OK, so remember when my sister, Caroline, and I were on our way to Austin and we stopped in Asheville, North Carolina and had a delicious lunch at Rosetta’s Kitchen?
Well, the adorable picture of us together was taken, you may or may not recall, by a lovely gentleman named Michael, who was in town with his partner, Kenny, and with whom we proceeded to strike up a conversation. Turns out, they were from Austin, and the subsequent flurry of restaurant suggestions and “oh the fate of this!” exclamations were joyous indeed. Well, Kenny gave me his card, and as I was unpacking, I found it and thought, “I should tell him we went to Mother’s Cafe on their suggestion!” So I e-mailed, and that led to me having lunch with Kenny today at Flip Happy Crepes!
Like much of Austin’s best food, these crepes are served out of a trailer, in a random parking lot, amongst some random office buildings.
And, like most of the places you go in Austin, you want to eat everything on the menu.
And, if you are like me, you pick three choices and force the waitress (or in this case, the cashier) to pick for you.
Because I now feel as though my Texan conversion has resulted in inconquerable tastebuds, I was not scared of the claim that the Moroccan Chicken was “spicy.” Spicy? Ha! I’ll show you, you silly Moroccan Chicken Crepe!
If you are like me (and Kenny), you use a knife and fork to eat your crepes. [Yes, we had a nice bonding moment over this fact.] I, however, am the much messier eater…
Yummy chicken (not spicy), but I wish it had more of the delicious (and much prettier!) roasted veggies in feta-buttermilk sauce that found themselves in Kenny’s crepe:
And here is my Diet Coke, posed on the drink cooler for your delight. (and mine….)
Fabulous, fun, and filling (I was talking so much that I only ate half of my crepe, and I wasn’t hungry for another 4 hours…) lunch. Isn’t it fun to not be afraid of e-mailing strangers and deciding that fate brought you together and you must now become a part (no matter how small) of their lives?
So, Sarah, how else have you spent your day? Well….
Watch out! I have Texas tags!
And it was a surprisingly painless process. Not at all like when I moved to Virginia and obtaining registration and title transfer on my car was a multiple-day affair involving confusing verbiage, lengthy lines, torrents of tears, and bitter accusations of infidelity. [OK, not that last part. I was just seeing if you were paying attention. 
] I went in, got my number, read approximately 4 pages in my books (The Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg), my number was called, I sat down and wrote my name and address a few times, the woman called me ma’am repeatedly despite the fact that she was probably 6 days older than me, she typed a few numbers into the computer, I wrote a very large check (tragically), and just like that, I had a registration sticker and license plates.
To celebrate, I went on a yogurt pilgrimage. The conversation with the culinary devil-on-my-shoulder went something like this:
I.C.S. [Irrational Culinary Self]: Sarah, since you are already so far north, you might as well keep driving to Super Target and get some more Archer Farms plain yogurt.
L.C.S. [Logical Culinary Self]: Actually, I’m only about 2 exits north of home. So that makes no sense to drive another 10 exits just to buy a tub of yogurt.
I: But it’s really good…and you’re almost out…
L: There are other, more easily accessible places to obtain yogurt. You always mix it with stuff anyway.
I: But it’s really good.
So, yes, I did drive perhaps 15 miles solely to obtain yogurt.
The non-fat flavored ones I bought for the sole purpose of making faux-yo.
Blueberry Pomegranate, Caramel Apple, Boston Cream Pie,* Strawberry Cheesecake*Speaking of Boston Cream Pie, whenever I see this flavor, I always think of my older brother. I have absolutely no reasoning behind this. I feel as though perhaps he went through some phase of his life when he really liked it…I have a vague recollection of eating a Boston Cream Pie doughnut in Florida…but now he lives in Boston, so maybe some suppressed desire for cream pies led him there (as opposed to his now wife, which I’m pretty sure was the real reason he headed to that city).
I also bought some Maple Vanilla coffee (on sale), some coffeepot filters (we are almost out, and I do not want to have a “what do you MEAN I can’t make my coffee?” moment in the coming days), bananas, and waterproof mascara (the Texas heat has caused too many belated mirror checkings involving raccoon eyes).
Then I purposefully got lost on the way home in a neighborhood with an incredible number of what my stepmom calls “Buy Me” houses, all while listening to Joe Pug, who we are going to see tonight at Stubb’s. You might remember Joe Pug as the singer/songwriter akin to Bob Dylan who I saw playing in front of a cupcake trailer when I was here in March. Tonight I get to go see him and eat BBQ. Gotta love this town for constantly combining my two great loves: food and music. If I could only somehow figure out how to get Stephen Kellogg & The Sixers to come here and play in Whole Foods or Central Market. Now that’s my idea of heaven.
