When you sit on the porch at Billy’s, you don’t have your own conversation. You inevitably get drawn into a common conversation with everyone else out there (likely including Billy himself). The whole place–inside and out–just exudes friendliness.

I went with the Billy Burger. Solid.

Eliza had the veggie burger. An uncharacteristic choice, but she liked it.

When there are fried pies on the menu, we have a hard time saying no. So we didn’t.

Eliza had offered to come pick me up, but the sight of stand-still traffic on Congress Avenue made me think twice. I decided I’d rather get a little wet than be stuck in the car staring at taillights. Above all else, I love the location of our house. I especially love the fact that I can bike to work, which I’ve been doing daily for over a month now. At first, I wasn’t confident that I’d make it through the Austin summer, but it turns out that biking in the heat isn’t so bad. (You make your own breeze.)

So now, my thoughts have turned to selling my car. I’ve already cancelled my monthly parking pass. The prospect of getting rid of my car payment has become tantalizing. But just as a backup, I may want to get something older and cheap. I’m thinking something like this:

As far as I can tell there are three questioner archetypes:

1) The “Please Love Me, I Love You” type: These people are looking for the celebrity to validate some aspect of their lives (e.g., “I’m from New Jersey. What’s your favorite restaurant there?”)

2) The “I Will Prove to You How Much I Love You” type: These people start their awful questions off by quoting to the celebrity something they once said (e.g., “The last time you were in Austin, you said this one thing that I just loved“).

3) The “I’m Not So Different Than You” type: These people make a pathetic attempt to show that they, like the celebrity, have a certain quality. In Bourdain’s case, this involves something outrageous. (e.g., “I know you really like to smoke pot, so I was wondering if you could comment on how awesome that makes a person.”)

It is a testament to Bourdain’s charisma that he was able to be quite entertaining despite the Q&A format. Here are a few of his choice quotes:

When asked about the best meal to cook to get someone into bed: “I say, stick with the classics… Alcohol.”

On people who describe chocolate as “orgasmic”: “I’d really question the quality of the sex you’re having.”

On Cincinnati: “God did not intend for chili to be eaten on top of spaghetti.”

On choosing to leave the Food Network rather than change his show: “One of the first things any television executive learns is that there is no limit to what people will do in order to stay on television. Just look at the Jersey Shore or The Real Housewives.”

On whether smoking affected his pallatte: “That’s why God created salt.”

On food today: “There’s never been a better time to cook in America. There’s never been a better time to eat in America.”

But with the house, the storage equation has inverted. Now we can buy the mass quantities of consumer goods that Americans are supposed to: 32-packs of toilet paper, case upon case of Diet Coke, and gallon containers of mayo. These things are our birthright, and I’m happy to stake my claim. And just in case there’s any doubt, let me be clear: I’m not being facetious. I love this stuff.

So now I have a weekend car trip I can actually look forward to: Costco. True, there are moments in the store when it feels like you’re in the middle of a war zone. Kids are screaming. Old ladies are cutting you off with their tank-like grocery carts. But I love a deal. So I love Costco, too.

Another perspective on weekend trips:

I wasn’t exactly a big baseball fan, let alone an Orioles devotee. This was the pre-Nationals, post-Senators days, when the Orioles were the de facto home team of the DC area. So I possessed at least a vague allegiance. Add to that the fact that the Iron Man record was one of those big deal, unbreakable records, and you had a game worth watching. Unlike like DiMaggio’s 61 56-game hitting streak though, Gehrig’s record did break, taking my photojournalistic aspirations along with it.

A baseball game becomes official after the completion of the 5^th inning. At that point in this game, the applause began. And it kept going. And going. After a solid ten minutes of applause and one curtain call, Ripken’s teammates shoved him out of the dugout, whereupon he took a victory lap around the field, waving to fans and giving high-fives. It was completely spontaneous, which made it seem all the more special.

But amid the celebration, there was one element that seemed out of place. As he finished his lap around the field, a gaggle of photographers crowded around him, shoving their lenses in his face. They seemed to be in the way. I looked at these grown men chasing another grown man around and began to wonder: do I want to chase people for a living? I loved the idea of photojournalism, but I had always been uncomfortable with the idea that most people didn’t actually want their picture taken by a stranger.

Writing this blog has given me a new lease on my photographic ambitions. After all, you never need to worry about getting food’s permission before shooting, right? Well, that’s what I thought until I went to Texas Rib Kings.

Texas Rib Kings is located in a run-of-the-mill strip mall in the shadow of the 183 decks, near Burnet Road. But once you walk inside, you definitely feel like you’re in BBQ country.

While I was in line, I started shooting, capturing a few shots of the cutting board. I usually feel pretty comfortable taking faceless shots like this with someone’s permission. It’s face shots that make people start to feel uneasy. The cutter didn’t seem to mind. The cashier, however, was a different story.

When I got to the checkout. He growled at me, ”ARE YOU TAKIN’ PICTURES OF MY MEAT?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Is that okay?”

“WELL, YOU CAN’T USE ANY IMAGES OF MY MEAT OR MY LOGO WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.”

“Well, can I post some on my blog?”

“Oh, a blog I can’t do anything about,” he said with a sigh. Smiling now, he added, “As long as you write good things.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good,” I assured him.

He then went on to explain that someone had previously used pictures of “his meat” and logo for some kind of for-profit use without permission. He hadn’t seen any money, a fact that he was not okay with. I wondered if maybe part of the reason he hadn’t worked out a deal was because Charm School here didn’t exactly know how to ingratiate himself.

So how was “his” meat? The beef ribs were a little dry. They had probably been out a little too long. But the brisket glistened with ample fat. It was excellent. I’d go back for the brisket. I may leave my camera at home next time, though.

NOTE: Joe DiMaggio’s hitting streak was 56 games, not 61, as my friend (and actual sports fan) Rob informed me.

A better title for this post might have been “How We Tried And Failed Repeatedly To See Music During SXSW.” On the Friday of SXSW, we decided to take the afternoon off and head downtown to check out some day parties. On the way, we stopped off at Sushi A-Go-Go. Unfortunately, right after we showed up and started to order our food, I got an email from a co-worker that said “Where the hell are you guys? Is anyone going to be able to do this conference call?” So we took our food to go and went back home. Strike one.

Stevie bravely faced down some ferocious wind.

The sushi was great, but spending my “afternoon off” at home on a conference call put a damper on the experience.

No big deal, we figured. There’s still plenty of time to see some music. So on Saturday night, we went to east Austin for the Todd P Showpaper party. I was hoping to see Real Estate, but we ended up seeing a few minutes of some other band whose name I can’t remember. (Something about Cleveland, maybe?)

What I do remember is that it was absolutely frigid outside and we weren’t dressed for it. Luckily, we were able to warm up with some delicious Korean BBQ tacos from Chi’Lantro, which we had been meaning to try since sampling Austin’s other Korean BBQ truck, TaKorea.

The last stop in our food truck roundup has nothing to do with failed attempts to see live music. East Side King is located behind east Austin’s liberty bar and has been making waves with their take on something we love dearly, the steamed pork bun.

They also have a cow tongue bun. Yum.

And then there’s the fried beets.They’re beets, so it’s healthy right? Especially when you dip them in mayo.

Bouchon is the brainchild of Thomas Keller, the man behind a famous restaurant called The French Laundry. Apparently, this man is a big deal in the food world. judging by the cover of one of his recent books, he seems like the kind of person I’d like to hang out with.

We went to Bouchon at the suggestion of our friend Chris and his girlfriend Nicole. This was the fancy night out of our trip to LA. We started the night off with cocktails at Spago. It made me feel like I should have been making some sort of deal with a Hollywood mogul. “Well, now that you mention it, our blog would make a great movie!”

Bouchon was one of those high security places, where once you get past the hostess, you’re still separated by a long hallway from the dining room. Frankly, we were surprised they let a couple of yokels like us in there.

Our table was outside and we were frigid. Black and white photos make it look cold, right?

Voila! The appetizer that turned out to be the main event.

It was served with little strips of toasted baguette and a bowl of salt to sprinkle on top.

This is how I approach a serious meal. Head down, eyes on the prize, stuffing my fat face.

We couldn’t quite finish it all. I’m not sure if this comes across, but this was a preposterous amount of fois gras for two people. Some people feel guilty about eating fois gras. My attitude about fois gras is a little different than those people, becuase I feel guilty about not wiping the jar clean with my index finger. But even though we left a little behind, I still feel like I got my $50 worth.

At one point after several weeks of failed deliveries, I called the Austin American Statesman to tell them it still wasn’t showing up. By then, I had called so many times, the guy who answered actually recognized my voice: “You again? Really?” We finally gave up and resigned ourselves to reading the paper online. But it’s not the same.

It’s certainly not typical for people our age to subscribe to the paper. My particular attachment stems, at least in part, from the fact that my dad was a writer for the Washington Post while I was growing up and continues to write today. So throughout my life, newspapers have always played a central role.

While we’re on the topic of media upheaval, here’s a link to a piece my Dad wrote for the Post a few years after he had left the paper, from one dying medium to another: the Postal Service.

I have been trying to figure out what color to paint the front door of our new house, and there at Franklin Barbecue I think I found the answer. I love the combination of the turquoise and white trailer with the vibrant red Coke sign. It made me realize that the perfect complement to our red brick house with white trim would be a turquoise door. Perhaps it was an unlikely source of inspiration, or maybe yet another example of food ruling my life, but I’m pretty thrilled about this new color scheme.

As we neared the front of the line, I asked Ben what he was going to order.

“Everything,” he quickly responded.

They slice up everything right in front of you. It’s tantalizing.

Here is our tray of everything: brisket, pulled pork, ribs, sausage, a pulled pork sandwich, potato salad, and pecan pie.

It was everything we dreamed it would be – fatty, moist, well-seasoned, and smoky with a nicely charred edge. We poured on the rich espresso sauce, ate ourselves silly, and then wrapped up our leftovers to do it all over again later.

Thank you, Franklin Barbecue for satisfying my palate and my palette. Onward to Home Depot.