Don't Mess with Texas.

Otherwise, she will leave you out in the middle of a summer day in San Antonio, without an A/C in site. That'll do it.

Yep, if there's anything that defines Texans' rebelliousness, it's that they've decided to live in Texas.    Damn the incessantly hot and humid weather, the parched earth, and the large, untamed landscape. What do Texans do? They build huge, air-conditioned cities, till the land and herd the cows, and connect the vast state with huge 12-lane freeways. I'm not sure I have the cojones to live in Texas (well, primarily because I am female), but I had an absolutely brilliant time spending my Memorial Day weekend in Houston & San Antonio with my lovely family. Ain't no better way to spend a weekend vacation than by eating, sweating, and eating some more.

Day 1: Hot damn, I'm in Texas.
Given the lukewarm weather in Minnesota, I was obviously looking forward to the much, much warmer weather in Houston. I got a word of warning from my aunt via Facebook post, saying it's going to be hot in Texas. I remember thinking,  "Meh, how different could it be?" Answer: VERY. The moment I stepped out of that airport, it felt like Manila all over again. Every skin gland in my body started screaming "Where the hell are we?!" My cellphone said it was 83 degrees, but it felt more like 93. Funny thing, this wasn't even the hottest time of the year; whereas once it hits 90 degrees in Minneapolis, people start bitching, in Texas it's just another May day.

As eager as I was to eat food that -- in my mind -- defines Texas (beef brisket, Tex Mex, Whataburger and the like), I was far more excited to get my Filipino food on. You know how you don't know how good you've got it until it's gone? Well, that's how I feel about not having Filipino restaurants in Minnesota. So, my first stop straight from the airport was Filipiniana Restaurant at Bissonnet Street. It may not be the best Filipino buffet in the world, but it was still damn good. Every dish was ridiculously rich (read: rolling in oil) and flavorful, from the bistek to the humba, the classic adobo and the peanut butter goodness of kare-kare. I was home; and the humidity in the restaurant really made me feel like I was home in the Philippines. How nostalgic!

After suffering from a ridiculous food coma, we headed back to Katy to rest up and then headed straight to see the Menil Collection in Houston's museum district. It's amazing what oil money can buy, like an entire gallery full of amazing artwork, open to the public for free. They have everything from post-modern pieces (including a disturbing 'artwork' made of wax and real human hair...it makes me shiver just thinking of it), but also artifacts from Pan-Asian and African cultures, as well as some surrealist paintings from the likes of Brauner, Max Ernst, and a few Picasso pieces. I'm so glad my family was there to infuse some humor into an otherwise somber (and oftentimes WTF?) art viewing. You could never get all artsy-fartsy around us before someone calls you, well, artsy-fartsy.

We then headed to the beautiful Hermann Park in the middle of Houston, which has an amazing lake, a venue for concerts (like the Motown evening happening when we were there) and a gorgeous garden. It was the perfect place to take a lovely stroll with my beautiful cousins, and just take some glamor nature shots while I'm at it.

Dinner was quintessential Texas, as we headed to Spring Creek Barbecue for some honest-to-goodness food, cafeteria style. The meats were succulent (especially the sausage, which I all but stole from my cousin's plate), the sides were unlimited (but of course!), and the sweet tea was refreshing.

After a full belly and a viewing of Tangled (which I admittedly bawled my eyes out to), I prepare myself for our field trip to the home of the Alamo, San Antonio, TX.

Interesting Texas fact: They are the only state that can fly their state flag at the same height as the US flag, because they were once an independent country. And they sure love their flag.

Day 2: Remembering (or learning about) the Alamo. 
I woke up bright and early to the smell of Kolache buns, which are these amazing pastries filled with every kind of meat you can think of. I don't think I've ever had anything like it, and I want some now just thinking about it. Especially those sausage, cheese, and potato ones? Yes, please!

San Antonio is about 3 hours from Houston, so we got a pretty good beauty rest until we stopped at Buc-ee's, which is like an overblown gas station convenience store (think a miniature version of Wal-Mart) with everything from Texas souvenirs to hats to beef jerky to Kolaches (yay!) to Buc-ee's Nuggets and more. As the cliche goes, everything's big in Texas, and this place was no different.

We began our tour of San Antonio (or, really, my tour since I was the only newbie in the group) by visiting the 4 "other" missions in the San Antonio mission trail: Concepcion, San Jose, San Juan, and Espada. Since it was a Sunday, there were masses going on in some of the missions (like at Concepcion); it was inspiring to know that some missions are actually still functioning up to this day. It was also nice that all missions had air-conditioned areas, because that day was insanely hot.

Of course, you can't visit the San Antonio missions without hitting up the big one: The Alamo. It was interesting learning about the Alamo, and being schooled on the fact that they actually lost that battle. I always thought they won that one. So much for acing US History. 

The six flags of Texas: Spain, France, Mexico, Confederate, Texas Republic, and United States of America

The Riverwalk is a beautiful stroll along the San Antonio river (which really reminded me more of a canal more than anything). It was easy to get suckered into the touristy side of it all and maybe jump on one of the tour boats, but I felt like this was such a gorgeous place that even natives frequent. All that said, we still ended up having dinner in a tourist trap that wasn't half bad: Casa Rio, the oldest restaurant on the Riverwalk. Hey, as long as I got my enchiladas and margaritas on, I'm happy. 

Margarita es bonita

A-maaah-zing enchilada platter smothered in cheese and sour cream. 

The lovely crew about to get some Mexican food on

Day 3: Chillin' like a villain. 
Whereas Sunday was very productive and exhausting, Monday was lazy and relaxing. Another former staple that I lost upon my move to Minnesota were huge Asian supermarkets, so I was more than eager to hit up 99 Ranch and stock up on my Filipino junk food and other goodies. Afterwards, we ate at a good ol' Korean restaurant, introducing the fam to Korean food's greatest hits: bulgogi, bibimbap, banchan, and seafood pancakes.

In the afternoon, we went for some local Shiner beer and crawfish (my first time eating it!) at the Pub Hub, and continued on the food trip for some more good barbecue from Big Daddy's. Hot damn I love the q.

So much work for little meat, but somehow still worth it!

Epilogue
Two weeks and ** lbs.  later, I'm still missing Texas. Sure, the weather's gotten better here in Minnesota, but there's definitely a lot more adventures to be had in that kick-ass state, where the food is plentiful and delicious, the heritage is rich and proud, the weather is caliente, and the people are friendly and loving. But you still don't wanna mess with them, probably.

Pasta with anchovy

Ever since I had this dish at a taste testing for my sister's wedding reception two years ago, I've always wanted to make this simple dish. This is the second time I've made this, and I've added a twist by putting in a raw egg in the end (kind of like in carbonara). It's so flipping easy, I'm not even gonna put down instructions. You figure out how to make it based on these photos (OK, fine, I'll place hints in the caption). Have fun!

Your ingredients. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

The salty piece de resistance - anchovies

Saute the onions, garlic, and anchovies in an olive oil-butter mix

Beat the eggs while you toss the cooked pasta into the saute pan

Mix the egg into the pasta, away from the heat. Make sure to toss quickly so you don't scramble the eggs too much

Finished product!

Coffee Monster

Yup, that pretty much sums up what I'm like every day. I need some Joe in my life. 

Tipping is not a city in Russia

I have arrived.

Who wakes up at 8 AM on a friggin' Sunday morning to do anything? As I recently found out, it's this moi, as I hauled my sleepy ass to Al's Breakfast in Dinkytown yesterday (yes, it even has it's own Wikipedia entry; boom-shaka-laka). I've been wanting to visit this place, which was given the James Beard Foundation Award for being an "American Classic," since I moved to Minneapolis. First, because it was featured on Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives (I know, I'm such a gullible Food Network lemming), and second, because I have a friend who's a native and a former U of M student & swears by this place as having some of the most epic,  diner food in the city. And, really, that's all the confirmation I need to make a field trip beyond the Mississippi River to 14th Ave SE (think Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, except cleaner) to try me some Al's. 

I felt ever so smug (and horrified) waking up at 8 AM on a Sunday, thinking our group would get to Al's before it opened at 9 AM, and that we would be in front of the omnipresent line of locals, tourists, and transplants-who-take-forever-to-eat-at-Al's. How naive of me; at 8:50 AM, the line was about 20 deep, and I felt like such a jerk cutting in front of a few folks because our friends were already in line. Since I believe in food karma, I think that's why my lunch today was absolutely bland and horrible (bleh). 

The moment the doors open at 9 AM to this ten feet wide (yep, you read that right) diner, people stream in and take one of the fourteen stools, while 14 more people stand behind them. This is the intricate dance at Al's; the place is so damn narrow and small that you need to call your seat by hovering over someone else's breakfast for about 30 minutes or more. It's uncomfortable, it's hot, and it's memorable. 

The crew impatiently waiting behind the diners

I smile, but only because I was having 20 oz. of caffeine pumped into my bloodstream

The wait is part of the entire Al's experience, though. There was never a fleeting moment where I thought "why exactly am I doing this again?" Not. At. All. Much like the Mickey's Diner experience of St. Paul, this is one of those activities you just gotta do to experience the city's artery-clogging history, its greased-up food culture. And, having that waiting time allowed me to catch up with my friends, talk about life, and observe every nook and cranny of this joint, from the tchotchkes coming out of every corner, to the different denominations hanging out on the back wall of the kitchen, to the funny signs.

Denominations from all over the world...and Batman!

Prepaid cards for the regulars

The aforementioned Tipping sign

Their James Beard medal. Bow before greatness.

After about 30 minutes of waiting (and that's after several impatient people left), our group was finally seated, and luckily we got to sit close to the smoking hot flat top. The short order cook was nothing short of amazing; she seriously was the multi-tasking ninja of short order cooks. 

The griddle, frying up amazing beautiful things

It was pretty difficult deciding on what to get, especially since everything on their slightly oily, laminated menus sounded so delicious (and LDL-raising). Eventually, I chose the 2 Poached eggs on corned beef hash with a side of rye bread. I also ordered a short stack of blueberry walnut flapjacks for my group to share, since you know I couldn't pass up the chance to get a well-rounded experience. And, also, I'm not so sure when I'll be back here again. :) Our master chef whipped up our plates in very little time. It was so fun watching her crisp up a mound of hashbrowns, before putting two meticulously handled poached eggs on top, then burying the whole thing in a mound of cheddar cheese and steaming the entire food monster. When it came out of its shell, I nearly shed a tear. It was beautiful. 

Look at how that glob of melted cheddar cheese just glistens.

One more glamor shot

Really great flapjacks

I've been to food institutions where I come away going "Eh? What's so great about that place?" Sometimes, it's because I just came at an off day (like Top Dog in Berkeley...once), or maybe because the place really wasn't that special to begin with, and I feel like it's just kept alive by the hype (sorry Philippe's, I'm looking at you). And then, you have a place like Al's Breakfast, which is actually good. It's not phenomenal by any means, and I can probably make the same corned beef hash if you gave me a commercial griddle (how epic would my kitchen be?). But, taken at face value, the food is something good diners produce. It's greasy, it's rich, and it's flavorful. The flapjacks have real berries and nuts in it and (my favorite part!) has the wonderful aftertaste of the other savory stuff from the griddle that it was just on; I appreciate the co-mingling of sweet and salty. The rye bread was positively ryetastic (copyrighted by Mariel Lisud 2011), and the hash browns have the perfect crispy, burnt outsides and buttery insides.

Oh, and for the first time, my fast-eating skills that my family is painfully good at (we would SO suck being French) was actually appreciated at this diner. As I swiftly inhaled (and enjoyed; I can do both at the same time, believe it or not) my breakfast, I just think of the healthier, more productive things I could be doing with my Sunday morning.

Then I let out a lovely belch, and ceased to care.

PORK CHOP! (with Apple Sauce)

This is my dissenting dish. 

Let me explain. I used to not eat pork, because my family followed a kosher diet. No, we're not Jewish (although I consider myself to be a mensch who says "Oy vey" more than my Jewish co-worker), but the religion I grew up in followed the OT (that's Old Testament to y'all heathens) to a T (Ha, I wasn't even trying to be witty there). Anyway, I have since grown up, and with that have challenged these Levitical laws and think for myself.  I've concluded that a) I don't believe in religious conventions anymore and b) pork is effing awesome and I will not 'keep kosher,' thank you very much. I mean, seriously, once you have a bite of bacon, you're ruined for life, man. And pulled pork sandwiches? And pork banh mi? Get real. Pork works. So, in a way, this dish is the object of my objection to former beliefs, a big wag of my finger to those who said "Swine Sucks." 

In reality, though, I've been eating non-kosh since I was in church school, so this dish really isn't pivotal. It is an important moment though, because this is the first real meal I've cooked in the last month. Yes, I am a restaurant whore. I was also super excited to make this because it involved sage, which is a spice that I often eat but have never cooked, and also because this is supposedly a healthy dish (at least that's what Real Simple said). Pork chops with apple sauce is super simple to make, and I'm not even going to put in measurements, 'coz I'm really not a measure-y kinda gal:

Pork chop

Rubbed Sage

Salt & Pepper

Apples, sliced

Shallots, diced

Garlic, diced

Olive Oil

Beef broth

Butter (or butter substitute)

White Wine

Honey

Cornstarch + water, to thicken 

The ingredients

The star of the show, rubbed sage

Step 1. Coat the pork with sage, salt & pepper 

 Step 2. Pan fry the pork chops in an olive oil-butter combination

 Step 3. Make sure they're cooked through so you don't get food poisoning

 Step 4. Meanwhile, chop the shallots and slice the apples

 Step 5. Put aside the cooked pork chops, and in the same pan saute the shallots and apples

 Step 6. Put in some beef broth (chicken broth works, too) and simmer; add some white wine, chug the rest

 Step 7. Pour some (sugar on me!!!) honey, do not chug

 Step 8. Pour some cornstarch slurry to thicken up the sauce

Step 9. Place the pork chops back into the pan

 

 Step 10. Make a side of mixed greens with loads of croutons and gorgonzola crumbles, because they're good for you

 Step 11. Serve and enjoy!