A Review of Werner Herzog's "The Future Truth"

 

Who better than Werner Herzog, the Bavarian mad genius, to take us on a heady time-travelling exploration on what truth might mean/be/permit? The Future of Truth is a summation of his life project, all 70+ films, both narrative and documentary, all his other books, all his late-in-life winking appearances, like the one on Parks & Recreation as a monotone depressive who wants to sell his haunted home and move closer to Walt Disney World. For as much as everyone asserts their devotion to the truth, Herzog also knows “there is such a thing as a collective willingness to be transported into the realm of poetry, of madness, and of the pure joy of storytelling.” (What a wickedly beautiful trio that is, no?)

Care to read the rest then do so at the California Review of Books.

CALIRB 10 Best Books of the Year

 

As ever, I'm honored to have California Review of Books as a home for my literary criticism. Once again, they have compiled a top books of the year list, which, of course, is a semi-ridiculous quest--what lucky person gets to read enough of the books out any year to make that decision?

That said, never-as-read-as-I should-be-me made some choices, as two of my favs are listed at the link to the full slate.

Traditional with Some Tasty Tweaks

Consider that the year Santa Barbara’s Upham Hotel opened was 1871. Other big news that year: Stanley encountered Livingstone, Jesse James’s gang was robbing banks, and the Great Chicago Fire raged. So, the Upham is truly history.

Much more recently, the hotel’s restaurant space, with its inviting veranda on Sola Street, had been the home to Louie’s, a beloved institution. Fortunately, the weight of that history isn’t lost on the Bistro Amasa team that has just taken over the space. Executive Chef Julian Martinez and GM Jesse Gaddy certainly appreciate the roots of things, as anyone who has dined at their first restaurant — Barbareño — knows. After all, it’s named after a Chumash language, and one of its signature dishes, Eggamuffins, is a nod to Mickey D’s breakfast sandwich invented in our town.

Care to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

Cider and Paella: A Perfect Pairing We Didn’t See Coming

Sometimes when food and drink purveyors team up to hold a joint dinner, it can end up a snooty affair. Especially in these parts, where we seem to need to find ways to say we’ve got money in ever new expressions.

So I was happily surprised to find quite the opposite experience when on a recent evening (November 16) Dom’s Taverna and High Seas Mead joined forces for something simply billed “Paella + Mead: A Night in the Funk Zone.” That colon is mine, and I apologize for the hint of academia it brings to the quite informal proceedings. For this gathering of 30 or so folks jammed into High Seas’ Gray Avenue tasting room was more family picnic than pretentious. Well, if your family has a really talented chef.

Care to read the rest then do at the Independent's site.

Dom's Taverna, a Blast of Basque Brilliance

It might have been a four-day-weekend of drenching rain and people just needed to be festively out and about, but my guess is a recent Tuesday evening at Dom's Taverna is already par for the course. It's a space (what was for many years Trattoria Victoria) that's been designed with building a buzz in mind. Forget about a mere open kitchen that you get to peak into via a window; here it's like a thrust stage, catching all eyes on chefly action towards the back of the long room. You also have to walk half the length of the space to get to the host stand, which at first seems odd but then you get it--even before you get to claim your reservation, you're part of the party. And that's what this taverna's atmosphere is after.

Of course, good vibes only get you so far in the restaurant biz. You need to bring the receipts. These start with intriguing cocktails at Dom's Taverna (and I will keep using the full name so as not to confuse it with established fave Little Dom's Seafood in Carp), not the least of which is the New Moon, pictured above. You know you've accomplished something when you get me to order a vodka drink (cause, why is there vodka when liquor can have flavor?), but here's why this one succeeded, even before I got to see how spectacular it looks. They wisely infuse that vodka with horseradish (to a milder effect than I anticipated), then add manzanilla sherry and Lillet Blanc, and maybe some Suze, or at least that's what our very skilled server, who made clear it would be an astringent not sweet drink, suggested. Think a gin-less, more herbal, Vesper. The kicker is that squid ink ice half-sphere playing the role of the moon. Little bits of it fleck off into the golden drink, adding salinity and a dark allure. The drink even comes in a cocktail glass with a divot built in for the cube to rock in. Do note that as you get to the bottom of the drink, you will end up with ink stains on your nose as you savor the last drops. Have your napkin at the ready.

The Basque-inspired menu will entice you with dishes definitely out of the Santa Barbara ordinary (hooray for new cuisines!). Above you see "huerta" on the left and "pintxos" on the right, so think vegetable garden and small, savory snack/appetizer. The huerta is called Tomat, and features fresh market tomatoes (still hanging on into November), tomato confit, a rich yet piquant Marcona-cashew butter, orange zest, olive, and capers. Get a bit of everything and the brightness nearly glows right out of your mouth (I hope you're chewing with your mouth closed so this image is more spectacular than gross). The pintxos (yes, the staple of much of Spain's bar culture--douse the dreariness of your day in vermouth and snack away!) in the case is Ensalada Rusa: “Potato salad” (the quotation marks are theirs), wild bluefin tuna belly conserva, pickles, English peas, and smoked roe. Think of it as a chunky, sea-funky dip. It's suggested you use the the little torpedo-like tapa crackers as mini-ice cream cones to scoop the salad up, but they don't give you quite enough area to do that. So dip first, munch the crunchy cracker second. That works.

Being only two people with as far as we know only two stomachs, we had to skip many an enticing item, including crab rice, squid and beans, and Wagyu steak bites. And when the Dom’s Louis Salad arrived at a nearby table, we instantly knew part of our next visit's order. The jam-packed bowl, above its base of iceberg lettuce, also offered wild bluefin tuna belly, local crab, poached shrimp, piparra, radish, tomato, chive, lemon-espelette vinaigrette, Louis dressing. We were envious lookie-louis. (I hope that joke isn't so bad that it disqualifies me from ever having the dish.)

Fortunately we had the dish above swim on up to our table, and our envy was forgotten. Whole Fish Basquaise featured local catch of Santa Barbara Channel rock fish roasted in the Josper Basque grill that imparts a lovely charcoal smokiness to all it cooks, even a fish as tender and delicate as rock fish. The succulent seafood gets pumped up with garlic crisp, chili, olive oil, and a garum emulsion (a fermented fish sauce that's all the rage now, for very tasty reasons). Our one regret--they don't serve the plate with two straws so you can suck up every last drop of the stunning sauce. The fish is a perfect emblem for what Dom's Taverna is all about--find really good produce and product, local if possible, and do as little intervention as they can. But what Chef Crisp and his crew does do always highlights, elevates, perfects.

They also aren't afraid to push a boundary in a playful way. For above was a preview of what should be a regular menu item by now (or soon?)--Basque cheesecake adorned with caviar. At first thought this seems a strange mix of dairy and the sea, if not just an indulgent flourish. Then the first little salty-sea bomb bursts in your mouth, and the savory edge contrasts so well with the creaminess of the cake. Isn't it a delight to have a bite you've never had and you instantly hope to have again soon?

Come to think of it, that's how we ended up feeling about Dom's Taverna overall. 

An Enchanted Mexican Evening at El Encanto

 

The dish before me is called Arte, topped with a 2×4-inch piece of edible paper printed with a colorful abstract by noted Mexican artist Olga Hernandez. Her work on Saatchi Art goes for tens of thousands of dollars, and I’m going to consume it. Beneath it lies a base of jocoque (think Mexican labneh, made from goat’s milk) and a fine dice of jacube (cactus), watermelon, pecans, and beans.

On the taste buds, it all adds up to, well, art — sweet, salty, savory, silky, surprising. This is just course number two of six at an edition of El Encanto’s Culinary Series, bringing renowned chefs in for special evenings. On October 11, that meant a visit from Rodrigo Rivera-Río of Koli. The dinner saved us a trip to Monterrey, Mexico, but delivered all the glory of his Michelin-starred restaurant. What’s clear: Rebel Hotel Company, the new management since the sale of the resort from Belmond, is doing their best to uphold the storied thoughts we have of a property as well-heeled as El Encanto. It doesn’t hurt that while dining on the veranda you get to watch owls sweep into the nearby trees as the night’s entertainment.

Care to read the rest than do so at the Independent's site.

A Review of "The Hounding" by Xenobe Purvis

 Xenobe Purvis can write spooky, but then there are all sorts of haunts, aren’t there? Her debut novel The Hounding, set during the 18th-century in Little Nettlebed astride the Thames River—but far away, in distance and in thought, from London—concerns the Mansfield sisters, orphaned, insular, feminine threats, particularly to the small-minded males of the village. The book gives its plot culmination away in its first line (in what reads like a dark version of Johnny Carson’s old Carnac routine): “The girls, the infernal heat, a fresh-dead body.” But the book never surrenders its air of mystery—do the Mansfields have the power to transform into dogs? Then again, its theme is sussing out the line between what’s human and humane. (Note we are piss poor at the latter.)

Care to read the rest then do so at the California Review of Books.

Review also posted at the Santa Barbara Independent on October 31, 2025.