Honky tonkin' in Navasota

We went to the Dizzy Llama last night. It’s a local bar complete with pool tables, dart boards and lots of town folk out having a good time. It’s the part of Navasota they call Navagetdownsota.

We ran into our favorite waitress Kristi who used to work at the Filling Station Cafe and Diner before it closed. She introduced us to her new sweetheart Robert. Tall, blond, knock-dead handsome. The best part, he is very, very good to her. It warms my heart to see twentysomething-year-olds delight in each other as they test the waters of new love.

Our friend Mitch White was there with his band Brickyard Kane. The band is solid now with Jarret  on drums, Kevin on bass, Tyler on lead and Mitch on rhythm guitar. Primo badass and rollicking fun. The beer (and O'Douels "make believe beer") came to the table icy cold and the music was hip-swaying hot. We had the best time.

Brickyard Kane recently signed a three year contract with Bad Dog Records. Soon they will be traveling across the country promoting an album they’ll cut with their new label. Mitch said 12 weeks on and 2 weeks off. I think they will find it hard living on the road, but they are excited about the chance to hit the charts with their Texas blues rocker sound. They'll play like they did tonight with guitars blazing, drums pounding till the walls shimmy, and Mitch shouting the blues and rocking full throttle. 

Just think, Ronnie and I will be able to say we knew these guys when they were first starting out. How cool is that?

Lunch in Brenham

After a dreary winter, my sweetie and I mounted our Gold Wing trike this weekend and joined the other bikers on the farm-to-market (FM) roads in this part of Texas. There were quite a few on the road between here and Brenham, which was our destination.

We traveled Hwy105 west, enjoying the cool undercurrent in the warm air. We're still under a burn ban, but I smelled timber smoke about 8 miles out of town. Whoever was snubbing his nose at the law must have incinerated his pile of tree stumps, trunks, and limbs late last night because no smoke colored the horizon. The smell, however, was distinct.

We had lunch at the Must Be Heaven Sandwich Shoppe, a destination eatery in historic downtown. With Mitch's Filling Station Café and Diner closed, it's been hard to find a place in Navasota for lunch. Yes, there's the Dairy Queen, Cow Town out by the livestock auction barn, a barbecue place by the Roadway Inn, and Eric's Mexican restaurant, but none of them has the mouth watering food that Mitch served (even if FourSquare touts Cow Town's burgers as "the best in town."). So yesterday, we headed west. It's only 30 miles to Brenham, the county seat of Washington County and home to Blue Bell Creameries.

We feasted on fat Reuben sandwiches, made with butter-toasted wheat bread instead of rye. The mouthwatering sauerkraut would make your German grandmother jealous. We each ordered a side of broccoli salad, created from a closely held secret recipe, blending cheese, bacon, mayo, and amazing herbs together in a way I haven't figured out how to replicate.

The restaurant is decorated in country chintzy; the music is vintage American rock 'n roll.  The syrupy lyrics of "To Know Him is to Love Him" brought back memories of slow dancing on prom night in the high school gymnasium. Perfect music for belly rubbing, until, of course, one of the old biddy chaperones marched out on the basketball court and pulled you apart from your pimply faced boyfriend.

Ronnie and I took our time, enjoying our lunch and each other's company. Only one item could have made the meal perfect, and yes, we did try to order a dish. But, alas, we were told Texas's favorite dessert will not return until Monday. I bet folks line up around the block tomorrow at lunch for a taste of Blue Bell. It's been a looooong time without.

 

 

 

Filling Station Cafe and Diner

The Filling Station Café and Diner is closed, and I am heartbroken. This Navasota eating establishment has been a central meeting place in our new hometown. Ronnie and I first stopped here when we came to Navasota to see the house we now live in. Mitch, who was the proprietor, greeted us, and waitress Kristi served us homemade cherry pie topped with vanilla Blue Bell. Their friendliness and menu hooked us from the get-go, and we stopped there for breakfast or lunch on a weekly basis for 18 months.

Mitch was our guide in setting up house and settling in. We asked him for recommendations regarding a family physician, the best place to buy meat, how to find nightlife without driving all the way to College Station, and where to find a reliable plumber, housekeeper or lawn service. He always pointed us in the right direction.

Last Sunday Mitch’s daughter headed off to Texas State University, and Mitch is moving on as well. He and some buddies formed a band a while back—Brickyard Kane—and they’re really good. Old school rock music and a flair for fun on the bandstand, they always attract a crowd. A Mississippi record producer approached them a few weeks ago, so maybe the band is going to be more than a serious sideline for him. With Rebecca in college, Mitch can focus on his other aspirations.

I wish him well, of course. But I wish he had given me his recipe for chicken ‘n dumplings.

Ronnie got a haircut

Isn’t it amazing how a haircut can make such a startling impression? Ronnie got a haircut Saturday, and the change is profound.

Ever since I’ve known him, Ronnie has worn his silver gray hair long and shaggy. You know the look: Vietnam vet, aging hippie, outlaw biker. It’s a fashion statement embraced by a lot of men in their sixties. They’re retired, so they no longer have to adhere to the dress code of whatever profession they had. As for Ronnie, he was in law enforcement and then worked in the IT division for an international oil and gas company. In fact, he still consults for a chemical lab that a friend owns, but he works from home where his dress code doesn’t even require him to comb his hair unless he’s going to the store.

Some men, when they get older, revert to their military days and get “high and tight” haircuts. But I think that’s because their hair is thinning. Ronnie has a head full of gorgeous silver streaked hair, the kind women pay several hundred dollars to get at a salon.

Some men shave their heads because they’re losing it anyway and they don’t want those 1950s “dome heads” their fathers had (where they’re bald on top and fringed around the sides) or, even worse, sporting those god-awful “comb-overs.”

Ronnie did shave his head once when he was in his early thirties, but it was because he’d grown a ponytail and his wife and mother were both after him to cut his hippie hair. I’ve seen pictures, and trust me, they are not pretty. Maybe that’s why I’ve been nervous about talking him into a haircut. I didn’t want him to revolt.

Yesterday, after lunch at the Filling Station Café & Diner, we asked our friend Mitch if he could recommend a place here in Navasota. He did, and we hustled over to Madison’s Avenue across from Brookshire Bros. grocery store. I thought I’d ask the stylist to cut about four inches off and he would end up with an “elder statesman” haircut, reminiscent of Lyndon B. Johnson.

But Ronnie decided he wanted to go short. Uh-oh. Had I pushed him too hard?

I turned him over to Lyssa Minor and her scissors and prayed for the best.

The result was a spectacular executive or business style haircut. Instead of looking like a badass biker, he looks respectable, clean cut, and serious-minded (except for the mischievous light that is always flickering in his brown eyes).

In other words, he looks ever so handsome. I think I’ll take him to Brenham for dinner and show him off.

 

Breakfast at Mitch's

Sundays always include breakfast at the Filling Station Café and Diner in Navasota. When Ronnie and I came here a year ago to buy our house on Church Street, we stopped at the café to have coffee and pie. Mitch, the owner, gave us an overview of the town while we enjoyed the best cherry pie I've had in years. (And yes, the a la mode was a scoop of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream from the creamery in Brenham, a mere 30 miles away.) Mitch was our first acquaintance and is now a good friend. We eat at his place a couple of times a week, and one of those times is on Sundays.

In good weather the place is packed with weekend bikers, antique-hunters,  and Aggie tailgaters. The FM (farm-to-market) roads are ideal for motorcycles, the antique stores in Navasota and surrounding towns are stocked with second-hand trash and hidden treasures, and Texas A&M University is only 18 miles north of the Navasota city limits.  Football is a religion in Texas and our fighting Aggies have a congregation that comes from near and far to stand as one... as the team's symbolic 12th man. (If I have to explain the 12th man to you, I won't because you don't know enough about Texas traditions to understand anyway.) Navasota has a slew of B&B's that fill up on the weekends of home games.

Today is not a good weather day. In fact, it' cold and wet outside, and most people are snuggled in their homes with the thermostat on 78 and a fire blazing in the den. We hadn't been out all weekend, and we were starving for good food and interesting conversation, so we bundled up and headed for the café about the time the church crowd let out. The church-goers who wanted to skip home cooking drove through the Dairy Queen across from the school administration building to pick up burgers or through Church's out by Wal-Mart to get a bucket of fried chicken. The rest of them drove straight home where, I'm guessing, based on my own memories of Sunday family mid-day meals, roast beef or baked ham and garden vegetables awaited. They'll spend this afternoon watching the Dallas Cowboys play the Greenbay Packers. Like I said, football reigns in Texas.

When we got to the café, the parking lot was less than half full. Veteran waitress Chrissy greeted us and brought us steaming mugs of coffee. I washed down my prescription pills and ordered the egg and vegetable flour burrito. I hadn't had it before, and my eyes got big as the moon when she brought out an order that would easily feed a family of four.  I ate what I could and boxed the remainder for Ronnie to have in the morning. He had the "4X4," which consists of  4 eggs, 4 meats, hash browns or grits, biscuit or toast, and 2 pancakes.

Mitch came over to say hello and we got into a lively conversation about the price of gas and the significant layoffs in the oil industry that are being predicted. It will be the 1980s all over again. Texas has been golden while the rest of the nation has struggled with city governments in other states going bankrupt, but now it's our turn, and it won't be pretty. We also discussed Ronnie's and my plans to go to Cuba in May, the politics around the proposed bullet train from Houston to Dallas, and the idea of balancing the federal budget with a valued added tax (VAT) on merchandise rather than an income tax.

Good food and interesting conversation are the staples of small towns, and our friend Mitch offers both at his Filling Station Café and Diner.