Wanna hear a solid college girl-type whine? Cause I got one–
I miss spring break. I miss it bad.
Not because I’m one of the beach-going, bikini-rocking, booty-dancing, spring-breaker chicks… but because I miss day after day of fantastic food, no communication law exams, no job applications, and good stuff like that.
For spring break this year, my bestie, my boyfriend, and myself packed up and ventured to Austin, TX for SXSW 2013. From the journey, I bring a collection of tips–both for enjoying the SXSW experience and road-tripping in general.
Here we go.
Bless my soul, final exams have depleted any spare time and mental energy left in me at this point in the year… not to mention, pulled my focus far from the important things in life. Like decadent smoked pork.
Praise the sweet heavens above they’re over.
So on to better things we go.
I’m gonna be straight up, I’ve been trying to think of a nice, witty way to make my way into this post for days… but let’s get real, I went to NYC a solid week ago, this lovely intro just ain’t gonna happen. And really, there’s no need for it. I went to New York. New York doesn’t require formal introductions. New York is cool place. Among the coolest of the cool places. End of story.
Before we really start into this… I need to apologize. Twice.
1.) I’m sorry for committing blog neglect for well over a week. It’s not my fault.
Except yeah, it is.
2.) To make up for the negligence, this post is about to be ridiculously long.
Mombacho Volcano-- Grenada, Nicaragua
This question– Wait, what’s a taco? <–that question
It actually happened. It came out of one of my best friend’s mouths last weekend.
Shortly followed with, Is that the thing with the chips?
Those are the kind of questions that make you wonder where you went wrong as a friend.
A rapid chain reaction of blank stares, dropped jaws, and questions of friendship immediately ensued.
The whole hairy mess culminated in a serious introduction to tacos.
I’ve not been so enthused to whip out a restaurant write-up in quite a while. Not to say that I haven’t eaten at some fantastic establishments lately, but right now I am downright overwhelmed with satisfaction, relief, and pretty much unabashed eating ecstasy.
I need to share.
Let me begin with a brief story. Last year, my appetite fell madly in love with an infamous little barbecue joint by the name of Butt Hutt. Twas your typical foolish love story… I fell hard and I fell fast– I fell for Butt Hutt’s heaping styrofoam-plated portions of BBQ bliss, I fell for its appetite provoking title, I fell for its undeniable charm… of being attached to a gas station. It was nothing but idyllic romance for a solid year. Alas, Butt Hutt temporarily fled, before I could ever say goodbye. My beloved took its sweet time migrating to a big fancy new home. After months of anticipation, finally came the glorious day when we would be reunited. We were…
I was left heartbroken at the table, feeling highly betrayed.
Never betray me when it comes to food. I get real ugly. Real fast.
Because this isn’t the time to have the heart of a hater, we’ll just leave it at that.
The nasty scene went down one week ago. I thought I’d never love again. But then…
there was a beacon of hope, I saw a sign. A really nifty new sign raised where old Butt Hutt’s used to stand.
It was like… on a Thursday, God said “Let there be barbecue.”
And so it was.
Lads and ladies, welcome to Runt’s.
Someone wanna please explain to me how today is already Thursday?
This week is being so darn ridiculous.
But anyway, I went to a newish restaurant this past weekend while visiting home… and regardless of how ridic irrational this week is acting, I absolutely can’t put off talking about it for one more day.
A name is sort of a big deal. Wouldn’t you say?
It’s what someone/something is destined to be known as for their life’s entirety, so I mean there should probably be some substance to it.
My name translates to dark one in Gaelic. Not sure what that’s supposed to mean… It’s not like I’m exceptionally brooding. Or tan.
But whatever. Given the value a name can hold, I have a dweebish affection for understanding what’s behind a restaurant’s name. Makes the food more meaningful. ish.
With places like The Local Jam, the name is pretty straightforward.
It’s all about local. And it might just become one of my regular lunchy/brunchy jams.
That fantastic moment when what you expect might be good turns out being exceptional…
Oh yes sir.
Such was the case the night I experienced Ted’s Most Best.
This tends to be sort of an issue in the south, but I don’t much care for football.
Like at all.
However, game day in Athens, GA ((i.e. yesterday)) reminds me exactly why I love it here so fudging much.
This city got spirit.