Hookah, Huntin’ and Karl’s at the Riverbend

So, my father works in Libya for most of the year (oil-duh) and makes a few, short (2 weeks) visits home, well this most recent visit has been fantastic so far. He’s hoping to come back to Houston for good, but that’s another story. He arrived on Sunday with presents (yes, we are still little kids and like presents from magical far away lands) like a monster Stella Artois glass for me, as well as this bad boy:

Hookah from Tripoli, Libya

My very own, 3 foot tall hookah. He even brought me back the charcoals, hose covers (fuck germs) and flavored tobacco. It only has one hose because in Libya, traditionally, every man (women are not allowed at the shisha smoking joints) has his own hookah. I haven’t used it yet, because I haven’t done enough googling to find out what’s the best way to get the charcoal started, without a grill. He also brought back Barbies for my niece, they wear the traditional hijab (but with blonde hair?). There was more stuff like books, smaller hookahs for my sisters (hahah suckers), and even some sand from the Sahara desert.

Monday, we went dove hunting, a long-standing Sprague tradition of me and my sisters pretending to hunt and maybe killing a few birds, mostly killing beers and talking shit. My father’s best friend in the whole world since 7th grade joined us out there, I consider him like a second father, he would walk me down the aisle if something ever happened to my father. He’s known me since I was born and loves to tell stories about my days as a rambunctious toddler (maybe that phase never ended), but, by far the best part, is when my dad and Gary get a few beers in them and start telling stories of their hippie teenager days. Running the roads, racing cars, trucks, motorcycles, dating girls, all around debauchery. My parents and Gary must have been some cool ass people to party with, that’s for sure, I definitely know where I get it from!

Sarah, Leslie, Dad, Chloe

Gary and Dad

Tuesday night we went out for my dad’s birthday, he turned 56! Never in all my days, did I think my dad would be over 50, not that it’s old, but I guess I want my dad to live forever. Anyway, we went out to dinner at a small place in Richmond, Karl’s at the Riverbend. We’ve been going here forever for birthday dinners, celebrations of my dad returning home from far away countries, etc. and it’s (usually) superb. The food is excellent, we have a favorite waiter, we always get a special room by a piano and a fireplace, needless to say, it’s just very quaint and we always have a good time. Well, this time, they sat us in the normal dining room at a table too big for our party of 7, with no fireplace or piano. That wasn’t too bad though, what was the worst was the atrocious service. I am a firm believer in tipping based on service, and usually 20% is given as a courtesy, unless it’s just horrendous. It started out with the wine list being wrong, they didn’t have stuff they said they did or it was a younger year, and what we finally picked wasn’t great, it was also too chilled for a red wine (in mine and my father’s opinion- and hey we’re paying for it so that’s what counts). The appetizers (escargot, oysters Rockefeller, fried quail and fried asparagus) were staggered in coming out, but otherwise delicious. While eating the appetizers, we ordered dinner, mostly steaks (all ordered rare, except for 1- medium-well, we won’t even get into that!) with the exception of my father’s rack of lamb and my sisters’ chicken entrée and scallop entrée. It took no less than 45 minutes to bring out the first 3 (of 7!) entrees, and my steak was overdone (I like it bleeding purple rare in the middle, which I know is not always accommodated, but Jesus, it was medium) and my brother-in-law’s (the medium-well) was not cooked enough. So by the time the waitress brought out all the entrees, the others were cold from having the decency to wait for the rest of the table, or we were just not hungry anymore. We asked for boxes to wrap up our half-eaten dinners and for birthdays they usually give you a chocolate mousse or something, but this time, seeing our frustration I assume, she gave us like 4 desserts comped, as well as comping my brother-in-law’s meal that was fucked six ways from Sunday. Karl’s also usually takes a picture, you should have seen the poor waitress’ (it’s not all her fault) face when my dad refused the picture. And that is the last time we will go there. The food was good, had it been brought out timely and all at once, and stayed warm enough for everyone to eat together, we may have had an opportunity to enjoy the meal but the service was piss-poor all around. Not sure what’s going on at Karl’s now, but it’s a shame, that restaurant was one of my favorite places- serving wild game (lots of quail, venison, wild boar, etc.) and excellent steaks, they do a wonderful Atkins diet version with goat cheese on top and bacon spinach bed (not that I’m on a diet) and the escargot is to.die.for. I would like to  say this was an off night, but we went last year for my mother’s birthday in November, and received the same kind of service (and wrote that off as a bad night) so, this isn’t baseball and there aren’t three strikes.

Wednesday night was a chill night, it was just my dad and I so we busted out the bottle of 2006 Cakebread Cabernet Sauvignon. MMMM. It was so smooth and good. People talk about how overrated it is and expensive, but you know what? Things get a reputation for being good because it is. so there.

2006 Cabernet Sauvignon, Cakebread Cellars, Napa Valley

Hopefully the next week and a half that we get to spend with my father will be just as fun as the last few days, because even with a crappy dinner, we Spragues always find a way to laugh and have a good time- usually by talking shit :)