A Tale Of Two Cuisines

On Sunday, after the CITOs and back road shenanigans, I rested. As a result, I only went to a couple of Events. That is how I ended up Sunday evening at a Mexican restaurant (actually Tex-Mex, but we’re not going to quibble about that) with a plethora of cachers from Austin, Georgetown, the surrounding areas, and from as far away as Lampasas and San Antonio. I ordered what I almost always get: chicken enchiladas, double rice, no beans, no sour cream. We ate and talked (as we are wont to do) about our lives, our adventures, and the new Geoart (especially since its COs and the honoree were all in attendance). I spent a little time chatting with fellow media mogul FTFGuy, publisher of FTF Geocacher Magazine. I found it interesting that we were on different sides of a particular issue: he has been caching less lately because the preparation and publishing of the magazine have taken up a lot of his time, while I cache more because I’m constantly trying to have new things to write about (believe me, folks, I wouldn’t have a six-year streak if I wasn’t generating content for all of you). The evening even ended with birthday cake, also in honor of Bartman, who had just passed another birthday a few days before!

A good time was had by all, but I have to admit that the location was nothing special for me. As you can imagine, you can’t throw a dead cat in Texas without hitting a Mexican restaurant. I have had a nigh-infinite amount of Tex-Mex and almost as many Events around queso and salsa. Why would this even be something of note in the first place? you might ask. Because that morning, half of us sitting around the queso and salsa had been sitting around a different type of fare.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had an Event at a crêperie before, but it was certainly new to me. Normally, I avoid French cuisine, partially because of my slightly wonky experience with the majority of French people I’ve met thus far in my life (admittedly a small sample size), but primarily because I’m a philistine when it comes to food, so “good food” is kind of lost on me. But I had to come, not just because it was an Event, but because I swore off pancakes and waffles a couple of years ago but made no such declaration about crepes. Yes, I indulge in the occasional loophole.

There we were, arrayed in our caching finery, surrounded by white marble tables and brass accents. One might even call it a little bougie, though hardly bourgeoisie. I myself would choose the word gaudy, but not as an insult. Regardless of the decor, the food was quite good. Since I don’t usually find myself at crêperies, I had to choose something I’d never had before. I went with something sweet: an apple cinnamon crème brûlée crepe. I thought that all those flavors together might be gilding the lily a bit, but I was surprised to discover that the slight tartness of the apples blended well with the sweet caramel and crème brûlée to make quite a nice taste sensation. And regardless of locale, the same topics as usual swirled about.

My point here (and I do have one) is that it doesn’t matter how they happen or where they happen; it only matters that the Events happen. They’re not the bricks with which our communities are built (that would be the caches themselves), but they are most certainly the mortar.