Cupcakes, take 2. Sugar Mamas Sets The Bar.

Cupcakes have had a heck of a run these last few years. In Austin, and everywhere else, cupcakeries have sprouted up in downtown hipster storefronts, airstream trailers and suburban strip malls.

My cupcake odyssey took me out of Grubbus, into a stint blogging for Sweet Tempered Bakery in South Austin, through the heartbreak of their closure a few months back, and, now, finally, back to Grubbus, and back with a hell of a new favorite cupcake in these waning days of the fad: The Sugar Mama's Bakeshop Black and Tan. Available Fridays.




Sugar Mama's gets just about everything right. It's a little place, tucked into South First Street between Mary and Johanna. Black and white tiles and an eccentric mix of the vintage and the Ikea frame two glass displays dominated with a constantly changing array of the most luscious cupcakes, cookies, pies and bars I've encountered. It's an engaging spot, and there are a couple of small tables, but this is essentially a get-it-and-go operation. So presentation is off the chart, and the cashier I chatted with talked about growing up running around Sweetish Hill while her mom baked cakes (foodie cred!) but the real kicker here is the taste: Moist, buttery, sweet cakes with frosting good enough to eat with a spoon.

A word of warning - despite the proliferation of bakeries in Austin, and despite the slow deflation of the cupcake craze - this place is popular enough that it sells out of the good stuff early - I'd recommend going early if you can.

Maria's Taco XPress = Austin

A week ago, a colleague of mine in Tallahassee mentioned that his wife was making a trip to Austin. He asked if I could whip up a quick list of good eats in town, and the thing that sprung immediately to mind was Maria's.

Austin has Tex Mex, and it has BBQ, and while much of that is dee-lish, it's stuff you can get anywhere in Texas. But Marias. That's just Austin.

The tacos themselves are really tasty; there are dozens of options, and they do everything fresh and right there on the giant flat top behind the register. Salsa is tasty and coffee is dineresque, but drinkable. Chorizo and Bacon are both legit and appropriately greasy. They've got a full menu, and a bar, but the place is packed all the time and I've never seen anyone eat anything but a taco. If you're going, you're going for a breakfast taco.

So, you'd think this is a simple thing, right? Tortilla. Eggs. Potatoes. Cheese. How hard is that, really? But within those four little points of goodness, a lot can happen. First off, the tortilla. Many places have some leeway here, and I prefer corn when I can get it, but Maria is all flour, all the time, and they're fresh and perfect. Then there's the order of operations. Maria's cooks the eggs and potatoes together, making almost a hash that serves as the base of the taco. Cheese is applied liberally on top, after it's off the grill. I go back and forth on this technique, sometimes, the rich easiness of the egg/potato combo is perfect, sometimes I want the elements to stay distinct. Sometimes I want my cheese to be all melty from the minute I get it.

But, it's not the tacos that make this place. Its the place that makes this place. The statue of Maria out front, arms outstretched could be our official city seal. And every last inch of this place is covered. A plant, a glowing duck, a hubcap, a signed picture of Willie Nelson, architectural models, Christmas stockings. It's fantastic. The outside is no less good, with insane tropical foliage somehow hanging on even in the dead of winter, mural after mural, plastic farm animals. I think there are a few flamingos, too - plastic lawn variety. It's so planted in place, you'd never know that this is actually the second Maria's, the first, just up Congress from the current locale was razed to make way for a Walgreen's parking lot. Everything about the place stayed intact in the move though, including the parting words:

Judging Chili

Every year, starting sometime in early fall, Chili trash talking starts at the Florida Department of Revenue. It gets to the point where you have to account for a good 10 minutes of chili-baiting before a meeting starts, where to inquire about prior year results is as likely as not to lead to a tirade against crooked judges and unjust outcomes.

I've been doing Grubbus a while, reviewing food from a step back and with a little anonymity. This year, I was asked to be a judge in the contest, to judge on the spot, in full view. The experience was awesome.

All four judges were ushered into a conference room and presented with trays with all 13 entrants placed in a unique order for each judge. We were given water, palate-cleansing saltines, and a score sheet. For each chili, we were asked to rate aroma, texture, and taste on a scale of 1 to 5. The final score was aroma + texture + (3 x taste).




The entrants were all good solid Florida Chili, which is to say not Texas chili, and while I was prepared to award an extra few points to any beanless entry, none presented itself. We had African-fusion, Indian-fusion, and a green-chili entrant that seemed loosely based on New Mexico Green Chili stew. Nothing too spicy (again, a lost opportunity for extra points in my book), but plenty of spice; and though all but two followed the same meat/tomato/bean/onion formula, plenty of variety. Some were harder to eat than others, but in the moment, as much joking and playing and costumes were in place leading up to the contest, it was very serious, and very quiet.

In the end, there was a pretty clear top 3. But the one that mattered was third place. After years of pouring heart and soul into chili, after years of showing up in costume, after years of coming just this close to some chili-recognition, Susan took home a medal with her mild and subtlety spiced Nun Better Chili.