One of the two official watering days for this household began at midnight. We usually take advantage of just one of the two and then hand-water on other days as needed, using the garden hose fitted with a sprayer that can be turned off as it’s carried from one location to another.

The sprinklers were to be set up this morning by the first in the household to awake. I was that person, as it happened, jolted upright when the police helicopter buzzed our rooftop at about 1:30 this morning.

Here’s some of what I saw and heard while on irrigation duty through the night. Three taxicabs passed by and two of them were yellow. Three lone bicyclists went by; two of them had flashing lights and one did not. All three rode helmetless. There was a fourth person on a bike: he was coasting downhilll accompanied by a guy on a skateboard. At 2:30, a working musician returned home from a gig and took his guitars into the house. At 3:00, a neighbor who’s awake every time we are and perhaps even more often than that, came out on his front porch and smoked a cigarette, sitting on the steps next to his faithful canine companion. At 3:50, the newspapers were delivered all along the block. Those with irrigation systems had them running all night long, official watering day or not. By the light of the beautiful golden crescent moon, toads were to be seen everywhere enjoying the sprays of water. Owls could be heard calling from the trees not under the glare of the streetlights.

Next on the personal agenda is a performance of Pirates of Penzance, thanks to our local Gilbert & Sullivan Society. Tomorrow’s the last performance day of this run, but I’m planning to attend today, leaving tomorrow as a fall-back in case anything unforeseen prevents attendance today. I can use some laughter, music, and general good humor; and Pirates is a sure source of all three. Watering completed, I retire to refresh myself for the day to come.

Gone are the days when long lunches were not infrequent, when thoughts turned to Lockhart and everybody took off in the same direction. Those now earning a living wage no longer enjoy the freedom allowed when Austin was a part-time, minimum-wage place for nearly everyone. This month’s Gourmet magazine isn’t giving it away for free, but the Sterns of Roodfood fame mark out the quandrangle formed by the smoky shrines of Lockhart, Taylor, Luling, and Elgin, not necessarily in that order. They’re paying particular attention to sausage. My personal favorite is hometown Smokey Denmark, but we’re all entitled to our opinions. Cough up the bucks for the mag, check out pages 28 through 30 of the June issue, on the stands now, take it to work, and start an argument at lunchtime tomorrow.

I’ve always been one of those standing outside the window at the Richard Jones Pit BBQ on Congress, just like these people today. Our intention had been to go to Matt’s to enjoy the people-watching on this UT graduation day. There was space in the parking lot, but the tables were full, the waiting area was full, and a line stretched outdoors. We were too late or too early. We thought we’d pick up some brisket for fine home dining, but the line at the Pit window inspired us to go inside and take a table for the very first time ever. Some diners were enjoying their breakfast; others thought that lunchtime had arrived.

We took a booth and there was food on the table within seconds. Service was friendly and efficient. All is spotless. Here’s some of what came to the table: brisket, potato salad, cole slaw, French fries, cornbread, sausage, beans, and a basket containing break, Saltines, and real butter. Remaining to be tried in the future are chopped steak, biscuits, the chili dog, and more.

There’s no sign of ketchup on the outside of the brisket. The rub and smoke reach beyond the surface. The side sauce is a sweet one, but there are jalapenos, Louisiana hot sauce, and Tabasco sauce available for asking so that those who need to may doctor any item to heat it up. I like my cornbread to be made from coarse meal, with no sugar added; those who prefer the opposite will find it here. The beans are particularly good. Lovers of chunky potato salad will find salad of a finer texture. Fried okra was in great demand, although not at our table. The indoors diners were a typical group of South Austinites, mixed with a few tourists. This was the first time indoors here for us, but it certainly won’t be the last.

We heard the wind around midnight. No hail for us. A large cottonwood branch nearly took out the minivan, but only chipped a bit of paint on a side view mirror; its smaller brethren littered the yard and the tops of both cars. The loudest thing before that was the storm warning that blared out over the TV as we watched My Name is Earl on the DVR. I think Time Warner can tone down that notice a bit.

As of my commute time about an hour ago, the light at Barton Springs and Robert E Lee was completely out with no traffic cop in sight. Cars on Robert E Lee were backed up for quite a distance. Once I got to the intersection, I found an accident with an ambulance and fire engine, but no police car? Very odd. A downed tree took out a section of the fence at Umlauf. It looks like they’ll be doing a lot of cleanup today. Power is out for at least part of the Zilker neighborhood. Leaves and small branches littered most of the streets that I drove.

It was hard to tell, but it looks like there might have been a fire somewhere between Far West and 183 west of Mopac? I haven’t seen any news to corroborate that, but there appeared to be smoke mixed in with the clouds.

Update: Reports from C., the Statesman and Austinist as well.

Update 2 (2008.05.15 17:18 CDT): Some people may be without power until sometime Saturday. Ouch.

Right there where it’s always been still stands the wonderful Richard Jones Original Pit Barbeque. The nearby Dairy Queen has been through many incarnations, but Richard Jones continues to delight and remains the South Congress institution it has ever been. The brisket is prepared on premises, for hours and hours and hours. The flavor goes deep, and there’s no hint of ketchup flavor. The slicing will be done as requested. I abjure fatty brisket and there’s always waste-free beef there for me. I love the hand-painted signs; the prices have been updated, but the offerings are lettered just as they were in 1990, the date painted on the board. I don’t know whose sausages are here; they’re very garlicky and not particularly smokey. That’s all about individual preference, and I still miss the ones from the old Pit on Fifth Street downtown, which were probably from Smokey Denmark. I know people who can’t live without a weekly order of RJ chopped (BBQ) beef on a bun, with all the sides. Ever the purist, I order sliced brisket every time. Indoors are individual tables and also booths. Every day there’s a dine-in luncheon special. The breakfasts are some of the biggest bargains in town, with special additions to the menu on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday mornings. These breakfasts are a big draw for people driving American-made trucks. I’ve always been a walk-up customer myself and have enjoyed some of the best conversations in town, right there in the parking lot or leaning against the wall. Now that I’ve paid some new attention to the breakfast menu, I can’t get it out of my mind. From here on out, I’m going to think of 2304 South Congress as a resource Beyond Supper.

Bread, that is. It’s definitely a better choice than trick or treat. After the first two or three hundred people on the front porch, supplies were running low and we were hungry. So it was off to Jeffrey’s, which had seating for those without reservations. This poor guy was trotting around with a basket of hot dough products and a set of tongs. Everybody was stumped by the question. We selected some of each and weren’t sorry, but dinnertime is not the time to be presented with choices like that when there are plenty of other ones. Oysters and yucca chips are still there on the menu as first courses and so are duck-filled spring rolls. Along with the duck dainties came assorted shreds of mysterious vegetal objects that were lightly bathed in one of those delicious citrusy dressings found in Japanese restaurants. I ordered the ahi tuna and was pleased to be asked what degree of doneness I preferred. There’s nothing more unpleasant than to be unexpectedly presented with some portion of a water creature that shows few conventional signs of having been cooked, especially for those not inclined to the sushi side of life. The only main course that I tasted besides mine was the shrimp and duck plate, duck only, along with a bit of sauce. The person who ordered it thought that the shrimp was somewhat beside the point. The duck was beautiful and anyone would have been happy to eat a lot of it, but the person who ordered it wasn’t feeling all that generous. Soon after we sat down, we were each presented with a tiny wam pie-like object filled with brie and topped with house-smoked salmon. There were the salmonites and the brie aficionados and divisions were equably performed. Chocolate intemperance is better than ever, if that’s possible. The dessert dissenter at the table ordered a creme caramel, very beautiful to look upon, which arrived with a shot glass of strong root beer and cocktail straws to permit sharing of the beverage. Coffee and expresso were served accompanied by house-made dark-chocolate truffles. The lighting was bright enough for reading the menu, not always the case, and part of the dining pleasure comes from the handsome table settings, including the dishes and, in particular, the beautiful and heavy stainless-steel flatware, with the knives that stand up on edge and the weighty little demitasse spoons. The main-dish portions were hearty, not skimpy. The music was true jazz, played softly enough to enable the lively conversations to proceed without difficulty. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention, but I did notice some Coltrane and some Miles Davis. Jeffrey’s is no bargain, but I’ve never felt cheated, either, because ingredients are excellent and prepared with care, with some dishes found nowhere else in town. Upon returning home, we were surprised to see that hundreds of people were still roaming from door to door. Our doorbell doesn’t work and we kept to the yard out back, but it was very late in the evening before the hubbub died down. Was that something about the delay in trading dayolight savings time for standard time?

My wife and I went to see Tony Bourdain at the Paramount on Saturday night. We’re big fans of both Cooks Tour and No Reservations. My wife worked in the restaurant industry here in town and remembers reading parts of Kitchen Confidential with the kitchen crew at Chez Nous and howling at his description of vegetarians and their “Hezbollah-like splinter faction, the vegans”. The show was completely sold out. Bourdain came out and talked about how amazed and thankful he was for how his life has turned out. He’s still completely shocked that he’s been able to do Cook’s Tour and No Reservations after writing Kitchen Confidential.

He reiterated a lot of the themes that appear in his shows: how food brings people together and how a society’s culture is tied to their food. He referred a lot to specific No Reservations shows, so audience members who weren’t familiar with him probably felt a little left out. Since the Paramount sells season tickets and many people end up picking an unfamiliar performer for at least one show, it was clear there were some people who fell into that category. The annoying jerk of the night award goes to the guy in the upper right balcony who answered a cell phone call during the performance, then stood up while talking and moved out into the right aisle and then slowing walked in front of several rows while still talking. What an inconsiderate a-hole. There was a lengthy Q&A session after his talk. At least half of the questions were pretty bad, but he fielded them all gracefully, including the shouts from overenthusiastic groupies. He recommended Bill Bruford’s Heat and, not surprisingly, named French Laundry and Masa as his top restaurant picks even if you have to rob a bank to get the cash to afford eating at either one.
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Avoiding the crowds today, we enjoyed our shoppng excursions to Fiesta Mart South, Gardens, and Wheatsville Co-op.

Fiesta has a great stock of pinatas right now. At the little cafe, each table had a seasonal centerpiece of artificial fall leaves arranged prettily and stuck into real gourds or small pumpkins. We return again and again for the so-called St. Louis cut pork spare ribs, beautifully fresh and trimmed without waste, for $1.19 a pound. Today it was because it’s a good day to fire up the oven in celebration of our new autumn weather. All was being set up for the beginning of early voting tomorrow.

At Gardens, there are seeds for every sort of nasturtium variety anyone can think of. I like the way they’re packed after paid for: in muslin drawstring bags. Also stocked, although I forget at what price, are bulbs for the hard-to-find oxblood lilies (rhodophiala bifida). Kitizawa seed packets for various exotic greens are there, also. There are discounts for bulbs bought in quantity. As always, anyone just walking through this shop comes out smelling delicious. People were buying potted cyclamens in bloom, not just in the common pink, red, and white, and in several more exotic colors, including white with feathery swirls of maroon.

Fiesta had the beautiful zucchini, and Wheatsville had the beautiful yellow summer squash. We found at Wheatsville only the blander varieties of Pederson’s smoked sausage (no jalapeno in stock), but we were really there to order our fresh Mary’s turkey for November. We intended to check out the Maine Root ginger brew (Austin is now the home of Maine Root), but forgot. I like the listing of local suppliers to Wheatsville, complete with the distance from the co-op for each vendor.

The photo here shows today’s version of one of the best bulletin boards in town, Wheatsville’s. It’s easy to pick out the unmistakable profile of Dino Lee (on October 26, he returns to Antone’s with the White Trash Revue). The news for me on that board is that Lamberts downtown fancy barbeque joint is having Monday football nights, with a big screen and everything a carnivore needs for complete happiness.

When Oat Willie’s was in a house north of the Capitol and west of it, it used to be just one of dozens of little places to be explored during the noon hour (including the antiques and second-hand places on Red River, Rio Grande, and West; Folk Toy; bookstores Grok Books, which evolved into Book People, Garner & Smith, UT Co-op, and Half Price in its original Austin location; plus many, many little shops in old houses). I still have clothes that smell like incense.

But until the most recent Pecan Street Festival, I had never been inside Gas Pipe Emporium. I was looking for non-filter cigarettes. Old-time short Camels were first on the list, but any of the non-filter brands from the U.K. would have done. There were no non-filter cigarettes in stock. I was amazed. The other surprise was the great array of darts-related equipment and paraphernalia on display. I would never have guessed. Otherwise, all was more or less basic head-shop stuff. Short Camels were found at a tiny convenience store called Jordania, on Neches. I didn’t smoke any that day, but I wanted some in case I wanted some. The big sellers in that little emporium seemed to be cold drinks and frozen treats.

My post office of choice has always been downtown, now in location number three, with the second-choice post office being the South Austin branch, not the same since the move way south to near Ben White. Saturday stamp-buying is an iffy thing these days, with some branches not open at all and others open for ever-changing short hours only. Just as I hit every Austin branch library on a never-ending round, I also like to check out branches of the post office. I don’t like the stamps from the machines; I want to select from the current issues, and some branches stock more of them than others do. Before this weekend, I had never been to the Tarrytown branch. It’s wonderful to learn that it’s open on Saturdays from 9 am until 1 pm, and I didn’t have to request a glassine envelope for all the stamps that I bought.

And right next door to it is the Tarrytown Pharmacy, also new to me. There, I fell into temptation, succumbing to the allure of the excellent selection of Crane’s stationery (greater than at Book People, but without the engraving order department at Northwest Hills Pharmacy). The sales slip says “65 years of service.” Along with a fine selection of greeting cards, plus shelves of magazines and paperbacks, the pharmacy also has a rack of comic books, not always to be found these days. After so many years of heading that way, usually with Kash-Karry / FreshPlus and the Howson branch as chief destinations, it was fun to find places entirely new to me.

Why shouldn’t Austin have its own array of perfumes identified with it? New York has a company (Bond No. 9) paying olfactory tribute to the Big Apple with such scents as New Haarlem, Nuits de Noho, and Broadway Nite. Some of ours might be:

Main Library: essence of cheap tobacco and vending-machine coffee
Armadillo: essence of stale beer
Austin Dawn: essence of ditchweed
Cue: essence of woodsmoke and temptations for carnivores (vegetarians will be repelled)
Hippie Hollow: essence of coconut oil and olive oil
Sixth Street: essence of the night before
South First: essence of onions and jalapenos (when you wear this, those around you will suddenly suffer hunger pangs and suggest a food foray; don’t be stuck with the bill)
West Pecan: essence of fresh baked goods

Main Library tops the list because this is where the idea came to me, day before yesterday, when the weather was damp and chilly and brought indoors all those who customarily spend lots of time in the open air. Austin Dawn is the herbal aroma that emanates from rolled-down windows of passing pickups to delight the early-morning pedestrian. After the first, all are in alphabetical order. Shouldn’t there be a Zilker? Should it be in some way floral, with a touch of soccer-ball leather? Waterloo? Hints of hot sauce and Spam (permission to use the trademark might be required)? If these are heavy on the foody aspects of life, that’s just because Austin is a calorie-consuming kind of town. What other aspects of Austin should receive perfumed tribute and what should the ingredients convey?