Firing Up The Warp Engines

I write this missive to you from the Ashton Hotel in historic downtown Fort Worth, TX. The city has a pleasing sense of clean history nowadays... no boot scrapers necessary at the doorsteps of the grand hotels anymore. I do still appreciate the accommodation of a boot scraper bolted to the front steps of a domicile, but of course I do not expect it. Incidentally, in my flights from Austin to San Antonio to Dallas to San Antonio to Dallas in the past 48 hours, the only airport that has boot jacks at the security checkpoint is the Austin-Bergstrom. Hear, hear. Everywhere else, I am forced to do the demeaning one-footed boot removal dance. Alas. I am travelling the airways of Texas to spread the gospel to the soup-swilling peoples of the "other cities" in Texas... specifically, the Central Market Cooking School Tour of San Antonio, Dallas, and Forth Worth. Houston would not have me back after last year's debacle, unfortunately. Their loss, I suppose. For some reason, I don't do well in Houston (and now, commence Houston-bashing).

I've been shuttling about to do promotional TV morning show spots to promote the classes (ineffectual, but good practice). The task at hand is to rub elbows, toss off some witticisms, and cook a batch of soup in 3.5 minutes, with two business-attired TV anchors at my elbows. As you may know, soup is a time-consuming task, and as you may know, starting up the warp engines on my pithy sense of humor is also time-consuming. But caffeine is a hell of a drug, and I believe, with the help of Daddy Starbucks, I was able to pull it off. Do the viewers wonder aloud if they want someone with that much hair flopping about making their soup? I do not know. You decide... please watch the San Antonio Living appearance here...

and the Dallas Morning Show appearance at your leisure...

But in the end, the Central Market classgoers seemed to enjoy themselves and the soup and the stories.

I arrived in Fort Worth via a hot rental car... it is a Pontiac Vibe hatchback. I had considered upgrading to the Mustang fastback, oddly my favorite new American car of late, but my sense of frugality got the best of me and I stuck with the temptingly-named Vibe. I drove to the clean and Western downtown and settled myself upon a barstool at the Flying Saucer, a welcoming beer hall. My barmate, upon hearing that I was from Austin, asked me if I had ever been to Sugar's, describing the various delights to be found there. I told him that I have, unfortunately (looking at my non-existing watch for comedic effect) been busy for the past eight years. The feller at my right, on the other hand, was intrigued by my visit and began sharing his passion for cooking and his Harlan County, Kentucky roots, and offered to share some recipes with me... Soupies of Austin may soon be sampling some down-home coal-mining country fare. We shall see.