Hilton Head chef and ‘proud girl dad’ with passion for music dies at 46
Austin Harris — lover of cooking, heavy metal music and acoustic guitar — was, more than anything, a beaming “girl dad.”
Sitting on the bleachers at 12-year-old daughter Dakota’s swim meets, Harris would chatter nonstop to his wife, Becky, about how good she was even though she was so small.
When Dakota went to the state swim meet last summer, Harris told every colleague who would listen about his superstar daughter.
Dakota looks just like her dad. Her dark hair and eyes mirror his Navajo features. When the two played video games together, Becky often found them sitting in exactly the same position.
On Dec. 16, he picked up Dakota from swim practice, and the two got dinner together at Chick-fil-A. They returned to their Bluffton home smelling like chlorine and waffle fries.
The next day, Austin Harris died of heart complications. He was just 46.
Talking about him and what he loved is hard, but Becky and Dakota are determined to do it.
Just before Christmas, they drove around looking at Christmas light shows timed to music, remembering that just a few weeks earlier, Harris couldn’t contain his laughter as he watched videos of the musical light displays.
A love of music
Harris was a chef at Santa Fe Cafe for about 19 years. When his coworkers came into the restaurant, they could pick him out immediately at the chef’s counter in front of the kitchen. He created specials from his native New Mexico that brought a brand new flavor to the island.
At the end of the night, Harris used whip up dinner for the restaurant’s guitar player and draw on the to-go box.
They weren’t just doodles, though. They were masterpieces. His coworkers framed photos of the boxes on which Harris had drawn guitars, cowboys and anything else he dreamed up.
In the kitchen, Harris commanded respect and attention. He was self-assured. Stubborn at times.
He wasn’t always that way.
As a teenager growing up in New Mexico, Harris was shy and introverted. He spent his free time hiking, backpacking and fishing in the Jemez Mountains — his favorite place.
Once he grew out of his “awkward” adolescent phase, Becky said, Harris grew his silky hair past his waist. He taught himself how to play the guitar and fell in love with heavy metal music.
Later, he played music so loud the house’s walls would shake. Instead of yelling at Harris to turn down the music, neighbors would come over to jam with him.
On quieter nights, he’d sit out on the porch with Becky and play his acoustic guitar. The notes would float into the air and soothe the day’s tension.
In the hospital before Harris passed away, Becky promised her husband that she’d teach Dakota how to play the guitar. She has at least four guitars adorning the walls at home to choose from.
Growing up at Santa Fe Café
Harris’ love of food and family made him a treasure to work with at Santa Fe Café.
He moved to Hilton Head in 2002 after the restaurant’s original owners brought him on board.
Unlike other restaurants on the island where turnover is steady, some of the staff at Santa Fe Café have worked together for over a decade.
They grew from scrappy kids who worked hard and played harder to adults with families who share an annual New Year’s Day oyster roast.
“At one point we knocked out, like, 18 kids in seven or eight years here,” Santa Fe Café general manager Bill Alberts told The Island Packet. “It was a joke for a long time: If you want to get pregnant, just go to Santa Fe and drink the water.”
About 10 years ago, Harris led a trip of restaurant chefs and staff to Sante Fe, New Mexico. He showed them his favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants and explained how to roast a Hatch Chile pepper just right.
“He was so proud to show off where he was from,” Becky remembers.
Harris changed a lot when he became a dad.
The quiet kid who wore a bandanna down to his brow bone “so no one would talk to him” became a chef and leader who helped the restaurant through chaotic days running the kitchen — and a dad who was constantly in awe of his daughter.
“He lit up whenever he would talk about her,” said Alberts, the general manager.
“Everything is Dakota. Everything,” Becky said. “He liked to do anything she liked to do. He would say [to Dakota] ‘call a friend! Let’s go to the Savannah mall!’ and he would drive them there and sit outside while they went to stores. Anything to make her happy.”
Now that he’s gone, his family is learning about the quirks he kept to himself.
As they scrolled through his cell phone photos last week to export them, Becky and Dakota found thousands of pictures of their cat, Rocky, and dog, Chance.
They giggled at the idea of Dad sneaking photos of the cat when no one was looking.
Gone so fast
Because of the coronavirus pandemic, there are no services planned for Harris.
When it’s safe to do so, Becky hopes to have a celebration of life, maybe around his birthday in April.
Friends and staff at the Santa Fe Café have raised thousands of dollars for the Harris family and for Dakota’s education.
His family donated his organs, and Becky said she’ll get a postcard when someone receives an organ transplant from him.
“It seems to be a shame that he’s gone so fast. But he’s going to help somebody because he’s so young.” she said. “They’ll be seeing the world through Austin’s eyes.”
