Café Rio. Restaurant? Or heaven-on-earth with Mexican décor? Why, both of course!
No matter what Café Rio meal you choose, the first bite is like a tiny fiesta in your mouth. One classic, the salad, is a perfectly crafted feast – a blend of zesty rice, black or pinto beans, and your choice of tender meat, topped by crisp lettuce squares, strips of tortilla chips, spoonfuls of spicy pico de gallo and creamy guacamole, and a sprig of cilantro, with a cup of their special house dressing on the side. This is exquisite meal, as with each of their incredible entrees, is not only inexpensive, but so large and hearty that it’s practically two meals in one. In anticipation of their patrons’ need to take the rest of their mouth-watering meal home, Café Rio creates each confection in its own tin dish, perfect to reheat in the oven, and provides covers for refrigeration purposes.
But it isn’t only that the food is the nectar of the gods. The establishment itself is magical. You find this magic in the rustic Mexican furnishings – the terracotta tiles, the pottery and peppers hanging from fraying rope, the splashes of tangerine and sky blue, yellow and bright green. You find it in the workers – if you have a frequent buyer card (the tenth meal you buy is free), there’s nothing more satisfying than a roomful of people yelling “FREE MEAL!” with the enthusiasm found at a small fiesta. You find it among the patrons themselves – friends and families, completely contented and full in a way that only Café Rio can fill a person. So move over Disneyland. Café Rio is the happiest place on earth.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Oh, and the Cell Phone Reception is Great Too
At the end of Nephi and his family’s long and painful journey through the wilderness, the Lord finally led them to rest on the seashore. “We were exceedingly rejoiced when we came to the seashore,” Nephi writes, “and we called the place Bountiful, because of its much fruit.”
Bountiful, Utah – named after both Nephi’s settlement on the seashore, and where the Savior came to visit the Americas – does not have that much fruit. It has fairly average amounts of fruit, most of which you can find at the local grocery stores – Dick’s and Winegars. What it does host “much” of, are things even more wonderful than – but equally healthy as – fruit. These are the things I fell in love with when as I grew up; the things that make Bountiful, without a doubt, qualm, or concern, the absolute best hometown ever settled.
Though present-day Bountiful may not be as celebrated for its fruit as other places are, it is celebrated for a few other food items, beginning with my personal favorite – that lying within the borders of this city is a Café Rio, one of the most delicious (and wonderfully accessible) restaurants ever founded.
Just a few meters down Highway-89 from the Café Rio is a majestic, doughnut-shaped building. This is Woods Cross High School. My high school. A veritable heaven-on-earth for any teenager who has ever had the slightest of musical inclination. It was a wonderful place to go after junior high, far from the embarrassment and misery of that time. The students were friendly and cared about their education – and the faculty did too. Most everyone there had high standards and genuine zeal for the Gospel. For a modern-day high school, it was practically Zion.
We Bountifulians were lucky enough to have more than one heaven-on-earth in our average-sized city. The Bountiful temple was a mere ten minutes drive away from my house. At night, its sweet white glow was the crowning jewel of our city, capping the lush, rolling hills and plunging valleys. The temple made our beautiful shifting of the seasons even more exquisite. In spring it was surrounded by the blooming flowers; in summer, soaring leafy trees. Autumn scattered leaves of crimson and auburn around its grounds; and in winter, the temple was even more brilliant, reflecting bright, cold blue from the sky and the pallor of the snowy landscape. (This particular landscape was made even more enjoyable by the golf courses nearby. Big hills for putting make for excellent places to sled.)
Whether we were feasting on Café Rio, attending school, or going to the temple, by far the best thing about Bountiful is the people. My fellow Bountifulians are inspiring. Some of the most intelligent, clever, compassionate people I have ever met have chosen to make Bountiful, Utah their home.
Nephi rejoiced when he and his family settled in their Bountiful because they finally had a place to rest. I feel the same about my Bountiful. It’s a place of beauty and peace, a city of exemplary individuals and average amounts of very delicious fruit. It truly is the best hometown anyone could ask for.
Bountiful, Utah – named after both Nephi’s settlement on the seashore, and where the Savior came to visit the Americas – does not have that much fruit. It has fairly average amounts of fruit, most of which you can find at the local grocery stores – Dick’s and Winegars. What it does host “much” of, are things even more wonderful than – but equally healthy as – fruit. These are the things I fell in love with when as I grew up; the things that make Bountiful, without a doubt, qualm, or concern, the absolute best hometown ever settled.
Though present-day Bountiful may not be as celebrated for its fruit as other places are, it is celebrated for a few other food items, beginning with my personal favorite – that lying within the borders of this city is a Café Rio, one of the most delicious (and wonderfully accessible) restaurants ever founded.
Just a few meters down Highway-89 from the Café Rio is a majestic, doughnut-shaped building. This is Woods Cross High School. My high school. A veritable heaven-on-earth for any teenager who has ever had the slightest of musical inclination. It was a wonderful place to go after junior high, far from the embarrassment and misery of that time. The students were friendly and cared about their education – and the faculty did too. Most everyone there had high standards and genuine zeal for the Gospel. For a modern-day high school, it was practically Zion.
We Bountifulians were lucky enough to have more than one heaven-on-earth in our average-sized city. The Bountiful temple was a mere ten minutes drive away from my house. At night, its sweet white glow was the crowning jewel of our city, capping the lush, rolling hills and plunging valleys. The temple made our beautiful shifting of the seasons even more exquisite. In spring it was surrounded by the blooming flowers; in summer, soaring leafy trees. Autumn scattered leaves of crimson and auburn around its grounds; and in winter, the temple was even more brilliant, reflecting bright, cold blue from the sky and the pallor of the snowy landscape. (This particular landscape was made even more enjoyable by the golf courses nearby. Big hills for putting make for excellent places to sled.)
Whether we were feasting on Café Rio, attending school, or going to the temple, by far the best thing about Bountiful is the people. My fellow Bountifulians are inspiring. Some of the most intelligent, clever, compassionate people I have ever met have chosen to make Bountiful, Utah their home.
Nephi rejoiced when he and his family settled in their Bountiful because they finally had a place to rest. I feel the same about my Bountiful. It’s a place of beauty and peace, a city of exemplary individuals and average amounts of very delicious fruit. It truly is the best hometown anyone could ask for.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Let the Campus Be Your "Get a Room" Room
I can hardly wait till springtime.
If there’s one thing I love about BYU, it’s the magic of walking around campus and seeing couples holding hands and gazing into one another’s eyes. What could be more beautiful than sitting in the Mariott Center at a fireside, watching two people enthusiastically expressing their appreciation for each other by kissing passionately? What could be more flattering than being asked on a date because you were thought to be “hot?” And what could be more thrilling than bringing the boy next door baked goods on a regular basis? Almost nothing.
So imagine with me, if you will, a few months from now. The snow melts, the flowers bloom, furry animals come out of hiding, and – best of all – hormones begin to rage. How wonderful it will be as the search for a Friday night date or eternal companion begins again with renewed vigor! How brilliant it will be when – so much like those furry animals – freshly returned missionaries come out of hiding, ready for a mate; inspiring competition from fellow RMs and swoons from the damsels waiting to be courted.
After all, the real purpose of college has nothing to do with higher learning. Education is just a much-desired excuse to socialize and kiss, date and marry. One could hardly imagine a place more suitable for these things than a university – a place abundant with flowers and sun-dappled trees, waiting to be cuddled beneath; long stretches of sidewalk begging to be strolled along; and libraries replete with books of romantic poetry and cozily abandoned isles, perfect for romantic words and private kisses.
So go ahead – pair up. Isn’t that why you came to school?
If there’s one thing I love about BYU, it’s the magic of walking around campus and seeing couples holding hands and gazing into one another’s eyes. What could be more beautiful than sitting in the Mariott Center at a fireside, watching two people enthusiastically expressing their appreciation for each other by kissing passionately? What could be more flattering than being asked on a date because you were thought to be “hot?” And what could be more thrilling than bringing the boy next door baked goods on a regular basis? Almost nothing.
So imagine with me, if you will, a few months from now. The snow melts, the flowers bloom, furry animals come out of hiding, and – best of all – hormones begin to rage. How wonderful it will be as the search for a Friday night date or eternal companion begins again with renewed vigor! How brilliant it will be when – so much like those furry animals – freshly returned missionaries come out of hiding, ready for a mate; inspiring competition from fellow RMs and swoons from the damsels waiting to be courted.
After all, the real purpose of college has nothing to do with higher learning. Education is just a much-desired excuse to socialize and kiss, date and marry. One could hardly imagine a place more suitable for these things than a university – a place abundant with flowers and sun-dappled trees, waiting to be cuddled beneath; long stretches of sidewalk begging to be strolled along; and libraries replete with books of romantic poetry and cozily abandoned isles, perfect for romantic words and private kisses.
So go ahead – pair up. Isn’t that why you came to school?
Monday, September 8, 2008
The Lion King
Students at BYU are on the prowl.
It was hard for me to come up with something about BYU I don’t like. I love it here – the campus is beautiful, the Honor Code is impressive, the professors are helpful, the Gospel is incorporated in every lesson, the people are friendly… The people are very friendly.
I’ve found that what I don’t much like about BYU has nothing to do with its policies or property. It’s the culture.
Not that I entirely dislike the culture here. Most everyone is kind and thoughtful and intelligent; they carry a cheerful spirit with them, and I appreciate that. The day I moved in, a few boys I had never met helped me to move my stuff into my dorm. But in the week and a half I’ve been here, I’ve already begun to feel the constant squeeze of social pressure…to date.
The moment everyone started moving in, the social gatherings began. What first seems like an innocent “getting to know you” party violently becomes a mad rush to meet as many people as possible. Names are tossed around only slightly less than flirty exchanges; numbers are texted frantically into phones; bodies are scanned, talents calculated, personalities quickly (and incorrectly) established from a two-minute exchange.
Walking around campus is somewhat like being in the middle of an African savannah. No matter where you go, a hundred eyes follow. You are a wounded antelope, and the hunters are watching. Stand in line at Jamba Juice, and someone is right there, waiting for you to give the cashier your name so they can use it against you. Check out a book from the library, and someone is checking you out.
The hunter can be anyone – the RM, looking for a spouse; the freshman girl, looking for a kiss goodnight. And any moment, the hunter can instantly become the hunted. Already the race for a girlfriend or boyfriend – or even a mate – has begun.
None of this is to say that wanting to be in a relationship is a bad thing. Because it isn’t – not at all. But I’ve observed that the best relationships flourish out of friendships. And the best friendships are built through time and trial, respect and love. Relationships happen best if they happen naturally. Why rush through something that can be so wonderful? Why force your way into something because you want to feel validated? It’s okay to take your time. Get an education. Learn who you are and what you want. Find out what you’re capable of. Go to Jamba Juice just to get a smoothie.
It was hard for me to come up with something about BYU I don’t like. I love it here – the campus is beautiful, the Honor Code is impressive, the professors are helpful, the Gospel is incorporated in every lesson, the people are friendly… The people are very friendly.
I’ve found that what I don’t much like about BYU has nothing to do with its policies or property. It’s the culture.
Not that I entirely dislike the culture here. Most everyone is kind and thoughtful and intelligent; they carry a cheerful spirit with them, and I appreciate that. The day I moved in, a few boys I had never met helped me to move my stuff into my dorm. But in the week and a half I’ve been here, I’ve already begun to feel the constant squeeze of social pressure…to date.
The moment everyone started moving in, the social gatherings began. What first seems like an innocent “getting to know you” party violently becomes a mad rush to meet as many people as possible. Names are tossed around only slightly less than flirty exchanges; numbers are texted frantically into phones; bodies are scanned, talents calculated, personalities quickly (and incorrectly) established from a two-minute exchange.
Walking around campus is somewhat like being in the middle of an African savannah. No matter where you go, a hundred eyes follow. You are a wounded antelope, and the hunters are watching. Stand in line at Jamba Juice, and someone is right there, waiting for you to give the cashier your name so they can use it against you. Check out a book from the library, and someone is checking you out.
The hunter can be anyone – the RM, looking for a spouse; the freshman girl, looking for a kiss goodnight. And any moment, the hunter can instantly become the hunted. Already the race for a girlfriend or boyfriend – or even a mate – has begun.
None of this is to say that wanting to be in a relationship is a bad thing. Because it isn’t – not at all. But I’ve observed that the best relationships flourish out of friendships. And the best friendships are built through time and trial, respect and love. Relationships happen best if they happen naturally. Why rush through something that can be so wonderful? Why force your way into something because you want to feel validated? It’s okay to take your time. Get an education. Learn who you are and what you want. Find out what you’re capable of. Go to Jamba Juice just to get a smoothie.
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