And A Chili Parlor Shall Lead Them...

Monday night I met Jack Morton, a fellow Journeyer and dear friend for a quick supper before we went to the Erwin Center to see the Horns knock the snot out of the Baylor Men's basketball team. It has been a disappointing season for the Bears who made their first NCAA Tournament appearance in many years last season, and who had been resurrected from college basketball Sheol by Coach Scott Drew and a scrappy, tenacious group of players. They spent several weeks in the top 25 early this season, but then four weeks into conference play began to struggle and have not been able to climb out of the funk...and will disappointingly miss the tournament after high hopes early on.

But, I digress, because the little establishment near the Capital (where Jack works a great deal during the legislative session) is actually the focus of this harping. It is a modest little downtown bar and eatery called The Chili Parlor. If you are a fan of grindhouse movies and saw the enigmatic Robert Rodriguez/Quintin Tarantino double feature, the little roadhouse featured at the beginning of the film with Kurt Russell is actually...the Chili Parlor. I have been in Austin for 15 years and heard about this legendary establishment for years, but alas, and alack, had never eaten there. We are perusing the menu and Jack is giving me the lowdown on the finer points of Chili Parlor ingredient nuances when the waitress informs us that the special of the day is chicken and sausage gumbo. Now those of you don't know me well are not aware of the fact that I am a bona fide gumbo snob. I grew up eating good gumbo in South Louisiana made by my pure-blooded Cajun mama, I make a very good gumbo, and I can count on one hand the restaurants I have frequented down through the years who made a gumbo that was anything more than a notch above average to lousy. Like I said...a gumbo snob.

At any rate, I was intrigued by the idea that a chili parlor would have the stones to offer gumbo and put it on the menu with their specialties, so both Jack and I ordered it...It was good...not just passable, but very good...now, granted, a chicken and sausage gumbo is much easier to pull off than seafood gumbo, but it was surprisingly tasty, with a thick hearty roux...which is the name of the game for me. The chunks of chicken were substantial and the sausage was andouille...add several dashes of Tabasco, and it was a very satisfying surprise in dining disguise.

We are well into the Lenten season, and frankly I'm having a difficult time feeling it the way I have always expected. Things at Journey are scarily wonderful...we are bad-dog broke, but that seems to have no effect on these brave strange fellow Journeyers. My girls are terrific, each off doing their own thing and continuing to grow into amazingly gifted and powerful young women. I've had the gift of having Ariele around on a daily basis for a few months and am loving spending time with her, discussing, arguing, dissecting, deconstructing and dreaming a world of subjects. I have connected with several women of past and present interest who have stirred me to think about being in a relationship again after fourteen years and that is a little disorienting. I feel good physically and am managing the financial stress of having at least one child in college continuously since 2001, at one point having all three in college, and having two in at the same time for the last four years with another two years probably on the horizon. By the way...don't ask me how that is possible with the modest salary a youth minister and associate pastor makes. I have no idea. I am grateful that somehow we have managed...but I got nothing. What I do know is that in the confusing days approaching Easter, Jesus' disciples spent most of the time scratching their heads and wondering what the heck was going on. They got introduced to many surprises in disguises, some thrilling and some terrifying, in those days heading toward Jerusalem so I'm taking a little gumbo at a chili parlor as a nudge to pay attention a little better... and pass the Tabasco.

Pling...Pling...