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.

 

A Review of Judd Apatow's "Comedy Nerd" and Cameron Crowe's "The Uncool"

 

It would be impossible to write the story of late 20th century-early 21st century pop culture without considering the work of Judd Apatow and Cameron Crowe. Even an abbreviated list of titles they wrote/directed/produced would be a roll call of beloved TV and filmic memories that have launched a million memes and coined troves of quotable quotes. Freaks and Geeks, The 40 Year-Old Virgin, Anchorman, Bridesmaids. Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Say Anything…, Jerry Maguire, Almost Famous.

Despite being ten years apart in age (Crowe was born in 1957, Apatow in 1967), both men have recently put out big looks back, full of delicious details of lives creatively well-lived. The Uncool is more of a straightforward biographical take, crafted out of punchy, generally chronologically ordered chapters framed by Crowe’s anxiety prior to the debut of the musical stage version of Almost Famous. Comedy Nerd is a self-proclaimed hoarder’s scrapbook of Apatow’s life, composed of recently-penned passages, lots of primary documents (texts, reviews, emails, scripts), and many, many pictures of the funny and famous.

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

Review also posted at the Santa Barbara Independent on October 6, 2026.

Indy Origins: The 30-Year Hobby Job That Has My Heart

 I came to town with an alternative paper history, having cut my marginally paid journalistic teeth at the Baltimore City Paper while still in college. As an aside, holding the mildly impressive title City Lights Editor there meant I bugged bars for their live band schedules, which in those ancient days involved phone and mail. How a paper came out every week was sort of a miracle.

It all led to a lifetime with a hobby job: writing for the local. Got to do it in State College, PA, where the paper was the Centre Daily Times, something early computer spell-check really wanted to rename the Sinatra Daily Times. Had a host of clips, some already fading newsprint, to prove that I had done this work a time or 20. So in 1995, half a year into my still running Santa Barbara tenure, I cold-called then Arts Editor D.J. Palladino, dropping off a clutch of clips, hoping the mélange covering everyone from Rick Danko to Yo La Tengo would convince him I should write about music.

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

A Review of Amy Rigby's "Girl to Country: A Memoir"

 

Singer-songwriter Amy Rigby sets up the arc of her moving, charming, outsider-insider’s memoir Girl to Country poignantly in the prologue, when she considers what she might say to explain herself to Hazel Smith, who she calls “the Grande Dame of Music City,” while cheekily describing her “like…one of the Gabor sisters, if they’d been from Kentucky instead of Budapest.”

“I just want to earn a living!” I wanted to shout. “But I also want to be AN ARTIST—to create work that no one else has ever thought of doing. In addition, I’d like L-O-V-E and/or S-E-X, to live in a decent home, and to raise a happy child to adulthood. All while looking cool. That isn’t too much to ask, is it? IS IT?”

When the self-proclaimed Dean of American Rock Critics Robert Christgau reviewed Rigby’s solo debut Diary of a Mod Housewife in 1996, giving the album an A and eventually naming it his second favorite disc of the year, he wrote, “Personalizing the political for a bohemia that coexists oh so neatly with structural underemployment, thinking harder about marriage than a dozen Nashville homilizers,” he had no idea he was predicting Rigby’s next career move. For she would leave the crudy-but-cosy comforts of New York (read all about her exciting exploits there in Rigby’s first memoir, 2019’s Girl to City) for Nashville, hoping her gimlet-eyed, catchy tunes might land her a publishing deal, and therefore steady money.

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

Review also posted at the Santa Barbara Independent on September 2, 2026.

Props to the Peeps at Bistro Amasa

Doesn't it seem like restaurants should have more fun? Yeah, it's a business in a shitty time for businesses. Yeah, we're often paying serious money--especially given the price for produce and all foodstuffs right now (thanks, Obama)--so it's easy to think patrons need a mature, nothing but respectful, nothing approaching jokey, luxe repast. But shy of fart jokes at the table, shouldn't we all just loosen up a bit?

The already delightful on "regular" days Bistro Amasa (see my article when they opened last fall) clearly has chosen to heed that more whimsical call, for on Friday, July 10 they offered up--in addition to the regular menu--A Totally Rad 90s Night. Witness Exhibit A up top, a special cocktail, Fruit Loops. The Boring Bar, led by Doug Boring who crafted Amasa's regular list of drinks, too, was whipping up these special tipples, with the team all bedecked in bucket caps like they would be extras in a music video when their shifts were over. So, every sip that rainbow ring of loops would knock you on the nose, ensuring your olfactory senses sang you a nostalgic tune sung by a toucan. Clever. And then the drink itself, clear as a Nordic fjord, yet lively with lemongrass, makrut lime, pixies juice (the ones from Ojai, not the band trying to find their mind). Somehow the liquor was a house gin and rum blend--obviously not a usual pairing but the two came to a lovely meeting of the angular and round, probably thanks to a cereal milk wash. These were cocktails that read like stunts but sure didn't drink like them. (Turns out this one was originally created by Doug Boring for executive chef Julian Martinez's wedding at Julian's request.)

There's the full special menu, ready to replenish any exhausted skateboarder with a parent's credit card in hand. We opted to do a bit of it and some of the regular menu, partially because one of us is pescatarian, and evidently that distinction wasn't invented 35 years ago (I kid). In addition to the 90s menu and the regular menu, there was also a special dish, a beet salad, which, come to think of it is a throwback a different 1990s dining scene (thanks, Alice Waters). But once again, the Amasa team brought something new and fresh. Those roasted beets were sliced just above paper thin, yet still vividly earthy. A hit of anchovy kicked up the sparse "dressing," pistachio gave it a needed crunch, the sprinkle of sprouts just enough green. Then the carrots were pickled, and even more finely sliced than the beets. Then some mighty fine burrata for creamy indulgence. Such balance on a plate.

I'm going to try to speed this post up or it will take you longer to read it than it took us to eat our meal. Burt behold the Cool Ranch Crudo, and if only Doritos came as quiveringly-fresh kampachi, with this elegant a buttermilk-lime cream. The serrano pepper slices soared this dish up the Scoville scale, but that's why god made handkerchiefs. And the brilliance of toasting masa to become crispy bits atop. Once more an item that could have been awfully awkward turned into a glorious, elegant swan.

Take the ingenuity the Cold Pizza. The Boring Bar admits it's a riff on a similarly named drink from lauded Lower East Side Manhattan spot Double Chicken Please, but two drinks in the line between borrowing and homage is a blurry one. Somehow it brings together blanco tequila, Parmigiano Reggiano, burnt toast (I wish I had a chance to ask how--I assume double strained out as you don't get a single carbon speck in the glass), tomato water, basil, honey, and egg white for that lovely foamy texture. Again, this one gets you on the nose, leaving you thinking, "Sure smells like 'za!" Then yes, you get the agave as you sip, but it's blended so well with all the other flavors and aromatics you just keep desiring more. For who doesn't want a second slice of pizza?

Maybe someone with this plate of Nuggets in front of them. Unlike Mickey D's, these kind of explode open when you puncture the crunch of the perfectly toasted crust (I assume panko?), revealing a tender surprise of confit chicken and the delightful, mild funk of duck liver mousse as a binder that would prefer to just taste great and not hold everything together too much. (They were offally good!) It was hard to choose which of the three rethunk sauces to dip each bite in, from a vinegar over sweet bbq, to a sweet 'n sour that deliciously twirled between those two poles, to a spiced honey mustard that would be the king of any condiment tray.

So I have been going on and on, haven't I. Here are the roasted carrots from the regular menu, all piled up like Lincoln Logs cosplaying Jenga. To double down on rootsy heartiness, there's a quick smear of parsnip puree underneath, giving the carrots' sweetness, even more prevalent from roasting, a proper contrasting note. The sauce is a sophisticated mix of brown butter miso and sherry, there are some plump, surprisingly in the best way pickled sultanas (don't tell me you don't like raisins), some hazelnuts to make up for everything else on the plate being so little of a chewing challenge, and again, a sprinkling of micro-greens giving you color and fresh pop. Simple, and not so, but simply delicious.

I'm still not sure where we fit dessert beyond our covetous for more eyes. We returned to the 90s menu for a tribute to Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal in cheesecake form (and, yes, scattered on the plate too). I certainly never had, even in nostalgia's rosy glow, a breakfast as dessert this good. Both light yet substantial, as a good cheesecake should be, the crème fraîche quenelle offered more lift and just the right bit of puckering sour, and the cereal milk caramel we only wished there was more of, to slather onto every last bite.

All in all a sick, bangin', off the hook dinner. I'd call it the shit but that doesn't work for a fine meal, does it, no matter how much fun the kitchen, the dressed for the evening staff (sorry I didn't mention how wonderful everyone working there was, too!), and the fine bar surely seemed to have and share.