Fun and Deliciousness in The Golden State

      I'm back! Didja miss me? My husband certainly did--I can tell because when I got home there was no food left in the joint except for eggs and instant ramen (breakfast of champions!). My cat missed me, too. She made this abundantly clear by looking at me like she didn't give a rodent's posterior, and then sleeping on my feet all night and purring every time I tried to move.
      My trip to California was everything I could have wanted. There was awesome time with my brother, a crazy awesome pirate wedding experience, warm (and non-muggy) weather, wine tasting, and basking in the splendor of the Pacific Ocean. I don't know why human beings are fixated on water, but we are. Maybe its because the human fetus develops in water for nine months? Maybe it's because living near water gave us a clear survival edge as we evolved as a species? Maybe because it's just friggin' neat? But I've never met a single person who said: "Go to the beach/river/lake? Eh--I could take it or leave it." People LOVE bodies of water. And if you, like me, grew up within spitting distance of three lakes, dozens of brooks, a river, and a finger of the Pacific Ocean, then you understand when I tell you that being land-locked in the middle of the continent sucks.
      Visiting California is a nice remedy for that situation.

      The Pirate Wedding was everything one could hope for. There were brilliant costumes, a perfect venue, swashbuckling adventure involving duels on the deck, and plenty of rum drinks at the reception. I wish I could give you more details and share more pictures, but I'm an adamant believer in not posting images of people on the interwebs without their express permission. So to protect the innocent (not that rum drinks leave much innocence in their wake) I will content myself with the venue...
There she is, the Star of India!

...and plenty of rum drinks:
The one on the left is a MaiTai. The one on the right was something the bartender made up, which became increasingly mixed in color as the evening progressed, until it was unpleasant to behold, but fruity and marvelous to drink! We named it a "Bilge Water," because that's what it looked like, and nobody will ever be able to recreate it.
      There was plenty of "scope for the imagination in my trip. Clearly being aboard the Star of India was enough to make me want to bust out some Patrick O'Brian, but it seemed everywhere I turned there were stories waiting to unfold. Every bunch of grapes in the vineyards was sunlight turned to sweetness, just waiting to become a bottle of possibilities. A holiday dinner? A cheese plate between old friends? A last-minute birthday gift? A date night that ends badly? An anniversary date that ends well? Grape vines themselves are knotty, twisty, and full of attitude, like some wizened elf who knows a thing or two but is also wise enough never to give advice because nobody ever listens.
      But perhaps one of my favorite chapters of my trip was a discovery by the side of the road.


      My brother and I were heading down the Cabrillo Highway from Half Moon Bay (great little town) and just loving the coast. The trees there are perpetually bent and twisted by the wind: they look as though there were exuberant dancers who must freeze their pose with the rising of the sun, bole and limbs akimbo in the salty air. The highway passes through dozens of microclimates full of mingling mist and sunshine. Lighthouses and stretches of beach whisper, "Get out of your car and stay. Stay forever--you'll never regret it!" And there are also farms here, right up the cliff drop-offs into the water. Interested in trying some of gleanings from these fields, we pulled over at the SLOWCOAST air stream shop, and were duly rewarded for being adventurous. 

      Anybody who says northern California is peppered with hippies is a) absolutely right, and b) probably jealous that they aren't one of them. This little shop was a testimony to the deliciousness made by people who know how to grow, how to prep, and how to share their goods. Since we were thirsty, my first stop was a jug of strawberry lemonade in the cooler, $1 per glass to be paid at the honor till. And Oh. My. God. I've never - in my life - had such good strawberry lemonade! It tasted like STRAWBERRIES! In LEMONADE!!! It was fresh and not too sweet and not too thick and absolutely perfect. If I were on death row, and they asked me what I wanted for my last beverage (because with budget cuts they can't do a full meal anymore, apparently), I would say, "Get me some SLOWCOAST strawberry lemonade." And I would perish without regret.
See in the lower left hand corner? Yeah, that's happiness in a perfect shade of strawberry pink, my friend.
      Then my brother suggested I try one of the boysenberry truffles. Never one to pass up a chocolate, I pulled another dollar bill out of my wallet for the honor till, and helped myself. Holy Great Pacific Ocean, that was splendid! I've eaten a lot of good chocolate in my day - Fran's and Theo's both come from my home turf, and I offer patronage to nearly every independent chocolatier I encounter on my travels - but this was the best. I say that straight-faced and with no hint of exaggeration: this was the best. That boysenberry truffle was the best chocolate truffle I've ever eaten. Period. It's done, it's over, I shall neither seek nor expect a better boysenberry truffle in my life, and I'm Ok with that. How many people can say they've eaten the perfect boysenberry truffle? I can. Jealous? I bet you are. Go to California, and you can eat one, too.
Right above this guy's head--see them? Now buy one. Drop what you're doing, go to northern California, and buy one. I'll wait. You can thank me later.

      I also bought a lovely little herbed round of goat cheese, which was (not surprising) some of the best chevre I've ever eaten. A lot of times goat cheese is heavy and/or salty, but this wasn't; it was light and creamy and distinctly flavorful without being all like, "I'm from a GOAT!" It went nicely on toasted bread with heirloom tomato slices.
      While I was in California, I also did a fair bit of writing. My current novel project takes place in San Francisco in the mid 19th century, so I spent a lot of time looking at the landscape and trying to imagine what it would be like to ride a horse over it. My conclusion? Hot, dusty, and probably rather smelly. And no strawberry lemonade to quench your thirst--tragic! I wish I could stay longer. I have a feeling I could get a lot of good writing done...at least, I would if I could put down my fork long enough...which is somewhat doubtful.

P.S. - now that I'm home I finally have the pictures of the tart up on my last post, I hope they're helpful!

3 comments:

  1. I'm so glad you had such a great time! The Star of India is supposed to be a very haunted ship and there have been investigations. I love that your experience was notably ghost-less. Mmmmm chocolate....

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    1. Really haunted? Maybe the faint nausea I was experiencing wasn't from the rocking, but from the restless spirits...! Do they do night-time ghost tours on the ship? That would be AWESOME!

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  2. There must be a ghost tour in San Diego that includes it, but I know that amateur and professional (Ghost Hunters aka TAPS) has gotten permission to investigate the ship during a night. I'd still chalk up the nausea to the rocking :)

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