Gina Hamadey
From Every Day with Rachael Ray
February-March 2006
Stolen Weekend in Austin: Page 1
The town does Texas proud with great bites, homegrown music and a kickin' pair of boots.
I knew I'd found my kind of people when I saw the signs and T-shirts all over town: Keep Austin Weird.
Ever since the 1980s, when tech companies invaded this Texas city, locals have lived by that slogan. Worried that Austin would become infested with chain stores and restaurants, they were determined to keep the town interesting—and they have. I went to Austin for the weekend by myself. I arrived with nothing but a map and a personal mission: to cram as much music and good food into one weekend as possible, and maybe make a few friends along the way.
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BOOT CAMP
| AUSTIN'S TOP 3 STOPS FOR COWBOY BOOTS |
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ALLEN'S BOOTS (1522 S. Congress Ave., 512-447-1413) has the largest selection of women's cowboy boots in the country, and plenty for guys, too. If you're a first-time buyer, you'll find helpful, hands-on staffers here.
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CAVENDER'S (4435 S. Lamar, 512-892-4747) is like a Sports Authority for the Western set, with just about every cowboy accessory you could ever want. Though not as intimate as Allen's Boots, the place has some decent sales (the $299 Luccheses I bought at Allen's were $40 less here). And it has special deals, like a free George Strait CD with any $40 Wrangler purchase.
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| TEXAS CUSTOM BOOTS (2525 S. Lamar, 512-442-0926) is your best source for unique boots. Owner and cobbler Noel Escobar lovingly restores vintage pairs ($35 and up) and takes orders for elaborate, custom-fitted ones, but those will cost you--the minimum is $1,000. |
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As it turns out, Austin is the perfect place to do all of this. Almost every restaurant in town makes room for a stage, and it seems that nearly everyone who lives here is a musician, or at least a die-hard music fan. As a result, the whole town has a palpably relaxed atmosphere, as if it were leaning back in a chair, humming a tune. Lucky for me, the locals were eager to chat up the new kid in town and show me around the city they're so proud to live in. And they dressed the part, too—almost everyone was wearing beat-up cowboy boots. Note to self: Don't leave Austin without a pair.
I'm barely in town for an hour before I meet my first friends, in the verdant courtyard at the Hotel San José ($165 for a standard room on weekend nights; 1316 S. Congress Ave., sanjosehotel.com, 800-574-8897). I would've been happy just to take in the scene by myself—listening to the crowd's quiet chatter and drinking a glass of Argentinean Malbec ($7) among the bamboo trees—but without prompting, a few guys drinking Fat Tire beers ($4) come over and introduce themselves. We get to talking, and they explain the Keep Austin Weird phenomenon. I tell the one sitting closest to me, Rob Turknett, the guitarist of a band called F for Fake (f4fake.com), that I'm on a mission to find music venues that serve good food. He tips me off to a pizza joint that showcases punk bands.
 Pizza and punk is the order of the night, yet when I spot a bright, retro-looking sign for Freddie's Place (1703 S. First St., (freddiesplaceaustin.com, 512-445-9197), I can't help but make a detour. It turns out to be a rowdy backyard barbecue party. Strings of big-bulb Christmas lights hang over rainbow-colored picnic tables, and local musician Harry Bodine is strumming away onstage. Behind me, folks are laughing and playing washers (a game similar to horseshoes). Though the burgers smell delicious, I decide to keep it weird and order an ice cream sandwich ($2) and a chaser of Sunshine Wheat beer ($2.25). The waitress who brings me my food says, "Ice cream sandwich? A girl after my own heart." It's delicious, made of chewy, homemade chocolate cookies and filled with fast-melting vanilla ice cream. I could stay at Freddie's, but I motivate myself to head to the pizza and punk joint. The Parlor (100 E. North Loop Blvd., 512- 454-8965; 4301B Guadalupe, 512-627-8214)—dark, funky, loud—is the perfect contrast to mellow Freddie's. Everyone's drinking pitchers of Lone Star beer ($8), but I'm hungry; I order a small Autumn's Deluxe pizza ($11), made with mozzarella and provolone cheeses and topped with pepperoni, spicy sausage and crumbled beef. I wonder why the meaty pizza is called Autumn, so I ask a brunette behind the counter. "She's my daughter," the woman says, "and she used to be a vegetarian. My husband thought it would be funny." She's co-owner Deborah Gill, a former punk rocker who named the pizzas after her six kids. I tap my foot to the tuba beats of Gadjo Bango (gadjobango.com) until midnight.
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