December 13th, 2010
The Week That Was 12.12.10
This past week brought with it visitors from Dallas. In this event I did what any good Houstonian would and should do for our brothers and sisters to the North – I took them to Landry’s, Casa Ole, and to show them we’re not so different after all, the Culture Map Mega Base. That’s all a lie. I would never put them through that. Beaver’s, fresh seafood in Galveston at Shrimp and Stuff, Lights in the Heights, and a bit of reverence at the Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart stormed our itinerary and left us reeling with joy.
Song of the Week – “Pumped Up Kicks” by Foster the People
My subscription to SiriusXM rarely pays dividends. Mostly because it goes unused, but that’s because I distrust the radio after years of listening to The Buzz and thinking that was the be-all-end-all of music. This is where we pause for a moment to give thanks for the internet… In the name of the father, the son and the iTunes. For the last week I’ve abandoned my iPod and taken to the airwaves for some tunes. Queue Foster the People and their first single… ever, “Pumped Up Kicks”. Enjoy the mellow tune.
Quote of the Week – Of 78 Year Old Love…
“Do you have a wife?”
“I used to have one, but she died back in ‘99. Do any single girls live here?”
“No, but I’ll keep a look out for you.”
“I live right down there. If you find any, tell them I’m in loooooove.”
Kickball is the true American pastime. Never has there been a sport that we, as a country, could combine a bastardization of two sports to create one awesome powerhouse. Soccer be damned. Baseball is an afterthought. Kickball is the viral answer. We’ll ignore the fact that our team can’t string three hits together to manage a run. At the very least, that losing spirit brings our roster closer together. Nothing says “brotherhood” like a few cold ones after the game trying to analyze what went wrong an hour before. Nothing says “reversion” like using crayons to color the snowman print-out at Cedar Creek either… Which is exactly what you see Mr. Jones doing above. Oh, his lady got quite the treat on Thursday night after pitching for the kickball team. Colored wax on paper is always the way to soothe the sting of defeat.
Houston and Beaver’s Give the Stink Eye to New York (Richard)
Yeah, Marc’s said it here before and we’ll repeat that notion, the Chicken Fried NY Strip at Beaver’s, is Houston’s answer to the New York sophisticuffs, that hail that city as God’s sh#t—the CFNY (not to be confused with CSNY) is the in the words of Prefuse 73, “The One-Word Extinguisher.” Traveling down Decatur street to see the neon lights and that beautiful flat-tailed rodent always has my mouth watering well in advance. One Saint Arnold’s Root Beer, Smoked Beef Brisket Plate, CFNY and Antelope Risotto later, our party of four left with nothing but positive things to say about the little ice-house that could.
Welcome Back, Leon’s
Last week, the doors to one of Houston’s favorite dives opened back up. Between Main and Fanin on McGowen, Leon’s Lounge has faced its fair share of adversity over the last few years. It’s currently hosting its third owner in as many years, the same that owns one of our favorites, Under the Volcano (a fact readily noticeable by the glass containers holding limes and cherries on the marble bartop). It doesn’t have the same feel as the days of old. The dirty jukebox is gone. The pool table was sent to a farm to run and play in the fields. The shuffleboard table has been on a milk carton for five years now. But you get the feeling that with Leon’s cleaning up its act and playing a new, classier tune, it might conger up some staying power in the glitz-heavy midtown neighborhood. We’ll have to make another trip just to make sure, but drinking is our job. Not that it ever hasn’t been.
Breakfast for Lunch
When you walk into the savory smelling Buffalo Grille, you immediately see the accolades and articles that have been bestowed upon the restaurant. Zagat-this, Houston Press- that, West U Observer-another thing. Some two-bit, blog shouldn’t be able to even consider putting out a review of such a place. Ha. Wrong again. We’ll have one of those soon. Why? Because I need to be able to justify how much I eat/drink out on the town so that it doesn’t just seem like a syphon on my bank account. Sunday morning, after a blow-out birthday party on Saturday night, was the perfect time to crash Buffalo Grille for some hangover-curing eggs and bacon. It’s one of those places you can pinpoint the people that just rolled out of bed having slept in their makeup, and the others that are fresh out of a sermon. A happy coexistence we lead. Sinners and saints, a harmonizing din over coffee and toast.
The Co-Cathedral and Incensed at Incense (Richard)
Every time I drive on 45 as it curves around Downtown, I’m drawn to the green dome and white marble that rest on the East side of the freeway, nestled amongst the sky scrapers and crumbling but sustaining small businesses. The Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart stands as a homage to the great cathedrals of past centuries in its size and grandeur, but in style blends those old standards with a minimalistic approach. I’d been there before on a week day to walk around and see what needed to be seen, but had yet to experience it during one of the masses for which it had been built. It was beautiful. The Latin verses, grand pipe organ and sun light flowing through the many stained glass windows, all pushed the experience beyond that of architectural appreciation. However, more amazing still, was how anyone within 20 feet of the altar was able to operate within the thick cloud of incense smoke. Cough.
[Photo credit MrChrisCornwell]