All my favorite restaurants need to come to me

It's been a while, hasn't it?

Sorry about not posting more often; I could give you a bunch of excuses, many of them reasonable, but let's just say I've been flaking and leave it at that.

As most of you know, Lopez and I just came back from a two-week stay in New York City, and it was fun, incredible, beautiful and grimy, exhilarating and exhausting. I'll put together a better report later, but for now let me tell you about the most fun restaurant I've probably ever been to.

A few blocks from where we were staying, on the hazy borderland between the Lower East Side and Greenwich Village, there are four tiny Indian restaurants side-by-side and stacked on top of each other, so there are two on the basement floor and two on top of them. The person we were renting an apartment from told us to ignore the guys trying to usher you through their particular door and recommended the top-left. That turned out to be Milon.

Glancing in the windows later, I'm guessing the other three eateries are similar, but I can tell you Milon is maybe about six and a half feet wide and maybe 15 feet long (not including the kitchen). Tables are crammed along the sides, leaving a narrow strip that is like a runway for the waiters that need as much poise and flexibility as your average model. And the ceiling - my God, the ceiling - is low and covered with red chili pepper lights, garland, twinkle lights and every other gaudy doodad ever strung on a wire. Going hand-in-hand with the disco fever dream is Indian dance music blaring non-stop from unseen speakers hidden somewhere in the tangle overhead.

It was completely awesome.

I'm a big guy, and my overcoat itself is a monstrous beast to be tamed, so you can imagine what settling in to our table was like. But once we were sitting it was comfortable, cozy even, and the service was attentive and top-notch. And the food itself was delicious, fresh and flavorful.

Eating at Milon is definitely an experience, an event as much as a meal. Lately it seems that whenever me and Lopez travel we end up finding one restaurant that we fall in love with and wish we could go to on a regular basis, dragging our friends there so we can spend hours eating and talking and hanging out. In New York, Milon was that restaurant.

OK, before I go completely into my old restaurant review mode, here are some pictures. Keep in mind that I took these, 1. without a flash, and, 2. pretty much at eye-level and from the very rear of the place. I had to duck when I walked through the place, so I'm not exaggerting when I say it was small. But again, it was cozy, not claustrophobic (shit, there I go again - pictures!).

The art of the taco truck

Every now and then Lopez and I will walk to work, and in the parking lot of a little apartment complex we pass by there's this little taco truck. It's never actually open, it's just parked there, but it's got some neato paint work on it so I thought I'd snap a few shots of the detail before the trailer disappeared.

I like the way Pedro Infante looks as if he's waiting to take a drink from the tap in that last one. By the way, the name of this taco outfit? La Fantabulous!

And yeah, yeah, I know this is kind of a lazy post, but gimme a break — you've got to ease back into this sorta thing. Oh, and in case you're wondering, yes, I'll be watching the debate tonight. I told a co-worker that I'll either develop spontaneous ulcers or my head will crack open and a moose will jump out. I'll keep you updated.

(Seen on Shoal Creek Boulevard, near 183)

Behold, the future is now!

So far, most of these candid photo posts tend to sound like "why I love Austin" posts, but I can't help it. Things like this tend to happen all the time here — and that's pretty awesome.

We went to First Thursday with some friends last week, and for no real reason (that I could tell) this person was walking up and down the street in a homemade robot costume, waving to people and posing for cameras.

And yup, the robot would do The Robot.

(I just wish my camera wasn't acting up, because the first picture I tried to take was better than this one. Damn!)

With some of the grumbling you'll hear about how gentrified this particular section of South Congress has become, and how First Thursday is becoming a marketing tool more than a means for community outreach, it's nice to see that a wackily DIY spirit still strolls up and down the boulevard.

Next time I need to get a picture of the Free Hugs folks, who I'm guessing are part of this whole thing. In other places, having a stranger come up to you and say, "Want a free hug? If you don't like it, you can give it back!" would seem annoyingly odd or hopelessly hippy. Here it's just kinda — nice.

Domo arigato, Austin!

(Seen on South Congress Avenue, somewhere around Monroe and Annie streets)

Obama makes history — and the poor man's Billy Joel

One of these days I'll actually write a coherent, full-on post about a specific topic again, but in the meantime here are some random thoughts:

• I have never felt as proud or as committed to a politician as I am for Barack Obama tonight. His speech on race today will be considered historic, and if he is not our next president it would to America's shame. Time has a good analysis of the speech.

• For what it's worth, I think Rev. Wright's statements weren't expressed in the best way, but I don't think he was wrong, either.

• Speaking of race, I thought this was interesting:

Immigration Reduces Crime Rates

By LiveScience Staff

Contrary to popular stereotypes, areas undergoing immigration are associated with lower violence, not spiraling crime, according to a new study.

...

Not only does immigration appear to be "protective" against violence in poverty areas, violence was significantly lower among Mexican-Americans compared to blacks and whites. Sampson refers to this as the "Latino Paradox," whereby Hispanic Americans do better on a range of social indicators — including propensity to violence — than one would expect, given their socioeconomic disadvantages.

Sampson’s analysis also revealed that first-generation immigrants were 45 percent less likely to commit violence than third-generation Americans. Controlling for immigrant generation even narrowed the violence gap between whites and blacks in Chicago by 14 percent.

...

Immigration is therefore not just a Hispanic issue; although little noticed, increasing foreign-born diversity among blacks (e.g., from the West Indies and Africa) is associated with lower crime even within segregated black communities.

The whole article is right here.

• Holy shit — is that Apollonia in the Shakin' video?!

• So right now I'm going through about four years of photos on the ol' laptop, so expect to see photos popping up here on a fairly regular basis. Y'know, random stuff like this picture from the 2004 Austin Kite Festival:

Don't say I didn't warn you!

Like a rocket

One of the many things I love about Austin is its tendency to bolt wacky sculptures to its buildings. There's the Mangia dinosaur (now stalking the roof of the Wheatsville Co-op), the Blue Genie, the pumped-up arm of that gym on Guadalupe, the tentaskull on Burnet, and a ton more.

There's even water heater rockets, blasting off to parts unknown, looking for the next adventure. And that, really, kind of sums up what it's like living in this town.

(Seen on St. John's Avenue, near North Lamar and 183)

Can you feel the love?

Behold! Praised be Electric Jesus!

(Seen at a booth in the Rio Grande Mall in Ciudad Juarez over the holidays)

Movin' to the country

Those are the biggest damn peaches I EVER SAW!

(Seen at Austin's Historic Farmers' Market on Burnet)

Who's hungry?

I swear we didn't doctor this photo - but I think a certain sandwich shop has some explaining to do.

(Seen on Congress Avenue in Austin)

Refried Beans

Aaaahh! That was a refreshing naparini! So, what time is it any … what?!? Damn you, snooze button! Damn you to heeeellllll!!!

Yeah, sorry about that. You know that feeling you have after you’ve taken a vacation, even a short one, where you kinda say to yourself, “Eh … I’ll get to it later.” Multiply that by a bajillion and that’s about where we’ve been.

We know you'd love for us to drop highly detailed stories about the trip on you, but I’m sure we’ll bring it up here and there so, to paraphrase Inigo Montoya, let me sum up.

In Germany, the people are friendly and helpful, and there’s a lot of beauty to enjoy in the countryside and in the cities. “Relaxing” wasn’t a word I would’ve associated with Germany, but it felt very comfortable there. We were in Frankfurt when Germany won its semifinal game, and we got to see the empty streets and squares (they were inside watching the match!) fill up with hundreds of people and honking cars.

Paris: Listen up, "people who hate Paris because it’s stinky and the people are rude" – sack up. Seriously, the people we ran into (and believe me, we asked people on the street for help on a regular basis) were unfailingly kind and generous with their time. I think people mistake a big-city attitude – meaning they’re busy people in a busy city and don’t have time to kiss your ass – for rudeness. Lopez! and I decided we could live here like happy little clamatos. We did all the touristy stuff, which was a lot of fun, and included the Eiffel Tower (amazing and impressive), the Mona Lisa (made Mom cry) and Notre Dame (magnificent). Oh, and almost everyone walks around eating baguettes.

Brussels: OK, you know all those things they say about Parisians? Well, they’re wrong – it’s the fucking Belgians. Hands-down the rudest people we ran into, the worst of whom was a man who totally blew off Lopez! when she tried to ask him a question. He wouldn’t even make eye contact, and just sort of shook his head and kept walking. Prick! I thought Lopez! was going to crawl up his ass and keep going ‘til she came out his mouth. Oh, and there was one waiter who refused to serve Lopez! soup. If you know Lopez!, you know this is a bad idea. If you ask her about it she’ll still go off on the guy (we’ll tell the whole story in another post). We did see the EU headquarters and the Manneken Pis, and the Atomium kicks ass.

Amsterdam: Everything you’ve heard about it is true. It’s beautiful, it’s very “international” and generally relaxed and groovy. We went to the Rembrandt and the Van Gogh museums, and you can see why these guys are giants. Also, it made "De Nachtwacht" my favorite painting because you ain't seen a painting until someone turns it into a multimedia extravaganza. Amsterdam was another place where we could see ourselves living. They even have outdoor, public urinals, which is so weird it’s awesome. I mean, OUT. SIDE. You could see guys taking a whiz. Craziness! We didn’t get to see the Red Light District (stop groaning), but we did have the best barbecue I’ve ever tasted. Bar none. Even better than anything I’ve had here in Texas. Even crazier craziness!

Berlin: It’s interesting how a city with so much history could be missing so much of that history. Since most of Berlin was destroyed in World War II you see a lot of buildings that were erected between the 50s and 70s, and it shows. It feels a lot more like the Cold War Berlin of your mind than the Nazi Germany Berlin that you might automatically imagine. We saw what was left of the Wall, and our tour guide (a real person) would point out things like the square where the Nazis had their book burnings and lamp posts that were from the Reich era. Sad and a little chilling. But lucky for us, we had the World Cup to help us shake it off. We didn’t have tickets to an actual game, but we went to the “Fan Zone” that had been set up and stood outside for hours watching crappy pre-game bands and jostling with other soccer fans. President Clinton showed up to tell us it sucked that we didn’t have tickets, but that he hoped we enjoyed the game anyway. People went nuts – you would’ve thought he was a rock star. And in a way, he is … sniff. Oh, and the apartment we rented was great, so yay again for Melanie!


Throw in a lot of running around on train platforms and wrestling matches with airline counter people and that’s our trip in a nutshell.

Alright, time for a nap.

Overexposure

Me and Lopez! don't write about everything we do (it just seems that way), so we're launching a little something that hopefully will be a regular feature. During the week we'll take pictures of what we've been up to, and at the end of seven days we'll post them here - if you want an explanation of what the hell is going on in any particular photo, let us know in the comments.

MONDAY

TUESDAY

WEDNESDAY

THURSDAY

FRIDAY

SATURDAY

SUNDAY

Office supplies

And now, for no reason at all, here's a random sampling of some of the toys that live in my office. They come alive at night and plot, I'm sure of it.

Oh, and I apologize for the quality of some of these photos, but I like to pretend my office is a dark cave and growl at people who walk too close to my door.



A lot of people don't know this, but Spider-Man can pop 'n lock like a mutha. Go Spidey! Go Spidey!



In another life, this guy was bad news, nearly destroying the entire friggin' multiverse single-handedly. Now he's got a very tiny head. He's not real happy about it.



Oh, Wampa. How I love you. We'll both pretend that's Luke's legbone, 'k?



Off-screen, Jet and Julia are actually married. Jet just wants to eat his pear, maybe watch a little bit of the game, but noooooo, Julia says he can't wait until after the "Late Late Show" to pick up the kids from day-care. Pfft. Women.



My fleet is mighty and swift and we take no prisoners. I mean c'mon, look at the size of these ships, where the hell would we put 'em?