Marfa Stuff

I came to Marfa with very little. My car was loaded down, but a lot of space was taken up by Padre's merchandise and my cats. Leaving possessions behind has always had a strange appeal for me. The attraction is not just about lightening my load, but about taking my most special things with me, and I carefully chose the stuff that makes my new home here. Back in Austin, it became increasingly easy to avoid stores and garage sales as my little house became full. Here in my tiny space in Marfa, there is only room for necessities. It's a good thing, because there aren't really any stores anyway. I am at heart a collector, though, and even the lack of space won't keep me from acquiring a few special things that call to me. 

I got this poster print of a still life with sunflowers at the local thrift store. There was a companion piece with brighter colors and different flowers, but I loved everything about the sunflower picture and didn't think twice about breaking up the set. I found a place for it on my casita wall just above the turntable. About a week later, I had a real-life bouquet of sunflowers to match it when Padre's was given several bunches of them to decorate our bar after an art opening. 

The Alice in Wonderland coffee cup surfaced among the few odd mugs at Padre's one day, and I immediately claimed it as my own. We have a collection of bright Lotteria cups which is rounded out with others like this one, leftovers from past events. I had heard of the legendary Wonderland birthday party thrown by a wealthy ranch owner from a couple of different sources, so don't doubt it's veracity, but can't with any authority recount the illegal events that took place over the course of the weekend. I am happy that this particular cup can now exist as a reminder of a more wholesome time, and think of the amazing Lewis Carrol stories I read to my boy when he was little while enjoying my morning coffee. I feel something of a spiritual connection with Alice as I, too, have found myself in a very different place filled with curious characters!

I came across the vintage-inspired Corona beer tray at Murphy's Raspa shop in Alpine, where I was told I could find rolls of oil cloth fabric for Padre's banquet tables. Unfortunately, the merchandise section of the business was closing, and there was little left to shop through. But I found some fabric as well as a few little Dia De Los Muertos figurines that perfectly decorate the empty shelves in the ladies room at the bar. I didn't notice the tray at first as it was filled with dry rice and beans and holding a sad little pair of maracas. I have a thing for trays, and wanted it badly enough to have the helpful employee send a text to the store owner for a price. I filled it with treats for the kids when they visited, and now it is filled with goodies for me. 

Having a simplified wardrobe has also been a fantasy of mine, and I have only added a few, carefully chosen items to the clothes I brought with me to Marfa. I spoke of my perfect white dress with lacy accents in an earlier blog, and just this past week I found a great pair of broken-in brown cowboy boots to go with it. Ellie's little vintage shop, Mid Century Marfa, is like a speak-easy for clothing. Once you've been shown the way by a friend, you may shop unattended at any time of the day or night; simply leave the cash for your purchases in the secret compartment and be on your way. When I made an unfortunate scratch on my boots while wearing them to work for the first time, Ellie said, that's ok, that's what they're for. Years of ruining favorite items of clothing through day-to-day living has also made me philosophical. Like the scars on my skin, I like to think of these stains and scratches as reminders of past times, and will always remember the day I cleaned out the broken bottle cooler in the back bar at Padre's. 

I'm lucky to be working at a live music venue where I have really liked every band that has come to play. I end up spending a portion of my own tip money on their cds, records, and t-shirts, and have a nice collection going. I have cute t-shirts from Not in The Face! and Horse Opera (attention bands: keep making girl-sized shirts!) and music to-go from Carter Beckworth, Outernational, Agent Ribbons, and Dana Falconberry. The later two included containers that are works of art in themselves. Leave it to female musicians to think of details like handmade cd cases to appeal to us girly-girls. 

                              cds by Agent Ribbons & Dana Falconberry and piece of Building 98 mural

And I almost failed to mention my most prized acquisition in these two months, as it is something that I was given and does not have a monetary value. It's an actual piece of the wall from Building 98, the space that two German artists who happened to be prisoners of war painted during their imprisonment in Marfa during World War II. The murals which covered the walls in two large rooms of the officers' club depict the Texas landscape of the area through the eyes of these German men who loved the west, and as stories tell it, had a friendly relationship with the people of Marfa. They have been painstakingly restored over the past year by Yano, an enthusiastic young man that I had the pleasure of knowing in my first few weeks here. He livened up open mics and parties with his acoustic-white-boy versions of hip hop songs which he would ad lib in true rapper style. In restoring the paintings, Yano had to repaint certain sections that had crumbled away due to water damage. At his farewell party, an unveiling of the restoration, I commented that it would be cool to have one of those pieces and without hesitation he bent down and picked up a chunk that hadn't yet been swept away. Souvenirs like this are by far my favorite. Not cheap recreations of the original, but a tiny piece of the real deal. 

A Padre's History Lesson

Last night I had the luxury of hanging out on the 'right' side of the bar. I was on hand to help out a newer bartender if needed, and entertained myself by playing records, chatting, and occasionally checking facebook on my laptop. Duncan, the rock-star-looking guy I had hired the day before to be our newest bar back and unofficial bouncer dropped by for a beer. He was followed by Ty, the owner of one of our neighboring bars and a Marfa icon due to his larger-than-life personality and striking resemblance to the Marlboro Man. Ty took a stool next to me at the end of the bar and Duncan quickly parked himself on the other side. 

I shut my laptop when Ty began talking about the tiles in the two arches behind the bar. I had heard snippets of the remodeling saga of Padre's from several people who were around and involved, but Ty was the contractor and did most of the actual work himself. I started asking questions to keep him going. The bar really was made from the original flooring, and apparently if you are repurposing wood like this, you must be prepared to have your finished product be a small fraction of the size of the original. The entire old hardwood floor was used in making the bar, and a new pine floor was put in it's place. To save money, and because no one would know the difference anyway, Ty used old stove pipes for the metal bar siding instead of the fancy tin that the designer had planned. He went as far as Presidio to collect enough metal, and carefully fit the pieces together in his shop. 

When I have set-backs in my quest to make Padre's a successful business, I only need remind myself of the hardships that were endured in building the place. I knew the roof had fallen in as a result of the work being done on the old building, and the entire top of it was raised by several feet when a new one was made. What I didn't realize was the amount of time this took, both in the working and in the waiting. Those who made this place were very patient and determined. Raising the roof with metal beams holding it up allowed a center wall to be removed, making the nice big space we now enjoy when live music graces the stage. The building had actually been divided into two separate businesses in it's first incarnation. 

Ty mentioned an auto shop, and I had heard that it was also a feed store before the funeral home; I asked him if he could confirm this. He said that one side had actually been a general store, and the other was a wagon shop which became a Model T shop with the advent of cars. The garage door was too small for the early cars to get through, so a rut had to be dug out in the adobe floor below to allow them to get in and out for work. Ty also had the real story on the funeral home, including it's lay out. There are rumors that Padre's kitchen was once an embalming room (how's that for an appetite killer?), but according to Ty, that dirty work actually took place in the men's room. Much more fitting. I don't even want to say what the mop closet was; suffice it to say, the strange odor that wafts out whenever that door is opened now makes perfect sense. 

Ty took his leave after finishing his whiskey and Lone Star, and for a short time we all went back to our separate diversions. Moments later, Duncan got word that a friend of his was killed in a motorcycle accident earlier that day. Paul and I met Rich and his wife our first week in town, and he fascinated us with his stories of working back-stage security at a big club in Houston. He had lived an interesting life, and had actually stated in the course of our conversation that he wasn't afraid of death. 

Rich and a few other members of the Bandidos motorcycle gang were at Padre's just this past Saturday. Seeing the four of them sitting at the bar in their jackets inspired me to run and get my camera. Rich indulged my photo, and actually posed, asking if it would be posted on facebook. For a member of a motorcycle gang who had lived a lot of life and looked it, Rich was the nicest, gentlest  person, and gave me words of encouragement and praise for my work at the bar. After lunch and a beer, the Bandidos left us, but the sky turned very dark in the north and east, and thunder as loud as the train that quickly passes just feet from our building made us take notice. Before long, the Bandidos returned. Rich said the storm they encountered when they were half way to Fort Davis made even the toughest of them decide that turning back was the best option. Several other patrons were trapped with us for a good hour while rain and hail pelleted the metal roof of Padre's. I agreed with Rich that it was smart that they followed their instincts this time and didn't ride in the weather even though they had survived similar storms in the past. I can't help feeling now that Rich simply bought himself another week in that hour at Padre's, and I hope it was a good one for him. I know that he was where he wanted to be and was living his life the way he wanted to, so I'm sure it was. 

                                                               RIP Rich Hoffman

The Hard Way

When giving Adrian advice while he was growing up I used to say I didn't want him to have to learn the hard way. I was reminded of this the other night while training Holly to close down the bar. It's not rocket science, but there are some little details that one wants to pass on such as, don't pull the plugs on all three sinks at the washing station simultaneously or the drain will overflow. It only takes doing it once to figure it out for yourself, and sure enough, Holly saw what I meant when she forgot (it had been a long day!) and water came spilling out on her shoes. As we laughed about it, she told me of the list she's compiling of things no one ever tells you not to do. Cutting duct tape with your teeth was on it. She learned this difficult fact when she ended up pulling half her lip off. Now that I think of it, why isn't there a warning for this on the package?

Just like we want to share our warnings, we want to let others know about good things they might enjoy experiencing. Learning a lesson from experience is hard, but discovering something great on your own makes the experience better. Being naturally enthusiastic, I have become reserved in my endorsements of certain things, if for no other reason than I feel I have more appreciation if I'm not expecting much, and want to give others this gift. This is especially true for movies. Some of my best movie-watching experiences came when I got to sneak into tech screenings at Alamo with no information other than what was printed on the poster. I avoid reading reviews and turn off the radio when upcoming films are being discussed, yet it's still difficult to go into a theater these days without having some kind of idea what the movie's about, and that is by far the best way to enjoy it. 

I think Marfa fits into this category, too. Luckily, there is no public relations person for the town and no campaign to bring in more tourists. In a recent NPR story about the arts scene in Marfa, the director of the Chinati Foundation stated that they didn't do marketing, and actually sounded offended by the question. Marfa is a word of mouth sort of place - it's about the search. Setting out on a path, meeting different people who help steer you, making your own discoveries on the way. Streets and buildings have no signs. It's part of the aesthetic as well as the mystique, like the Marfa Lights (which I tell people really aren't much to get excited about). Talking it up seems to  detract from the specialness. It reminds me of an episode of The Simpsons where Marge is talking to Bart and Lisa about what it means to be cool. She says, 'Well how the hell do you be cool? I feel like we've tried everything here." Don't try, just be. 


The first time I visited Marfa, I had no information other than a few photos on the El Cosmico website. The woman at the front desk there gave my friend and me a small map and pointed out both Padre's and the late night grilled cheese parlor and vintage electronics museum (which at that time didn't have a proper name...or sign). We found Padre's, but grilled cheese eluded us until the following night when a row of miniature TVs in the window glowed like a holy grail, and strange music from an empty school bus let us know we had found something special. I tried to give Adrian and Wynne the space to make their own discoveries on this first visit, and found that directing them came with challenges, anyway. Not knowing street names myself, they got a lot of, 'go down to the blinking red light and turn towards the courthouse...it's down there on the left somewhere'. Though I personally took them to the grilled cheese parlor when I learned that they missed it the previous night. Its amazingness cannot be overstated!

In this world where advertising is directed at us in every possible way, it's nice to be in a place that is generally free from that type of manipulation. We'll be waiting here for you to find us. Just go through the blinking red light and take a right on the street just past the church. 

Adrian's First Visit

I say 'first' with more confidence now that Adrian and his girlfriend, Wynne, have come to Marfa. They liked it and I am glad; I thought they would. Adrian probably would have liked it even better if he could have walked from place to place, but he is still limited due to his recent bicycle accident, and was using a very stylish cane to get from the car to each destination. 

They got in late on Thursday, and I waited up for them after training another new bartender to close down for the night. Work helped distract me, but I still spent that evening on needles and pins once the sun went down knowing that the small highways of west Texas weren't lit and had some winding parts. Cell phone reception comes and goes, and Adrian indulged my frequent texts to make sure Wynne was staying awake and that they were on the right track. When he texted that they were 10 miles away, I turned on the grill and tossed on the bread and cheese for sandwiches. I stood in the middle of the street next to Padre's to flag them down (we still need to get a better sign!), and almost hurt Adrian by hugging him so hard the second he got out of the car. They had picked up a little stray dog in Sonora, and it enjoyed running through the bar while we made plans for the weekend. By coming on Thursday, they ensured that Wynne would be available to help out with the big wedding rehearsal dinner that Padre's was hosting the next day, and that we would be able to get Food Shark. Since it's only open Tuesday through Friday for lunch, I considered this a major coup. 

The party went off without a hitch, and we celebrated with dinner at the high-end restaurant around the corner. I had set foot in Cochineal on three other occasions, but never managed to actually dine there. I instructed them to order whatever they wanted, and they both got the rib eye steak. It was Wynne's first steak, and I'm afraid it's all downhill from here for her. 

Ellie, the sweet woman who rents out rooms above the coffee shop (one which Paul and I stayed in so the kids could have our place), paid the nicest compliment to both Adrian and his girl. Wynne had stopped by her little vintage shop in one of the rooms and picked out a very cute 50's dress. Ellie was impressed with her and said that Adrian, who was waiting downstairs, must be a really great guy to have a girl like her. Yep. 

Their visit ended Sunday with lunch at Padre's. Adrian's dad and his band mate Carter, who just happened to be playing in Alpine that weekend, joined us. Adrian finally got to play air hockey with a worthy opponent, and I got to feed him one more time before sending him back home. One more piece of my quest to make Marfa my new home is complete: I know my boy will be back, and now he knows the way. 

I Am Still Here

To my friends and family

I am still here, but have been much too busy recently for any updates. They might not be too interesting right now, anyway. Lots of working. LOTS. Adrian is here for the weekend with his girlfriend Wynne, and for the time being, if I'm not working, I'm trying to get some time in with them. The two things combined last night when Wynne helped out at Padre's for our private party. That girl is golden in my book. Tonight we've got reservations at Cochineal, and I'm looking forward to my first meal there and to relaxing with them before they head back home on Sunday.

I'm looking for that light at the end of the tunnel, and hope to have more time to write in a week; less with some luck.

'til then...

My Special

Today I served my first special at Padre's. In a town with few restaurants, I am told the special is a welcome change to the predictability of the regular menu. I got my inspiration from our new little fryer, and decided to try out the delicious suppli recipe that has been so popular with my friends. 

To make the best suppli (or risotto balls as they are also known) you must make the risotto a day ahead. Saute diced onion in olive oil until soft, add the dry arborio rice and stir until coated with oil. The first addition of liquid is white wine; here is where the stirring begins and doesn't end until the risotto is almost finished. Once the wine is absorbed, add a couple of ladles of simmering stock to the rice at a time and stir, stir, stir. This is what gives risotto it's creamy goodness. When the last portion of stock is added, stop stirring and let it rest. I've found that letting food rest is an important part of cooking - if I can't rest, at least the food can. While the risotto rested, I steamed the bunch of fresh kale that I brought back from Austin. I intended to eat half, and save half for the next day, but my body must have been craving it and I devoured the entire bowl without a second thought. I stirred some grated parmesan into the finished risotto and put it in the fridge. 

Forming the balls is the fun part of the process, and I quickly accomplished this step in the morning between interviewing our newest cook, Joel, and holding the first meeting of kitchen employees. I used a medium ice cream scoop to portion and form the balls, stuffing a small cube of mozzarella in the middle of each. Three bags of arborio resulted in about 60 balls, enough for the 30 portions I planned. Each ball is dipped in egg, rolled in breadcrumbs, then set aside until it's time for the fryer. 

To accompany the suppli, I decided on bread salad with roasted tomatoes and green beans. This is another dish that I've made numerous times; simple and fool-proof. Fresh mozzarella, fresh basil, and tomatoes are the holy trinity of summer in my mind, and white beans added some protein to this vegetarian meal. Perfect. I carefully gathered the necessary ingredients in Austin, and even managed to salvage enough fresh basil from my garden back home to complete both this dish and my favorite sauce for the suppli. Multiple refrigeration issues have plagued me like a constant humming in my ears since returning from my weekend away, so I shouldn't have been surprised to discover my precious basil frozen in the dorm-sized fridge in my casita. Knowing the local grocer did not carry such an exotic item (!), and dreading the time-sucking trip to Alpine during my already-too-busy-day, I turned to facebook. 

Facebook, have I told you lately that I love you? I immediately got details on whose garden had not quite dried up yet, and a nice offer from a lady in Alpine who was coming to town at 6am. I was getting hopeful. Eventually, Padre's own regular-guest bartender Rocky joined the virtual conversation with 'I've got lots', saving my ass once again. Rocky owned and operated one of Marfa's sweetest little restaurants called The Miniature Rooster, and must have known exactly what I was feeling, because he delivered a huge bag to me with a smile, expecting nothing in return. 

As the dinner hour drew near, everything was prepped and quality-tested. The special plate was rounded out with a slice of fresh cantaloupe and a smattering of marinated green olives, pure and simple -my favorite qualities of Italian food. I was a black olive girl until my first trip to Italy; the magnificent green olive bread from Forno, a bakery in the Campo dei Fiori piazza of Rome, turned me and I've never gone back. Gil stood by to make the other menu items, and we expected an easy shift as we discussed the post-Beatles careers of George Harrison and Paul McCartney. He told me of the coffee shop he's building, and how nice it was to feel passionate about your work. I understood exactly what he was talking about. We were both surprised when order after order of cheeseburgers filled the rail. We got slammed, and I found myself shouting out 'cheeburger cheeburger' like John Belushi in that great old SNL skit about the Greek restaurant. 'no Coke, Pepsi.' At Padre's, we say, 'no Coke, RC' 

With more than half of my special leftover for tomorrow's lunch crowd, I am wondering; do people really want something that is new and different, or would they rather have the same reliable cheeseburger? To be continued...

The Road to Austin

I got on the road around 10am this morning after checking on the kitten and filling my leaky tire with air. With no tire shop in Marfa and no hope of one in Ft. Stockton, I once again threw caution to the wind and set out on the 430 mile drive with my fingers crossed. The other morning I was troubled to see this tire almost flat, but it had held air (mostly) for 24 hour periods since then. In Alpine, I stopped at Padres' bank and Plaine, the coffee shop whose name is an anagram of the town's name. Observing that the tire's roundness seemed unchanged, I continued on to Ft. Stockton. I figured that I could make it to Austin by simply getting air every 100 miles. I counted my quarters - no problem!


Thus, my journey was divided into four 100 mile segments. During the first leg I listened to Marfa Public Radio, and caught a repeat of a Morning Edition story on my new home from that very morning. I was sad to be leaving Marfa, but happy to be on the way to see my boy and to have a fun weekend in Austin. I heard two Dylan songs in this radio-fueled stretch, a familiar one whose words I really paid attention to this time (Like a Rolling Stone), another that I never knew Dylan covered (Freight Train Blues). The programming seemed to be custom-made for my drive and I was off to a good start. 


I lost reception around the 100 mile mark, and after stopping for air the second time I switched to Drive Time Spanish. This six CD set attempts to make one conversational in the time it takes to drive across Texas. It had been several weeks since my last lesson, and I had trouble keeping up with questions about what time the theater started and what Marisa needed from the store. I enjoyed repeating the phrases without thinking too much about what I was saying. though. If I do this commute enough times, the meaning will eventually sink in. 


From Ft. Stockton, I could see that the next town was right around 100 miles. My plan was working out perfectly! I grew tired of the Spanish lessons as I was pulling into Ozona, and popped in The Shins. For the past year or two, my ipod -set to shuffle- has kept me entertained while driving, and it was a nice change to listen to a whole CD, especially one that makes such great use of the album format like 'Wincing the Night Away'. I was half-way there!


A mild sense of panic crept through me as I realized that there was no 'next town' listed on highway mileage signs. Ozona had been listed when it was a little less than 100 miles away, yet here I was over 40 miles out of Ozona and still nothing. I popped in ABBA's Greatest Hits and put my trust in the universe. The sign for Junction finally appeared like a mirage in the desert, and it was almost exactly 100 miles from my last stop. Yes! I was singing along with ABBA at the top of my lungs! This music fires more than one neuron in my brain. Some songs immediately take me back to my childhood: during the disco craze, even my parents had a copy of 'Voulez-Vous'. Working at Wheatsville Co-op in my 20's, I heard ABBA played over the store sound system by Neils, a very friendly young post-punk cashier with a mohawk. He was as sincere in his love of ABBA as he was about sporting a hair-style that was 10 years past its time. I didn't get it. Then one day while stocking natural shampoo, it hit me. I've been an unashamed ABBA fan ever since. Most recently, I enjoyed seeing 'Mama Mia!' in Las Vegas with Mary and Katie, and connect other songs to the story line of that musical. Paul promised to watch the movie version with me a few months ago...I made a mental note to remind him. 


As I aired up in Junction, I heard a faint hiss. It was definitely coming from my tire: I felt air escaping from a small spot at what felt like an alarming rate. I decided that the best course of action was to buy a sandwich. If my tire was about to go flat, I wanted it to happen while I was not on-the-highway-going-80-miles-an-hour. I asked the guy at the counter if there was a service station nearby; he said my best bet was about 15 miles down the road at the Segovia Truck Stop. My tire inexplicably showed no signs of deflating, so I pressed on. Those were the longest 15 miles of the whole trip. Pieces of tires seemed to be strewn all along the highway, and images of the unlucky travelers I had passed earlier that day changing flats or looking otherwise stranded kept running through my head. I hoped against hope that I would not be one of them. Even ABBA couldn't cheer me up, and I drove this section in silence. 

Segovia only had one exit, and it was there I found the truck stop and, behind it, the service bay with an offer of 'new and used tires' on the sign. I had peeked at my full-sized spare before leaving town, and thought getting it on was the best solution for now. Feeling a little more hopeful, I tore open the gas station sandwich I purchased in Junction and waited patiently for the attendant to finish with the tires on the flat bed trailer ahead of me. I called both Paul and Holly, who each mentioned the unbearable heat in Austin. The truck stop radio weather report said today's high was 101. I realized that I hadn't been aware of the temperature the entire month I had been in Marfa. The reporter then said something that really alarmed me: people should not work outdoors between the hours of 2 and 7. Does anyone else think this is extremely uncool? (pardon the pun)


The attendant made me sweat it out for an hour, after which time I was so happy to have a tire on my car that I paid $18 to the truck stop and $20 to him for sweating more than me. I jumped in the car and didn't stop again until I was in Austin. All Things Considered kept me company for the remainder of the trip, yet I found my mind wandering through story after story about the economy. I have been blissfully unaware of the big picture for the past month. My world was about to expand again and I'd better readjust, at least temporarily. Living in a small town has made me rediscover my love for people in general. Here, outside of Marfa, I found myself being kinder to people I came across. Now when I say 'have a nice day' to the lady working the counter at the gas station, I really mean it.