before. We were too full for dessert, and the total check was around $20.

Now, since we stayed in a bed-and-breakfast, you're probably wondering about our morning meals. I can sum them up in one word: awesome. I'll tell you more about the B&B a bit later, but I can tell you that the family that owns this one also owns another one on the other side of F'burg, managed by their son and daughter-in-law, and they both pride themselves on their excellent breakfasts. We've stayed in B&Bs where "breakfast" was a couple of cold muffins left on the kitchen table the night before, and whatever you could find in the mini-fridge.

This place, on the other hand, delivered a full hot breakfast each morning. Day one was an oven pancake, bacon (cleverly folded in a way to resemble flowers) and fresh fruit; day two was baked (!) eggs, sausage, made-from-scratch biscuits and fresh fruit in yogurt dressing; day three was a breakfast casserole (eggs, sausage, cheese, bread and mushrooms) and more fruit. We boxed up half the casserole and had it leftover when we returned to Midland -- the servings were not skimpy.

Earlier, I computed our driving-to-cycling mileage, because I'm a numbers guy, like it or not. However, I refuse to calculate (or even think about) our calories-consumed-to-cycling-mileage.

The Bedding and Breakfasting

Well, I've already covered the Breakfasting, but here's the skinny on the accommodations. The B&B is called Clear Springs Log Cabin, and it's owned and operated by Vernon and Bernice Fluitt (their son and his wife, Nelson and Sharon, manage another excellent B&B called the Country Quiet Guesthouse, which we also recommend highly). Clear Springs is located on a working ranch eight miles north of F'burg on Highway 16, and the main living area of the house was built in the 1850s. It served many years as a barn, but the Fluitts recently made it over into a B&B, adding a bedroom, bathroom, central heat and air, and other modern amenities.

The walls of the log cabin are at least twelve inches thick, highly reminiscent of adobe buildings found throughout west Texas. One section of the original log-and-mortar has been preserved behind glass (see image at right; click for a larger version), but the remainder of the walls have been re-mortared. We found the room to be pretty well insulated, but the HVAC system was also quite effective in dealing with any shortcomings in that area.

The bedroom is equipped with a very comfortable queen-sized bed. However, the room is lacking in storage space, especially for hanging clothes. The large antique wardrobe is more for show than function and will accommodate only three or four hangars.

The bathroom is very spacious, with a large jacuzzi tub (no shower, but the tub has a gooseneck spigot that's a fair compromise) and the only deer antler toilet paper holder I've ever seen. In fact, antlers were used everywhere in place of towel racks.

The kitchen is functional, but not luxurious, although the fridge appears new and works very well. There's no oven, but there is a stove, a microwave, and a countertop toaster/convection oven. We used only the fridge, microwave and coffeemaker. This was, after all, a vacation.

The weather wasn't exactly cooperative -- more about that below -- but the compound has several places that would be wonderful for al fresco coffee and snacks or book reading (a euphemism for napping, of course) in more temperate conditions.

I mentioned that this is a working ranch, and it's thus replete with the typical farm fauna: cattle, chickens, horses, geese -- and, of course, llamas. It's also got a couple of ponds, at least one of which is apparently stocked for fishing, if you care about such things.

It's also very, very quiet. Even though Highway 16 is a very busy road, the B&B is located more than a mile down an unpaved road (and over a couple of hills), and there are no neighbors within sight, other than the hosts' home (which is a couple hundred yards away). The log cabin has its own fenced yard, great for pets (although if you have a dog that doubles as an escape artist, you'll want to keep it leashed), and is imaginatively landscaped.

The Nature Gazing

The same vicious cold front that blasted much of the nation also dropped down into the Hill Country, with the worst weather blowing in early Saturday morning in the form of rain, sleet, and a bit of snow. Sunday morning's view of the woods surrounding the B&B was punctuated with breaking limbs falling under the weight of the ice, although most of what I saw were from the dead trees that polka-dot the landscape thanks to a recent onslaught of oak wilt throughout the Hill Country.

In the wee hours of Sunday morning, we were awakened by total silence combined with complete darkness. Funny how that works, isn't it? We never got an explanation of the power outage, but it lasted only a couple of hours, and it gave us an excuse to snuggle deeper under the blankets.

We discussed the outage with Vernon when he brought breakfast. He said that as soon as the power went off, he called the power company, and he and his wife started worrying about how it might impact us. Bernice was worried about how she'd fix our breakfast; Vernon wasn't worried about that as much as how we flush the toilet (the water system relies on electric pumps). I guess it's a guy thing, but that's also one of the first things that occurred to me at 3:00 a.m. when the power first went out.

Here are a few photos capturing the cold beauty of weather's aftereffects. Click on the thumbnails to view larger uncropped versions. Note the ice on the back of the reclining llama in the third photo. Think those guys aren't protected by their fur?

We had one final weather-related challenge, and that was driving through the ranch and back to the highway for the trip home. With our bike on top of the SUV we need about 12 feet of clearance, and the ice weighted the tree limbs lining the dirt road to the point where I was weaving like a drunken driver, trying to thread my way past the lowest branches while avoiding getting stuck in the bar ditch. Fortunately, I've had plenty of practice at this since That Thing Happened and we made a clean getaway.

Despite not getting in our usual quota of bicycling, this was a weekend to remember -- and almost all of the memories will be good ones. It's hard to ask for more than that.

Your Orders for the Day

OK, here's what you do.

1. Go here. Familiarize yourself with "Milk Truffles."


2. Go find a store that sells Hershey's Milk Truffles.


3. Buy two bags.


4. Send one bag to me. Immediately. Before even reading Step 5.


5. Eat as much as you want out of the remaining bag, and wonder why you're just now discovering this chocolate that's much better than it has any right to be, considering it's not European.


6. Consider whether you're grateful enough to repeat steps 3 and 4, again and again. I should think you would be.

I cannot repeat it strongly enough: do not do step 5 before completing step 4. Trust me on this.

What's gotten into DP?

Dr. Pepper now has eight variations listed on its website, the latest of which is -- get this -- "Berries and Cream" in both regular and diet.

Where will it end? "Diet Papaya Mango Habañero Choco-Vanilla Swirl Dr. Pepper with Just a Hint of Anise"?

That said, I must admit that the Diet B&C DP was actually pretty good. It has mild raspberry and vanilla flavorings in addition to the regular DP good stuff.

Technorati tag: Diet Berries & Cream Dr. Pepper

The Number of the Feast

From my pal Paul Carter over at The Parson's Pantry comes this primer on the numbering conventions used to label the fruit you find in your grocery store.

The stores around here do a pretty good job of letting you know that something's organic (to justify the high prices, no doubt), but it's good to know that you can actually audit their labeling, even if you can't affect their pricing.

Technorati tag: Fruit

Be the Nut

The toils and snares of life serve oft to distract from the pleasant interludes found in less-traveled paths, and I find that I can't even recall how much I miss them until serendipity brings me back. I suspect we'd all be better off if we spent a bit more time reading things like this exquisite ode to the pecan and its namesake pie, prepared for our savoring by the inimitable PTMYB Bakerina herself.

How good is she? The Gazette now has a new category of posts, the main purpose of which is to remind me to not be a stranger.

Technorati tag: Pecan Pie

Good Bull (or "I Picked A Bad Day to Give Up Meth")

Well, I broke down and broke open another Red Bull and, my goodness, those things just get tastier and tastier.

I also reheated and ate the leftover chili cheese coney (with jalapeños) and now I know exactly how a long-haul truck driver feels, deadheading from LA to Houston. Man, I miss CBs.

Food

Took a break for a quick pick-me-up, consisting of an HEB-brand low-fat ice cream sandwich. They are amazingly good, especially when they're fresh and the cake part has a crisp snap to it.

I also noticed in our refrigerator the ingredients for something wonderful. MLB is getting ready to whip up a batch of homemade strawberry ice cream. Oh, yeah...

Wonder if it's time for another Red Bull. I can feel my toes again.

New temptation from Starbucks

The Mint Mocha Chip Frappuccino.

Guaranteed to keep you climbing onto the treadmill -- or avoiding the scales -- throughout the summer.

Esoteric Food Recommendations

It's late afternoon and the hunger pangs are starting to gnaw. I try to resist snacking -- not always successfully -- so perhaps writing about food will be a separate but equal answer (as Pogo would say).

Anyway, here are three somewhat unusual food items that MLB and I recommend highly for your consideration.

• Apricot Mango Wasabi Sauce by Robert Rothschild Farms. Wasabi is faddish, I know, but that doesn't make it any less delicious. In this concoction, it actually falls a couple of items behind plain old horseradish on the ingredients list, and my palate isn't discerning enough to distinguish the two in this setting. But this sauce is a wonderful blend of sweet and spicy, with just the right kick. Goes great with roast chicken and grilled tuna. Oh, and eggrolls, of course.


• Lemon Dill and Capers Sauce, again by Robert Rothschild Farms. We bought a jar of this in Fredericksburg at the same time we bought the aforementioned wasabi sauce. The taste of dill always takes me back to my paternal grandmother's dining table, where she served the world's best homemade dill pickles at every meal (OK, not at breakfast). This sauce is smooth and we really liked it with grilled pork chops. It's also good with tuna.


• Hot 'n Spicy Wasabi Chips by Eden Foods. I saved the best 'til last. These vegetable (a mix of carrot, cabbage, spinach, parsley, lettuce and onion) chips are baked, fried, then baked again, and they taste absolutely wonderful. Unlike the apricot mango wasabi sauce mentioned above, however, these chips have a serious kick to 'em! If you're a wasabi or horseradish fan, give these chips a try. We've not been able to find them in any retail store other than the Whole Foods Market in Santa Fe (even the WFM in San Antonio didn't stock them), but the internet comes through once again. One interesting bit of trivia: this is the only food item I've knowingly eaten that has "Job's Tears" listed as one of the ingredients.

I apologize if this post makes you hungry. I confess to succumbing to the lure of the wasabi chips; I just intended to read the label...but you know how that goes.

Coffee Mate

I don't think I've mentioned that we have a new coffee maker. Actually, we've had it for a couple of months, but like any significant new relationship, there's a bit of a probationary period before you want to make a big deal of it in front of the whole world. But, I really think this is going to work out, so I'm introducing it to the family, so to speak.

It's a Cuisinart 12-cup carafe model, very sleek and very tall. It replaces a somewhat dumpier model from Philips, which also had a built-in grinder that we never used. The grinder was (a) ineffective and (b) a pain to clean, so we ditched it in favor of a burr grinder from Starbucks. The Cuisinart is grinderless, which means it can devote its full attention to its raison d'être: making really good coffee.

It has other qualities that the Philips model lacked, or lost over time. For one thing, it makes hot coffee...blow-before-you-sip, pre-McDonalds-lawsuit hot. The Philips model gave us very warm coffee, but that's not good enough. Also, the Cuisinart's carafe is wonderfully insulated and the last cup comes out almost as hot as the first, another area where the Philips model fell down. And, almost magically, you can pour coffee from the Cuisinart carafe without unscrewing the lid! Is this a great country or what?*

But most importantly, the Cuisinart is reliable. Near the end, when we walked into the kitchen each morning, we never knew whether the Philips coffee would be in the pot, or all over the countertop and floor. There's very little in life more aggravating than an incontinent coffee maker, IYKWIM.

I've applied my keen powers of observation (which seem to work only in really trivial situations) and determined that the key to finding a reliable carafe-style coffee maker is in the sturdiness of the carafe lid. The lid on a coffee carafe is a wonder of engineering skill, outfitted with myriad valves and channels and tubes and flanges and the like. It has to be, for the process of dumping a hot liquid into a cool closed container stirs up all kinds of thermodynamic reactions, the scope of which are well outside both this post and my comprehension. But what I do know (or believe) is that a girly kind of lid just won't stand up over time (and I mean no disrespect to the girlyish among my readers). The Philips lid was girly; the Cuisinart's is, by contrast, burly. The ball valve makes a healthy rattle when you shake it; the Philips' valve sort of tinkled. Over time, coffee-derived sludge gums up the works, and the more robust mechanisms are more easily kept clean.

I trust that you'll keep these factors in mind when the time comes to choose a new mate maker. Trust me, you'll both be happier for having done so.

A Gustatorial Stroll Through Santa Fe

Skiing, hiking and snow shoeing are just excuses for the only legitimate reason to spend six days in Santa Fe: eating. It's important to balance caloric intake and output while simultaneously increasing both in exponential fashion.

I know what you're thinking. You're wondering, "what do Lunatic Texans on Skis like to eat when they're chillin' in The City Different?" Well, actually, that's a little personal, don't you think? But I'll meet you halfway and tell you where we ate (and provide some menu item recommendations in case you ever find yourself retracing our tracks). Grab your Pepcid and follow along.

Day 1: Breakfast - Pasqual's; Lunch - Brown bag from the Plaza Bakery, consumed at the ski lodge (thereby avoiding the food lines and the chili dogs); Dinner - Guadalupe Cafe (the best mid-priced restaurant in Santa Fe).

Day 2: Breakfast - Tia Sophia's (OK, this is all you need to remember: blueberry pancakes, and the short stack will be plenty. Trust me on this.); Lunch - 'nother brown bag from the Bakery (say hi to Fred -- he's from New Hampshire, you know -- and grab a cranberry muffin if they're not all gone; otherwise, the strawberry yogurt muffin is a separate but equal answer); Dinner - The Pink Adobe (my pal Wallace over at Streams goes for the green chile-smothered steak, but the grilled tuna with pineapple salsa is my favorite)

Day 3: Breakfast - Plaza Café (one of the oldest continuously operating restaurants in the city; they've pretty well figured things out by now); Lunch - The Shed (yeah, I know...everyone eats there; there's a reason for that); Dinner - La Sena Cantina (try the chicken fried ribeye while listening to the waiters belt out show tunes)

Day 4: Breakfast - Tia Sophia's (need I repeat myself? Yeah, they're that good); Lunch - you gotta be kidding...go to a movie and have a tub of popcorn, willya?); Dinner - Upper Crust Pizza (man does not live by piñon nut encrusted quail bellies alone)

Day 5: If you're fortunate, it's Sunday, which gives you only one real option - Brunch at the Chocolate Maven (Cream cheese French toast with peach compote; there are about 50 other items on the menu, but why bother?); Dinner - Harry's Roadhouse (giant burgers, homemade cream pies, and an hour's wait no matter when)

Day 6: Breakfast - Plaza Café for one last fling; if you're feeling penitent, order the fruit and yogurt parfait; if you're feeling defiant, order anything on the menu that comes with green chile.

There...that should just about cover things. I think I gained three pounds just posting this. Hope it was equally good for you!

The Happy Crumpeter*

Proving once again that I shall go to any lengths to provide useful culinary recommendations to my loyal readers, I have immersed myself in the hoity-toity world of British breakfast pastries, and I bring you glad tidings of great joy: crumpets are the cat's meow!

I rejoice in breakfast; it's my favorite meal of the day, and I enjoy a wide variety of morning consumables: regional faves like huevos rancheros and migas; down-home delights like biscuits and red-eye gravy and aigs fried in bacon-grease; upper-crust creations such as scones, English muffins and bagels-and-lox (not that we ever have any of the latter worth writing about here in Mid-Land). The only thing I draw the line at is menudo, for reasons which I shan't document here.

I now add the crumpet to the list of A-OK breakfast provisions. I always thought that crumpets were more cookie-like..."crumpets and tea" just conjured visions of a delicate butter cookie. But if Wolferman's is authentic (and I don't doubt that it is), a crumpet is actually more like a working man's English muffin: a tad denser and more compact, perhaps just a bit sweeter, and just a little less chewy. Don't be fooled by its resemblance to a frozen toaster pancake (the creation of which is a crime against humanity deserving of the most severe sanctions).

They're also pretty nutritious, compared to some alternatives (Krispy Kreme comes to mind). The plain crumpets from Wolferman's are 90 calories each, all carbs (sorry, Atkins Apologists). Of course, I can't leave well enough alone; the temptation to slather them with butter as soon as they pop from the toaster is just too great.

If you prefer a sweeter topping, you'd do well to consider another Wolferman's product, their Raspberry Curd. It's sweet-tart and creamy, and makes your run-of-the-mill jellies and jams seem like something you'd find in a little peel-open plastic container at the end of a school cafeteria line.

I think that about covers it. Let's see...lunch in 90 minutes...hmmm...did I mention that crumpets are great for dessert, too?

*A tip of the stetson to Bert Kaempfert for penning "The Happy Trumpeter" waaaaay back in 1962!

Praising the Many-Layered Golden Orb

One of the more important developments of the 20th century, ranking right up there with steel-belted radials and cordless drills, is the Texas 1015 sweet onion. This miracle of modern horticulture was developed in the early 80s by Dr. Leonard Pike at Texas A&M, and is now the "Official State Vegetable" of Texas.

Sweet onions are generally yellow and have high levels of water and low levels of pyruvic acid (the chemical that causes tears and a strong odor). There are a number of varieties of sweet onions, some more well known than others, thanks to hyperprotective regulators (think "Vidalia," for example). But, interestingly, each and every one of those varieties can trace its lineage back to Texas sweet onions. Sorry, Georgia.

"OK," you're thinking, "that's all somewhat interesting...but so what?" Well, take a look at today's date: October 15. 10/15. 1015. Yep...1015 onions take their name (so the story goes) from the fact that today is the ideal date for planting them.

So, what are you waiting for? Get out there and plant some onions. Your burger will thank you next spring!

In Praise of New Mexico Coffee

I'm not a pretentious guy. At least, I don't think I am. For instance, were it not in the shop with a broken timing chain, I'd be driving a '94 Plymouth Neon (ha! you didn't remember that Plymouth made a Neon, did you? And have you already forgotten Plymouth, whose company motto was "Striving For Adequacy"?). My new boots are a $60 pair of 10-year old calfskin ropers. My clothes shopping sprees are limited to a twice-yearly jaunt to Mervyn's to buy two pairs of stone-washed Wranglers Levis (see, I don't even know what kind of jeans I wear), and the shirt section of my closet is organized into the formal t-shirt and casual t-shirt categories.

But, if I do lapse into pretentiousness, it might be in the area of coffee, which I take very seriously. Sort of. Well, I know what I like.

And what I like is the coffee that comes from the New Mexico Piñon Coffee Company (hereafter referred to as NMPCC, so I don't have to mess with that tilde thing again), headquartered in Albuquerque. True to its name, the company roasts its coffee along with the nuts from the piñon (dang tilde) tree, which is a type of pine tree found primarily in desert climates. The combination yields a smooth but robust (well, that sounds sorta pretentious, doesn't it?) brew. We order it several pounds at a time, generally as whole beans, because my wife loves operating that cool little burr grinder she bought earlier this year.

They also make a wide variety of flavored coffees, all based on the same combination of bean and nut. I've never been enough of a coffee snob to dismiss flavored coffees, especially those with a chocolate undertone. Those flavors just belong together, somehow.

If you've spent much time in Santa Fe, and had coffee there, it's possible that it came from NMPCC. I wouldn't want to live in Santa Fe (yeah, that's right...it's too pretentious), but I love visiting the city. When we can't be there in person, drinking the coffee is the next best thing. I recommend it.

In praise of Zero

I have a new vice. Well, to be accurate, I've rediscovered an old vice: the Zero candy bar.

Ever had one? Zeros (Zeroes?) are, according to the wrapper, "caramel, peanut and almond nougat covered with white fudge." That's technically correct, but for me, anyway, they're little edible time machines.

My hometown of Fort Stockton, Texas, is in the middle of nowhere...100 miles from the nearest body of water big enough to accommodate a bass boat. But the town was founded in the 19th century around a series of prolific springs, which flowed until the early 60s when the alfalfa and cotton farmers depleted them with their irrigation pumps. Anyway, the town boasted a huge swimming pool constructed on the site of the largest such spring (the pool is still there, and unlike most objects recalled through the misty veil of memory, it's still huge). For all we knew, it was the 8th wonder of the world, at least for kids like me who tried to spend every waking hour of every pre-employment-age summer roasting on the concrete banks, reveling in the human anatomy lessons presented unknowingly (?) by the high school chicks, and overcoming our fear of the 12 foot (this was before the invention of meters) diving board.

One of my fonder memories of that era (besides the sound of "Groovin'" over the PA system) was investing in the sugary pleasures of the snack bar. And, for some reason, the Zero candy bar was more often than not my prime target. At that time, I seem to recall the wrapper featured a polar bear, and the word "Zero" sported icicles. Perhaps I'm imagining that. But the attraction of such a package on a 100°+ day was undeniable.

And it's strange, really. I don't like white chocolate, and I've never been fond of peanut-oriented candy; I wouldn't cross the street for a Snickers. But this particular combination... this happy incarnation... this siren song of sweetness... well, it just works. And, as an added bonus, eating one allows you to partake in a piece of history. Hershey's now owns the brand, but the candy bar has been around since 1920.

It's funny, isn't it -- how a candy bar can bring back such a flood of memories. I'll bet you've got your own combination of sweet delights and recollections. Feel free to share 'em. But get your own Zero bar; mine are all spoken for.