'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, two creatures were stirring. My brother was parked in front of the TV, watching Snipes and Harrelson duke it out on the court while surfing the web. And I in my fez, sitting crossed leg on my bed, waited for morning in Stuttgart, sleepy thoughts in my head.
Yesterday was busy. If you asked a San Antonio resident where to take visitors for a special breakfast, the Guenther House would probably be high on the list. C H Guenther was a German immigrant who settled in San Antonio in the 1850s and built a small flour mill and a house on a bend in the river. Over the years both were renovated and expanded. The mill today is huge, a multi-state industrial operation and commercial bakery. The house is now a museum with a popular breakfast and lunch restaurant inside.
No signage, however. So by the time Tay and I led dad and Neri through every floor of the house and every dining room without finding a hostess stand, tempers were short. Tay really wanted to go, and despite the 45 minute wait we were estimated, I stuck with Tay in insisting we wait. Dad and Neri took off to find a Starbucks, and my brother and I wandered slowly through the grounds.
They returned after discovering it was a fool's errand, and just as they were getting coffee from the (finally) refilled free coffee outside, or buzzer went off. We looked at each other, tossed the coffee and went to get our table.
We were seated in a kind of tiled room set below grade, maybe a summer living room. Felt a bit like the Marland mansion but less grandiose. Service was slow, but the coffee and food was good, and it was easily the cheapest meal we ate in San Antonio.
After breakfast we walked over to Market Square, the kind of Mexican market filled with imported knickknacks and junk from the tourist markets on the border. Some higher quality items if you know what to look for, but not so much on the negotiation front. Actually, they did end up negotiating about as much on México, just from the cash discount.
I ended up buying a hand painted cross with a floral motif and the Guadalupe in the center for $20, posted as $25. The story that I got from two different vendors was that they are actually Peruvian. A merchant apparently showed up with a bunch of these this year.
Anyway, afterwards we went to a few bars. Esquire was an old bar which was renovated in 2011 and repackaged as an old (hipster) cocktail bar complete with a staggering array of alcohol, shop-made ginger ale, and Edison bulbs. It's actually a pretty cool place with a very long old wood bar.
Next stop was the bar at the Menger Hotel, an pedegreed hotel, one of the oldest in the city, but definitely a faded glory institution. The small wood bar felt small and wasn't particularly well stocked or nicely appointed. However, it was steeped in history, most notably as the location where Teddy Roosevelt recruited the rough riders for the Cuban campaign in the Spanish-American war. Lots of old photos and memorabilia. If I was a huge history buff or particularly interested in Teddy R, then maybe it would have all been more compelling.
Before dinner, Tay and I got dressed in the fancy clothes and walked over to have a cocktail at the SoHo wine and cocktail bar. In an old bank, this was another cocktail oriented bar. Good drinks. We meet dad at the hotel and walked over to the restaurant.
The first few times Tay talked about this restaurant, I thought he was calling it 'big on the banks'. I.e. a generally expensive, fancy restaurant. While it was in fact, an accurate description, the actual name was Biga on the Banks since the restaurant was on the riverwalk. They served sophisticated American fare.
Tay's got nachos for an appetizer, but these were nacho ordinary nachos. These were seven triangular tortilla chips piled with salmon sashimi. My order of onion rings came with seven massive rings and a habernero curry ketchup.
Dad and Tay got steaks, and I ordered the seafood boullibaisse. It was all good, but we drank too much wine. After dinner, we caught a cab to a bar (the name escapes me) where I talked with the bartender about the history of Moscow Mules and variations thereof. It was a bit young, and dad felt a bit awkward so we went back to the hotel and walked back over to Esquire, which was hopping. We grabbed the last table and settled into a few more drinks.
It was a strange night there. We got to talking about the copper mugs and looking at the ones they had there. The Esquire's mugs are solid copper, no zinc or stainless lining, and etched with the bar name. Dad inquired about purchasing some, and the waitress obliged. Not cheap. However, their card system unexpectedly failed and we talked to the increasingly panicked waitress about a comp'd round of drinks while waiting for it to come back online. We bought perhaps sixty dollars of drinks and they obliged us by taking $50 off the tab. Probably the copper purchase helped.
After dropping dad back at the hotel, Tay was feeling a bit peckish, so we walked over to Wattaburger and I got some greasy fries and a cup of water to cushion the blow.
Ended up getting to bed around 4am. The night's alcohol consumption may have actually exceeded our bar crawl in Houston, and with a mixture of beer, wine, and liquors it was, regrettably and predictably, a rough morning from which I am still not fully recovered.
Yesterday was busy. If you asked a San Antonio resident where to take visitors for a special breakfast, the Guenther House would probably be high on the list. C H Guenther was a German immigrant who settled in San Antonio in the 1850s and built a small flour mill and a house on a bend in the river. Over the years both were renovated and expanded. The mill today is huge, a multi-state industrial operation and commercial bakery. The house is now a museum with a popular breakfast and lunch restaurant inside.
No signage, however. So by the time Tay and I led dad and Neri through every floor of the house and every dining room without finding a hostess stand, tempers were short. Tay really wanted to go, and despite the 45 minute wait we were estimated, I stuck with Tay in insisting we wait. Dad and Neri took off to find a Starbucks, and my brother and I wandered slowly through the grounds.
They returned after discovering it was a fool's errand, and just as they were getting coffee from the (finally) refilled free coffee outside, or buzzer went off. We looked at each other, tossed the coffee and went to get our table.
We were seated in a kind of tiled room set below grade, maybe a summer living room. Felt a bit like the Marland mansion but less grandiose. Service was slow, but the coffee and food was good, and it was easily the cheapest meal we ate in San Antonio.
After breakfast we walked over to Market Square, the kind of Mexican market filled with imported knickknacks and junk from the tourist markets on the border. Some higher quality items if you know what to look for, but not so much on the negotiation front. Actually, they did end up negotiating about as much on México, just from the cash discount.
I ended up buying a hand painted cross with a floral motif and the Guadalupe in the center for $20, posted as $25. The story that I got from two different vendors was that they are actually Peruvian. A merchant apparently showed up with a bunch of these this year.
Anyway, afterwards we went to a few bars. Esquire was an old bar which was renovated in 2011 and repackaged as an old (hipster) cocktail bar complete with a staggering array of alcohol, shop-made ginger ale, and Edison bulbs. It's actually a pretty cool place with a very long old wood bar.
Next stop was the bar at the Menger Hotel, an pedegreed hotel, one of the oldest in the city, but definitely a faded glory institution. The small wood bar felt small and wasn't particularly well stocked or nicely appointed. However, it was steeped in history, most notably as the location where Teddy Roosevelt recruited the rough riders for the Cuban campaign in the Spanish-American war. Lots of old photos and memorabilia. If I was a huge history buff or particularly interested in Teddy R, then maybe it would have all been more compelling.
Before dinner, Tay and I got dressed in the fancy clothes and walked over to have a cocktail at the SoHo wine and cocktail bar. In an old bank, this was another cocktail oriented bar. Good drinks. We meet dad at the hotel and walked over to the restaurant.
The first few times Tay talked about this restaurant, I thought he was calling it 'big on the banks'. I.e. a generally expensive, fancy restaurant. While it was in fact, an accurate description, the actual name was Biga on the Banks since the restaurant was on the riverwalk. They served sophisticated American fare.
Tay's got nachos for an appetizer, but these were nacho ordinary nachos. These were seven triangular tortilla chips piled with salmon sashimi. My order of onion rings came with seven massive rings and a habernero curry ketchup.
Dad and Tay got steaks, and I ordered the seafood boullibaisse. It was all good, but we drank too much wine. After dinner, we caught a cab to a bar (the name escapes me) where I talked with the bartender about the history of Moscow Mules and variations thereof. It was a bit young, and dad felt a bit awkward so we went back to the hotel and walked back over to Esquire, which was hopping. We grabbed the last table and settled into a few more drinks.
It was a strange night there. We got to talking about the copper mugs and looking at the ones they had there. The Esquire's mugs are solid copper, no zinc or stainless lining, and etched with the bar name. Dad inquired about purchasing some, and the waitress obliged. Not cheap. However, their card system unexpectedly failed and we talked to the increasingly panicked waitress about a comp'd round of drinks while waiting for it to come back online. We bought perhaps sixty dollars of drinks and they obliged us by taking $50 off the tab. Probably the copper purchase helped.
After dropping dad back at the hotel, Tay was feeling a bit peckish, so we walked over to Wattaburger and I got some greasy fries and a cup of water to cushion the blow.
Ended up getting to bed around 4am. The night's alcohol consumption may have actually exceeded our bar crawl in Houston, and with a mixture of beer, wine, and liquors it was, regrettably and predictably, a rough morning from which I am still not fully recovered.
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