Tuesday

July 3, 2001

sun sets on the drive home from WINK

Something dislocating about a holiday on Wednesday. I guess the powers that be just can't see their way clear to Monday-adjust the birth of the nation. As if. It really mattered.

���

In the dream I woke up in, I was using an old Polaroid camera of mine. It had those flashbulbs, remember those? They kind of exploded and melted but didn't shatter because they had plastic over the glass (which is what melted). The camera was the same, it even had dust on it. But the pictures came out as 8 1/2 x 11 prints and they had this other part that had a map to the place where they were taken. It was a marvel. I wonder (in the dream) whether I can get more of this film and more flashbulbs.

���

Work. I'm trying to decide what to present in what is a decidedly high-level pitch for a customer council next week. I don't want to steal the thunder of the presenters who come after but rather set them up. Give something thought-provoking but not too controversial.

���

Lunch. With an old buddy from two jobs who works somewhere else now. Layoffs and job contractions and such are on our minds. We both think we would see a layoff now as a signal that we should retire or at least pursue a different type of job.

���

Dinner. With some wonderful friends. They always make me jealous with their tales of travel. They do a lot. They are going to Telluride and then Norway.

Dinner is at WINK. It's a new place opened by Stewart Scruggs and Mark Paul. It's tiny (40 tops?) and it's where a succession of tiny restaurants have been, tucked away behind Whole Earth Provision on Lamar. Castle Hill was here and later a Peruvian joint and maybe others.

The interior is done in a simple style that appears architected by amateur Home Depot afficionadas, but it works. When we arrive (quarter after six), it is quiet with about three people in the place. We get our table and I drink a Vinho Verde ($4 a glass, one of about twenty-five offered by the glass). We peruse the menu, the wine list, even the dessert menu and get a head start on our guests.

They arrive and we talk over the menu. The spinach salad with figs and goat cheese is a hit. It's dressed with a basalmic vinegar maybe? Blended with something else? It's magic. Several of us have a foie gras sandwich (toast points with a bit of the finest seared liver tucked between...$14.) It's divine. Our friend Gayle has the haddock and she eats every bite. Forrest moves on to Sweetbreads while we watch. (OK, a couple of forks had to try a bit of the organs and the five green sauce ..lime, jalapeno, cilantro and I forget the other two.)

I have the chilled watermelon and avocado soup...as a dessert. The chocolate dessert Gayle got has this filling like choclate croissant in phyllo and we all taste. It's great. FFP and Jeff have a Fig Tartlet. They love it. We have finished off a bottle of Penfold Shiraz/CabJeff and I get a dessert wine by the glass. My sauterne is pretty good for $7 a glass.

It is 8:30. We are happy and well but not overly fed on the small dishes. The room is hopping with no tables available and it's pretty loud. Outside a few people wait to be seated, having a discussion with Mark.

This one is a hit, guys. Get a reservation, though!

As we drive home, we admire the Austin sunset. Stewart and Mark have raved about being downtown, back to the real Austin. (They worked at the Brio Vista in the Arboretum. I guess the patrons are getting what they want and deserve...that nice place is changing to Eddie V's, I think.) Yes, folks, there is a real Austin. But you have to look for it. And you have to get south of 45th street some times. In fact, if you drive just south of where WINK is, you will see the (still operating) GM Steakhouse (really a diner). You may recognize it as key in a Slacker scene where a guy goes into it in his bathrobe from a nearby apartment. And there is another character who is organizing and chanting over all these little notes. Must watch the slack again. It just celebrated its tenth anniversary of major release.

���