Alisal Throws a Fine Fête for its 80th

I'm starting this post backyards, because, I mean, look at that sky (I suggest opening the picture to full size for full effect)! You gotta get out of town, get out of every last light-bright village, even, to see that. But you can, and not too far from my Santa Barbara home. That's the nocturnal view from the Alisal Guest Ranch and Resort in the Santa Ynez Valley, but as you know if you've been, it's sort of in a valley off the valley, tucked snug to the back of the mountain range. Even the ribbon of the 101 vanishes as you move into the 10,000+ acre property.

That's the fun, getting to pretend you're somewhere, perhaps some time, else. Alisal leans into that, and while it's certainly luxe, it prefers to be cowboy chic. I mean, here's the table setting at the recent Chapter & Hearth Dinner (that does sound like some secret society, doesn't it?) as part of the ranch's celebration of its 80th year.

Of course the attendees all joked about trying to sneak one of the hefty horseshoes home, as if its weight wouldn't rip any pocket one might slip it surreptitiously into. And then we joked they'd no doubt make us traipse through metal detectors on the way out to prevent just that. So while the Alisal does take one back to a simpler time when we all lived off the land with the smell of saddle leather nearby, it still can't quite shake our awareness of the surveillance state. Speaking of that, there's no cell coverage out under the mighty, moss-draped sycamores by the adobe where Alisal likes to have outdoor fests and feasts (and weekend breakfasts after horse rides--very recommended.) So phones turn into cameras only. As you'll see, that means I shot a lot of photos.

Those are just two such photos from the trailer ride out from the resort's office to the sycamore grove. Lots of gorgeous, happy to finally get a sip of rain, hills, a view of the property's 100 acre lake, and the horses running off to their barns for nighty-night. And deer. And wild turkeys. Even though you're being powered by a combustion engine, you feel like the modern world slips away. It's a lovely trick. 

Note those sycamores are prime specimens, taller than most I feel I've seen. Probably part of being on a property owned by the same family for 80 years, after being part of one of the original California land grants, I'd wager. I also need to get a cowboy hat for my giant noggin before the next time I get up there. I felt nearly naked. At the Old Adobe, we were welcomed by the current leading Jackson family scions, C.J., VP of Alisal Properties, and Jim, VP and COO of the Alisal Guest Ranch and Resort. They had a good time joshing with each other--C.J. brought up the Smothers Brothers as a comparison, which says something about demographics--and explaining the history of the property. And we all got wine or cocktails--one tequila-based, another an Old Fashioned (what else?).

Inside the adobe we were greeted by many heads on the wall--think of that top photo as tax-i-deer-my--and Richard Barnitz of Farm to Frames, who snaps daguerreotype-style black-and-whites with his 1906 Conley homemade box camera. Talk about a fun, fitting souvenir of the evening.

Out the backdoor of the adobe was the large dinner area, big enough for a horse trailer snazzily converted into a mobile bar for out-of-SLO, so therefore kinda local, Rod & Hammer's, where guests got to sip a range of their liquor, primarily whiskey because, well, consider where we all were. (As you might remember, I wrote them up not too long ago for their tasting at Vespera in Pismo.) That delicious Old Fashioned featured their bespoke Alisal Label Bourbon, btw. Upon sitting down, we all were led in a toast by the property's cowboy poet, Chris Henrich, who gave a quick history of the poet position there, going back to the legendary Jake Copass. You, of course, win me over instantly when you can work poetry into your evening, and Henrich recites splendidly.

So, there's the menu for the evening, and despite that first horizontal rule, everything short of dessert got served in rapid succession. That cornbread had a bit of bite thanks to the jalapeño, and there was way too much artfully swirled cultured butter to slather on it. Made me think we needed more cornbread. (Yes, that's an easy thought to have.) The salad honored fall harvest well, hitting all the yummy sweet, sour, tangy, creamy, crunchy notes you might hope.

The tomahawk was savory and succulent, and it wasn't me, but someone at our stretch of long table couldn't resist gnawing right off the bone. (At another table, someone got it wrapped up and took it home. Might have been the wife of a famous 1970s rocker who lives in these parts. That kind of night.) Some of the salsa atop made it sing of Santa Barbara. The vegetable dishes showed how much treating good produce simply and directly is an easy win. OK, lots of good cheese on one and the kiss of fire roasted char on the other didn't hurt. Somehow, despite their ubiquity--we got platters of the poor little birds--I missed getting a photo of the quail. Kept moist thanks to that fennel sausage stuffing, they were mini-delights. One fellow diner kept suggesting he'd eat as many their diminutive drumsticks as he could, as we all lamented not hiding Tupperware to sneak out leftovers. Of course if we did that, there'd be no room for the horseshoes. 

OK, I did not know of oatmeal pie, evidently called poor man's pecan pie, but don't tell the bewigged dude on the Quaker Oats box. It's an Alisal specialty, and after eating a slice, I can see why. Sweet, but not too, gooey but not gloppy or gummy, crispy/crunchy on the top. It gets a hint of island exoticism from a bit of coconut, and cinnamon ice cream seals the deal. There was also music from a talented country trio that for no fault of their own become mostly background music. Didn't seem like a two-stepping bunch, at least on this evening.

We got full, we got to share good craic, we got history and poetry, we got old-timey photos of ourselves. We all got a copy of the glorious coffee table book 175 Years of Ranch History: The Alisal Ranch Story. But more than anything, for me I can't get rid of my head full of stars.

A Review of "In the Days My Youth I Was Told What It Means to Be a Man" by Tom Junod

 So something happened while I was reading Tom Junod’s In the Days of My Youth I Was Told What It Means to Be a Man that never happened to me before. Junod recalls his frustrations in grammar school trying to understand an e.e. cummings poem. His mom makes him read the poem to her, aloud, so they can discuss it. Not only do these pages capture what a gentle mother she is, it allows Junod to realize she is “smartest when she feels what she’s thinking, and that’s what she doesn’t allow herself to do in front of [my father].” And the passage concludes: “He has never seen what she’s like when he’s not there. He has never seen her as I see her.” The levels of hurt sting.

Reading the three pages I’m so moved that I immediately must share them with my wife, who is patient with me and my interruption. And then halfway through my out loud reading I begin to cry—I can’t help myself I’m so moved by all the raw tenderness. It won’t be the last time the book brings me to tears, as it’s an insightful chronicle of late 20th century manhood, family, personal mythmaking, and the way we all contain multitudes of brittle resiliency. Or, to point to just one of the many great phrases Junod turns in the book, our lives are a series of “a moonshot of awkwardness and a splashdown of joy.”

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

New Fall Fest under the Museum’s Oaks

Anyone who is a fan of the Santa Barbara Wine Festival — and given the festival celebrated at the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History (SBMNH) is heading into its 39th year and sells out annually, that’s quite a few folks — should be overjoyed at this news. The Museum will hold the inaugural Fall Tasting Festival on Saturday, November 7. Director of Marketing and Communications Jonah Haas calls it, “The cool, younger sibling to the wine festival.”

The Museum had been trying to figure out the best event to pair seasonally with June’s Wine Festival. The Mission Creek Beer Festival, held the last few years, didn’t draw the same crowds. Despite a range of flavors and ferments, Haas suggests people found the subject too narrow. He explains, “It was too easy for people to say, ‘I’m not a beer drinker, so that’s not for me.’”

Want to read the rest then do so at the Independent.

Vespera and Star Bar Shine Bright in Pismo

Lucky us got to enjoy this view last week on a quick jaunt up the coast to Pismo Beach. We got to stay at the Vespera Resort, part of the Autograph Collection of Hotels, which is part of Marriott Bonvoy, which is so large at this point I think they own the mortgage on our house, too. (I kid, I kid.) The resort opened in 2018 but shines as if it's even newer than that--and some of it is--the brand new Star Bar right next to the ocean-front pool. And that Star Bar was the reason for the visit, as it had its official opening night soiree Tuesday and we got to attend. (Remember I said lucky at the beginning--that's the overall theme of this post.) 

Speaking of that, all the staff were aces all trip, offering to help you find your room as you first roamed the halls, lots of real smiles, etc. At checkout the desk worker clearly even looked me up, knowing I was a journalist--talk about how to score brownie points--and talked about how he was a photographer. So here's to good hiring and training, Vespera.

There's the view out the sliding glass doors to our private deck that overlooks the pool that overlooks the boardwalk that overlooks the wide beach that overlooks the Pacific and the Pismo Pier. Yep, you are right in/above the action. But one of the joys of Pismo is "action" needs redefining. The hotel itself manages to walk the elegant/seaside charm well--lots of blues and wood and ocean-appropriate art--but for your resort fee you get access to bikes, kites, boogie boards, and fishing rods, too. Lots of folks will be dangling rods off that pier. Others will be following these important rules.

Please clam responsibly. And I'm not joking--the clams were almost wiped out for decades. The official visitors guide will even inform you the right way to rebury ones you find washed upon the sand. So while you aren't quite to SLO yet as you head north from Santa Barbara, you are slowing down. There's something charmingly laid-back and lived-in about this lovely spot by the sea. 

Of course we walked the Pismo Beach Pier, with its three diamonds along the way giving you striking sightlines up and down the coast plus fine spots to watch surfers and sea life--a sea otter was doing his back-bob thing just beyond the surfer line. The Pier is 1200 feet long, so it's a bit of a commitment, but enjoyable every step. Plus at the right time of day, the sun beckons you.

Then, to jump around in the timeline a bit, after the sun goes down, Pismo gives Fillmore a run for the best neon in southern-central CA title, and who can't romance that?

Meanwhile, back at the Vespera, one of the current perks at Blend Bar just off the lobby is a free tasting from Rod & Hammer's SLO Stills. You get a splash of the straight rye, the straight bourbon, and a SLO Fashioned--that bourbon plus Amara Nonino, orange bitters, and old fashioned bitters (you can buy this mix bottled, even from your room mini-bar). Each was fine sipping, very typical of its style.

This tasting is just one example of how Vespera works to connect with its community, making sure local flavor cuts any sense of the cookie-cutter corporate blahs. The Pinot Noir half bottle that's part of your mini-bar is from Talley (for $25, that would be a deal for two+ glasses). The BTG wine list at the restaurant Pequin* Coastal Cocina is 95% from wineries from Santa Barbara to Paso Robles. The bar programs highlight other regional distilleries in addition to Rod & Hammer's. All that said, Pequin, Blend, and Star Bar are all big on tequila product, so they're good places to get your agave on, as you will read in a bit.

*And maybe it's just my wife and me having sick senses of humor, but on the bar menu, you can order Pequin Wings, made of chicken, but that didn't stop us from calling them Penguin Wings....

The walking around and whiskey nipping led us back to our room to recoup. Here's the view that awaited us.

So it would be pretty easy just to hole up in your room and have a fine time at the Vespera. But we were headed to the Star Bar soiree, basically headed down to where the umbrellas are in the photo above. 

Even with a DJ cranking out happy time oldies like chestnuts from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, the vibe was mostly mini-units of folks who already knew each other doing the chat thing and hoping to claim one of the fire pit style tables for ambience as much as warmth. Luckily we scored one ourselves, getting to watch the big ball of orange drown in the Pacific and then the lights come on.

The only bad part of the location was the trays with apps came out the other end of the patio, so we had to do some aggressive "mug" a server actions to score crispy French fries, crunchy calamari, grilled corn elote. The bites were all tasty and left us wishing for more. Scoring drinks was easier, with just a quick wait at the Star Bar itself with a slightly narrowed menu for the event, not that anyone would go wanting. There were frozen drinks, but the quickly cooling night made those sound less appealing to us. It was good to see several thoughtful mocktail options--Chryss particularly enjoyed the Coastal Botanical made of Seedlip Garden 108, a house elderflower-citrus blend, and Fever Tree club soda. I had a couple of their namesake cocktail, a margarita variation with Altos Plata tequila, fresh lime, SLO wildflower honey, passion fruit, and smoked sage. That was a lot of sage, btw, enough to tickle your nostrils. 

It's good to smudge yourself while imbibing and keep out the evil spirits, no? As is our wont, we decided we wanted to walk around again at night (see neon photo above), and also maybe score yet more food as our bites had been light, especially in comparison to the amount of drink one of us consumed. That gave us a chance to capture this snap, with a child kindly aligned with the "A" for us.

We wandered over to Mariscos El Piscosito and bought a shrimp burrito to-go to share back in our room because, well, you've seen the view. It was a delicious treat, especially well-priced (another cool thing about Pismo). The Star Bar party was just petering out, but we realized we still had our armbands so I was able to score a Madewest Hazy draft to take-up to our room, too. I love hosted parties! Here's the burrito-enjoying view.

For the record, even with the bar a flight down from our room, the property grew quiet quickly. And the king bed offered that perfect firm-not-rock spot for sleeping on luxurious sheets. I can be a hit-or-miss sleeper away from the comforts of home, but this night I had nary a problem. In the morning it was both blue and wispy with fog, as this "who stole the children from the swings?" shot attests.

For you do get to watch the skies change in all sorts of ways through the day. You might hope to use your star chart and spyglass, but atmospheric conditions might not make gazing at the heavens as easy as you'd hoped. That's the heavens for you. But Vespera is close to paradise enough.

Burrito Week 2026: Mesa Cafe and Seoulmate Kitchen

 

It's Burrito Week 2026 over at the Santa Barbara Independent. That means over 50 burritos on special at 9 bucks per. I had the good fortune to sample and write about two--at Mesa Cafe and Seoulmate Kitchen. Highly recommend both spots!

The World on a Plate at El Encanto

So that menu above needs some explaining. It was from the September 17 Culinary Experience Dinner at El Encanto, a series I've had the good fortune to write about before for the Indy. Most of the Culinary Experience evenings have invited a guest from south of the border; that story, if you don't visit the link, was about chef Rodrigo Rivera-Río from Monterrey (the 2 R one). So it's easy to assume what you're going to get at one of these is something elevated, often Michelin-starred, from Mexico.

Estrella Jafif, the September 17 chef, lives and works as a caterer and cookbook author in Mexico City. But if you peruse the menu above you'll quickly catch on that Jafif, as she puts it, "grew up surrounded by a lot of cultures and a lot of flavors." Turns out she's a Mexican Jewish chef with roots in Lebanon and Cuba. It's easy to see why she insists, "Food is the best language."

Food, it turns out, can be an offhandedly charming centerpiece for a table, too. The evening's diners were sat at long tables and served relaxed, family style, even while the attentive service was quick to adapt for any eater's or drinker's needs. People across from us got dishes provided free of nuts to avoid allergies; my wife Chryss got a NA pairing that nearly made alcoholic me (wait, I didn't put that right, did I?) jealous. If you want to know, check out the fine product from French Bloom.

I'm going to avoid writing about every last dish extensively because, as you can see from the number of photos, that's a lot of dishes, and somehow I didn't get snaps of the olives or either of the desserts. But that's a creamy and luscious babaganoush above, a delight scooped with fresh-made, airy pitas.

And the hummus got a different twist with both pomegranate seeds and pomegranate molasses, both an acidic bite and some tart-sweetness.

These fried kibbeh crunched but then crumbled as their insides were tender ground beef studded with pine nuts and bulgur. People all do their own kibbeh thing--if Wikipedia can be trusted just the city ofAleppo boasts 17 varieties--so it's hard to be an expert. But I found these hitting that fried food sweet spot. This opening salvo of dishes got elevated by the wine pairing, Villa Bon, “Accueil Les Danaides,” Vandieres, Champagne NV. Bubbles sure can magically re-awaken your taste buds between every bite.

This signature watermelon salad makes a good transition, as it's a favorite dish of Wero Cham of Vinos Boutique, who served as lead sommelier for the night. Plus, it was his recommendation that got Chef Jafif the gig. So she had to make the salad, and a fine one it was for late summer, the melon perhaps somewhat compressed (?), lightly dressed with oil and herbs and spice including nigella seeds, and set off by tufts of a creamy house cheese blend (feta-esque). A scatter of pistachios added more flavor, crunch, and salt. Thanks, Wero, for the menu request!

Beetroot salad could be considered a bore by now (they trended back when Ron Reagan was president!), but this one, with the earthy globes roasted in salt, kept a surprising firmness and tenderness at once. And then their sugar got met with the acid from orange supremes and labneh, and some more pomegranate molasses. 

In a meal aiming for homey comfort, the kibbeh tartare above was the closest to a challenge food, for your eyes aren't deceiving you--that's about a half inch thick of raw ground beef in the bowl. Spread across some toasted bread it worked, if finding a place between domesticated animal and something gamier without being wild. The heat from a slice of jalapeño also served as a way to cut the meat's meatiness a bit. And sure, there's bulgur, again, and some tamarind to give the typically Lebanese dish bit of a Mexican accent.

As if to mirror the international house of flavors approach, Cham choose to pour two wines with this set of dishes: Barrigón, Charelo-Albariño, Queréraro 2022 and a Bruno Giacosa, Barbera D-Alba, Piedmont 2022. The Mexican Barrigón was described as an orange wine, as it had some skin contact, but you had to squint to glimpse that color. The flavor was grippy and lovely, though. And the Barbera had its tannic grip and rich red fruit that helped open up the tartare into something more encompassing than its initial one-note hit might suggest.

More wine, crummier photos, sorry. But that's a couple servings of the local vermillion rockfish, topped with tahini and chermoula, and sat on some more oil-based chermoula and labneh (there should be walnuts and almonds, but we got the remaining pieces from the no-nuts diners). Quite a delish dish that made sure the fish was the star. It paired perfectly with the one local pour, a Sanguis, Chardonnay, “Whale Song,” Sta. Rita Hills, 2023--dry, mineral, with a waft of lemon blossoms.

Let's do these together, as they went together so well, too. Sometimes meat and potatoes, even when they are "just" meat and potatoes, aren't just meat and potatoes. That's a platter of wood-fire crusted Baharat ribeye with roasted tomatoes, and potato confit, sliced thin as window panes. Crusted isn't just aspirational--the steak crunched--yet as you can see, was immaculately medium rare every other bit of its insides. Baharat, a spice mixture that's been around at least 10 centuries, so, yeah, there's a variation or a thousand, means all sorts of rich flavors engulf the tender beef, from paprika to cumin to cardamom. Every time I think, for my own health, the health of the planet, the kindness of sweet cow faces, and the fact that eating a whole steak I always get bored 2/3 of the way in, somebody serves me a dish like this. I might just be damned to be an occasional carnivore.

Particularly so there's something perfect to pair with that wine, a Chateau Musar, Red Blend, Bekaa Valley 2004. Yep, a wine old enough to vote, from Lebanon (how fitting!), silky, fruit-forward (black cherries and raspberries, and even some dried fruit notes) without being a fruit bomb blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cinsault, and Carignan. 

Even better, it rang nostalgic bells for the long gone but not forgotten weekend wine bar Five & a 1/4 run by Jeremy Bohrer back in the day, the kind of place where some Chateau Masur was almost expected. 

So the meal did that, too, creating circles of culinary delight, not to mention truly connecting chats with the folks across the table from you.