"I didn't drive eleven hours across the state of Texas to watch my cholesterol." - Robb Walsh
Hearing My Heartbeat in Corsicana
I have been in Corsicana, Texas now for thirteen days, arriving on the fourth of April for a month-long writer’s residency in this small city that was the first place in the state where oil was struck on June 9th, 1894, when a water well was being dug and instead: Texas tea, as they say. I had never been to Texas until now, although in my office back in Connecticut, I have my father’s Naval diploma awarded to him when he received his wings in Corpus Christi, in the 1940s during the war. I grew up listening to his stories about being a diminutive Brooklyn boy night fighter pilot in a massive — everything in this state is massive, and that is not hyperbole — place that tended to look at him askance for a lot of reasons. Ultimately, he came to love Texas because of two things: the sky, and the people, who were natural born storytellers of a biblical sort, even if you didn’t see eye to eye with them which, for him, was many times.
Texas is, indeed, not like any other place on earth, at least not any place I’ve been to.
In the nearly two weeks that I’ve been here, I’ve been mostly speechless, which is saying a lot for me. I don’t know where to look first: at the vast expanse of sky that my father talked about; at the extraordinary late nineteenth century western vernacular buildings that line the main streets, many of which stand empty; at the Friday night Stetsons on nearly every man of a certain age who comes to the Corsicana Opry to listen to karaoke and two-step with his honey; at the gob-smacking art produced by members of my cohort and the director of my program; at the (actually stunning) singers who got up during the aforementioned karaoke night, including my cohort/now friends Leigh N. Gallagher, Johnny Defeo, and Mathilde Lavenne; at the immense, almost insane platters of barbecue that threaten to collapse the containers they come in; at color, texture, age everywhere. Corsicana is a Wabi-sabi dream, and, when I’m not working on my next book, On Permission, I’ve spent the last two weeks having a sort of out-of-body experience. Because Texas is, indeed, not like any other place on earth, at least not any place I’ve been to.
Because I know Texas to also be a highly political place — I am an unabashed fan of Molly Ivins and Ann Richards and I always have been, and I will say that proudly — and because we now live in a divisive universe that automatically pits people against each other in the most extreme of ways, I need to be transparent: there is not a lot of political discussion and debate going on here, at least not in front of me, and because I am a guest here, I tend to refrain from it unless expressly asked. Mostly because people here, like people absolutely everywhere, are struggling to live good lives, to take care of themselves and their families, and, in my group — the city of Corsicana has been profoundly supportive of creatives — to foster the making of art.
Texas is a place exploding with art and design and poetry and music and food, and always has been.
Texas is a place exploding with art and design and poetry and music and food, and always has been. So, amidst the Stetsons and the pickups and the gun racks and whatever else you believe yourself to know about this state, I would like to add these things about Texas that I absolutely love:
This is the only place on earth Bluebonnets grow
Valley House Gallery & Sculpture Garden
Texas Muslim Women’s Foundation
Bandera Vintage Boots & Ice Cream
Viet Word Kitchen & Tasting Texas
And on, and on, and on.
Keep adding to the list, and make it a point to visit when you can.
Thank you, Texas, for your generosity!
xEMA
[RECIPE]
Amaya’s Chilaquiles, via Robb Walsh via Epicurious
“When I was a kid growing up in Corpus Christi, we used to eat migas for dinner during Lent,” remembers Robert Amaya of Austin’s Taco Village. “Migas or migajas, we called it. It was a meatless main dish made by frying up torn-up tortillas with eggs. We use tortilla chips now instead of fried tortillas, and we serve migas for breakfast.” Serve with Frijoles Refritos and tortillas.
Note from Elissa: I’ve been making these just about every morning that I’ve been in Corsicana, and I had no idea. Who knew? to quote my grandmother.
Ingredients
Serves 2
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 cups dime-sized tortilla pieces or crushed tortilla chips
1/2 cup chopped tomato
2/3 cup chopped onion
1 jalapeño chile, stemmed, seeded, and chopped
2 eggs
1/2 cup cheddar cheese
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat and sauté the tortilla pieces or chips until slightly crisp, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the tomato, onion, and chile and cook for 5 minutes. Pour in the eggs and mix with a spatula, scraping up the eggs as they cook. When the eggs are partially set, add the cheddar. Cover. Toss a few more times until the cheese melts.
Want to brag a bit more; four of our state parks are Internationally Designated Dark Sky parks. The Milky Way, lighting up the night skies, is capable of humbling even a Texan.
I’d like to add to your Texas list: Paula Lambert and The Mozzarella Company, Dallas; Paul Harral and The Fort Worth Star-Telegram; The Sande Project (Toni Tipton Martin), Austin.