H-town to G-town, Baby

Dear B-Reader,

Last week, my parents, siblings and their spouses, and Jeff and I vacationed in Houston's southern version of The Hamptons, Galveston Island. OK, OK, it is a stretch to liken Galveston to the posh east coast getaway destination, but isn't what you love about me my ability to embellish?

One of the things I love about Jeff is his ability to sit back and relax in high-style. Nothing too stuffy, just good, clean, simple luxury. A step above the ordinary. And Galveston is the perfect locale for such a good ol' boy meets Renaissance man.

Jeff and I pulled on our polos and starched shorts, sported sunglasses and sun-kissed/aloe slathered faces, and hopped into my VW Beetle Convertible. Top down. Wind blowing. Vampire Weekend blasting through the speakers. Cruising down the Seawall. Parking on the Strand. Looking for the "little seafood-Mexican food place" that L.D.E. recommended.

This place was little. It had seafood. It had Mexican food. But it was so much more than a little seafood-Mexican food place.

Rudy and Paco's. Fifteen tables covered with white linen table cloths, black cloth napkins (my favorite because unlike their white alternative, the black napkins do not leave lint on dark clothing), personal wine lockers lining the walls, art deco vibe. Patrons decked out in the latest casual sports clothing -- the style that says I have taste and class, but I value comfort. Superb waitstaff who each carry one dish, prepare to serve one guest, wait for the other staff to bring the individual meals, then serve all guests at the same table in unison. What a gorgeous culinary production. And the food is to die for delicious. Do yourself a favor and order the daily special tostada.

Oh, and there really is a Paco. He is there, seated at the bar, positioned so that he is able to greet every person patronizing his fine establishment. Paco oozes old school charm, referring to new customers, cute young women, and old friends as "Baby."

Ever since college, for a reason I can't recall, I have called Jeff "Paco" as a pet name. I think now that he has met the real Paco, live and in concert, he has upped his game a bit. Bring it. I just adore a man with that extra something special.

* Yours truly and her Paco in Galveston.