Armed with a recommendation and an address, Deb and I headed towards San Marcos. We wanted to grab a bite before we headed to the outlet mall. We found a lot more than a bite at Palmer’s!
An Awkward Beginning
From the street Palmer’s doesn’t look like much. In fact, coming from Gruene, the first thing you see is a wall with a large mural. Nothing about the mural let us know we’d made a good decision, but when we found the parking lot we realized we’d found the nirvana which had evaded me during an earlier yoga session.
A large shaded patio with a splashing fountain promised we were about to have a good time, but we had to work for it. As we passed the patio entering the restaurant there were scads of empty tables, but when we asked to sit out there, the hostess hesitated. She had to go check something and she asked us to sit down. When she came back she said we’d need to wait a little and that sounded OK, until a little turned into a lot.
There was a time in my life when I would have meekly sat there until called, but that time has passed. The hostess busied herself sorting through menus and made a career of ignoring us. Since the patio was virtually empty, we wondered what was up. Finally, I asked exactly what we were waiting on since there were so many tables available. She stammered around about the wait staff having just taken orders and not being quite ready to serve us. I didn’t stammer when I said we’d rather do our waiting outside.
She reluctantly seated us on the patio and soon we’d made our drink orders. It was never quite clear why the hostess expected us to wait docilely in the slightly dank and very dark vestibule, but with the breeze blowing, a jazz trio playing and the water playing in the fountain, we didn’t care for very long.
A Little Bit of Heaven
So, the service was lacking before we ever got a chance to sit down, but I didn’t really care. The food took forever to get there and when I got it, I didn’t like it very much. (Nothing on the menu suggested the fritatta came heavily drizzled with sour cream. There are only three things in the whole world that I won’t eat and sour cream is one of them.) But that’s alright. I was happy and didn’t want to get unhappy!
Sitting on the patio at Palmer’s is the closest thing I’ve found to sitting on the patio at Joe T’s; and sitting on the patio at Joe T’s is the closest thing I’ve found to heaven – only the food at Joe T’s is good, really good.
The food might have been mediocre, but they had something called a Poinsettia to drink. For the uninitiated, a Poinsettia is the same thing as a Mimosa, except that you use cranberry juice instead of orange juice. Orange juice is not one of the three things I refuse to partake of, but I do avoid it if I can. Now that I know about Poinsettias, I will never have to regret that I don’t particularly like Mimosas, ever again in my life.
Here’s what’s funny. A Poinsettia was $5, but according to the waitress, “for $8 you can get twice as much.” I planned to be there for a while so I went for the large. Forget twice as much! I could have gotten everyone on the patio severely drunk with the huge bottle of Poinsettias I was served. Deb had started with a make-your-own Bloody Mary Bar, with which she had been underwhelmed, but if we would have known, we would have just ordered the large Poinsettia and two glasses. We both drank as much as we dared over several hours and still couldn’t make a dent. See why the fritatta didn’t matter!!
I could go on, but the bottom line is this, the shady patio, the jazz band and the Poinsettias were so good, nothing else mattered – not the lousy service, not the mediocre food, nothing. I will return to Palmer’s but it was time to head to the outlet mall. Look out credit cards!!