Saturday, November 6. The Best Mexican Restaurant Of My Life. A Wedding, And A Swanky Reception. Everybody slept in. Credit those super-comfortable beds at the Westin. I was the first up. I made some coffee in the room and got down to writing. Mary Ann was up minutes after, though, and she was full of plans. She suggested that I go downstairs to the hotel's restaurant for coffee and juice, and she'd just watch me eat. Main motivation: allowing Mary Leigh to sleep longer. Mary Ann had big doings for her, too. A wedding gift needed to be purchased. And, perhaps, new dresses for both of them.
And lunch. MA was so turned on by our lunch at Hugo's a couple of months ago that she wanted to do it again. I was game for that. The duck with mole poblano is still vivid in my mind. And I saw many other dishes that I wanted to try.
Talking Mary Leigh into Hugo's would be a challenge. She loves Mexican food--as long as it's Americanized Tex-Mex. Hugo's does Mex-Mex, and has more than a few exotic items on its menu.
Grasshoppers, for example. I knew before we headed there that I would make those my appetizer. And that I could not tell the Marys I was doing so. I ordered them by the Spanish name, chapulines. The bugs came to the table in such an attractive presentation that Mary Ann almost dug in. Three little bowls, one filled with guacamole, another with a warm chilpotle pepper salsa, and the third with. . . well, the grasshoppers, although the look was such that with her slightly blurry vision, she might well have thought it was some kind of chili.
To avoid a scene--Mary Ann does not have an appreciation for far-out food--I pulled the dish away and directed her attention to the queso flameado. That's sizzling steak and cheese, deftly being spooned into flour tortillas by the waiter. This is what she had last time. She liked it again, and so did Mary Leigh.
And then I broke the news about the grasshoppers. The Marys made the faces I expected. The grasshoppers were crunchy-sauteed with a little oil and lime juice. You spoon guacamole and salsa onto thick, bready blue corn tortillas, then a spoonful of grasshoppers. Roll the tortilla up, and eat. I waited for some strange new flavor to emerge, but none did. The waiter, still busy rolling up the steak and queso, asked what I thought of them. "They're better than I expected," I said.
"They're good. We eat them all the time in Mexico. Very authentic," he said. The thought crossed my mind that the Mexican staff might be giggling at the idea of gringos eating insects, but I decided that was paranoia. These things really were delicious.
The most familiar entree on the table was Mary Leigh's carnitas--pulled pork with pico de gallo and salsa. Tender, juicy, well seasoned--just great. Mary Ann went off her beam to get the chiles rellenos (below). They were very dark from a thorough roasting--giving a certain pepper-sweetness to the base flavor. Inside the peppers was chicken and asadero cheese. But over the top was the real magic: salsa pipian, made largely with pumpkin seeds. She thought this was a spectacular flavor, and so did I.
The meal Hugo's served midday on Saturdays is characterized as a brunch. Some of the world's best egg dishes are Mexican. And I was delighted by the name of one of them: huarache con huevos. Sandal with eggs? The footwear part was a sort of chalupa made of a flour tortilla, filled with chicken in a red, spicy garlic sauce, with beans and queso fresco underneath. Two fried eggs on the side. Wonderful! Flan for dessert, while the bosslady gave me the evil eye for delaying her plans.
We were not really pressed for time. The next item on the agenda was the wedding that we came for, and the church was only a few blocks from Hugo's. It was in the Chapel of St. Basil on the campus of the University of St. Thomas. The bride is an alumna, giving her the right to have her nuptials in this striking chapel. I thought it was an architectural masterpiece; the Marys said it wasn't "churchy" enough for them.
It was an unarguably beautiful wedding, with a string duo playing baroque pieces before and during. I wondered where the groom--my nephew Mickey Terrell--was hiding. Then he took the bride's hand and his vows. I didn't recognize him. Has it been that many years since I last saw him? He was a red-haired young man then. Now he's lost as much hair as I have (and for the same reason: a gene passed down our maternal lines), and he looks like a full-fledged adult.
The reception was several hours after the wedding, for reasons I would learn later. Mary Ann had the interim completely filled. She still needed a wedding gift. (In the first shopping foray, the main score was a stunning dress for Mary Leigh.) She had scoped out the shops and decided that Sur Le Table--a store full of things for the dining room and kitchen--would be where the gift would be procured.
Knowing that my input was unwanted, I strolled around the area and had a cup of coffee. When I got back, the Marys pounced on me to break a deadlock. Mary Ann liked a Le Creuset roasting pan. Mary Leigh much preferred a double skillet from the same line. They said they would go with my opinion. I said that the roasting pan was too small for anything roasting pans are good for (like a chicken), and that it would not often be used. The double skillet, however, was a great design and would serve in many different cooking situations.
Of course, we bought the roasting pan. Mary Ann constitutes a majority all by herself on any issue.
The reception was at the Four Seasons hotel. The reason it began so long after the wedding was that it was a seated dinner--and a rather good one, at that. I hear that doing it that way instead of as a buffet is catching on. I love the idea.
The waitress taking care of us had a unique style. She asked me whether I wanted the chicken or the filet mignon as the entree. Chicken, I said. "But your advance order was for the filet," she said. Apparently this was a very well organized fete. Bring me the filet, then, I said. "But you can have the chicken, if you like. I will put it through." Great, I said. I'd love the chicken. "But really, the order for you is a filet." Well, if it causes a problem at all, bring the filet. "I can see you want the chicken," she said. Whatever you bring me will be fine, I replied.
She brought the filet. And then, halfway through the meal, she brought the chicken, too. I think this woman must have worked on a cruise ship before this gig.
I got a chance to visit with some family members I've not seen in a long time--notably Michal Terrell (Mickey's dad) and his own father--very nice people. Michal and my sister Karen separated some years ago. Talking to the groom was fun. He had read my books and thought I was somebody. He has a clever, quick wit that I liked. And the right attitude about everything, including marriage. I feel good about this union. Not that anyone asked me.
Hugo's. Houston: 1600 Westheimer. 713-524-7744.
