Family Things at Ember Kitchen

Should I try to write about family traditions when there are family matters that I need to attend to but refuse to process? I know things are bad when I feel the energy to do anything but relax, but I am trying to take this mania driven urge to write and to do something, something, something. Anything but the timely thing.

As my family matures and the dynamic changes, my mother has tried to hold us together by starting new traditions in hopes that they will take root and entwine us through the years ahead. In the last two years, my sister, mother and I have been able to have a New Year’s Eve fancy meal. One that allows us to be mature grown up children, even while we still sponge of the taste and wealth of our mother (who ends up paying).

As I near my forties, and as our economy collapses, I identify with the protagonist M in The Disappearing Act: I am “permanently unsure of my age and position.” So I appreciate this tradition that allows me be in the role of a parasitic child. Who know if she benefits from our company, I think with how much she ends up paying the description may be apt. Although I hope we are more like mistletoe than chest bursting xenomorphs.

This year it was at Ember Kitchen. Located in the business and residential space that was carved out of the Seaholm Power Plant, I was stressed (even though I was not driving) about finding parking. This was my first time visiting this block, although with teens that go to school downtown there have been times when I needed to pick them up near the public library and on the side streets that surrounds this space. Of course they have parking garages on site, but I imagine during the day or peak hours it is the pain in the ass that I was fearing.

The weather was cold enough to need a jacket, but since we had reservations inside we could dress cute and speed walk at a fast clip across the open courtyard and green space to the restaurant. During the day, this would be alive and crowded, a very Austin thing to do. So you better dress like you are being seen.

The host for the restaurant led us down to our table with a steep stair case that (at the time) had a rail with an out of order note advising “do not use.” But we (my mom and I, my sister is still young I guess) are old gals who need something to hold onto or else our lives will slip away while we tumble to our death in an unbecoming version of Death Becomes Her. This will be the only compliant of the review. Although we made it up and down with no issue, with one of my fears averted.

Once seated, our waiter for the night did well keeping up with our demands and that of the other groups in the restaurant. This was a place that was busy. Because of the holiday, location, menu concept, and over all vibes you can tell that this was a trendy place to eat. Meaning that the price reflects that, if you check out the menu online it does not list prices - it is that kind of place.

I had a cocktail but I do not recall what it was. I am sure it was expensive ( so sixteen dollars or more). It was not tequila based, even though they are an agave bar. I will admit the idea that I would need to trek up the stairs without a rail prevented me from getting another. Oh, and the price.

We shared the Caviar Bites as an appetizer, they were delicious but for their price point and size I did show my desperation and class level in how I snagged each errant egg on the plate. Like a coke fiend rubbing their gum line, I was not wasting that shit. For other sides that demand sharing, the plantains and crispy beef fat potatoes call to a group and are more palatable (price wise) when compared to the steak options.

Which I got, one of the smaller ones but still eye popping with the pricing. They make up for it by letting you pick your steak knife from a velvet box. This feature was a first for me and was something that we gleefully could not wait to boast about to the brother of the group who was busy working his big boy job in another state.

We miss(ed) him, but it is nice to remember how things started for all of us and to pick on him from afar reminds us of how much time and distance has passed.

After sharing a dessert, we made our way back to the car. It was the kind of timing that I love, we got to see that the restaurant pick up with the later reservations but on our way out avoiding the crowd. The night was still getting started for the holiday, so we managed to avoid mist of the craziness even as people scrambled around to make their plans for the last few hours of the year.

I am grateful and happy and sad and unmoored and procrastinating the most important moments of my life. All the things that are normal I think.