Long Weekend in San Angelo, TX

We’re just back from a trip to Texas to see Carter on his 25th birthday. He is currently training at Longfellow AFB in San Angelo TX before moving to the East Coast some time this fall. We wanted to visit him when we only had to fly three hours to Texas versus five hours to the East Coast. And of course, it was a milestone birthday of sorts for him.

Fiberglass Ewe, Symbol of San Angelo

I have not been to San Angelo in west central Texas before. The closest towns I have visited are Austin to the southeast and Amarillo to the far northwest. San Angelo was once known as the Wool Capital of the World and hosted the Miss Wool Pageant of America from 1952-1972. Accordingly the town has adopted a ewe as its symbol and there are dozens and dozens of decorated fiberglass ewes all over town.

For me, this trip was a homecoming of sorts. I lived in College Station in east Texas when I attended grad school at Texas A&M in the 1980s. Once I started working in the computer industry after school, I flew somewhat frequently to gigs in Austin, NASA/JSC in Clear Lake, and less often, Dallas. But the last time I was in Texas would have been before I opened the restaurant, sometime in the mid-90s. In the late 90s I traveled a lot for work but mainly to Ontario, Canada.

Waiting for our Flight at RDM

Thursday August 18

Our shuttle picked us up at home right on time on Thursday morning and our trip to the airport in Redmond was totally uneventful. This is wonderful because US97 always has the potential to be a nightmare. Once at the airport, it took the customary two minutes to transit the TSA security line. You have to love small airports for this reason and now that we have a direct flight to Dallas, at least for the summer, you have to love it even more.

Ann had scoped out San Angelo on the web before we went and insisted that I bring my camera to photograph the waterlilies that are on display in a public park. My plan was to leave the camera at home; I'm glad she insisted.

This is the first time that I have traveled with my cameras in a waterproof Pelican carryon box, a trial run for the TSA gauntlet heading to Europe this fall. Security was a bit surprisingly a non-issue. However a gate agent at RDM asked, “What’s in the box?” After I replied, “cameras,” she said, “You know what it looks like.” Actually I did not. In reflecting on her question, I wonder if she thought I had somehow got a handgun case past TSA.

After our boarding call, we made the usual schlep out the back of the terminal and onto the tarmac where we climbed the stairs to the awaiting A320. This plane was definitely one of the older A320s and once I got inside, I could see that it was very long in the tooth, having been through a lot of flights. We would come back on this same plane from Texas with a couple of the same cabin crew members.

Traveling in the summer often sucks because it means airplanes full of ill-mannered children. We had screaming infants both fore and aft that made for an unpleasant ride. And Ann had the misfortune to be seated next to an 8-year old walking snot factory. Aside from the mass of kids aboard, the flight was basically uneventful, if you discount the usual bumps leaving Redmond and crossing the Rockies.

I have never experienced beverage service suspended because of potential turbulence before. Some entitled passengers groused audibly when the captain suspended beverage service while crossing Rockies. It is hard to believe that some entitled folks prioritize an inconsequential drink over the safety of the flight attendants. Fortunately, we only experienced a few moderate bumps. 

I had forgotten what a circus DFW can be. It is Texas-sized, crowded, and takes a long time to get between terminals or to the Car Rental Center. After sitting outside the terminal and waiting for several minutes for a bus to the Car Rental Center, it finally arrived, seemingly not in any hurry. And it was a substantial drive to the Car Rental Center, during which I made a mental note that we needed to arrive really early for our return flight so that we would have enough time to deal with returning the rental car.

Our short wait at the rental counter was in no way indicative of the rest of our experience at the center. After we left the Avis counter, we were directed through the doors at the back of the building and instructed to walk to the red-canopied tent where we would be directed to our car. We are used to walking away from the desk, being directed to a row of waiting cars, selecting a car, and leaving the airport. We are not used to joining a queue of more than 20 groups of people waiting for cars ahead of us, with no attendants in sight.

In the course of our half-hour wait in line, we determined that they only had two attendants and they were both scouring the lot for cars. Then we overheard the attendants offering a choice of either an electric vehicle or a pickup truck: they were basically out of cars. Several people in line ahead of us were miffed in that they wanted neither option. Me, I drive a pickup every day of my life and I would rather have a truck than the econobox that we reserved any day of the year. 

We finally got to the head of the queue and I told the attendant that a pickup would be more than suitable. At the same time, I asked her how on earth in west Texas could I recharge an electric vehicle. Was I supposed to plug it into a mesquite tree? She showed us to a truck. Our "compact car" turned out to be a bright red Dodge Ram 1500 Hemi with Oklahoma tags and a 5.7-liter V-8, last of its breed.

Dodge is discontinuing the big and somewhat unreliable V-8 in favor of a more efficient turbocharged inline six. Without a doubt, it was fun to drive and certainly fit in with all trucks on the freeway. Ann thought the truck was huge, but it is no larger, higher, or longer than my Tacoma. Each time I would touch the accelerator, the big engine would roar going from 0-80 in mere seconds, while my Tacoma will get to 80 in a couple of days. I really had to be careful accelerating; it would leave rubber in first and second gear if I mashed the accelerator as much as I must on my 4-banger.

Our "Compact Car" Had a 5.7-Liter V-8

After wrestling with Avis, it was dinner time in Dallas but we weren’t hungry just yet, our stomachs still on Pacific time. Looking at our non-existent food options on the road to San Angelo through the middle of nowhere late at night, we thought to take our friend Tim’s recommendation for a brewpub where we hoped to grab some dinner. The GPS guided us through the maze of highways that litter the eight-million-person DFW Metroplex to Turning Point Beer in Bedford.

We walked into the cavernous space that houses their brewery and tasting room and grabbed seats at the bar. A large crowd huddled around the numerous tables playing bingo. That’s a first for me; never have I been to a brewery with bingo. They had way, way too many options on draft and a lot more in cans, a wonderful problem to have. Most of their beers tend to be higher gravity and we had a road trip in front of us. The small selection of lower alcohol beers help us choose more quickly.

We got to chatting with our bartender about beer options in San Angelo, which I assumed would be pitiful. He offered that he did not know of any decent beer in San Angelo. I had already pretty much decided that if Turning Point's beers were good, to take some to go with us to have at our B&B. Our bartender went in their cooler and picked a mixed four-pack of favorite IPAs for me and a four-pack of the hazy that Ann really liked. It turns out to have been a smart move; all the beer I had in San Angelo was bad to marginal. Turning Point beers, on the other hand, are excellent.

The food option at the cavernous beer hall was limited to a Cajun food truck just outside the door. Ann wasn't in the mood for Cajun or any of the other options that locals suggested to us, so we decided to hit a grocery store and get some sandwich material, a safe bet almost anywhere. Then I remembered that Tim had said we owed it ourselves to visit Central Market, the specialty food arm of H-E-B stores.

We left Bedford heading in the direction of west Forth Worth to make a stop at Central Market where we were astounded at the selection of specialty foods. We have nothing comparable back home and I can see easily why Tim and Susan miss it.

Breads at Central Market, Fort Worth

After purchasing some bread, cheese, and salume, we quickly left Fort Worth headed west, flying through the pitch black night expecting to see armadillos in the road just like I had decades before when I lived in east Texas. We saw only one armadillo and that was on the return trip. I guess that they are less prevalent than in East Texas.

We picked up a local cop near Coleman who tailed us for several minutes. I guess he was hoping that the driver of the bright red Hemi would make his day. With 75 mph speed limits on almost all roads out there, who needs to speed? Having seen no sights in the black of the night, we arrived at our B&B just before one in the morning and quickly turned in.

Friday August 19

My first thought of the day after waking up at nearly 9am local time and then brushing my teeth was that their tap water in San Angelo tastes beyond bad. This is a stark reminder how good our water is in Bend after filtering through all our volcanic rock. I made a mental note to buy some bottled water.

After waking up, we found the Tour de France on Ann's iPad and watched the end of Stage 19 in which eventual champion Tadej Pogačar would show why he is currently the best cyclist in the world as he blasted past all challengers on the final mountain climb of the stage.

At the end of the race, we got dressed and headed out of the air conditioning of our house to find some coffee and see San Angelo in the daylight. Immediately on exiting the front door, we were assailed by a wall of hot, sticky air. Not being used to humidity in the high desert of Central Oregon, we felt assaulted by it in Texas.

Driving through San Angelo quickly reminded me of College Station. I remember vividly the same feeling that I had during grad school, a feeling that I like to call "flatland claustrophobia." For most of my life, I have lived in hilly, if not mountainous, country where the horizons are delineated by mountains and you can see for long stretches. In flatland such as San Angelo and College Station, you cannot see beyond the mesquite scrub that lines the roads. To me, that feels claustrophobic. 

As we drove through streets dotted with pecans, mesquites, and live oaks, I flashed back to College Station. There the Texas A&M campus streets were lined with Texas Live Oaks, Quercus fusiformis, and those oaks were full of giant black male and gray female Great-Tailed Grackles that pooped endlessly all over the sidewalks. San Angelo has large measures of these trees and the large, noisy, and dirty birds that inhabit them. Welcome back to Texas!

Coffee and Bagels at Bearded Barista

Ann chose the Bearded Barista coffeehouse for our coffee and breakfast. We entered through the front door to find the lobby packed with a line of customers waiting their turn at the order window. The vast majority of customers were enlisted Air Force members dressed in OCPs. We did not know it yet, but the majority of these airmen were there to attend an informal separation ceremony for the young lady in civvies in line just in front of us.

We not only chatted with her, but we had no choice in being accosted by a regular in line just behind us. When she found out that we were not locals, just in town visiting Carter, she advised us to avoid the local Chinese restaurants because they "serve cats." Where does this bullshit come from and why does it persist? I remember in Auburn that one of dad's caretakers would not eat the bao that we brought to the house for fear that they would contain cat meat. Really?

While more local knowledge was being imparted on us whether we wanted it or not, the door opened again and a very short woman in OCPs walked in. I saw the airmen in line clench a bit and when she got close enough to me, I could see a Major patch on her chest. Later I would hear her give a short speech at the ceremony, explaining her presence with a bunch of enlisted airmen.

After coffee and bagels, which were really not good examples of either, we headed back to the B&B which is situated right downtown on the Concho River. We were not to meet Carter until much later in the afternoon as he was committed to the air base until at least 3pm. We decided to walk along the Concho Riverwalk from our location down to the International Waterlily Collection and back. I took some great photos of these stunning lilies, covered in a separate post.

Really Cute Bungalow Converted to B&B

Bungalow Shaded by Pecan Tree

Concho Riverwalk

Waterlily Bloom with Bees

The walk down to the lilies and back was brutal in the sunny spots between the shade. I'm glad of the opportunity to see the lilies, but that Texas sun is no joke, it pushing nearly 100 degrees. Back in the AC of our little bungalow, we took cold showers to cool off and finally ventured out into the shade of the pecan tree to have a cold beer. The neighborhood cicadas were really getting into full voice; that is not something I miss from living back east.

Well-Deserved Cold Beer under the Pecan Tree

One of the reasons for our visit with Carter was to help him purchase a car. Once he got out of class, we met him at his apartment and started making the rounds of dealerships and private individuals with cars for sale. At the end of the day, he decided to purchase one from the first dealership that we visited, but given that it was nearly closing/dinner time on a Friday night, he texted the salesman that we would meet on Saturday morning to finalize the deal.

For dinner, Carter wanted us to take him to a forgettable pizza and beer joint adjacent to Angelo State University. The pizza was OKish for college-adjacent food while the beer selection was downright terrible. After dinner, we had planned to go back to the bungalow, drink a real beer, and catch up. However, as we were arriving at Carter's apartment, he heard a kitten trapped four feet down a PVC drain clean-out. A policeman soon arrived and we all attempted to lure the cat to grab onto a string, to no avail. The cop asked Dispatch to call out Animal Control and the emergency maintenance crew for the building.

We waited around until almost dark for Animal Control to show up. Ann and I, tired after our travels and earlier slog through the sun, decided to head back to the bungalow while Carter, the cop, and Animal Control dealt with the cat. Before we left, I thanked the young policeman for all his efforts in trying to help the cat.

Later on, Carter sent a video of the cat being hauled out of the four-foot-deep drain pipe with a snare. To his credit, the cop was still there in the video. I am sure that wayward kittens are not a high priority for the SAPD especially on a Friday night in a town full of drunk college students and airmen, but I appreciate that he came, was able to call in assistance, and stayed through the end. The kitten spent the night with Carter and has since become grandcat number four for us, aptly named Piper.

Newest Grandcat Piper

Saturday August 20

Saturday morning was something of a repeat of Friday in that we pulled up the Tour de France and watched Tadej decimate the field yet again, his fifth stage win of the twenty run so far. (He would seal the deal by dominating the time trial, the final stage of the tour, the following day while we were in flight.) We had to wait around for a good while for Carter to get up after his late night with the kitten. We finally got together and went to the car dealership where Carter took possession of a beater that will get him around San Angelo and hopefully at his next duty station.

We stopped in to one of San Angelo's better, self-proclaimed "chef-driven" restaurants for lunch. Our service was nonchalant to the point where I only tipped 20% which coming from a person in the restaurant business is a crap tip. We always tip other people in the business well. Our server just did not care. The food was not particularly great either and I have already forgotten what I ordered. It was just that memorable.

Based on that experience, we decided that maybe we shouldn’t risk another restaurant for dinner. We decided to add to our charcuterie left over from Central Market and sit out front of our B&B, eat some cold cuts, drink a couple beers, and continue to catch up. While Carter went back to his apartment, we headed to the closest H-E-B. It is not Central Market, but it is better than most grocery stores anywhere.

As the afternoon wore on, the clouds piled high and black in the sky around us. A few tremendous claps of thunder presaged the coming deluge. Safe inside, Ann and I enjoyed the sounds of a raucous thunderstorm. In the summer on the East Coast, we could count on frequent afternoon thunderstorms, like clockwork. In Central Oregon, it doesn’t rain in the summer and thunderstorms are not common. We miss the sounds of the thunder, the wind, and the rain drumming on the roof. Needless to say, the storm put an end to our plans to sit outside. 

Carter came over and we noshed at dinner. After dinner, it being his birthday, we all had a slice of his favorite cake, carrot cake. It really was good to spend some time with him, our first visit with him since Thanksgiving 2022 in Colorado Springs.

A Good Beer at Last!

Happy 25th Birthday to Carter

Sunday August 21

Ann and I had decided to leave San Angelo not later than noon on Sunday for our 4-hour drive back to Dallas where we had 6pm reservations for dinner. Ann wanted to have breakfast with Carter before we left and picked a diner called Roxie's Diner. Ultimately, we met him there and got a table in the busy restaurant. I summarize the experience thus: hot water masquerading as coffee; super friendly overworked servers; really not great food. 

Roxie's Diner, San Angelo

After breakfast, we stopped to get gas. The prices in Texas, from a West Coast perspective, are unbelievable, a gallon of gas under $3. We got 10 gallons under 28 dollars; it would have been 40 back home. On the way out of San Angelo, out of curiosity, I stopped to photograph a flower that we had seen in several locations around town, a plant that I have never seen before. It turns out to be called Peacock Flower and is the national flower of Barbados. Who knew?

Peacock Flower, Caesalpinia pulcherrima

We left town the way we came and I do have to say that I was not sorry to have San Angelo in my rear view mirror. There are parts of Texas where I might consider living, the hill country, canyon country out west, but not the flatlands. Sorry, not sorry, to any San Angelenos who might be reading this.

The drive back to Dallas afforded us the opportunity to see what we had missed in the dark Thursday night into early Friday morning. Not much. The roads are lined as far as the eye can see with mesquite and prickly pears. What land was not scrub is agricultural: sorghum, hay, soybeans, and some cotton. As we drove northeast, we saw more live oaks interspersed with the mesquite. Certainly this part of Texas is much more green than Central Oregon; clouds building in the sky all day hint at frequent thunderstorms. We also understand that this year has been particularly rainy.

After miles of unimpeded driving, traffic started building on I-20 by Weatherford, still pretty far west of Fort Worth. The traffic only got worse and worse as we entered the most unbelievable maze of roads, bridges, flyovers etc. The road system in this area is like bowl of spaghetti, roads upon roads twisting and turning like noodles in a bowl. Ultimately, 4-1/2 hours after we left San Angelo, we pulled into our hotel just a few minutes from DFW and hit the shower in preparation for dinner.

Cocktailing It at José, Dallas

After a delightful evening at José (see the post here) we headed back towards the airport and turned in, setting the alarms on our phones for 7:30am to start the process of getting home by dropping off the truck at Avis. Before we went to bed, Ann closed the evening by saying, “I’m really excited to have a great cup of coffee on Tuesday.”

Monday August 21

The thermostat in our room was crazy. The room would get really warm before it gave signal to the AC unit to turn on and really cold before it would signal it to shut down. All night long, this constant hot-cold cycle kept me up from 1:30am to 5:00am. Once I finally fell asleep, the room alarm clock went off at 6:11, thanks to some prior inconsiderate a-hole guest who set it, but did not turn it off. Ann and I looked at each other and without a word decided to just get up and go.

We walked outside to be confronted with ugly humidity and cloudy gray skies that spoke of rainstorms. Our takeoff across west Texas might not be so smooth. I've made some pretty horrible takeoffs and landings at DFW. While there was Monday morning traffic on the way to the airport, it really was not bad because of the early hour. We dropped the truck without incident and then had to wait nearly ten minutes for a shuttle to the airport. Clearly, quick service is not a concern.

Because the departures are spread out over five terminals, the lines for security are much shorter than at some other airports. ATL, I'm looking right at you! We had a pleasantly quick trip through security. In fact, it took a quarter of the time to transit the TSA area that it took in getting to the terminal from the rental car center. We were at the at gate before 7:30. I was seated there when the alarm on my phone went off. Our plan was to still be in bed at this hour.

We went in search of coffee and a bite of breakfast. All I can say is that the coffee, breakfast “taco,” and “scone” that we found after walking throughout the terminal were examples of the worst of their kind ever. We would be leaving Texas on a low note and not soon enough. The amenities at DFW suck when compared to PDX or SEA, our usual airports. 

The flight back to RDM was very smooth compared to what I feared it might be given the cloudy sky. Because of a strong headwind, the flight time was more than a half hour longer than our first leg. One of the flight attendants kept asking me to put my seat forward for take-off. It really was not my fault that this plane, the same one we flew out on, is a beater and that the seats sag backwards, especially from someone as large as I am. On landing, she finally wigged out and asked me to move to the unoccupied seat next to me. I didn't give her any grief; her job of dealing with John Q is difficult enough as it is. 

Coming down into RDM, we could see a layer of smoke haze and we could smell it as soon as we exited the plane. Welcome to smoke season, two weeks early this year!

José Restaurant, Dallas

We considered several options to get to San Angelo TX to visit with Carter for his 25th birthday. The most efficient proved to be to fly to Dallas, rent a car, and drive the four hours to San Angelo. With a return flight to Oregon at 10am on Monday morning, we decided that we would return to Dallas on Sunday evening and camp out at a hotel near the airport, especially given the inefficiency of the rental car system at DFW.

This schedule left us with the opportunity to have a nice dinner in Dallas on Sunday night, a night when many restaurants are not open. Of all the places we could have gone, we chose José near Love Field in north Dallas, an easy drive from our hotel near DFW. José is known for its elevated Guadalajaran-inflected food and drink, a celebrated female chef in AQ Pittman, its use of house-made masa from corn brought in from Mexico, and a segment on "Taco Chronicles," the Netflix show that you do not dare watch if you are remotely hungry or trying to lose weight.

The Very Handsome Floor-to-Ceiling Back Bar at José

As a chef, when I go to a restaurant, I just want the kitchen team at that restaurant to show me what they do well. The restaurant knows far better than I do what they do well. So, why should I order off the menu if I have the option to let my hosts decide? It's a rare restaurant that will roll with a request to just order for Ann and me (there are some technical POS issues, but that's more a cop out than anything), so when I e-mailed asking if they would just order for us, I was pleasantly surprised to get an affirmative response from GM Victor Rojas within a short while.

Just as we were seated, a runner dropped off a basket of totopos and a couple of salsas, one red and one green. The green salsa was one of the standouts of the night. It was almost identical to the usual salsa verde I make at home, except that it was smoother and less rustic. I really enjoyed it. It's the small things for me that make an experience.

Within a couple of minutes of our being seated, Victor appeared at our table bearing amuses and introduced himself. He would take great care of us personally for most of the evening and we greatly enjoyed chatting with him.

Blue Corn Sopecito with Blue Crab Salad

While we were munching on the tiny sopes and contemplating the cocktail menu, I had a chance to look around the spacious dining room of the building that was once a dry cleaner. The industrial steel clear span framing gives a large open interior and high ceilings that leave room for an immense custom floor-to-ceiling back bar that is the focal point of the room.

Back to the table, the star of the sopecitos was not the crab, but the blue corn masa from which they were made. One of the primary reasons we selected this restaurant is because they nixtamalize their own corn and grind their own masa. Nixtamalization is the process of soaking dried corn kernels in a basic solution that dissolves the hard outer shell, the pericarp, of the kernel.

It is a process that my great grandmothers would have used to make the hominy (posole) so prevalent to the Scots-Irish Appalachians. When I was a boy, I would often see ash hoppers at country auctions. People would fill these hoppers with ashes from the fireplace and the rainwater would filter through the hopper and drain into a bucket below. The solution in the bucket would be lye, potassium hydroxide. Today, rather than using lye, we use refined hydrated lime (calcium hydroxide) called cal to nixtamalize corn.

Victor helped us choose cocktails. I had a riff on a Manhattan called the The José Way Manhattan, a dark complex mixture of mezcal, amaro, Banane du Brésil, vanilla, and Angostura bitters. Ann had a smoked tequila Old Fashioned of reposado, agave, and a couple of bitters. We really enjoyed our cocktails; they are similar to what we are making currently at our home bar where Ann's Oaxacan Old Fashioned will hang with anybody's.

Ann and Her Smoked Tequila Old Fashioned

The José Way Manhattan

Victor also brought us small glasses of the house mezcal and said that he had gone to Mexico to help make it. After smelling its unusual fruity nose similar to an eau de vie or schnapps, I asked how it was made. It is a pechuga of 100% espadín piñas. The pechuga used in the redistillation came from things that he sourced at the market: apples, guavas, and chile chilhaucle. I have had pechugas flavored with all sorts of things, but this was the most unique mezcal that I have ever tasted, a smooth and highly refined spirit that I enjoyed.

Arugula with Peaches, Fresnos, Grilled Okra, and Goat Cheese

Next up was an arugula salad course, the standout of the meal for me. The salad was plated on a spread of goat cheese from fairly local (Waco) Pachi Pachi Farms. The best parts were the fresh salad ingredients: sliced peaches, sliced mildly spicy Fresnos, and the revelatory ingredient, sliced grilled okra. I also loved the crunch of the toasted quinoa sprinkled on the salad.

As a southerner, I have grown, harvested, and cooked okra all my life. Even though I have cooked it myriad ways, I never thought to grill it gently. The smokiness from the grill enhances the small tender okra without activating any of its slime. In the highest form of chef flattery, I may rip this off, if I can ever find some tender baby okra out here in Oregon where it is essentially non-existent. 

Champagne Telmont

Our cocktails were done after the salad, so wanting a wine that would be able to stand up to anything that might come next, we went the sparkling route, ordering a bottle of Champagne Telmont. A label that we have not had before, it was a fine all-purpose wine with lots of red fruit dominating the nose, the palate balanced by a healthy addition of Chardonnay.

Dobladas de Pollo Enmoladas

Our first course with the Champagne was a plate of dobladas covered in mole. I detected chicken thigh meat, poblanos, and a white melting cheese inside the fresh tortillas and the top had a good sprinkle of queso fresco. To be honest, I wasn't expecting mole in a self-styled Jaliscan/Guadalajaran restaurant, but I have never met a mole I did not like.

Victor referred to the mole as "aged mole," meaning that each new batch contains some of the previous batch, old school, the way it has always been and should be done. He regaled us with the story of the line cook who thought to put the final batch of mole before COVID into the freezer to be used as a starter on the far side of the pandemic. Good looking out!

The mole on these dobladas was a fairly dark, fruity, complex sauce that in my world I would call a mole poblano. As much as I loved this mole, I cannot help but wonder how this combination of chicken, poblanos, and cheese would respond to a mole verde or pipián.

The star of this dish was neither the mole nor the filling. To quote Ann, “that tortilla though!” She would have been content with a stack of those tortillas and a ramekin of that excellent salsa verde. As would I.

Carne Asada, "Patatas Bravas," Salsa Roja

The Carne was an Excuse to Snack Fresh Tortillas!

We would get more awesome tortillas with our next dish, a cast iron dish of carne asada, onions, and peppers, served with whole roasted potatoes tossed in spice ("patatas bravas"), and a beautiful salsa roja. The eye opener from this dish was the salsa roja, an intense concentrated tomato sauce. The sauce was enhanced with smoky chile morita. The texture of the sauce and the smokiness reminded me in the best way of a beautiful roasted eggplant sauce.

Again, while the meat was awesome (sous vide tenderloin, I think), the tortillas and the salsa roja stole the thunder. Ann and I asked for more tortillas with which we polished off all that delicious sauce.

Coconut Flan with Candied Amaranth and Pepita Topping

Neither Ann nor I are dessert eaters because sweet flavors are not really our thing. Flan is so often cloying and pedestrian, but not so in this case. The pastry chef had a deft hand with the sugar and the addition of coconut milk made this flan much more interesting than usual. 

After dinner, Victor brought us little glasses of dark, barely sweet Fernet-Vallet as a digestif, a nice parting gesture. We thanked him profusely for his hospitality, the willingness to order for us, the excellent staff training, and of course, a delicious meal for which I would like to thank all the BoH team, especially the prep cooks and dishwashers who never get any credit, but without whom, nothing would happen.

The stand-out components of our meal were none of the star players. The glory goes to the supporting actors: the masa, the grilled okra, the salsa verde, and the salsa roja.

I compliment Victor, a consummate hospitality professional, and the service team on their attentiveness. I always love going to a restaurant where the entire service team takes responsibility for all guests, not the usual "not my table, not my problem" attitude. The FoH staff at José are well trained. Not a lot of guests would notice this, but then, I'm not an average guest, having owned, cooked at, and run a fine dining restaurant for a very long time.

Concho Riverwalk to International Water Lily Collection, San Angelo, TX

On our recent trip to San Angelo to celebrate Carter's 25th birthday, we found ourselves staying in a tiny bungalow right downtown a few yards off the Concho River which bisects the town. In places along the river, there is a well-defined path called the Riverwalk (and in others, not so defined, as we found out as we were essentially bushwhacking).

The most well-known attraction in San Angelo is a display of waterlilies in a public park adjacent to the river. Ann and I decided to walk from where we were staying to the International Waterlily Collection and back. The photos are in the order taken. As you will see, you should not miss the lilies if they are in bloom.

Bees on a Waterlily Blossom

We Miss Audacious Mockingbirds in Oregon

Concho River, Downtown San Angelo

A Reminder of When I Lived in Texas
A Female Great-Tailed Grackle

Not Expecting to See Bald Cypress in West Central Texas

Ball-Like Cones on Bald Cypress, Taxodium distichum

Charming Riverside Water Fountain

Gnarled Old Mesquite, Prosopis sp. 

Rock Squirrel, Hiding

Turk's Cap Hibiscus, Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii

San Angelo Visitor's Center/Chamber of Commerce

Chaste Tree, Vitex agnus-castus

House Along the Concho River

Footbridge over the River

Distinctive Bur Oak, Quercus macrocarpa

Several Great Blue Herons Along the River

Silver-Leaved Nightshade, Solanum elaeagnifolium

Green Heron

Gregg's Tube Tongue, Justicia pilosella

Rock Squirrel Issuing Alarm Call
They Have a High-Pitched Call Like an Osprey

Mesquite Beans

So Much Trumpet Vine, Campsis radicans, Along the River

Prickly Pear, Opuntia sp., Also Everywhere in Town

The International Waterlily Collection

This Variegated Foliage is Wild

So Many Bees Working Furiously

Victoria Waterlilies, Victoria sp., Unfortunately Not in Bloom

An Arrowhead in Bloom, Sagittaria sp.

Castor Bean in Bloom, Ricinus communis 
Anyone Remember "Breaking Bad?"

Old School Wild Sunflower, Helianthus annuus

Metz's Wild Petunia, Ruellia metziae

Violet Wild Petunia, Ruellia nudiflora

Low Menodora, Menodora heterophylla

Playing Behind the Visitor's Center

Art in Uncommon Places, Under an Overpass

This walk during the late morning in the nearly 100-degree blazing sun was not a lot of fun, but was necessary to photograph the spectacular waterlilies at their best. The walk was a good reminder that this part of Texas is situated in the transition zone between east and west in that we saw plants and animals from both parts of the country, and some that we miss from living back east now that we live in the desert in Central Oregon.

Two examples stand out. The common Eastern Gray Squirrels running all about the parks here are so small compared to our very shy, very large, fairly uncommon Western Gray Squirrels. And it was fun to be serenaded by one of our favorite cocky birds, a Carolina Wren, here on the bleeding western edge of its range. While I am glad we made the walk, I am happy I do not have to be out in that sun again.