Fion... Irish for "Flip Flops"

Hailed to another new restaurant by my "Groupon"-crazy purchasing, we graced the Steiner Ranch location of Fion Wine Pub with our presence Wednesday evening. Our server graced us with his open toes.

Now I want to be clear about where I stand (pun intened) with feet... they don't bother me one bit. I wear sandals all the time, even during Austin winters. But when I see (and can hear) a server in a restaurant, going in and out of the kitchen, flip-flopping to and from my table, I'm shocked.

Once again, my background in the service industry allows me to be privy to health codes, let alone the standard restaurant employee requirements. Never in my life have I seen a server, at any level of service, wearing flip flops on the job. Just as I began to forgive this little calamity, my eyes were drawn to the open kitchen by the bright red Keds, yes Keds, that the male pizza dough-rolling Chef was wearing! To top off the hilarity, they looked like they were 2 sizes too small... I guess I should say at least they were closed toe. How could I get such a detailed description, you ask? He was wearing shorts!! Another commerical kitchen faux-pas. Needless to say all we could do is giggle.

Beyond the comical entertainment of the evening, the food was pretty good, if not average. That is, after we finally found our way around the menu. They were copy-room quality with cheap lamination and spiral notebook-like binding... you couldn't tell the back from the front and they kept falling apart. If L hadn't have been there to joke about it, I would have let it get to me. Instead, we just laughed.

We started with a cheese duo to pair with our wine: a White Goat Cheddar and basic Double Creme French Brie, served with water crackers, chopped pecans, walnuts and dried cherries. We requested honey to complete the spread. For the price, the portions were bigger than expected- perfect appetizer for four, but it would have been too much for just two people.

Since we had inhaled our cheeses, it came time to decide what was next. We opted to share a few plates for the table because we figured the portions would follow suit. We were right. The Summer Salad was a large bowl of flavorful quartered tomatoes, sauteed red onion, basil pesto and what were supposed to be garlic croutons but were actually soft chunks of red wine vinaigrette-soaked sourdough. Fine by me... this was actually my favorite dish of the evening. Sweet and savory, soft yet crunchy. I like it when everything comes together like that.

After deciding that the mussles, shipped in on Thursdays and Saturdays as noted on the menu, would not be a smart choice on a Wedneseday, we ordered the Jumbo Shrimp, simply grilled and soaked in a buttery white wine sauce as well as more yummy bread. My only qualm with this is that the shrimp weren't Jumbo, but rather run-of-the-mill. Oh, well.

Then came the entrees. Although there seemed to be many listed, we struggled to find two that we all wanted. Out came the Chicken Piccata and the 16oz. Pork Chops. The two breasts of chicken were drenched in butter and capers, dressed with wilted spinach while the Pork Chops were topped with carmelized onions, gorgonzola crumbles, butternut squash and potatoes and swimming in a sweet, almost gravy-like demi glaze. It sounds better than it was. Both meats were on the dry side, which is hard to believe since there was so much sauce on the plates. The butternut squash was underdone yet the potatoes overdone. And there was barely any gorgonzola.

On to dessert. A said he had seen something come out of the kitchen earlier that looked amazing, so we trusted him.Vanilla ice cream sandwiched in between two sugar biscuits, topped with hot strawberry compote. Although in this case it was more like soup, delicious nonetheless. It was gone in about 25 seconds. If you have the patience to make your own sugar biscuits, this would be an easy dessert to serve at your next dinner party.

While I don't live in Steiner Ranch, I can see why this place stays afloat. If you were to head out of the neighborhood, the closest sit-down restaurant is about 15 minutes away. Fion is within walking distance of some of those homes and probably a safe choice for the wine lovers like moi. I probably won't be back; however if I did live there and decided to walk over, I promise I wouldn't be wearing my flip flops...

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

Although I tried my best to resist succoming to the cheesy emotions that washed over me as I hummed along to our National Anthem, tears filled my eyes while I stood with my hand over my heart in Section 121, Row 2, (yes, row 2!) Seat 6 at Dell Diamond. Was it the Star Spangled Banner that evoked this joyous nostalgia? Not quite.

As I composed myself beneath my sunglasses I decided it was the fact that I was about to enjoy another baseball game under the bright lights in Round Rock. It was the Umpires gathering around Home Plate in their trademark grey pants, the orange dirt blowing in the air, and yes, the overpriced drink I had in my hand.

The tradition and history of baseball runs deep in this country. As a 25 year old girl who almost flunked history, I can only state that my genuine appreciation runs deep because of my years of experiences (tradition, we'll say) while playing at Balcones Little League. (Which, if you've ever talked to anyone that played at Balcones for any amount of time, is a common feeling between us all.) Sweating my ass off under the catcher's mask, running the bases like my life depended on it, and celebrating after each game with a free "suicide" soda are some of my favorite childhood memories.

After falling in love with a movie I still quote today, I used to think I could find my own "Sandlot". And as I drive past Balcones over 10 years since I last played on those fields, I can see the lights, listen to the "clang" of the bats and realize it was just as magical as the rundown diamond in the movie. (Minus the big scary dog, of course.) It's this personal connection with baseball that makes being part of it all over again so amazing, even if I'm just sitting in the stands.

I would like to take this moment to thank my parents for not only allowing me the opportunity to play Little League, but requiring me to partake in an extra curricular activity. I'm not sure I would have chosen to play if I hadn't been pushed: A life lesson I will pass down to my children... imagine that.

So, take me out to the Ball Game, take me out to the crowds! Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks (I actually prefer a frozen margarita and a hot dog!), I don't care if I ever get back... So it's root! root! root! for the Home Team, if they don't win it's a shame! For it's one! two! three strikes you're out at the Old Ball Game!