Cocina de Community

(Photo by Ingrid Bostrom)

When Jacqui Karlsen learned that Café La Fonda, operating on Anapamu Street across from the Courthouse Sunken Garden since late 2023, was in danger of shutting down, she was compelled to step in. That’s why, as of June 16, the prime location which has somehow run through many iterations since the beloved, sorely missed The Bakery left (The Courthouse Tavern, The Little Door, Piano Riviera Lounge, The French Table, and Elements Restaurant & Bar), is now officially La Fonda Smash Burger & Pancake House. Bet you can guess some of the menu.

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

Loquita Takes You on a Taste Tour of Spain

So Loquita has a new executive chef, and while it seems they sort of post someone new in that position as often as a TACO changes his mind on tariffs, we need to hope this one sticks. For Cristian Granada comes to Santa Barbara with a wealth of international experience--born in Colombia, he trained and worked in Spain, has been part of Michelin-starred kitchens in D.C.--and even better, he has the nuanced ability to understand and honor tradition while also eyeing the culinary future.

Take his take on gazpacho. Sure it kicks with tomato-power, then the richness olive oil brings, and enough spice to make it all sing. But his also comes, as the menu puts it, "spherified." That is, your adorable wooden spoon holds a flattened globe of gazpacho that you suck into your mouth like a mini-egg yolk, where it bursts with all its brightness. It's a revelation, a moment of flavorful joy.

That spherified tomato gazpacho is currently on feature as part of one of Chef Granada's new additions to the menu, a Pintxo Experience: A Taste Tour across Spain. As the placemat you'd get when ordering it claims, "Discover the rich culinary heritage of five iconic Spanish regions through a curated selection of pintxo--small bites with big stories." (One big problem with the bite-sized delights that are the apps pintxos--auto-correct likes to kill the "x" every time you type the word.) The tastes will change some over the course of the year based on what's seasonal, but for now include compressed peach with jamón bellota from the Basque Country; from Catalonia, an uni-prawn mousse in a mini cone, cute as a button, and maybe pointing to a French Laundry classic, if with a smaller cone; from Madrid, a showy "transparent" bread--kuzu is involved--with a rich tomato atop; and from Valencia, jamón inbérico tartare on a pork cracker. The handy placemat offers a map of Spain so you can get a lay of the culinary land and also offers a quick description of each region's food roots.

Chef Granada is certainly one to watch, ready to burnish the already bright reputation of Loquita.

Sandwich Week '25: Gala, Goat Tree, SB Fish Market

As the Indy slowly moves to 52 Weeks of Fill-in-the-Blank Food per year, try to digest them all (and really, it has nothing to do with ad sales, look away), welcome to the first Sandwich Week. Over 40 to choose from. I got to preview three. See images below or....

Read the rest at the Independent's site.

 

Marisella Is Molto Bella

It's not easy being a resort restaurant. Hotel guests can resent you as they feel Stockholm syndromed into loving you as you're the only game in town. Locals, ever on the lookout for snoot to bemoan, can feel excluded, starting with the valet parking fee. There's a lot to overcome to please both your possible audiences.

Maple Hospitality Group, out of Chicago, is the latest entity trying to crack this difficult nut at the Ritz-Carlton Bacara in the location most recently occupied by Angel Oak. It opens Marisella (star of the sea) to the public June 26th, but this weekend held a swank reception for some press (me!), people who probably call themselves influencers unironically, friends and family, and a heaping helping of rich folks. But I shouldn't be disdainful, as it was all lovely--I mean look up top, they are ice-luging shots and offering you a lot of oysters, shrimp, and uni backed by the Bacara's best quality--a killer ocean view. Of course one has to be wowed a bit.

And get a load of all that gorgeous whiskey behind the bar. They seemed to know what to do with it, too, offering some tasty bespoke cocktails and not flinching in the slightest when Chryss asked for mocktails. She was able to have two completely different ones, even, after the bartender asked about likes/dislikes. I left out photos of the folks pouring wines from the site's 700 plus label cellar, but they certainly knew their stuff and were kind, engaging, and talented at sabering champagne bottles. Plus willing to share one-offs from the cellar they wouldn't be able to put on the list, including a 2011 Arnot-Roberts Syrah.

The man above is the mastermind behind Maple Hospitality Group--the talented and engaging Danny Grant. While I will go on about the food we got to taste, you don't have to trust just me--he happens to be the youngest chef ever to win two Michelin stars in back-to-back years. Now his culinary empire extends to Scottsdale, Dallas, Miami, and...Goleta. (I kid, I kid.) One clever redo in the dining room, that overall seems lightened to rid it of steak-houseiness and make it be more Amalfi Coast-y, as the press release suggests, was to make the enlarged kitchen viewable from the dining room. That also means the kitchen can view the diners, and out past them to the Pacific. That's one lovely way to keep a kitchen crew happy.

That's beef that melts in your mouth, if you wondered. Simple, direct, beautiful. Not pictured, as it isn't the most Instagrammable dish in the world (so I give Grant even more kudos for still serving it--sorry, influencers!), is a salt-baked whole branzino, that flakes into moist not mushy delight, far from over salted, and then bathed in a simple, simply perfect brown butter, caper, lemon sauce. This kitchen has the ability to make foods taste like amped up versions themselves, the beefest beef, the fishiest fish (in a good way--I can see how that one doesn't work quite well). Soon a line formed so everyone could get in on the carving station, which eventually added some slow roasted bone-in short rib, again exactly what you hope it could be, but better. The same was true for the passed foods, especially a light, crispy fritto misto. Note that on the opening menu online, Marisella, in addition to apps and in-house pasta and entrees, is hoping to convince people to buy big for the table--that branzino, say, or a 40 oz. bistecca alla Fiorentina, or a Festa Del Mar of roasted lobster, prawns, Pacific clams, Calabrian chile, and tomato sugo. They hope you've come to party.

Maple Hospitality also brought out its big guns to make sure those working at Marisella are fully trained. That is, the top pastry chef was in town, and you could relish her skills in a wide variety of dessert bites, from petite chocolate cake to peaches & cream profiterole. 

From this first impression, if Marisella isn't a smashing success as a resort restaurant, the failure will turn out to be ours for not supporting them.

David Rosner’s Doughy Dreams at Rozzi Pizza

 When I pop into the new Rozzi Pizza for our assigned interview, chef-owner David Rosner instantly asks me, “Mind if I work while we talk? My 9:30 delivery got here at 1:30, so I’m behind.” Somehow, he could not only carry on a lively conversation with plenty of eye contact — he’s big on that — but he also kept methodically, smoothly measuring up and cutting to weight pizza dough balls, rolling each into a shiny globe set away for later. “This is my retirement job,” he tells me, “but I’m working 10 times harder than when I wore the white coat as executive chef.”

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

A Review of Marcy Dermanksy's "Hot Air"

 

In Marcy Dermansky’s engrossing novel of (mis)manners Hot Air, third person limited isn’t just a narrative technique, it’s a view of the world where solipsism holds all the cards. Her characters are self-involved, feckless, cruel, and what’s worse, two of them, couple Jonathan and Julia, are ridiculously rich. As their assistant Vivian considers it, “It was amazing how easy it was to solve problems when you did not have to worry about how much it cost.”

Of course, things can cost us more than money. A handful of pages into the tale, Jonathan and Julia, contentiously celebrating their anniversary on a hot air balloon ride, crash into Johnny’s pool, just as he and Joannie have had their first kiss on their first date. (Yes, four names that begin with J, which leads to some confusion, but also underlines how sadly similar everyone is deep down.) Joannie, the poorest of this foursome, is a divorced mom, eager to move up in the world for her and her daughter, Lucy. Although Joannie has written a semi-successful novel she has never been able to follow up on, and therefore perhaps is the closest to a stand-in for the author—who names each chapter after the character’s viewpoint we are privy to in those pages—Dermansky lets loose this zinger, “As a rule, Joanie didn’t like rich people, but she thought that could change if she were to become one.”

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

Review also posted at the Santa Barbara Independent on June 10, 2025.

An Avocado Junket Is Far from the Pits

I was somewhere around Camarillo, on the edge of the Conejo Grade, when the avocados began to take hold. This was late April, and I was one of “a diverse mix of journalists, content creators, and retail and foodservice professionals from across the Western United States.” At least that’s how the California Avocado Commission described us in their attractively presented Briefing Book. We were all on a junket to learn to love Big Green.

It seems everyone/thing needs representation these days. If Clooney and Saldaña need agents, why not Persea americana, in particular those from California (just grown from San Diego to Monterey)? The more-than-100-year-old nonprofit California Avocado Commission hypes its fruit as fresh and local, sustainably grown and ethically sourced, seasonal, and sure to bring that creaminess avo-heads crave. Another reason the association is needed: Even though California is on target to produce 375 million pounds of avocado this bumper-crop year — a figure that would be the equivalent weight of more than 31 million electric guitars, or a million giant kangaroos, a species thankfully extinct for eons — Mexico will produce two billion pounds of avos.

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

Dart Coffee Aims to Please

 

(photo credit Ingrid Bostrom)

Sometimes the interview questions write themselves. When I sat down with the team behind Dart Coffee Co. — David Dart, retired dentist; Erika Carter Dart, still a very active artist; and their son Carter Paul Hallman, winemaker and SBCC Culinary School grad — in Erika’s cozy Green House Studios, I had to open with, “How did painting and dentistry lead you to coffee?”

I knew it would be a lively chat when Erika deadpanned, “Isn’t it obvious?” The short answer turns out to be that art and science brew the best cup of joe. The longer, more fascinating answer involves Dart growing from its original Funk Zone location to a spot on the Santa Barbara harbor and, sometime very soon, a third outpost in Carpinteria’s much-awaited Linden Square complex.

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

A Review of "What Art Does" by Brian Eno and Bette A.

 

At a mere 4.5 by 6.5 inches, only 122 pages long, with a cover that’s bright white and soothing flamingo pink, Brian Eno and Bette A.’s What Art Does beckons with an easy-going, “See? Manageable.” That’s even with its subtitle “An Unfinished Theory” dragging along like tin cans attached to a car, startling everyone. That said, a quick peek inside is even more welcoming. Bette A.’s deceptively naive, you could almost draw them yourself, just beyond line drawings are full of childlike whimsy. The typography is also playful, changing size, color, font, and even fading away. Given the ultra-creative natures of its authors—Eno is a British polymath musician, producer, artist, activist, A. a Dutch artist, novelist, and art school teacher—of course this book about art is art itself.

But then what is art? That’s where the aphoristic writing steps in, each sentence a barbed argument posed as indubitable statement. You find yourself bobbing your head in agreement page after page. Take this run of claims, “We all make art all the time, but we don’t really call it that;” art is “the name for a kind of engagement we have with something;” and, “the art engagement begins where functional engagement ends.”

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

Review also posted at the Santa Barbara Independent on May 2, 2025.

Come on Baby Light My Ire

In light of the recent death of Val Kilmer and the recent announcement that I will be appointed Santa Barbara Poet Laureate for 2025-2027 (with no guarantee poetry, the country, or you and me will be here for the full two years), I recalled an op-ed I wrote while I was a lecturer in the English Department at Penn State way back in 1991. Thanks to the internets, everything you've ever written can eventually surface. I was young(er) then, so excuse my impudent tone, but I think this holds up.

Groove to the Beat, But Don't Call Rock Stars Poets

originally published May 1, 1991

 Ah, for the days of yore, when exams smelled of fresh mimeograph fluid, and the end of the semester had, as it should, its own distinct stink. To recapture some of the magic of those long-gone days, I thought I'd give Collegian readers a pop exam.

Name three living poets.

I'm waiting.

One living poet?

OK, I heard somebody whisper Jim Morrison. One: He's not living. Two: He never was a poet, so even if he is alive on that island of the Dead and Famous, it doesn't matter. In fact, Oliver Stone and The Doors movie did more to misrepresent poetry than anything since Dead Poets Society, which proffered the mind-numbingly regular metrics of "O Captain, My Captain" as the peak of Whitman.

As for The Doors, believe it or not, most poets don't see Native American dancing about when they write. Most poets do not do enough drugs to make their hearts explode at 27. Most poets don't have naked honeys groove to their words (yeah, here I'm bitter, as a sometime poet myself.) Most important, most poets don't write endless drivel to their diddle; Morrison was as phallocentric as a Maypole.

Yet, it's not surprising a director as heavy-handed as the aptly named Stone would find Morrison a worthy successor to Blake and Byron. Stone, who in Platoon reduced Vietnam to a facile struggle between good and evil father figures, only to decide that "we have met the enemy, and he is us" (too bad we killed lots of Vietnamese to find out.) Stone, who in Wall Street reduced the greedy grabbing of the 1980s to a facile struggle between good and evil father figures, only to decide that "we have met the enemy, and he is us" (too bad trickle-down economics left more people poor than at any time since the Depression).

Stone is simple-minded, and Morrison is a poet for the simple. Sure, he was a Sure, he was a magnetic rock star, and the band helped open up rock music to the influences of jazz, but to call Morrison a poet is ridiculous. Such a claim makes lines like "we need great golden copulations," "death and my cock are the world," and "mute nostril agony" something they aren't.

And, no, I'm not just saying rock lyrics are hackwork and poetry is ethereal. Rock lyrics can deepen music, can create emotion and mood, can even sparkle. But it's enough to call them good lyrics; we don't need to elevate them to the haughty level of poetry to bestow greatness upon them. It's fine for Elvis Costello to do his thing, and for Wallace Stevens to do another. (Costello is much better singing about blue chairs than blue guitars, and as for Stevens . . . well, studies have shown no insurance salesman can rock out.) As a teacher of mine once said, "The term art merely means 'I like it a whole bunch.'"

But, as Raymond Chandler wrote, "All good art is entertainment and anyone who says differently is a stuffed shirt and juvenile at the art of living." Following Chandler, I want to suggest something much more revolutionary -- that poetry is entertainment. That living people write it. That it takes work to do and isn't the product of lightning bolts or chemical muses. That if more people read poetry, the world might be a better place.

While the violins warm up in the background, and I climb a soapbox taller than Mount Nittany, settle on in. I'm going to make a pitch for poetry.

Poetry attests to complexity; as Valery said, "All lofty thinking ends in a sigh." Poetry is honest exploration in a television world where the only question is How to get laid and the easy answer is Have the brightest smile and the driest underarms.

Poetry is difficult; that's why we run from it. It allows for lines like Bill Knott's, "Ancestor-silencing is difficult when you you're the one/ who forgot to patent the dodo." The syllables pile up so that we are forced to slow down, to halt our rush to evolution.

Poetry not only makes us re-think, but think. Instead of chowing down Pentagon-pushed myths of heroism, we get Jack Gilbert telling us "the abnormal is not courage: The marriage, not the month's rapture." Instead of the America first military mentality that makes football another form of ground war (of thee Whitney Houston lip-synchs), we get Rodney Jones dreaming up death as the ultimate fullback in the poem "Sweep," in which he writes, "I have been home three days, listening to an obituary."

Poetry is a mirror in which we see ourselves in the brightest light. In a poem about something as everyday as a radio request, Maria Flook writes: "It is difficult to humiliate desire;/ that in itself is important to note,/ if it is late at night/ and someone is saying, 'This is for that girl/ on the island, God bless her.'/ The sea is the same. I am the same. Fish swim/ to the false surface of the searchlight." Poetry lets Flook embrace pop music and all its pathos, while seeing through the bathos, lets her hold love up to hope, yet lament.

Yet lamenting poetry is what this column must do. Now, only poets read poetry; everybody else reads Kitty Kelley. Somewhere in too many minds hides the ghost of a high school English teacher who was nearly a ghost himself, reciting Verse in a trebly voice. (He's the same guy who taught you the five paragraph theme -- hunt him down and kill him.) And read some recent poetry; it might be a moment like this one described by Denis Johnson: "As the record falls and the snake-band chords begin/ to break like terrible news from the Rolling Stones."

Ewe Owe Yourself a Cocktail at Black Sheep

Owner-GM-maitre 'd Ruben Perez admits his head's swimming a bit, and it's because his lovely brasserie Black Sheep has just begun a cocktail program, having landed a full liquor license. Don't blame the drinks themselves--Ruben is an always sober if jovial host--but the way a bar program led to a revamp of what Black Sheep is. (Don't worry, nothing is messing with Wednesday moules-frites night.) It's just the goal is to loosen the mood bit--a bit less expensive, a bit less formal, a bit more raucous. And, yes, to provide some kick-ass drinks. It's made for the past few days to be a bit of a business blur for him.

Speaking of blur, sorry the photo above doesn't do the drinks we enjoyed justice--it's dim but not too dark in the dining room, and it seemed rude to illuminate or flash. But both cocktails were winners, the further an Aztec Goddess which fully earns its name as its base liquor is Casa del Sol Añejo, aged in barrels for 14 months, usually just sipped. It's luxurious and rich and round and a fine offering to Mayahuel, the Aztec goddess of agave. (Hence the drink's name.) And don't even think it's merely a high test Marg, for its other ingredients are Yuzu, egg whites, bitters, and Thai basil. It truly takes you on an adventure.

The nearer drink is from the Classics list, a Corpse Reviver #2. Long time readers of this blog might know it's one of my favorite cocktails, witness a post waxing poetic about them way back in 2012. Black Sheep nails it, starting with the absinthe wash that brings the anise to your nose as much as to your tongue. And then the Sipsmith gin, Lillet Blanc, Cointreau, and lemon all do their magic conjoining trick, leading to a sweet-n-sour, Goldilocks approved utter delight. Also crucial--they got some elegant glassware to show off their creations, an essential touch for an elevated cocktail service.

And the cocktails better be elevated to keep up with the fine food coming out of Chefs Jake Reimer and Robert Perez's kitchen. Start, as we did, with the salt-roasted pickled beets, pictured above. You pick up a lick of that salt but then all the good earthiness you expect from the tender beets, although it's all that sauce that sends the dish into the stratosphere. It's an aji, blood orange, and Yuzu kosho citronette, with both a heat kick from the first and last ingredients and then the tang from all of them, all neatly rounded by sweet and salt. We ordered baguette to sop up what was left. That Pt. Reyes blue cheese espuma is something else, too, like whipped cream and blue cheese had a baby, and now you're all for infant munching. (Hmm...metaphor took a dark corner, sorry.) An effortlessly sophisticated, wildly pleasing dish. 

Chryss got to sing the praises of the sea with the local catch--this evening a Channel Islands halibut--served moqueca baiana style, that is a Brazilian fish stew/curry. It's zippy with coconut milk, lime juice, red palm oil, tomatoes, and red bell peppers all reduced and whirred into a smooth sauce. The cucumbers keep things a refreshing cool, sort of yogurtless raita.

We shared a side of fried fingerling potatoes that were a wonder of texture and smokiness--I've got to assume they had a moment directly in some open fire or were buried in embers? Crisp and crackly on the outside, moist and meaty in the middle. Plenty of Maldon salt making it clear why finishing salt's a thing. What set the dish truly apart was the romesco, the Catalan wonder paste that makes everything extra delicious--more red peppers, almonds and maybe hazelnuts pine nuts, etc. Also note the wide-ranging influences that weave through the kitchen. The chefs know their stuff, and will make whatever is certain to please you. (This dish really reminded me of something you'd get at Gjelina down in Venice.)

Last but not least for me was this steak. Sure, ordering the filet mignon can feel like waving your hand high when they ask, "Who lacks a culinary imagination?" But I was celebrating and feeling carnivorous. Even more, it comes bathed in a double-Cognac peppercorn Bordelaise, which is so my jam I wish someone made actual jam from it. (Note to self: start new business.) Some of that sauce even, sloppily, got on some potatoes. It's great to eat messy, you know. If you want a steak that the kitchen nails, you aren't going to do better than this one.

We had no room for dessert. We have a great desire to go back.

Make the Mōst of Your Aperitif Hour with atōst

 

The weather is warming up, it's the first day of spring, and it's time to start having drinks outside (get that fire pit going if you're still chilly). It can be particularly pleasing to enjoy an aperitif pre-dinner, especially with dusk holding off ever longer. What a perfect way to ease into a night, to release the tensions of a day.

Even better, we have a fine new local product to enjoy. Created in Ventura, atōst is a tribute to California agriculture--co-founder Cindy Pressman's grandparents migrated from Mexico to work in CA's citrus fields, and that's where the liquor's flavoring begins, with oranges. (Its alcohol base, and that's not a crazy strong base at 18% ABV--it's built to savor and not slump over--starts from grapes, which is even more Californian.) Then there are strawberries, and other local botanicals they keep a secret, as most such products do. They hand zest, chop, and blend. It's artisanal, y'all. The ultimate result to my palate is a West Coast Aperol, a bit of bitter, but then plenty of unctuous fruit and that good syrupy quality such products can have.

Not surprisingly, they first suggest we enjoy it as a spritz, as one might imagine with an Aperol-ish liquor. Two ounces atōst, 4 ounces sparkling rosé, garnish with orange. Hard to go wrong there, and the bubbles bring the jollity to the party. 

But you know me, I had to make my own cocktail with it. Leaning in to the Alta California feel, I opted for a margarita variation, only to see they offer one to on their recipe page, a Sunset Margarita. Mine's a bit different, though, leaning into my love of smoke, so mezcal, and my good fortune to be able to pick delicious Meyer lemons in my own yard. Plus I thought getting another local-ish product--Camarillo, but coming to Santa Barbara, at least that's the rumor?--Chareau in couldn't hurt. I mean, something that ups the aloe, but also gets in cucumber, lemon peel, a bit of mint, etc.? Sounds good to me (tastes good too, as I'm my own test kitchen). 

Smoke at Sunset (makes one drink)

1 oz. atōst

2 oz. mezcal

1 oz. fresh squeezed Meyer lemon

.25 oz Chareau

lemon peel

Add everything but the peel into a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake well to chill. Strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with lemon peel. Let the world feel better.

A Review of Sameer Pandya's "Our Beautiful Boys"

It’s no coincidence that the two main subjects of Sameer Pandya’s second novel Our Beautiful Boys are family and violence. Set in a vaguely Santa Barbara-ish fictional Chilesworth, CA (Pandya is an associate professor of Asian American Studies at UCSB), the book focuses on three high school football players and a vicious attack of a fourth student at a post-game party in a spot called the Cave House. This sly and captivating book fronts as a whodunit—crucial plot elements keep dropping until the very final pages—but even more so it’s a whoarewe, if I may create a sub-genre, as all its well-limned characters must confront the chaos of their inner selves. And then try to find where their true selves allow them to be in the shifting and complex milieus of family, work, teams, friendships.

Pandya masterfully builds three distinct family units—the Shastris, Gita and Gautum, and their golf-playing son Vikram, suddenly turning his attention to football; the Cruzes, high-powered academic Veronica, her running back son Diego, and her brother, Alex; the generationally privileged Berringers, Shirley, Michael, and their star quarterback son Michael Jr., who goes by MJ. Issues of race and class are clearly obvious from the first pigheaded teenboy taunt, but they go lots deeper than mere name-calling. Indeed, issues of race will grow quite twisted as Veronica’s backstory unspools, and we get to discover why she might be so hesitant to visit her parents. In this way Pandya gets to examine what the limits of self-invention are.

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

Review also posted at the Santa Barbara Independent on March 27, 2025.

WOPN 2025: Old Friends

One of the reasons I love going to World of Pinot Noir is that I've gone to WOPN before. Even better, many people I really like go year after year, or go AWOL for a few and then reappear and it's as thrilling as when the magician brings his missing assistant in a flash back to the stage. I love wine, obviously--just count the thousands of words I've spilled about it in my life. But I love people more. And lord knows, we need community right now. So thanks for all of that, WOPN. 

So what to my wondrous eyes should appear pouring at The Hilt table than Patrick Reynolds. I knew he had been working there for a few years now, but he will always be one of Santa Barbara's best bartenders in my head--even winning a Foodie from the Indy way back when--and he started the Farm-to-Bar Tuesdays at Wildcat/Bobcat with Shaun Belway. A man with impeccable taste and boundless creativity, he's always good for a few fun stories along the way, too. Plus, he was pouring Matt Dees' as ever norm-setting wine from The Hilt. This was winning WOPN bingo. (That got reinforced when the person tasting beside me was Don Schroeder, director of winemaking at Sea Smoke.)

It was a delightful flight of nine wines, so I won't write about them all. But some important lessons: evidently the talk around the water cooler, as Patrick put it, is Radian is Chardonnay, Bentrock is Pinot Noir. (Here's hoping I don't have it introduce you to two of Sta. Rita Hill's wildest, most wonderful vineyards.) Or to put it another way, Bentrock Pinot is a dog--"A wine that hugs you--thanks, I needed that!" while the Radian Pinot is a cat, and says, "No love until I kill you." That's all Reynolds. The festive and fabulous sparkling is hand riddled, so Patrick is happy they don't make more of it (it's at 125 cases now). And then the Estate 2022 Pinot, a blend of all three Hilt vineyards (Puerta Del Mar too) and a bit of Sanford & Benedict whole cluster, well, it's not as singularly distinctive but it is all the yummy, and it costs a lot less. Sign me up.

Even more than wondrous moment above, my orbs might have done the cartoon sproing out of my head when I spied Aaron Watty. The lucky of you might remember him from his days as a server at bouchon, or his very small production but high quality Big Tar Wines. Heck, I even wrote an Indy feature about a dinner he once chefed himself featuring his wines back in 2015. But he hightailed it from these parts for a bit, down at The Rose in Venice Beach. So to see him at the Joyce Wine Company Table was a delight. Turns out Joyce took over the rundown Ventana Winery in Soledad in 2020, and has slowly been restoring it, now with Watty's help as an assistant winemaker. 

The winery has a Joyce label that's all priced at $25 a bottle, "fresh, charming, easy drinking everyday wines," as they put it, from Albariño to Syrah. Then there's the Russell Joyce label, higher end, club member only, and also single vineyard goodies. I got to taste two of these, the 2023 Rusell Joyce Pinot Noir from Pelio Vineyard from the hilltops overlooking Monterey Bay on the Carmel Coast. "It brings the salinity I'm familiar with," Watty points out, comparing it to the fruit he knew from Duvarita Vineyard in Santa Barbara County. It was clean, fresh, bright. The 2023 Russell Joyce PN from Cortada Alta I liked even better, a hearty, very typical Santa Lucia Highlands, deep, dark berry Pinot from the highest elevation in the AVA. Watty told a great story of how Joyce could drive grapes carefully down the precipice-edged hill in perfect a little-to-the-left, a little-to-the-right correction balance, earning Aaron's trust, and paralleling the ways Joyce can finesse his way between tension and harmony with his wines.

Speaking of Aarons, it's always imperative to visit Aaron Walker from Pali Wine Co. at WOPN. (Yes, it seems I only hang out with really tall winemakers, now that I think about it, not that you have a photo of Walker here.) I've known him since he served wine in our house as part of the we need to bring it back again Indy series Make Me Dinner (and the unsaid, And Pour Me Wine) in 2013. My apology to him was he was my last table to visit on Friday, and I only hope I wasn't as blurry as my notes of the tasting are. The two big news item he share were that their Funk Zone tasting room was scheduled for a big remodel and that Pali in general is going focus more on their own Sta. Rita Hills vineyard, planted in 2012 in Gypsy Canyon. That direction bodes well based on my taste of the 2020 PN Pali Vineyard that nails what SRH can do; my notes was, "always what you want from where you want." Each of the 7 different clones used for this estate wine is hand-harvested separately and then fermented and aged individually, so Walker and his team can blend and balance as they see fit. That blend is then barrel-aged for a year-and-a-half in 50% new French oak, 50% neutral. The result is 100% scrumptious. Also notable was Pali's last offering from the renowned Fiddlestix Vineyard, a 2021, that practically vibrated with the tension of acid and fruit.

While Aaron Walker gets to focus on Pali's own fruit, Matt Brady continues SAMsARA's fine project--finding the best Santa Barbara sources and making the best wine possible from each. (Note I didn't get a photo of Matt or his wines, so the above image is from the winery's website--I'm such a writer first, or is that old guy first/last, who didn't grow up with social media--thankgod.) He even flipped the Hilt's water cooler script, pouring captivating 2021 Radian Pinot and 2022 Bentrock Chardonnay. Both exemplified what I've come to think of as SAMsARA's signature--each wine will surprise you with the depth of what it brings. I was going to say a kind of Phil Spector Wall of Sound but: 1) no one members what that means ("River Deep - Mountain High" anyone?), and 2) Spector was a crazy, murderous bastard, so why drag him into it. Brady's wine makes you want to contemplate, not kill, and then sigh in happiness considering their profundity. 

Speaking of profound, it would be hard to calculate all the good Karen Steinwachs has done for our region's wine industry. As you can see, she's not afraid to get her hand's dirty (again, not my photo). She's, and this list isn't exhaustive: a director and chairperson emeritus at WOPN; president of the Women Winemakers & Culinarians Foundation (who just had what looks like a great festival and I missed it all and I'm sad--my schedule is too crazy!); kindly helped staff the Santa Barbara Vintners table all weekend while other members off SBV were off in Korea and Japan, trying to build the SB brand there. She's always good for a few incisive quips but what's better, for making gorgeous wines as Seagrape Wine Co. At the SBV table she was pouring a 2022 Jump Up Pinot from Hibbits Ranch Vineyard. Matt Kettmann--speaking of old friends--wrote this about it in his 95 point Wine Enthusiast write-up: "Lovely aromas of raspberry, mulberry and black plum are decorated in complex waves of thyme and pepper on the nose of this single-vineyard expression from a vineyard just east of Lompoc. The zippy palate is brisk with pomegranate and raspberry flavors that are enlivened by sumac, cinnamon and blood orange touches." Exactly. Karen joked, "It includes all the clones [ten]. And yes, Michael Benedict was involved in its planting."

And yes, Gray Hartley of Hitching Post Wines was involved in WOPN. He and his partner Frank Ostini have been making SB Pinot for 40 years. (Heck, that was the year Mike Wallace grilled some rich New York jagoff about his future political ambitions on 60 Minutes.) Gray, ever with a twinkle in his eye, just loves making people happy with wines, and the occasional bad joke. For example, he told me that when people come up and tell him they knew of his wines before an Academy Award-winning film blew them and the Hitching Post restaurant up, he replies, "That's BS," and waits for their shocked expression before following up, "Before Sideways." While H-P's current releases were spot on, it's also good that at WOPN Hartley likes to open up older vintages to help prove SB Pinot manages just fine. After all, most of us don't cellar stuff away, especially given what real estate costs round these parts--square footage has to go to people sleeping and not wine bottle snoozes. One such pour was a 2001 from Fiddlestix Vineyard that was completely unbricked, fresh and fruit-driven to the point you would never guess it was old enough to drink itself. 

Heck, so is World of Pinot Noir at 25. Long may it pour/roar.

Lodestar Whiskey Launches in Santa Barbara

(photo: Sally Peterson)

Whiskey could sort of use a de-stuffy-cation, no? Images of it harken to Western movies (which nobody makes anymore) and hardboiled writers or actors like Dashiell Hammett and Humphrey Bogart.

Lodestar American Whiskey is here to shake all that up.

To start, the project is led by cousins Anna Axster and Wendelin von Schroder, veterans of the world of music and film. Loving the liquor but not crazy about its marketing, Axster says their hope is “to allude to whiskey’s historical roots, but also make it more modern, more fresh, and not overly gendered.”

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

WOPN 2025: New Finds

Creature of habit that I am, I'm going to discuss the 2025 World of Pinot Noir Grand Tastings, held Friday, February 28 and Saturday, March 1, using the loose rubric I've leaned on the past few years: New Finds and Old Friends. So here's to the new stuff--at least to me. (Most of these wineries have been around for decades, so all apologies for me not knowing y'all before.) One of the new WOPN things was the above photo--fish eggs for everyone! The bubbles room, aka the Bacara's lower level rotunda, offered briny bubbles of delight too on Saturday. I wholeheartedly approve of this addition. Thanks, The Caviar Co., for providing the scrumptious product. Plus I'm proud I not only remembered to snap a photo (this, as ever, is one of my regrets, not getting enough pictures), but this one turned out kind of cool. I credit the caviar for classingy up the joint.

Speaking of classy, one of the volunteers who made sure only those with VIP wristbands got into the VIP lounge tipped me off to the above pour happening at the Ramey table. Wine Spectator has hailed founder David Ramey as "Professor Chardonnay," so the opportunity to taste a 2012, in large format--sign me up. The wine was noted for its soul on its release, and that's even more so now--it made you feel a bit holy drinking it. Honeyed notes of Meyer lemon, a suggestion of ginger, saline, minerality, such depth. Platt Vineyard is a mere four miles from the Pacific--you look down onto Bodega Bay and can spy the schoolhouse famous from Hitchcock's The Birds. Even better, starlings take over the vineyard to the point the prized grapes grow under nettings. Alas, Platt recently got bought by AXA Millésimes, a French interest that also owns Bordeaux's Château Pichon Baron, Domaine de l'Arlot in Burgundy, and Portugal's Quinta do Noval, so yep, they only play with the best. And will keep that best all to themselves. Merde. But in the meantime, there was this as a testament. Also worth noting, the 2022 Estate Pinot Ramey poured, the first vintage from their own vineyard, Westside Farms, was also a winner, a refined, coastal version of the varietal with a gorgeous perfume leaning into roses all into your noses (so much for the joint getting classed up, sorry).

Now that we're done with putting on airs, let's go to the Wine Australia table. This transition isn't as mean as it seems--we're going to get to some unfortunate folks exiled from England to Oz in a bit. I tasted a dozen wine at the table, not even close to all the ones they were pouring, but here are a few highlights. Fowles' wins a prize simply for having a wine called Ladies Who Shoot Their Lunch. From the Strathbogie Ranges in Victoria, the pourer told a complicated story about why the wine is labeled Wild Ferment--the youngest children doing foot-stomping was at the heart of it. I swear I'm not making any of this up. It's a good representative of the lighter style of Pinot coming from Australia, where things are a bit cooler, of course. (And nothing like the brawny Shirazes one might know from the Barossa.) 

Indeed, what intrigued me the most at the table were wines from Tasmania. The rep joked, "South from Tasmania you've got nothing until Antartica, well, except for some insignificant island down there, I think they call it New Zealand." (Good ANZUS burn!) Everything here is cool climate, and the mountains up the center of Tasmania create a rain shadow effect for the eastern part of the island. So you can get a Pinot like the 2022 from Handpicked in the Tamar Valley, lithe and lovely, rhubarb and strawberry, a hint of white pepper. Or one that was even bigger, the Tolpuddle 2023. I can't beat what reviewer Andrew Caillard enthusiastically wrote: "Lovely pure dark cherry, Negroni, herb garden, star anise aromas with hints of marzipan. Sweet supple dark cherry pastille, strawberry fruits, loose knit lacy/al dente textures, lovely mid palate volume and underlying marzipan roasted chestnut/herb garden notes." BTW, this winery/vineyard is named after the Tolpuddle Martyrs, early unionist who got banished from England for their labor-loving efforts. (How this group didn't get name-checked by the Mekons in "The Olde Trip to Jerusalem" I don't know.) 

And then, it turns out, those long, slow growing conditions also make for a great location for sparkling. Of the few I sampled, I particularly loved the 2011 Brut from Henskens Rankin (a name that sounds like they made Saturday morning cartoons, no?), who, on the back of their bottles write, "We make our wine on an island, a rock at the end of the world." Seventy percent Chardonnay, 30% Pinot, that Pinot gives it a bit more heft and length. It sat six years on lees, and you can tell. So much bready goodness, creaminess, and richness of fruit. Not cheap, over $100 in the U.S., but worth it for a splurge.

Almost as unusual as Tasmania for a spot for great Pinot, Paso Robles. So that photo (from his IG feed and not at the Bacara, of course) is John Lemstra from Jack Creek Cellars. I got to dominate my time at his table because, he sadly only half-joked, "People see we're from Paso and just keep walking." They don't know what they're missing. Lemstra and his family brought the property in 2017, but its first vintage was 2002. Every wine is estate. And there's quite a lineup--a sparkling, Chardonnays, a rosé, Grenache, Syrah, even a crisp and quenching white Pinot Noir Lemstra decided to make after tasting one from Oregon at a previous WOPN. (See the influence this event has?) As for the Pinots, of which they are several, too--they make a small amount of a lot of wines--the Paso heat, even in Templeton, is enough to give them lots of fruit and less of a mushroom character. What's more, almost all bottling consist of solely clone 943, a Dijon clone of which there is little in the U.S., due to its small berries and low yields. So Lemstra surely loves a challenge. His Pinot fights against the natural soft and floral quality of the clone, creating fascinating tension. That's experienced nowhere better than in their top-of-the-line Exodus, named since they "escaped" a previous life in the dairy farming business. Aged in 50% new French oak and in barrel for 15 months, the tannins you might expect get fully rounded by the fruit's natural plushness. A lovely big wine. If you don't know Jack (Creek), you should.

Here's another IG photo steal (note to self: take more photos next year!), of Sheree and Brian Thornsberry (and bonus dog, always a plus) of Innumero Wines in Sonoma. I met Brian over canapés at the Thursday Opening Night party, so was sure to track his table down and did not regret sampling his single vineyard, single clone wines. Innumero (from the Latin meaning beyond numbers--sounds like the best wine experiences to me) sources from topnotch Sonoma vineyards. So you can delight in a picture perfect representation of Green Valley Chardonnay like the 2023 Bootlegger's Hill Vineyard bottling that earned them a double gold medal from the SF Chronicle Wine Competition. Their tasting description nails it: "Aromas of honeyed white peach, tarte tatin, honeysuckle, toasted hazelnuts, lemon curd and lemon zest. The palate is so beautiful and round with bright acidity and notes of lemon curd and satsuma orange zest all the way through." Was also taken by the 2022 Little Boot Pinot Noir. Small yields led this Russian River Valley beauty to be a bit more concentrated, but still well-balanced. Yum. Innumero is also taking it slow, currently producing 1000 cases they hope to grow to 1500. All DTC, Brian insisted they prefer to operate from a sales deficit model. So if you want some, go get on that list. 

Keeping up in Sonoma, I thoroughly enjoyed the wines at Papapietro-Perry. Two couples started making wine in their basements in 1998 and after some help from legend Burt Williams of Williams Selyem along the way, they've ended up making truly distinctive, of-their-terroir Pinots. I was particularly taken with their 2022 Pommard Clones PN that comes from Bucher Vineyards, and Peters Vineyard the Leras Family Vineyards (they bottle Pinots from both of the last two, too). My note reads, "I can't get my nose into the glass enough," that's how entranced I was by the bouquet, the usual Pinot dark cherry, but so much more--plum compote, baking spice, wild flowers. It's as rich and rewarding on the palate, adding rhubarb and black tea and more. Ridiculously robust yet it only clocks at 13.7% ABV. Impressive, unique juice.

OK, you probably came to George Eats for at most a 750 ml taste of WOPN and I've plunked a Rehoboam of words upon you. I guess Pinot is just a muse to me. I do want to offer a few more New Find quick hits, , listed in alpha-order, though:

CRŪ Winery: This Central Coast winery that crafts wine from Santa Maria Valley to the Santa Cruz Mountains poured their first vintage of a stunning 2021 Regan Vineyard PN. It's the vineyard where their winemaker Jose Reyes began, and he clearly has an affinity for it. Plenty of big fruit, but also a dreamy undercurrent of herbs and spice and earth.

Nysa Vineyard: Nysa is where Dionysius was raised, so good name, Dundee Hills, OR folks! Until 2004 they sold their fruit to the likes of Tori Mor and Ancien, but now do their own sophisticated wines--my note cryptically claims, "It makes me feel smarter!" I particularly enjoyed the 2017 Leda's Reserve PN. 

Résonance: Simply put, Maison Louis Jadot in America, specifically Willamette Valley, OR. Sourcing grapes from their own estate vineyards, Résonance and Découverte, and others, their 2022 Willamette Valley PN seemed a bit less Oregon-typical (less earthy-mushroomy), but tasted blind I might pick it as a fine Sta. Rita Hills Pinot, and that's high praise from this homeboy.

Coming up next, Old Friends--WOPN 25.

Burger Week 2025: Third Window and Finch & Fork

 

Once again I had the honor to be an eater/writer for the Indy's Burger Week, and what burgers they are. Third Window! Finch & Fork! Read the whole story and get eating for 10 bucks a burger. And one thing I didn't have space to include--this Third Window burger is a preview of one they will be selling in Carp when the Linden Square project opens.

The County’s Finest One-Off Food Night | Clean Slate’s Just 8

(Photo: Wine Club Marketing Inc.)

No one who has attended a Just 8 Supper Club at Solvang’s Clean Slate Wine Bar would ever, ever say that they just ate. For these exclusive evenings — generally occurring once a month, and plan ahead, as they fill up quickly — offer a kitchen firing at the peak of its creativity, providing an eight-course feast. What’s more, alongside each course are wines, two curated pours per course, from the primo cellar of Matt Kettmann, my colleague here at the Independent and a Wine Enthusiast reviewer. (He warns early in the evening, an army of bottles in front of him, “That’s your job to pace yourself!”) Everyone sits along the bar at the otherwise-closed-for-the-night Clean Slate, melding into one sated, happy food family by evening’s end.

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

Little Dom's Gets Its Fat Tuesday On

You've still got time tonight to get down there, so I wanted to post this quick. As you do want get there. Little Dom's Seafood in Carpinteria is throwing a Mardi Gras Feast that started Sunday and runs through tonight, Fat Tuesday itself. Little Dom's menu already nods a lot to New Orleans, as that's where chef Brandon Boudet was raised. (Just consider his last name and you know he's legit.) On any given night you might order up a chilled Creole boiled shrimp or a bowl of seafood gumbo (that's all pescatarian, down to its stock). 

But for these few truly special days, you get a bunch more options, all provided in slightly smaller portions so you can eat widely without becoming too wide yourself. You definitely want to accelerate into the evening with a classic Sazerac, that absinthe rinse tickling your nose first, but then the sweetened rye, Peychaud's bitters, and squeeze of lemon blend and please. It transports you right to the Big Easy (after all, it's the city that holds Tales of the Cocktail every year).

While personally nothing can ever top sucking down BBQ oysters at Hog Island Oysters right alongside the Tomales Bay from which they were harvested, the ones offered by Little Dom's are a close second. Piping hot hitting the table, they carry just enough of the grill's smoky flavor but not so much to dominate. And then they bathe in luxurious liquor: not just butter but perfectly parceled out amounts of lemon juice, garlic, and Parmesan, and then a double hit of slow-growth warmth--paprika and hot sauce. The balance is beguiling, and you will drink every last drop and be sad for any drip that is left on the paper basket they show up at the table inside.

Clockwise in this photo from top left is a mug of chicken and andouille gumbo, a fried oyster mushroom po' boy, and crawfish Monica. (Note, these dishes, plus the oysters, three for both of us, and the two desserts was a perfectly filling dinner, even at smaller portions than the regular menu.) That gumbo was powered by a roux darker than an evil man's soul (I'm not going to name any names, plus then the metaphor gets too unappealing). You spelunk into the depths of its flavor. The chicken thigh meat is tender and pulled into tasty bits and then the andouille offers its spicy porkiness. It took me halfway through to find the little ball of rice hiding in the darkness. The po' boy's vegan, btw, right down to its lively aioli. The crispy, crunchy fry on the mushrooms subs perfectly for any meatiness even the most devoted carnivore might hope for. Even the roll was what you wanted--firm, tasty, willing to be a brilliant supporting, uh, roll (think the M. Emmet Walsh of breads). Then the Monica pasta was new to me, if hailed as a classic (Chef Pierre Hilzim named it after his wife). Evidently Monica is a bit creamy with a kick, and then there's plenty of crawfish tails for that great shrimp-and-lobster-had-a-delicious-baby taste. As a pasta dish, it's not too heavy, either. Yep, with cream. Promise.

Dessert closed with classics. The beignets, like the oysters, hit the table hot, not just warm. (So yes, things are cooked to order.) Plentifully powdered, they somehow didn't do the typical beignet blow up all its sugary dust trick, either. Piquant raspberry sauce added a lovely fruity note, and somehow we didn't do shots with what was left after the beignets were gone. King Cake of course is the essential culmination cake of carnival season. Cinnamon swirl spices the open-aired dough, and then there's plenty of colored sugar festively sprinkled atop. There's a chance you might find a plastic baby Jesu in your piece (your server will even warn you), but ours was untouched by infant holiness. Here's hoping we have luck and prosperity for the next year anyway. (Brief sigh for the mess our world is currently in.)

Overall, the Mardi Gras Feast at Little Dom's proved the homey and warm spot is firing on al cylinders. Staff was attentive, polite, funny, not too intrusive but there when you needed them. The booths in the barroom that replaced Sly's (and, yes, heavy sigh for Sly's too) hightops are inviting and classic, especially with their marble tabletops. It's a place where one instantly wants to hang. Just ask the Mardi Gras beads dangling from one wall's mounted marlin.