Las Manitas

I miss Las Manitas. Who doesn’t? It was about as Austin as Austin got. Cynthia and Lydia Perez ran a tight ship--everybody who worked there had to hustle. People who wanted to make a difference and have a fabulous Mexican breakfast at the same time, back when Texas had real human beings in state office, congregated there. The old Austin before Texas turned hardcore mean and ugly. You never knew who you might see there. Stevie Ray, Joe Ely, JoCarol Pierce, Sally Jacques, Molly Ivins, Jim Hightower, Jim Mattox, for cryin’ out loud. Las Manitas was the place to be. Politicos, musicians, activists, and artists gathered there, planned marches and arts events and fundraisers, you name it. Everybody talking a blue streak all on top of each other. The place buzzed. It was a real place, a place you took out-of-town guests to show them the real Austin.

The huevos rancheros were amazing, so were the migas. I moved here from the South, with no experience of Mexican food and the breakfast taco changed my life. I discovered the bean and chorizo breakfast taco at Las Manitas which I have ordered many times many places ever since, and every time since the wait person says: “No egg?” And I say, “No egg.” A little ritual that connects me to the Austin of long ago and gives me a warm fuzzy.

And they were very patient at Las Manitas when my daughter JK covered herself and the floor with whatever she was having for breakfast, most often berries.

I will say this and try not to sound like a whiny old person: Austin was better with Las Manitas. Nobody gives a rat’s ass about another Marriott, and Mr. Marriott sure proved he didn’t give one about Austin.

Some days when I walk downtown, I am transfixed by the strangeness of all the shiny glass buildings jutting into the sky. It’s kinda sci-fi, kinda fun. All that. Just not a real place. I feel like I’m on a set for somebody’s else’s movie.

But don’t worry. The whining stops here. I never saw the Armadillo so I will not be waxing poetic about that. But, the Chicago House….that’s another story. Stay tuned.

August

Jaston