Cupcakes, take 2. Sugar Mamas Sets The Bar.

Cupcakes have had a heck of a run these last few years. In Austin, and everywhere else, cupcakeries have sprouted up in downtown hipster storefronts, airstream trailers and suburban strip malls.

My cupcake odyssey took me out of Grubbus, into a stint blogging for Sweet Tempered Bakery in South Austin, through the heartbreak of their closure a few months back, and, now, finally, back to Grubbus, and back with a hell of a new favorite cupcake in these waning days of the fad: The Sugar Mama's Bakeshop Black and Tan. Available Fridays.




Sugar Mama's gets just about everything right. It's a little place, tucked into South First Street between Mary and Johanna. Black and white tiles and an eccentric mix of the vintage and the Ikea frame two glass displays dominated with a constantly changing array of the most luscious cupcakes, cookies, pies and bars I've encountered. It's an engaging spot, and there are a couple of small tables, but this is essentially a get-it-and-go operation. So presentation is off the chart, and the cashier I chatted with talked about growing up running around Sweetish Hill while her mom baked cakes (foodie cred!) but the real kicker here is the taste: Moist, buttery, sweet cakes with frosting good enough to eat with a spoon.

A word of warning - despite the proliferation of bakeries in Austin, and despite the slow deflation of the cupcake craze - this place is popular enough that it sells out of the good stuff early - I'd recommend going early if you can.

Please O, Please O, No Mo Azio

When faced with an unfamiliar city, especially at the end of a long day, I often find myself going back to places that I’ve been before, even if they were middling and tired to begin with. Familiarity tends to whitewash memory a bit. Case in point: Azio, downtown Atlanta.

I should have known something was amiss walking in. The formerly attractive little waiting area was worn and tired. Once cool oversized armchairs were rubbed dirty and threadbare, the walls dinged and gouged, the hardwood floor in need of a refinish. It was passable in the low light of the restaurant, but I think it would have been pretty jarring by the light of day. As I stood there waiting for someone to show me to a table, I had flickers of recollection of the two meals I’d had there before. They were a little scary. Had it been another 15 seconds I would have bolted, off to a happier meal.

The place itself is nicely arranged, if a little dated. Large murals depict Diego Rivera inspired agricultural scenes and iron railings spiral around the floor, elegantly separating the dining room from the kitchen from the bar. The architecture, coming in somewhere between Roman Grandeur and Italian Countryside, was pretty 4 years ago, and it’s pretty now. And the place was crowded and happy, which lends its own light and warmth.

The food? Neither pretty nor light nor even warm. The bruschetta was edible, but uninspired. Dollops of chopped tomatoes atop 4 triangles of sweet flat bread were the highpoint. Presentation of these around a mound of blah lettuce with a giant, tippy ramekin of balsamic goo was the low. The blur of my no-flash cell phone camera maybe makes this look worse than it was, but not much. Presentation means a lot. It suggests that someone views this thing they’re sending out as food, not as the order for table 12. It doesn’t need to be fancy, but it needs to be honest, and in proportion. This was none of those.

I was hungry though, and I dutifully dug through the salad and sipped my Sangiovese. The entrée was another step downhill. I ordered the Rigatoni Rustica. It seemed appropriate and safe, a simple easy country-inspired pasta dish. What came to me was a strange mountain of unpleasantness. Rigatoni: overcooked. Sausage: Tasteless and in vast, wretched quantities. Red Peppers: Cut into chunks as big as my palm. The list goes on, but I did not. After a handful of bites, I reached across for the bread basket, had another couple of focaccia cubes, and called it a night.

CLOSED: A Whole Lot of Chicago in a Little Bitty Trailer

Update: Little Chicago is gone - Trailer before trailer was cool, we wish Chris the best in whatever he does next and hope it involves sausage. The best bet for a killer Chicago Dog in Austin is now Frank.

Chicago knows how to eat. Everything from Charlie Trotter’s wine list to Giordano’s Pizza is just a little bit over the top, just a little bit more than it has to be, and a whole lot of good eating.

Case in point: The Chicago Dog. A real Chicago Dog elevates the hot dog into culinary territory other dogs can only wistfully imagine. The formula is immutable, unsubstituable and far greater than the sum of its parts:

• Poppy seed hot dog bun
• All Beef hot dog (Vienna Beef is the gold-standard here)
• Yellow mustard
• Chopped white onion
• Neon Green Relish
• Sport peppers (often overlooked)
• Tomato wedges
• Crisp kosher dill pickle spear
• Celery salt

And here’s where to get one in Austin: Chris’ Little Chicago. Austin actually has a pretty sizable list of places that give the dog a go (Dog Almighty, Lux Café, Lucky Dog), they're all good, but most cut a few corners – no sport peppers, dill relish, missing poppy seeds. Chris cuts no corners. Well, OK, maybe he cuts a few corners on tables-and-chairs, but the dog is out of this world.



Chris’ is housed in a cheery little red trailer at 3600 South Lamar, just before the Brodie Oaks shopping center. The menu is pretty much there on the sign: Chicago Style Hot Dogs and Italian Beef Sandwiches. File this one under niche dining.

The dog itself is on the large side, and Chris is so generous with the toppings, it’s nearly overwhelming.

Because Chris is a Chicago-only place, there’s no attempt at passing non-Chicago relish or buns or tomatoes off in place of the good stuff. It’s all in there. And it’s all good. And while the seating is limited to a couple of plastic chairs at a folding card table out back, the view over Highway 360 and out into the Hill Country is as good a setting as you’re going to get to kick back, pop open an Izzy, and enjoy a little bit of Chicago, right here in Austin.

Maria's Taco XPress = Austin

A week ago, a colleague of mine in Tallahassee mentioned that his wife was making a trip to Austin. He asked if I could whip up a quick list of good eats in town, and the thing that sprung immediately to mind was Maria's.

Austin has Tex Mex, and it has BBQ, and while much of that is dee-lish, it's stuff you can get anywhere in Texas. But Marias. That's just Austin.

The tacos themselves are really tasty; there are dozens of options, and they do everything fresh and right there on the giant flat top behind the register. Salsa is tasty and coffee is dineresque, but drinkable. Chorizo and Bacon are both legit and appropriately greasy. They've got a full menu, and a bar, but the place is packed all the time and I've never seen anyone eat anything but a taco. If you're going, you're going for a breakfast taco.

So, you'd think this is a simple thing, right? Tortilla. Eggs. Potatoes. Cheese. How hard is that, really? But within those four little points of goodness, a lot can happen. First off, the tortilla. Many places have some leeway here, and I prefer corn when I can get it, but Maria is all flour, all the time, and they're fresh and perfect. Then there's the order of operations. Maria's cooks the eggs and potatoes together, making almost a hash that serves as the base of the taco. Cheese is applied liberally on top, after it's off the grill. I go back and forth on this technique, sometimes, the rich easiness of the egg/potato combo is perfect, sometimes I want the elements to stay distinct. Sometimes I want my cheese to be all melty from the minute I get it.

But, it's not the tacos that make this place. Its the place that makes this place. The statue of Maria out front, arms outstretched could be our official city seal. And every last inch of this place is covered. A plant, a glowing duck, a hubcap, a signed picture of Willie Nelson, architectural models, Christmas stockings. It's fantastic. The outside is no less good, with insane tropical foliage somehow hanging on even in the dead of winter, mural after mural, plastic farm animals. I think there are a few flamingos, too - plastic lawn variety. It's so planted in place, you'd never know that this is actually the second Maria's, the first, just up Congress from the current locale was razed to make way for a Walgreen's parking lot. Everything about the place stayed intact in the move though, including the parting words:

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Cupcakes: The Cake Shop and Sweet Tempered

I think cupcake bakeries may have jumped the shark with the last season of What About Brian, but I'm just coming to know them. And to know them is to love them.

Two, in particular, The Cake Shop in Tallahassee and Sweet Tempered in Austin. So now, I can eat fantastic terrible for me sweet food on most any day.

The Cake Shop, off John Knox a few blocks off of Monroe, is frilly and lush. The place is stuffed with antique furniture, displays of jams and cakes and a few small tables scattered around. It's unabashedly girly; something I didn't notice when a handful of us from work first went in, but which made me feel a bit out of my element when I went in today. It wasn't much of a deterrent: I was there for the cupcakes. Up until this place, I haven't had great luck with Tallahassee baked goods. Really, no luck at all. So, time was, I wanted decent bread, made it myself, and I wanted a decent cupcake, I got out the mixer. The bread issue still holds, but this The Cake Shop is solid alternative to staying up too late to make them myself. I've tried a few different varieties - each shine in the cake, but are a little weak on the frosting, which has that sort of birthday cake airy empty sweetness.



[edit - as of a sad, sad day in October, 2009, Sweet Tempered is no more]
Sweet Tempered, in the Arbor Trails shopping center off William Cannon and Mopac in Austin, is sort of the reverse. It's a sparse place, without a lot of complicated distractions, but the cupcakes, oh good lord, the cupcakes in this place are to die for. Austin is a bakery town: We've got Sweetish Hill, Upper Crust, Lucy's Cakes, and unexpectedly impressive stuff coming out of the bakery at the mongo Whole Foods downtown. So when I'm saying this place is good it's in that context. Sweet Tempered is better than Sweetish Hill. The frosting is rich and substantial, sweet, but not so sweet that it loses it's appeal halfway through. It's pure and clean - American Buttercream - nothing to detract from the simplicity of butter and sugar. I've had yellow cake and red velvet, both blissful, though the red velvet is really where the action is. It turns out, until Sweet Tempered, I've only ever had bad red velvet cake, chocolate cake with a gimmick. I like the idea, but it had always been disappointing. This stuff is the real deal and just about perfectly balanced - just a trace of cocoa without being deeply chocolate, light but substantial, sweet but uncloying. They pull a decent espresso and have free Wifi. When I work remotely, this is where I work.

Blue Star Cafeteria Looks Fab, But Isn't.

I’m a sucker for diners. I have vivid memories of stopping in at the Red Geranium Café in Grand Rapids Michigan on snowy mornings, sitting in a booth eating French Toast while the steam fogged up all the windows. I find deep comfort in Austin originals like Kerbey and Magnolia – the Neptunian Landscape is my adopted comfort food. And I love the new breed too, places like Monument Café in Georgetown, which takes a local-organic angle on classic diner food and is one of my absolute favorite restaurants in the universe.

So I was excited to see the Blue Star Cafeteria (45th and Burnet) the other day driving back home from North Austin. Excellent name, a nice patio, and walking in, a case full of pie. All very good signs. It was crowded too, full of what I imagined were Rosedale pedestrians from the neighborhood, since there were many more people inside than cars in the parking lot.

While Blue Star started out strong, the meal didn’t quite hold up to expectations. I ordered Eggs Benedict, and my wife had the cheeseburger. Both good diner standbys. The kids had burgers too, but that was a little complicated. Blue Star sort of undecided on kid-friendliness. There’s not really a kid menu, but there sort of is, if you ask.

Service was friendly, but not speedy. The coffee was hot, but nothing special. And the food was competent. Individual aspects sparkled – the ham in the eggs benedict, for example was amazing. Other elements – the fries and the fruit – were uninspired. And while the presentation was good, it seemed to me a little caught in the space between upscale and nostalgia, without hitting either one with much gusto.


In the end, the place wins on ambience, with clever architecture and a trendy look. And it wins on menu, which has all the right things in all the right order. Where it falls short is the food – decent competent stuff compared to the old Red Geranium, but less than you’d expect from a place with aspirations (and prices) so much higher.

Judging Chili

Every year, starting sometime in early fall, Chili trash talking starts at the Florida Department of Revenue. It gets to the point where you have to account for a good 10 minutes of chili-baiting before a meeting starts, where to inquire about prior year results is as likely as not to lead to a tirade against crooked judges and unjust outcomes.

I've been doing Grubbus a while, reviewing food from a step back and with a little anonymity. This year, I was asked to be a judge in the contest, to judge on the spot, in full view. The experience was awesome.

All four judges were ushered into a conference room and presented with trays with all 13 entrants placed in a unique order for each judge. We were given water, palate-cleansing saltines, and a score sheet. For each chili, we were asked to rate aroma, texture, and taste on a scale of 1 to 5. The final score was aroma + texture + (3 x taste).




The entrants were all good solid Florida Chili, which is to say not Texas chili, and while I was prepared to award an extra few points to any beanless entry, none presented itself. We had African-fusion, Indian-fusion, and a green-chili entrant that seemed loosely based on New Mexico Green Chili stew. Nothing too spicy (again, a lost opportunity for extra points in my book), but plenty of spice; and though all but two followed the same meat/tomato/bean/onion formula, plenty of variety. Some were harder to eat than others, but in the moment, as much joking and playing and costumes were in place leading up to the contest, it was very serious, and very quiet.

In the end, there was a pretty clear top 3. But the one that mattered was third place. After years of pouring heart and soul into chili, after years of showing up in costume, after years of coming just this close to some chili-recognition, Susan took home a medal with her mild and subtlety spiced Nun Better Chili.