Saturday, February 16, 2002

.

shop window...Uncommon Objects

ah, yes

store front, SoCo

shop window...the long-standing Armadillo Bazaar soon to be closed due to ill health

more shop window

I never get bored with it, do I?

be someone else

more costume shop

the ethereal King

"I first realized that I was really a writer when I became almost physically ill after letting too long a time lapse without doing any writing."
Joseph Epstein

Soon we arrive at The Living Room. It's 10 and they are just opening. We go in just because we can, not looking for anything. We end up measuring a dining table and breakfront although I don't think we will actually end up buying it. We do think about it, though. It would look good, I think and almost fit, but it is fun looking anyway. It's a dramatic Italian set.

We continued across the bridge and I suggest we go look in Tesoros trading, where I haven't been in a while. They have lots of cool things. I don't buy anything but I promise myself I'll remember things they have for future gifts.

We walk through the warehouse district and over to W. Sixth. We arrive at Book People and take advantage of their restrooms. We look around and have coffee. FFP discovered an assassination book he didn't know existed that looks good. I pull a random book down from this Phaidon photography display about Joel Meyerowitz. I really like the photographic ideas. I like this comment about a picture of a woman framed by her news kiosk:

All young photographers seem to have the same bag of tricks when they begin their investigation of the world. One of them is to be attentive to the frame within the frame, because if you see something framed it's already a picture. you are alert to that because your vocabulary in unformed so something framed invites you to put your own frame over it, and then you've got a photograph.

Well, that's my shop window obsession, huh? But, of course, I'm not young...except maybe as a photographer.

So I buy the book and read the (sparse) text that accompanies the photos as the day goes on.

We walk back east, stopping at Austin Wine Merchant for a taste of some white Burgundies and to pick out a few things to buy.

We had considered stopping at Hut's for a burger but it was way too crowded with a crowd out front waiting. So we walked to Four Seasons, marched in the front door (the door man was wondering where the Honda was) and went downstairs and got a patio seat.

The grackles tried to get a snack, accompanied by a few pigeons. It was pleasant outside. I had an egg dish (it was egg day) and a glass of Zinfandel.

We had been walking a long way, but we set out to make the round trip. We headed back across the bridge and stopped in Aqua, a store with vintage modern furniture. FFP continued on but I went in some of the shops that were closed earlier but didn't buy anything.

I was starting to feel really weary, foot sore and tired. This is always the time when a coke sounds good. I stopped in a tiny convenience store whose outside signs touted smokeless tobacco and other delights and bought a 20oz Cherry Coke. The caffeine and sugar picked me up on first sip. I finished the drink, sharing some with FFP, on the upstairs porch at Lazy Oak B&B, reading my book on Meyerowitz and my Joseph Epstein essay collection. A few cars went by and a few pedestrians. A bike or two. Live Oak isn't a hugely busy cross street, not on a Saturday afternoon anyway. We watched a dust up between two white-winged doves that resulted in feathers flying. Whether it was an attempt at love-making or a territorial dispute, I don't have enough bird knowledge to know.

As the light faded, we went to our room, turned on soundless Olympics or something, read and dozed.

When we finally rousted ourselves for dinner, we got the suggestion from the owner that we not go to Treehouse (the words Olive Garden were uttered to describe the food) and try Curra's Grill. There were too many cars there so we went west a little, peered at some places on S. First and settled on trying Green Pastures, an Austin institution that we hadn't tried in, literally, years.

So, yeah, Green Pastures.

First, we weren't very dressed up. (Me: Sweater and jeans and blazer with loafers. He: polo, chinos, leather jacket.) And, we didn't have a reservation. So, they did seat us but maybe not in the most romantic dining room. Upstairs, it was. There were some small indistinguished art on the wall. The light was a little bright. (I could see a poor job of that plastic tinting stuff on a window and it was dark outside.) So, yeah, no style points in this dining room even though they have lots to work with being in an old mansion and all. Ambiance. Ho. Hum

There were several earnest couples, mostly young, dining. One couple had gotten married there five years ago and it was their anniversary.

Then a very young couple entered. He wore a suit but immediately removed the jacket and put it on the back of his chair. She actually looks older but probably isn't. I can see his face. He smiles constantly. Rolls his eyes at the menu. Is nonplussed and further, um, amused by the amuse bouche (not by eating it, just by looking at the little morsel of cold beef with sauce). They seem more settled at salad and, although I don't take note of their reaction to receiving it, polish off the cloying sorbet. No wine there. Are they old enough?

So, yeah, the ambiance wasn't picked up by being surrounded by sophisticated diners who might order some wine or food you could see go by and wonder about.

The food was expensive and included expensive-sounding ingredients. Pheasant. Foie Gras with the special filet. Seared Ahi Tuna. I chose the tuna and pheasant. The tuna was coated in black pepper and presented in a dark sauce with pools of green that were clearly wasabi. The wasabi being liquified had apparently prevented one from controlling the heat. The pepper over-powered. My palate was seared with a black pepper wasabi assault. The tuna was a little more cooked than I like but no matter. The tender red center was tasteless under this assault.

I welcomed a cloying, not refreshing, sorbet. What did she mumble. Mango something? Anyway, it soothed the palate and I was ready for the pheasant.

The best thing about the pheasant was the risotto with lovely mushrooms in it, including morels. The pheasant was a large serving but quite dry.

We had a $54 wine. A 1994 Cabernet from California, I think. Slips my mind the vineyard.

Which brings us to service. They served the wine intially all right, asking if Forrest would taste (since I'd ordered) and then filling my glass (points off for the Libby glass) and his. But they never filled our glasses again. Silverware wasn't forthcoming when required. Once I used a knife Forrest hadn't used, having not been given one with the tuna. Steak knives came out with the entreés but no forks and, at that point, we had none. (When you think about your silverware, it's a service failure. One is put in the mind of the Mexican joint where you hang on to your silver because it's all you will get. That's what you expect if the dishes cost ten bucks or so. Not if they are flirting with $30 on entreés.)

So, yeah, service was friendly but not especially good. The server stumbled over the words 'foie gras' on the special.

It wasn't horrible. But we won't be looking forward to going back either. We are so picky. Not really. Hey, we almost went to Popeye's. It's just that when you pay, you have expectations.

We go back to the room and read and catch some Olympic action. And snooze.

JUST TYPING
Leisure.
The less you expect from it.
The more it gives.