Who's hungry?

The other night – one of those nights when cooking seemed like more effort than it was worth – Rick brought home a pizza from a place called Saccone’s. The people who run Saccone’s are from New Jersey, and it’s about the only place in Austin you can get authentic Jersey pizza. Pizza was one of those things New Jersey did really well – you could get your run-of-the-mill Pizza Hut or Domino’s, or you could choose from a myriad of family-owned businesses where the dough was usually hand-tossed by brothers loudly conversing in Italian. Our favorite such establishment was a place called Mario’s, which was probably less than a mile from my parents’ house. The pizza joint occupied the bottom floor of a two-story blue-paneled house, and the family lived upstairs. My parents had an affinity for the Mario family, because they also had a daughter who’d been born on July 20 and got married on August 21. (That was actually a little disconcerting… I mean, same birthday, fine. OR same anniversary, fine. But BOTH? That really is a strange coincidence…) Mario’s was the epitome of Jersey pizza – and so far, Saccone’s has come the closest to reproducing the same sort of gastronomic delicacy in the state of Texas.

Another thing I miss about New Jersey is the Dunkin’ Donuts, which was about halfway between my parents’ house and the house where Rick and I lived. We lived in one of the more rural areas of New Jersey (although it’s hard to really think of any place in Jersey as “rural,” since towns are packed quite close together and you’re never more than an hour away from a major city…). With all the mom and pop pizza places, there was no room for a Starbucks in our immediate vicinity (okay, actually, there was PLENTY of room – why was there no Starbucks??). So instead, we would often make do with Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. Which, to be honest, is really quite good. The Dunkin’ Donuts near us was run by a very sweet Indian family, who figured out our preferences within the first few times we visited. Eventually, there’d be a medium hazelnut coffee with milk and sugar sitting on the counter for me before I’d even opened the door to the shop. My dad, of course, was another one of their regulars, always ordering a regular coffee with extra cream. But they loved to joke around with him – they would hand him a cup with “extra extra sugar” written on the lid. Or they’d give him an empty cup. Or a cup filled with hot water (and no, don't worry, they never let him leave without his coffee :)). And always, if someone made a morning coffee run for me while I was at home, my hazelnut coffee would have a “good morning!” and a smiley face penned on top.

Another place I miss in New Jersey is a little café called Sally Lund’s Tea House. And yes, with the words “tea house” in the title, you have to know it was a very frou-frou establishment – there was lace and old china and frilly tablecloths and really ugly paintings strewn all over the restaurant. It was like eating lunch in your grandmother’s attic. But the food was great, and dessert was even better. The owner was from England, and she must’ve brought her own recipe for scones and clotted cream, because I’d never tasted scones so good in this country. They also usually had a great assortment of chocolate cakes to choose from (I mean, scones are nice and all, but even the best scone can’t beat a decent slice of chocolate cake). And in the foyer, there was an interesting collection of packaged English food you could buy – some of it sounded good, and some of it sounded a bit strange. Like the can of liquid I glanced at on one of my visits, which proclaimed in bold letters on the label, “A delicious beef drink!” Beef drink? Um, no thank you. I think I’ll stick to the scones…

Of course, here in Austin we have a Starbucks and Seattle’s Best on every corner, we have the County Line and the Salt Lick, we have Chuy’s and Threadgill’s and Kirby Lane. We’re not without our unique places and unique people. It just seems there are fewer of those tiny little eating establishments, or places run by entire families. I guess that’s bound to happen when you live in a larger city.

But at least my coffee order is still a well-known fact… and it probably always will be, as long as I’m addicted to caffeine. :)