Pat’s Pick
T’afia’s
T’afia’s
Sitting in T’afia’s smart, quasi-industrial space watching the crowds of noshing, tippling patrons, it occurred to me that Monica Pope, the restaurant’s owner and chef, has given herself a new lease on life. Dishes from her previous Houston venue, Boulevard Bistrot, seemed livelier than ever, and the new creations on her daily-changing menu sparkled. I loved my lightly battered fried oysters, perfect little clouds cozying up to a rich sauce ravigote (a multifaceted, almost buttery mayonnaise accented with Dijon). Chermoula—a Moroccan marinade of cilantro, garlic, lime, and cumin—enlivened baked grouper in a subtle preserved-lemon sauce. And I could have eaten a barrel of the ravioli, with their opulent filling of mascarpone, pine nuts, and lemon zest. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Before you order your food, you’ll want to try one of the menu’s special libations, which brings us to the restaurant’s mysterious name. Pronounced “Ta-fee-ah,” the word is short for “ratafia,” a fortified wine that the bar infuses with the juice of different seasonal fruits and vegetables each day to create cocktails that confer magical powers. After only one (well, two) ratafia-tinis, I was able to recite to my horrified companions every verse of the Kingston Trio’s 1959 hit “The Unfortunate Miss Bailey,” including the line “He took to drinking ratafia and thought upon Miss Bailey.” A new lease on life, indeed. PATRICIA SHARPE
Best Fests
Wham, Bam, Thank You, Spam
Come April 3, Spam is taking over the capital of Texas. Austin’s Spamarama—a festival as infamous as the potted pork product that it celebrates—started 26 years ago as a joke and has grown over the years into a gonzo tribute to the gelatinous hunk of pink protein. On the designated day, 8,000 to 10,000 FOS (Friends of Spam) will congregate to eat, drink, and observe just how versatile and Spamtastic the stuff can be. The festivities kick off Olympics-style with the conclusion of the Spam Torch Carry, the arrival of a can of Spam on a stick following a circuitous three-thousand-mile journey by vehicle and foot from New York City. After the “opening ceremonies,” the competitive spirit begins with the likes of the Spam Toss, the Spam Call, and the inaugural World Championship Spam Burger Eating Contest. The festival’s highlight will be the Spam Cook-off (green eggs and Spam, anyone?), in which local restaurants valiantly attempt to disguise the flavor of the venerated victual. Last year’s winner was Napa Valley grape leaves stuffed with Spamrizo (think chorizo), veggies, and pine nuts. Who knows what fiendish creation will take top honors this year. But one thing is assured: Bad taste will prevail. (See Austin: Other Events) STACY HOLLISTER
Primary Flavors
Smell of Success
Everybody knows about heirloom tomatoes and apples, the historic varieties that have endured for decades or even centuries in garden plots and back yards. But heirloom garlic? Some fifteen years ago, Hallettsville native Anton Bujnoch’s sister bought several heads of garlic at a market in Mexico (nobody remembers the city anymore). She took the garlic home and cooked with it for family and friends. Everybody agreed that this particular garlic was outstandingly strong, pungent, and flavorful. Anton and his wife, Emma, liked it so much that they planted some cloves and, since then, have raised a crop every year on their farm. Four years ago, word of the Bujnochs’ garlic reached Larry Butler and Carol Ann Sayle, the owners of Boggy Creek Farm, a small organic-produce purveyor in Austin. The husband-and-wife team became friends with the Hallettsville couple and asked if they could propagate their garlic. In the four years since, the Bujnoch garlic has acquired something of a cult following. This year Butler and Sayle have planted 1,800 linear feet, the most ever, which they expect to have for sale from about the end of April through early July. Asked to elaborate on the garlic’s properties, Butler has four words: “It’ll rock you back.” 3414 Lyons Road, Austin, 512-926-4650; boggycreekfarm.com. Open Wednesday and Saturday only, 9-2. PATRICIA SHARPE
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