Saturday, Day 8: the Boggy Creek Farm and my arrival in Houston

My last morning in Austin found me at the Boggy Creek Farm, a recommendation I got from Saveur, which has yet to lead my road trip dining astray. It turns out this farm has also been featured in the Wall Street Journal as 'Where Whole Foods Shops' and they were on Rachael Ray last Friday night. And let's also not forget their food blog on The Atlantic Monthly. All this coverage is shocking when you get there and realize: this farmer's market is actually A MARKET AT A FARM. It was tiny--there weren't dozens of tents and food vendors and flowers and fancy coffee stalls. It was so different from my love affair with the San Francisco Farmer's Market. This was the EPITOME of straight-from-the-source shopping and as fresh as fresh could be. And it was so peaceful I never wanted to leave:

This is the ENTIRE MARKET. I KNOW.

The actual, lived-in farmhouse of the Boggy Creek Farm.

And the owners! Don't even get me started on the owners. This is Carol Ann Sayle and that's her husband, Larry Butler, on the tractor in the background.  He was tilling the earth in preparation for their winter cabbage, which is apparently gorgeous and tissue paper thin and so super delish that Carol can't wait. I love her. I also got her cookbook and she signed it for me and she spelled my name right. That was when I decided to erect a tent and never leave. In fact, I'm blogging right now from the bushes.

Okay, so I couldn't justify carrying a bag of organic radishes on a road trip, but I COULD justify a bottle of honey! This is Gause Yaupon, named from the local yaupon flowers that the bees go nuts for. Apparently a host of Austin chefs use it in their recipes because of it's 'signature flavor.' Alison, we'll put this to good use when I arrive in San Francisco. And by 'good use,' I mean, 'we can eat it by the spoonful.'

More stuff I wanted but couldn't get...check out those ancho chiles!

And the japanese radishes!

And the gourds!

And the shopping baskets!

And the craft stall!

This is Buddha Hill, the winner of the Austin Chronicle's best mother-daughter design team award last year. Try as I might, I couldn't find a website or Etsy page or anything for them, but if you're ever planning on being in the Austin area, you should definitely track them down. They made gorgeous, functional things--totes, aprons, wrist-warmers, purses--and with really good, quality materials. These bags were STURDY. And as someone who compulsively buys tote bags, I'm a pretty good judge of what's crap and what's not. Because I own a LOT of crap.

Speaking of compulsively buying bags...I COULDN'T STOP MYSELF. I HAD TO BUY THIS BAG.

Okay, and this--THIS I WILL BE ORDERING AND SHIPPING UNTIL THE DAY I DIE. I will not live a life that does not include Herbs de Tejas from here on out. I got the spicy one (they've also got original and orange), which has organic oregano, thyme, lavender, basil, sage, savory, rosemary, garlic chives, and jalapeño, all of which they grow themselves (with the exception of the basil, which they get from the boggy creek farm). And OMIHEAVEN. I've been making scrambled eggs with it the past three days and there's an explosion of happiness with every single bite. It's supposed to be great on chicken, too, which is next on my list. Along with salmon, and potatoes, and anything I will ever throw on a grill. (Before I forget--they don't have a website, but you can email them at laketravislavender at waynegibson dot com if you'd like to find out more. They ship!)

And then I arrived in Houston on Saturday afternoon! I kid you not, this is where I'm staying. I KNOW. I think they're part of the Kennedies or something. They're currently pretending they don't know what I'm talking about, but luckily I can see right through their protestations, which is why I'm selling  personalized tours of the house everyday while they're gone. * cha-CHING *

Gourdough's and TOY JOY!: two reasons to come to Austin. And stay here.

Welcome to Gourdough's, the best donuts in Austin. And I can say that having had NO other donuts in Austin, because just LOOK at this place. I have no words to describe the many forms of greatness present here, so let's just sit in silent reverence:

* bowing * Thank you, Gourdough's, for making the world a better place.

And now...the best late-night activity in Austin: TOY JOY! It's not actually titled with all caps and an exclamation point, but I really feel TOY JOY! is much more suitable for the wonders of this toy shop. It was chaotically messy--toys crammed into every available space, cascading onto the floors, overflowing the countertops--and while the staff kept apologizing profusely for it, that just made it even better. It was like walking INSIDE of a toy box. It was like your room as a child. It was a WONDERLAND. A wonderland that is open until eleven p.m. EVERY NIGHT. Except for the weekends, when it's open until MIDNIGHT. Oh, yes, my friends. That board game/smurf lunchbox/deck of cards/rubber doll you desperately need at ten p.m. can be YOURS.

We're going back tonight because today's the day they launch their Tinsel Trees and Ornament show and it's going to be BEDAZZLING.  I will definitely be picking out my annual Christmas tree ornament, which is a personal tradition I started in San Francisco in which I allow myself the purchase of one (1) ornament a year that I hand-pick carefully from a local boutique and rate for qualities like 'uniqueness,' 'awesomeness' and 'I-can't-believe-somebody-came-up-with-this-ness.' One year I actually made my own, but I don't like to talk about how that turned out.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for my big night out.

Day 3: Austin is Awesome.

I arrived in Austin yesterday, after what had to have been The Most Boring Drive of All Time on the 1-35 south from Dallas.  The three hours somehow elongated into two weeks. There was just no other explanation for the shimmering hallucinations, time warping, and zoning that occurred. I left at 10 a.m., which put me in Austin in time for lunch. But in that time span, I aged. I grew a beard. I pondered the meaning of life. I spaced out, revived, slapped myself in the face, hallucinated, and aged some more. The wavering heat the wind the dry grasslands the brown trees all stilled the hand of time. My car stayed in place while the road rolled under it. By the time the Austin signs began to appear, I had forgotten how to read. I was a different person, a worn person, a person who had wandered for years in the desert and didn't know how to speak or comb her wild, ratted hair. And when I pulled up to Central Market where I was meeting Jeremy for lunch, I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing: green grass? a park? organic food? people not in pick-up trucks? Where did this civilization come from? And is that lavender soda??

One delicious beef shawarma later, I had been restored to a former semblance of self. And as I sat blissfully on a sunny picnic bench surrounded by trees and heat and carnivorous black birds, slurping my organic orange-and-cream soda, I patted my wild, ratted hair with content. This is how it was meant to be.

I've got a fantastic to-do list while in Austin this week:

Sunset dinner at Oasis

Fall Festival at Boggy Creek Farm

Lunch at Flip Happy Crepes (thank you for the recommendation, Lez!)

Gourdoughs

Nau's Enfield Drug Store

And last, but not least...a movie at The Alamo Drafthouse. For a little something called Master Pancake Theater, described as "the Alamo tradition of pairing bad movies with live comedy (and beer)! It's smart, fast, and bust-a-gut funny. Master Pancake has twice been voted BEST COMEDY TROUPE by the readers of the Austin Chronicle (2008, 2009)."  And what movie is playing on Friday night? E.T.! I know. I KNOW.  I made it happen with the power of my mind.

Oh! Dallas! I spent a (too short) day there, full of food and old friends and family. It started with lunch with my cousins (one of whom lives in Arizona and was also temporarily in town) who I found out were PIMA Indians. PIMA. How cool is THAT? WAY cooler than Cherokee, which is what I've got. It turns out that  the name Pima comes from the phrase 'I don't know' or 'I don't understand you,' which is pretty much all they had to say to the Europeans back in the day. How awesome is that as a way to be named? I know I find myself in situations all the time in which 'pima' would be the appropriate response. Or rather, 'PIMA.'

Needless to say, I'm definitely making it a point to stay with my cousin on the reservation when I pass through Arizona. (Don't tell her, she currently thinks I'm kidding.) I'm totally gonna rock it native-style. Per a conversation with Joy, who referred to me as 'lil platinum pocahontas,' "One piece of Indian frybread and a pair of spandex leggings and you're all set!" I asked her if I needed a scrunchie, too, to which she replied, 'Yeah, so your hair won't fall in your bowl of beans.'

I also had dinner in Dallas with an old high school friend and his mega-rad fiance, which was wacky crazy cool. It's funny how in ten years, nothing really changes. The people you liked are still likeable and the conversations are easy and  good. This friend I saw was as hilarious as always, with the added fun of his-and-her-joint-storytelling when he and his fiancee got rolling. It was fantastic.

Stay tuned for some delayed photographs I took in Oklahoma, where chili is a way of life, OU football is a religion, and Cherokee Gothic is not what you think it is...