Austin, Texas – This is the best college town in America, bar none. Forget Boulder. Yeah, Boulder has mountains, but does it have 96 clubs playing live music as Austin did when I visited two weeks ago? I’ll give Columbus, Ohio, some props but if you want to go jogging there during football season you’d better bring your ski hat.
What I love about Austin isn’t just the great music, terrific restaurants, good museums, fantastic college sports, wonderful jogging paths, friendly people, Sixth Street, Fourth Street and the meanest margarita north of Chihuahua.
It’s because Austin is a blue dot in a red state. The majority of Texas is as conservative as a cowboy’s chaps and just as ugly. I’m still scarred from landing in College Station the day after President Bush was re-elected and seeing students wearing maroon “Texans for Bush” T-shirts and cadets cleaning their rifles on their dorm stoops.
But Austin is different. It’s liberal, open-minded, sophisticated, worldly. All that translates into a new food trend that has taken eating in Austin to a new level. The past year, public markets are popping up all over the city.
These are enclosed markets catering to a certain clientele, people looking beyond French’s mustard or Doritos, who know Bologna isn’t what you put between Wonder Bread. I did a tour one warm Friday and visited P&K Grocery, a corner store right out of the ’50s; Enoteca
Vespaio, an Italian eatery with goods from all over Italy; and Mandola’s Italian Market, an Italian grocery with a restaurant on the side.
They all had one thing in common: food you won’t find many other places. It takes a little adventure but that’s what Austin-
ites have. So do I. I drove over the Colorado River and down a narrow road into a working-
class neighborhood where I found P&K, the corner store on, sure enough, a corner. Mary and Fifth streets, to be exact.
I felt as if I’d entered someone’s home. Goods were stacked in baskets and charming old crates. Soft drinks and mineral water filled an old-fashioned ice chest with crushed ice. I saw imported beer from Italy and China, cheese from Vermont, chocolates from France.
In the back I saw a whole row of lollipops of various sizes. Spices filled plastic bags under an old-time Broadway Laundromat sign. I started looking around for Norman Rockwell.
I went to the deli, where you can buy everything from pancetta to Serrano ham and Petit Basque cheese to Purple Haze chevre, and ordered a No. 4. I took my wonderful sandwich filled with bresaola, sweet cherry pepper relish, goat cheese and arugula on sourdough and sat outside on a table with one of the owners, Robin Kelley.
Near an old-time hot dog stand right out of Ebbets Field, Kelley said she and her two partners saw a niche here. They opened P&K in April.
“The thing about Austin is you’ve got this laid-back culture,” she said. “They’re very artistic. They’re very creative and enthusiastic. And that has little to do with how much money they make or what industry they’re in. As a community, they’re just very passionate about their food. We’re a foodie-rich area.”
No wonder. Austin is the corporate headquarters for Whole Foods. Yes, you can get every type of gourmet bread, cheese and energy bar you want at Whole Foods. But it’ll cost you. The last time I went to Whole Foods in Cherry Creek, I brought my banker to give me a granola loan.
P&K is reasonable. My sandwich was all of $5.95. And I could’ve eaten cheaper. The back of the store is filled with penny candy. I noticed Kelley and her staff called their customers by their first names.
“I’ve been in upper-end retail my whole life,” she said. “You build up a loyal following and you see them once a month and think you’re doing a great job. But we see people here three times a day. It’s the thing about food. It’s what brings people together.”
Enoteca, open a year on a funky stretch of Congress Avenue, is one of Austin’s hot new restaurants with specialties like linguine misto mare (linguine with a seafood mix) and maiale saltimbocca (pork with lemon butter sauce, sage and spinach), but I was more interested in the groceries.
I saw imported pasta from Abruzzo, pesto sauce from Sicily, polenta from Bergamo. I saw a whole room filled with wine. It reminded me of the little alimentari near my apartment in Rome where I bought my prosciutto, cheese and Chianti from Bruno, my friendly neighborhood grocer.
But I never saw anything in Rome like Mandola’s. It’s a glittery, spacious Italian grocery store with everything from Italy but a leaning tower. Sicilian bread. Pinwheels of link sausage. Giant slabs of ham hanging from strings. Prepared antipasti salads.
The restaurant has everything from an Italian burger to rigatoni amatriciana.
Open since March, it’s the brainchild of Damian Mandola, whose grandparents came from Sicily and who started Carrabba’s Italian Grill in Houston. His biggest challenge was getting locals to try things such as sardine sauce from Sicily or focaccia bread with tomatoes. He came to the right place.
“The people of Austin are more adventurous when it comes to food,” said Damian Mandola Jr., his son who helps run it. “People are willing to go out and try new things. People are a little more cultured, worldly and go out and try different foods.
In other words, don’t look for a Mandola’s in Lubbock.
Reach John Henderson at 303-
954-1299 or jhenderson@denverpost.com.
