Author: postcardsfromsanantonio

Postcard from Guanajuato, Mexico: Makes no sense to start with a pair of French restaurants, except…

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Above, a pistachio and berry chocolate tarte and a strawberry tarte from La Vie en Rose

I thought that love was just a word | They sang about in songs I heard | It took your kisses to reveal | That I was wrong, and love is real. | Hold me close and hold me fast | The magic spell you cast | This is la vie en rose.

English translation of Edith Piaf’s “La Vie en Rose”

Ah, finally rediscovering the boulevardier-type pleasure of entering a restaurant on a daily basis and ordering from a menu versus all that pent-up time of cooking at home during the past year or so. This blog will be taking you to numerous dining establishments in Guanajuato over the next week to help ignite your wanderlust. Two French ones come first because we are hoping to head to France in about ten days and don’t want you to tire of reading about French food.

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Please leave my friend Phil out of the ongoing Battle over the Alamo

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There we were, sitting beside each other. Phil and I. I’m talking about Phil Collins. But I just call him Phil now. Because I sat beside him for about one minute. As you can tell this is leading to one of celebrities’ worst curses: people who don’t know them writing about them.

2013 post on this blog following that year’s San Antonio Conservation Society Publication Awards

Okay. I admit it. Phil and I scarcely could be called friends. But someone needs to rise to his defense.

In Forget the Alamo, authors Bryan Burrough, Chris Tomlinson and Jason Stanford lay bare major flaws of men many Texans have elevated to heroic heights for their roles at the Alamo. They also illuminate less-than-noble reasons Texians were revolting against Mexico, including the preservation of slavery. This has so angered some of Texas’ leaders that their rhetoric against the book has helped it skyrocket up the bestseller list.

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Postcard from Guanajuato, Mexico: Times call for pulling this holy card out of the deck

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Having spent the past week a stone’s throw away from Templo de San Roque in the heart of Guanajuato, it seemed imperative to discover more about the saint. He definitely falls into my category of “saintly stories nuns never taught me.”

Hard for a boy born with his breast emblazoned with a red birthmark in the form of a cross to avoid his calling. Following the death of both of his wealthy parents by the time he was 20, San Roque (1295-1327) (although “San” was not what Saint Roch, or Rock, was named until more than a century later) sold his inherited worldly goods and distributed the proceeds amongst the poor in his native home of Montpelier, France. Joining the Third Order of Saint Francis (Does this mean he was married?), he headed out to Italy with an eye to visit the tombs of the apostles.

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