Tripping with George & Chryss--A Bit Closer to a Half (Santa Rosa, Laytonville, Eureka)

One of the trickiest parts of running a half marathon--assuming you've put yourself through the training, which isn't tricky as much as grueling--is figuring out how to eat the day prior. What complicates that for us is we like to do destination races, so we're often in vacation mode the day prior. And, at least for me (go look at the name of the blog again), vacation mode means celebrating with the food and drink of the region.

Needless to say, you don't want to run 13.1 miles the day after a celebration. So, you have to pick wisely, and I usually don't have any alcohol the day before a run (sometimes the week before a run if I'm feeling particularly noble or in need of any edge possible).

Luckily that doesn't rule out a good latte and some scrumptious baked goods for breakfast. So we took out the Yelp machine and hunted for delicious in Santa Rosa, and managed to find the town's artsy district as a bonus. Somehow we weren't smart enough to take our own photos, so the one above is one of theirs, but it seems fitting to pinch a picture from Criminal Baking Co. & Noshery. It's tiny, but its display case will make you mighty desirous, and fretfully indecisive. You'll want a scone, a muffin, a savory pie, a piece of pie. Then there's actual breakfast sandwiches that other tables seemed perfectly pleased with. I somehow focused on the bacon, apple, cheddar scone, all those flavors an equilateral triangle of balance, and the scone itself manna from heaven. Chryss had a savory pie, chard and goat cheese. Noble sounding can still be delicious you know.

The couple of blocks about Criminal featured more coffee, studios, graffiti/art--all the kinds of things you might not imagine in a town most famous for its longtime artist Charles Schulz. But the vibrancy in this area was more than peanuts, let me tell you. (I'll show myself the door.)

Or, we showed ourselves the car and drove north. Walked about a bit in Hopland, and were distressed to see the old Mendocino Brewing Company spot empty and for rent, plus, of course, I instantly wanted to open a brewpub.

Kept heading up the 101 to our destiny with doom, I mean the race the next day. But we got hungry, of course, so ended up at Big Chief in Laytonville. If you think you're pulling in at a laundromat, you've found the place. Of all things, this spot, which seems from the outside to be a typical greasy spoon roadside diner, serves Cajun food (if Yelp can be trusted--hey, no snickering--the owner is from Louisiana). So we ordered a shrimp po'boy and a mushroom po'boy and each had half. Tasty, if not terrific, but such a surprising find. And I'm not going to talk about their self-billed Draft Punk taps--we're talking beers I haven't seen in Santa Barbara (like stuff from Bagby in San Diego!). Cause I wasn't drinking. Running long distances hurts.

The Avenue of the Giants is the term for the 31-mile portion of the old 101 that snakes alongside the new, multi-lane 101, because logging trucks! It's about an hour south of Eureka, where we chose to stay for Saturday and Sunday, since not much is in-between the two and we didn't have enough time to build a treehouse. Yeah, there's camping, but me and camping are a long story (or maybe a short story: I came from an indoor family), and it's better to wake up in a bed and then go run 13.1 miles, than wake up on the ground and try to do a long run thinking there's still a rock lodged in your erector spinae (that's what the kids are calling back muscles these days).

We stopped in to grab our numbers at the race packet-pickup and to figure out exactly where we had to be Sunday morning. Turns out even the felled redwood by the visitors' center knew we were coming:

And if you were wondering, "up" is "way" in this neck of the woods:

But the good news is we knew it wasn't going to be too hot running the race, since the sun generally can't quite makes its way to you. OK, enough wise-cracking, the redwoods are the kind of place where words don't suffice, photos don't suffice, even your memory assumes it's failing, for it assumes what you want to think you saw can't be that sublime.

We continued on to Eureka and checked in to our AirBnB, right in the historic area in a historic building...that meant we had to walk up to our third floor room. We're talking rooms with 12 foot ceilings, btw, so a floor up is a hike. So much good last day training! And then we got to be so happy during the race, not having to hoist our suitcases too. It turns out it's some special art on the town kind of night (every town does these now, don't they?), so we wander a bit for that, and Eureka kind of rhymes with quirky for a reason--there's a nifty novelty store (I was a 70s mall child and miss Spencer's), vintage clothing stores for when women were half Chryss's size (really, I mean, women weren't 5'10.5" once upon a time), quaint people tabling for Delaine Eastin for Governor, and the cool Eureka Books, which has a huge display of Amy Stewart titles because she and her husband own the place. (So that brewpub we own will have to be a bookstore too.)

For dinner we chose Oberon Grill as it was near, cute, and offered us something relatively simple and direct, so we both ordered the same thing (we never do this, that's how weird the night before a race is). What you see is a pleasantly grilled filet of steelhead (it's Humboldt County, seemed like a good local call), lapped in a chipotle sauce with a bit of zip but more smokiness (again, anything too spicy will hurt you running morning, no pun intended), and some spinach and mashed potatoes for the traditional carb packing part of a meal.

No wine, no beer, no cocktail. Their bar was pretty though.

Let Those Without Tickets Start the First Whine

I've been writing about the Santa Barbara Wine + Food Festival for 11 years, which sounds like a long time, but that only means I've been covering it for slightly more than a third of its history. A mainstay, and fundraiser for the education programs, of the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History, the SBW+FF has been around so long it even was not at the museum for a couple of years--think of that period as the Avignon Papacy of the festival (yum, Rhone wines!).

Fortunately for the event, and even more so for us, it's been in the incredibly capable hands of organizer Meridith Moore for the last many years, somehow ever out-doing itself. It obviously has a headstart with its setting, the oak groves behind the museum on Mission Creek. You get to feel like a sylvan wood nymph as you enjoy tastes from 50 fine wineries, mostly from SB County, with well-curated space found for a few makers from further north like Toucan and Tablas Creek. Even better, since so many of the region's founding winemakers have been part since the beginning, they've got a sense of loyalty to the event--once it was the only tasting of its type in town (can you imagine? it seems like there's a festival every other weekend anymore). So that Longoria might likely be poured by Rick Longoria, that Alma Rosa by Richard Sanford, that Ken Brown by, oh, you get it by now. It's not one of those, "I'm just a volunteer--I know nothing about wine, let along this wine. I'm just waiting for my pouring shift to end so I can get looped," kind of festivals.

As for that loopiness, if that happens you can only blame yourself, for few such events offer so much food, wait, make that ridiculously delicious food. If I counted correctly there's almost 40 food purveyors (and 50 wineries), and somehow Meridith just keeps adding the hottest spots in the region each year--new adds for 2018 include Blue Water Grill, Goa Taco, and The Little Door. And anyone who went in 2017 has to wonder what Bear and Star will do to outdo itself from last year. From Barbareno to Via Maestra 42, it's a culinary delight; that's why they added Food to the name last year.

I'm not going to praise the event too much, though, as I left the bad news for last...while it happens Saturday, June 30, 2-5 pm, it sold out yesterday. So if you don't have tickets, you're not going to be there. You see, they limit the number, too, to keep it at a buzzy happy size and not a "I hope I get to the front of 5 wine lines this hour" size. It's that good.

Here's a bunch of other times I've written about this, if you need to read up:

Natural History Never Tasted This Good

Away from State Street for Solstice

A Festival from the Winery's Perspective

Under the Oaks

A Museum-Quality Wine Festival

As Good As It Gets

 Jesus.

Just had to get that out of my system. Since Friday night I'm pretty sure I had one of the meals of my life. While on any given night The Bear and Star is providing what it aptly bills "refined ranch cuisine," Chef John Cox and his team (and team is important here, you'll see) want to get to show off too, to spend some more time on the refined end of the spectrum. Hence the kick-off of Friday Night Chef's Tasting Menus, served for no more than 12 folks in the Chef's Room, the one that looks right into the kitchen and is a cross between a library and a mad scientist's lair--what's more fun than that?

Maybe the soft-shell crab up there in photo one. I fell in love with soft shell crab back in my Baltimore days, but generally it was yummy barfood, something surprisingly delightful in a sandwich. This presentation, however, was something else, starting with its texture, where it seemed just the coating was the crunch, not even a hint of shell. Its crabiness played off the silky sweet corn puree it sat on, and then there's chorizo aoioli--no, not pork-laced but all the spices they use to make their chorizo instead. The greens, billed a pea shoot salad, was the ultimate spring slaw.
(Oh, there was a new prototype oyster from Morro Bay to kick off, but my photo didn't happen. It's delight did, though.)

Here's a dish called Spring Strawberries, not that all the courses didn't sing of spring. Atop the rich goat cheese smear sat the berries, and an intense berry compote spiked with jalapeno, and some pickled green strawberries, and then some strawberry "glass." So much flavor and texture. Adding to the spice was the fiercely peppery wild watercress. Oh, and cacao nibs, little bitter crunches hiding. This dish was the brainchild of one of the younger members of the kitchen, trying to build his muscles so he can be a sous chef soon. Based on this dish, he's well on his way.

Ah, and the wine pairings. I've already, for no good reason beyond hoping to keep this paean under 1000 words, left out the greeting wine, the Fesstivity Brut Rose (a fine oyster match) and the 2015 Tatomer Riesling (Graham just rocks it), but for the strawberries they found a truly odd wine, 2017 Harrington Mission, Somers Vineyard. Lodi isn't just for box wines anymore, you know, and this dusty red, partially fermented carbonically, made the berries even berrier, somehow Inspired.

This was called, simply, Baby Fava Beans, but while the youngest ones they served whole, there are more mature favas pureed (one of those "essence of" kind of purees), and then some of the young fava greens, too (why have chefs been holding out on how good fava greens can be?). Some shaved managlista gunciale didn't hurt if you were a meat eater, and Chef Cox wistfully remarked, "It's not from the farm...yet." The quail eggs were, though, although I'm pretty sure they don't come out gilded. (A gorgeous touch that made something so straightforward slyly decadent.) As for the wine pairing, it was the light on its toes 2012 Domaine Rolet Arbois from the Jura, just your usual 40% Poulsard, 30% Trousseau, 30% Pinot Noir blend.

While this dish is billed Morel Mushrooms, I want to rename it best grilled cheese with fancy stuff on the side. Because, despite morels having "more" in them because that's what you say when you eat them, what engaged me most in this bowl was the Midnight Moon fondue someone dreamed up that you got to scoop up with some brioche perfectly tan and toasted and seeming to have just come off a butter IV drip. The greens were vivid garlic scapes and Vidalia onion scapes and flowering asparagus, again, so much spring. This time the wine pairing went to Spain for a 2015 Pardas Sus Scrofa, a bit rustic like the boar on its label, but full of mushroomy umami, so a pairing win for the Sumoll (that's the grape, it's almost extinct, I didn't know it either).

While I guess there has to be a meat course, everything up to now hit so many great notes there didn't have to be one. (And they even switched out a pescatarian dish on the fly for Chryss in the course of the evening, so mad service props, too. Somehow they managed to make what could be a very formal event really welcoming, with lots of informative chat about the food and wine and just the proper kinds of formality--like plating the table of 12 at once for each course.)

Meanwhile as to that Parker Ranch lamb--one of the 20 ingredients that came from the ranch, btw--Chef Cox talked about how he liked how beefy it was, and he was right, even to the chew. They also came up with a brilliant caramelized buttermilk "crumble" to coat the loin with, a winning texture-flavor combo for the hearty meat. That's a smoked sunchoke puree holding in the little reservoir of jacked up lamb jus, and some salvia marinated cherries (spring spring spring). The pair was a 2015 Villa Creek Avenger, kindly decanted as their tannic and hearty wines tend to need air or age. As the evening's somm Allison put it, "It just gives you a hug."

And then dessert as art project, Whipped Cheesecake. Smart move, as the whipping makes it much lighter than a typical cheesecake, of course, especially with some anise hyssop meringue providing yet more lift. There was a pistachio crumb for those really hankering for hints of crust, and then rhubarb in silky curls, raspberries in jellied dots. The pairing again delighted, a 2006 Domaine des Baumard, Quarts de Chaume, kind of the Loire Valley's answer to Sauterne (it's made from, not surprisingly, Chenin Blanc). Its apricots and floral notes liked the "cake" as much as I did.

So, if you're looking for something special, look Los Olivos way. Chef Cox and his team are calling.

Tripping with George & Chryss--Off to a Half (Los Alamos, Salinas, Santa Rosa)

So there's a rule in our house for when we head north--we have to make it a certainty to be in Los Alamos for breakfast or lunch. If you don't know why, that means you've never been to Bob's Well Bread, and I pity you. I've waxed eloquent about this ridiculously good spot before in the Indy, as we gave Bob's a Foodie back in 2016 and I wrote: "Whatever’s in the soil that’s made Los Alamos our county’s hottest foodie mecca has its mother lode under the 1920s gas station Bob and Jane Oswaks turned into this inviting breakfast and lunch oasis in wine country. Killer croissant ​— ​you got it. Scrumptious scone ​— ​no problem. Egg-in-a-jar ​— ​poached perfection."

Given we were on our way up, up, up the state so we could run in the Avenue of the Giants Half Marathon a few weeks back, we had to hit Bob's, just in time for brunch. Chryss had to have the avocado toast, pictured above, as avocado is a perfect food and Bob's makes it perfecter. After all, anything with bread here has a leg up on any other slightly-sandwichy thing, but they also must test their proportions endlessly, for they always achieve a nirvana-like balance. And pepitas, of course, how better to give it all a tasty crunch.

I've been into ordering whatever the special is, as I take them at their word. This visit it was a torta al pastor, and here's hoping a picture is worth a thousand drools.

I particularly admire how whatever meat a sandwich features is always juicy and tender--they can even do that with a chicken sandwich. So with pork, no problem, especially with the grilled pineapple and avocado and sauce. And then the bolillo, both hearty and soft at once, a miracle of texture.

At some point I need to write a separate ode to Bob's Morning Roll, but just get one. It's like a croissant and a churro had a baby, but the croissant was Amal Clooney and the churro George Clooney. That gorgeously delicious.

Sure, this didn't stop us from visiting our favorite, and not just because it's our only, place to eat in Salinas, El Charrito. Since I last wrote about it in a 2012 post, they've removed the market part, so it's all food and a big spot for waiting on the very quick line. But it's hard to beat their tortillas, so whatever you put in them, whether just beans and rice for Chryss or chile verde for me, sings. While you eat it in your car--still no seating. Good thing they are smaller than the football-sized burritos popular in so many SB spots.

Obligatory Golden Gate Bridge shot.

Given Eureka is a light year away from Santa Barbara--my, what a big state you have!--we spent the night in Santa Rosa. And who knew this place was there?

OK, I sure knew, so that's why we got an AirBnB a mile's walk away. Laid back and hopping, outside of trends yet followed by everyone who loves beer, Russian River Brewing is sui generis, and it's either very sad it's so far away, or a very good thing (George's liver waves hello, gets back to work). It's been a few years, so the  board had some new names; like everyone else Russian River is doing session beers, and Chryss liked the unfortunately named Dribble Belt so much she ordered it twice. (OK, it refers to part of a hop picking machine, but sounds so much more saliva-soaked.) How they get so much hop power into a beer that's just 4.5% ABV, I don't know. Speaking of trends, I had to order their hazy, CFJ-90, which delights, and then an IPA that I'd never heard of, Tempo Change (sort of a bridge beer between the NEIPA and the next...), and, of course, finished with a Pliny the Elder, because as they say, when in Rome, order the beer named after an actual Roman. It still is the ur-double IPA, the heavy hopping matching just enough malt that it just sings in harmony.

They do yummy pizzas, too, because beer bar. We had a Nu Deal that comes with pesto, mozzarella, spinach, caramelized onions and mushrooms--veggie with just enough going on to make it super-tasty.

Finney’s Curates Craft on Lower State

While Finney’s Crafthouse & Kitchen — which opened in the Hotel Californian complex on April 9 — offers the slogan “Craft beer spoken here,” it nearly needed something closer to “All about béarnaise.” 

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

Frankland’s Crab Crawls into Montecito

Why let words get in the way when you just want to make great-tasting food? That explains why what might be labeled a lobster roll somewhere else is “just” a buttered Maine lobster sandwich at the new Frankland’s Crab & Co., recently opened in the old bar space at the Montecito Inn.

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

Libation-Inspired Poetry @ The Good Lion

Liquor inspires countless creative endeavors, from brilliant to foolish, and it’s caused many a writer to pour their hearts into poetry as well.

As part of National Poetry Month 2018, Santa Barbara’s finest wordsmiths will share their booze-backed verse for the fourth year in row at The Good Lion (1212 State St.; goodlioncocktails.com) on Wednesday, April 25, 6:30-7:30 p.m. The free affair is called Spirits in the Air: Poetry and the Liquid Muse, and The Good Lion’s mostly mustached bartenders will be mixing up literary-themed cocktails to pair with the pentameters.

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