Diving for Scallops on The Channel Islands

Fresh Scallops from The Channel Islands

Mike Skurko

The Channel Islands. I’d been thinking about diving here for years, but just never got around to it. After picking up a book called ‘50 Places to Dive Before You Die,’ I found there was only one dive site in California they recommended and that was The Channel Islands. The book mentions everything from ice diving in Antarctica to cave diving the sonotes of Mexico. From the Maldives to Wakatobi in Indonesia… Yep. Yet only one site in California? I find this amazing and I find this somewhat hard to believe after all the diving I’ve done in San Diego, Monterey and in the kelp beds of the Sonoma coast hunting for abalone and sea urchin… So, Wallin’s Dive shop is arranging a trip out there and I am quickly locked in for a three-night live a board on The Truth, based out of Santa Barbara. Perfect. Now, a bit of research…. They have lobster. They have scallops. Oh, this is going to be excellent! Typically dive boats take me to marine preserves. Beautiful, but you can’t gather anything for dinner. Tragic. I see all kinds of tasty things out there while diving amidst many of my favorite (and unwilling) participants in the Tsukiji Fish Market of Tokyo. All of my years of diving for abalone I have often thought about scallops. Nothing quite as exciting for me than rolling into an excellent restaurant and seeing scallops listed as the specials of the day. Day boat scallops. Diver scallops… Nice. Perfectly pan-fried in butter at Blackbird in Chicago… Memories of Hayashi Tempura of Tokyo and the freshly shucked live scallop held by Saito-san before he smacks it and presents the incredibly fresh scallop, alive and moving in his hand moments before dipping it in batter and then quickly into the oil before it’s served moments later. The best scallop memory of late…
I am thinking of this while loading my dive gear on to The Truth. Will there be scallops? Can I realistically grab some lobster as well? I’ve been told grabbing lobster is not easy. It also requites a separate fee and some additional gear. I opt out and purchase a simple “ocean enhancement” tag, aka the scallop stamp so that I can legally harvest ten scallops per day on our three day dive trip. We are all on the boat the night before our 4am departure. I find my bunk and am soon dreaming of panko and fresh, fresh scallops.
The next day I am up before the dawn and in the galley while the two deck gals begin to prepare our breakfast. It’s dark out there and impossible to see anything outside of the brightly illuminated cabin. I fumble with my new dive computer and it’s one hundred page manual. I was told this computer was “intuitive. “ I am having a hard time believing this. Coffee. I have, of course, brought my own. Pre-ground at home and now steaming in a plastic Melita filter. The smell of morning coffee is one of the best smells I know. That lightly acrid smell the assurance of a warm welcome to the day ahead. The day where I will be gathering scallops among the sea lions and towering kelp beds of the Channel Islands. Nice!
Soon we are well into the day after a full, and surprisingly tasty, meal on The Truth. Our group of divers struggles into wetsuits and dry suits. Tanks are attached to BCs and gear is checked and re-checked. I am in a two piece neoprene wetsuit. It’s a 7mm and is my standard suit for abalone diving. I am a bit concerned that diving with tanks in deeper waters will chill me to the bone. Oh, well… I am stoked! We are at Wilson’s Rock somewhere off the tip of Santa Cruz Island. We drop into the choppy waters. Seems to be a good current at the surface and I wait at the anchor line for my fellow divers to get in the water. They take way too long and I am pulled up and down by the anchor line. Finally we decend and into these jade green waters we go, now breathing bottled air. The sound of the regulator, almost pneumatic, hissing in and out with each breath. Into the fuzzy green depths. Down the anchor line into the waters. Visibility is not great. Certainly not the “upwards of 60 feet…” that the book had promised for this time of year. Nope. It was closer to ten to fifteen. Similar to what I am used to this time of year on The Sonoma Coast in Northern California. Soon I am at the bottom diving with boulders and schools of fish. Sea urchin are everywhere. Incredible. I’d like to bring some ‘uni’ home as well… Still, I am looking for the perfectly camouflaged scallop. Between rocks and, while filter feeding, a mouth of orange should be visible. The idea is to clean them under water with a butter knife. You slice the muscle and the shell opens for a quick cleaning. The deck hands assure me this is “easy” and let me take a kitchen knife from the galley. “Just don’t lose it.” I quickly lose it. Now that I’ve lost my knife I am starting to see scallops everywhere. Similar to hunting for wild mushrooms in the forest there is this magical moment where you really begin to see them everywhere…
I return to the boat with one purple uni, spines moving, and a scallop in it’s shell. This is only the first dive of what will be ten dives around the Channel Islands. I see harbor seals and sea lions and dive with ling cod, vermillion (red) rock fish. There are fish and the towering kelp that rise 70 to 100 feet from the rock bottom to the shimmering surface. It is beautiful here. I am focused on the scallops. After losing one butter knife I go with ‘old faithful,’ my abalone iron, and spend the bulk of my dives with my head under rocks looking for scallops. I don’t find many of them, but when I do, then the challenge of prying them off the rocks begins. It is not easy. Abalone are really pretty easy to pop off the rocks. The only challenge there is that you can only get them while free diving and so, well, you do tend to need to return to the surface quickly. With scallops they are wedged in and even with a tank of air it took a real effort. Each dive. Every dive. I went down there to see cool and beautiful things and to bring back scallops. Some dives I would come up with none and on others maybe two or tree. Back on the deck I would pry them open with skills I learned shucking oysters from Tomales Bay. Careful, very careful… If you slip it is pretty clear that the dive knife will stab into the hand that holds the scallop. The shells are also razor sharp on the inside and I did manage to cut my hands a few times from the shell…
After three days of diving and rooting around the rocks for hours I came home with eleven plump and beautiful scallops. Ahhhh….. Dinner plans with my parents. Dianthe and I roll over to their house with scallops in a zip-lock baggie. I’ve had these so often in restaurants, but never this fresh. Never from scallops I went out to get myself. This is the best. I pan fry some of them in oil with a bit of garlic. The others are breaded in panko and quickly fried in canola oil with a splash of sesame oil. Fresh scallops from the Channel Islands. Rare on the inside and incredibly tasty. It is amazing that it’s taken me this long to get to the Channel Islands off the California Coast. Abalone taste incredible, but these scallops? They are so fresh and so good… I really need to get out there again. I need more scallops!

The Cheap Date - Lunch for under $5

Not all food is expensive. Some food is quite cheap and tasty. Lunch for under $5 is not an easy thing to pull off. Really, it is a challenge. There are some options and I am going to find them any place I can from S.F. to Santa Cruz and back. OK, sometimes I will need to spend a bit more than $5 for lunch, but there is no way this will be elevated beyond the budget breaking $10 lunch. Sometimes these lunches will need to forgo a beverage or a side order. There will, most likely, never be anything for dessert. Sorry, but if you are looking for a cheap lunch you do not get to order the crème brule and an espresso. Nope. Sorry, this is all about getting a decent mid-day meal for as little as possible. Yes, if only this article were based on the street foods of Hanoi. Yes, I know you can get multiple courses and dessert. I know. If we were in Tokyo we’d simple eat onigiri or bento box snacks and get some incredibly sweet canned coffee… Or, for that matter we could get a bowl of udon noodles at just about any major (and some minor) train stations… Sadly we are not in Japan or Vietnam. We are in California and, so help, me there are lunches out there for under $5. Good ones.
So, I am in Boulder Creek., The Santa Cruz Mountain town, with not terribly many dining options. There are, however, some good options for the cheap lunch. The photo is of a deli sandwich from Johnny’s Supermarket. Yes, this fine meal did in fact cost a bit more that $5, but still at $5.49 with tax this is a fine meal. In fact, I have found you can even split one of these and still feel quite satisfied that you’ve had a decent meal. (and you will still have a bit left over in the collective budget for an Arizona Ice Tea (tall can’s are .99 cents) and a bag of BBQ chips (another .99 cents)
The sandwich of choice at Johnny’s is a smoked turkey with provolone cheese and the works. I like everything on these but NO mayo. Pickles, mustard, peppers…. Also, a very nice touch is to ask for bacon as an additional meat treat. Gives a perfect crunchy feel to what otherwise might be soft bites of turkey and bread. Always best to get this one on sour dough bread. Not sure why this works so well to accompany the yellow mustard, but it is a perfect fit. Do not stray from this regimen…
So, if you are in Boulder Creek (en route to Santa Cruz on the scenic redwood highway) be sure to pop into Johnny’s for a sandwich. Yes, I know it’ll cost a bit more than $5, but it is unquestionably one of the tasty meal options around here and you can, and should, take your sandwich down to the river and marvel at the jade green waters and towering trees. Ahh… so, nice to have a meal with a view. You can’t beat it. Hop in your car and make it happen!

Sociale - Pacific Heights, S.F.

I have been to Sociale once for dinner and twice now for lunch. The food and service have been consistently excellent.

Most recently I was at Sociale for lunch. I had an heirloom tomato salad with thinly sliced basil and the flank steak and fries. Simple food, prepared elegantly and flawlessly. The actual cut of meat was outstanding and it was lovingly prepared medium rare. Simple food is always a great opportunity to rate a restaurant. It really amazes me that it is possible to ruin a good cut of steak. Yet, I have seen this done. Or, possibly a worse offense. Is to ruthlessly overcook a really bad cut of steak. The first and only time I ate at Scopazzi’s in Boulder Creek they had some terrible hack burn the outside of a C grade New York steak leaving the inside raw. Was that intentional? Did the cook hate his/her job and every single person eating at the restaurant? I can only hope so as that might have explained the terrible meal I had there… Oh, well. Now, I am comfortably seated in the outside brick patio of Sociale. An oasis of calm in the busy shopping hub of Sacramento Street. A place where one can effortlessly spent two thousand dollars on a single pair of sheets with terribly high tread count. An impossible area to find parking for a car and an excellent place to negotiate terms for custom cabinets to be designed and installed. It was never an area of the city where I spent too much time. Now, I know there is a small gem of a restaurant I may come more often…
So, the food. The heirloom salad was perfect. Luscious, velvet heirlooms. Two varietals, both valentine red. A simple oil and balsamic dressing and the aforementioned thinly sliced basil. Complaints? Well… I grow tomatoes and typically eat them right off the vine. So? My tomatoes never, ever see the inside of my refrigerator. Ever. So, these were slightly chilled. Hard to say if this is simply a personal preference, but I would like my heirlooms at room temperature. Is that feasible? Possibly not in a commercial restaurant. The steak? Well, there are no other ways to describe a perfect steak. It was absolute perfection. Drop whatever you are doing. Put away your iPhone, iPad or laptop and boogie on over to Sociale. A perfect meal awaits.
The wine? On my first visit I had a Bareberra d’ Asti. A bottle of unquestionably the best Barberra I have ever had. A pity I don’t have my tasting notes within easy reach. You’ll find the staff is very well versed in their wine list and can help guide you to ensure a perfect pairing with your meal. On the following two lunches I had a single glass of Barollo and on the next visit a Chiantti. Both wines were picked by the waiter to pair with my meal. Both choices were spot on excellent. (my general rule of thumb is to always defer to your wait staff if you are not very familiar with the wine list)
The scene? Quiet, calm luxury. A late lunch ensures some opportunity to relax in the Zen like calm of Sociale. The wait staff seems perfectly timed checking in only as needed to ensure your meal is without a hitch.
So, yes. I will be coming again and again. Sociale has been consistently excellent. Three separate meals and three opportunities to enjoy fine dining in a plush setting. Go there and you will be very happy you did. Try and find parking in the immediate vicinity and you will not be very happy. I would recommend you take a taxi or ideally a Vespa Piaggo. Or a Lambretta 200 for that matter… Italian scooters and food generally pair nicely…

airline food? still terrible after all these years...

The following is a snippet I sent to United Airlines earlier today as part of a recent survey. I hope they can improve, really I do. I have had some terrible food on flights and the majority of them have been on United Airlines. (keep in mind that I was actually trying to be nice here. Not trying to get anyone fired here. Nope. Just want them to know that, yes, they have failed me. OK, some background here. I flew to New York recently on a first class ticket on United P.S. ("Premium Service") I flew on a first class ticket and used 'miles' for my ticket. The P.S. Flights were a big deal when they came out. This was over a decade ago now, but the concept (a good one) was to offer real class on domestic flights. Service that might rival that of an international flight. I have flown in economy, business and first on these flights over the years and have had varying degrees of service and food. Generally the flight attendants have been great and the food, though hot, lacking in luster. OK. So, what do I expect? Well, a first class round trip ticket would have cost me $7,000. Yes. That is a lot of money. So? Well, if I paid $7,000 in cash I would damn good and well expect a decent dinner. I was hungry. The food? Well, it wasn't great. No, in fact it was miserable. Upon returning to SFO and getting home I was somewhat delighted to see an on-line survey had been sent to my e-mail address. Wondering if this tree falls in United's forest will there be sound? Will anyone hear my plea for help? Hard to say...

From the first area on the United Airlines Survey asking for "other comments."
the meal on the flight was pretty bad. the vegetables were over cooked. terribly over cooked. the chicken was a bit tough and flavorless. i would prefer a well made cold sandwich to a hot meal that comes out after too long getting re-heated. simple, fresh food will always trump a failed attempt at a hot meal. this is not always the case on your flights. the japanese 'washoku' bento box that is available on the flights to narita is consistently excellent. i always look forward to those... also have fond memories of some of the food service between narita and bangkok. a dish with shrimp comes to mind... but, on this flight the food was not good. perhaps this is consistent with other p.s. flights. generally the food is a notch better on international flights in general.
From the second area that pertains to “food quality on your recent flight:”
i think i went over this earlier. the meal was bad. i have had much better food on united flights. this one was what i would have once called 'standard airline' food. in fact, it was just about on par with some average to poor meals i have had sitting in economy. in first class i would consider this a real insult and can only hope you can avoid over cooking the living daylights out of the veggies on future p.s. flights. my yams were cooked to the point where they had the texture of cubes of mushy potato. yeah, that was a bad one. i was, however, starving and i did finish my meal. the food on the return flight was much better, but the veggies were still cooked to the point of no return. keep the meals simple, flavorful and never re-heat until the food goes limp. it really bothers me and i am certain others feel the same way on this issue. i fly a lot. on a singapore airlines flight (in business class) from sfo to bali and back i had amazing food and a delightful time pre-selecting meals on -line. i know this may not be possible on domestic hops, but somehow they seem to really nail the in-flight food experience. consider their approach and you'll find me booking more flights on united soon.

Not Another Burrito!

Please Tell Me There is More to Mexican Cuisine Than This….
Where are the high-end Mexican restaurants? I have, for better or worse, become somewhat of an expert on the burrito offerings of San Francisco. Back in the day it was the only meal I could find that was in the $3 price range and was always more than I could eat. I have fond memories of Pancho Villa on 16th. The place always had a huge line and there was a uniformed security guard at the door. I always found this amusing because the only other place where there is a security guard at an establishment that I like is the Me & Ro Jewelry Store on Elizabeth Street in Manhattan. You walk into Me & Ro and the first person you meet is a very kind and very large black man in a suit with dark sunglasses. Past him and behind display cases shimmering with silver, gold and platinum are the pretty and substantially smaller sales people. Sure, I get it. There are criminals out there who might consider a ‘smash and grab.’ The menacing security dude is there to remind them that stealing is not only wrong, it will get your ass beat. So, security guards at jewelry stores make sense. In Hong Kong these guys were generally Sikh’s and they all had shotguns. I guess it takes a bit more to remind the Hong Kong shopper that payment is strictly cash or credit card… So, security at a taqueria? This still makes me smile. I wait in line. I order. I grab that burrito and bag of chips, load up on salsa and freshly sliced white onions and cilantro and race out the door? Hmm… It is a cash business. Perhaps it is armed robbery they prevent with these burrito guards. But everything there costs under five bucks. What do you get when you rob the till? $5,000 in singles? Probably. You would need a pillowcase to make good your escape.
So, I have been eating at Mexican restaurants all over the Bay Area for well over a couple of decades now. People who travel frequently to Mexico assure me that “these places are not authentic.” OK. I believe them because the tenpura in America is as similar to the real version in Japan as an octopus is to a wildebeest. Sure. I am told “In Mexico a burrito never has rice and beans in it.” Perhaps this is true. What I want to know is pretty simple based on my experience eating at these non-authentic places in the U.S. Where is the high-end Mexican fare? There has to be more to it than fast food. I can only hope that Vicente Fox and his wife take the bullet proof limo out to a sweet little white table cloth place that makes authentic food so damn good it would make me weep. If only I knew how to find food like this in America. Hey, maybe there isn’t any. I am OK with that. There certainly isn’t any decent tenpura in this country. The only real sushi that I’ve had in America is at Kurumazushi on 47th in Manhattan. (For the record I am open to being proven wrong here. Really. But let’s be clear on this: Real sushi is not made with cream cheese and macadamia nuts)
So, my gentle readers I offer you a challenge. Prove me wrong. This is the official challenge: Find me an incredible Mexican Restaurant someplace in the Bay Area. I am talking authentic. I am talking nice. Really nice. No plastic forks. No wax paper cups of Horchata. I want something that is region specific. Food that is authentic and hails from a place in Mexico that it like the Tuscany of Mexico. I want that place to be a reasonable driving distance from the Santa Cruz Mountains. By this I mean I need to be able to get there and back within the requisite 1.5 hours that it takes to get me to S.F.


I want an exceptional Mexican dinner! Help me find it.

Tomatoes - The Darling Children of my summer Crop

Summer Produce and the ongoing abundance of Tomatoes
Well, I’ve gone over this before. I have a lot of tomatoes and at some point I will be cooking them into pasta sauce. Until then? Well, they are perfectly ripe and incredibly tasty so they are factoring into just about every meal. Here is how it works:
Breakfast? Toasted bagels with cream cheese or humus served with thick slices of deep purple or red tomatoes. Yesterday morning I got up and began the morning ritual of wandering around the potted tomato plants. It seems every day now there are more and more ripe ones. For a while it seemed there were nothing but green tomatoes out there and this was cause for concern. Disease, bugs or lack of direct sunlight? (I am told it is bad form to cut your neighbors oak trees down to better facilitate your farming needs.) But? Today, like yesterday I see new tomatoes coming up with color. The purple cherry tomatoes look amazing today. Yesterday the cluster in question was mostly green with only a hint of purple. Today some of the Japanese Trifiele are also getting softer to the touch and ripening with more color. The striped green ones, the “Green Sausage” tomatoes are still a bit firm. I’ve been checking on them daily now to ensure I don’t miss the perfect window of ripeness. Green heirloom tomatoes are, at least for me, a bit perplexing. They do not change color. Green, yet perfectly ripe. A quandary. I study them and continue hoping to be given a sign. Today? We’ll see.
So, yes. Sliced tomatoes with the breakfast bagels. Last night at a BBQ up on the ridge top I tossed a mixed salad of tiny motzerrela balls, a double fistful of mixed basil and six or seven kinds of tomatoes. Large and small… all of them into the mix. It was a mini-caprese salad and it worked out well.
Sliced on a hamburger? Lovely. Can you eat them three meals a day? Well, sure. For a while and then you begin to realize that you can’t eat them all. No need to panic here. Give them to your neighbors. This act of goodwill could earn you points which you might later redeem for transgressions such as loud late night parties with death metal blaring from your sound system. They do taste better than any that you can buy at the store. Yes, I am a proud parent of my tomatoes and am happy to report that the house heirloom tomatoes here in The Santa Cruz Mountains are most certainly on the honor roll. They are better by virtue of their rollicking diversity and their attention to detail. These are some precocious tomatoes. If they had arms they would play the violin. They would be fluent in Cantonese and Dutch. These tomatoes are exceptional. Really.
So, keep eating them. Give them away and, any chance you get be sure to brag about them. Tomatoes are incredibly fun. They are a lifestyle and not just some wacky hobby.

Hayes Street Grill - S.F.

Hayes Street Grill
I’ve always loved this place and try to go there whenever possible.. Simple perfection on most days. It is in Hayes Valley, an area of San Francisco I have never really loved. Too close to the projects and yet still filled with crazy high end boutiques. It would be like Hunters Point with Tiffanys and a Gucci shop. It just seems strange. An ex-girlfriend of mine had her windows smashed twice in a month when I lived in the Lower Haight, spitting distance from those same mean spirited housing projects that are close by here… Ah, well. Regardless there are many fine places in Hayes Valley these days and the waiter at the Hayes Street Grill told me that the grill had been in it’s present location for over thirty years.
So, yes. Exceptional food and clearly catering to the theater and opera crowd based on the framed photos on the walls and the mention in the menu of ordering and timeframes for the opera. Typically I get grilled fish when I am here, but just for fun I had a look at the menu prior to coming over today. Soft shell crabs? Served both in a modified BLT, “Chesapeake Bay Soft Shell Crab BLT with Hobbs Bacon, Bill's Tomatoes, Cole Slaw.” Also available “Chesapeake Bay Soft Shell Crabs Meuniere, Watercress, French Fries.” Soft shell crab is a seasonal delight that should never, under any circumstance be missed. No. Never. A pity they are not as local as our Dungeness crab, but they are so incredible that, similar to sand dabs, when they are in season you must get them. They are always that good.
So, I ordered the Soft Shell Crabs Neuniere. The place was fairly crowded and yet, magically, Hideko and my dishes were served up quickly. She got the Yellow Tail. (billed on the menu as “wild hamachi.” No complaints from either of us. The food was absolutely perfect. Pan fried soft shell crab in a bed of water cress and a side of their signature French fries? Ah, very nice. I asked the waiter about options beyond ketsup for the fries. He suggested a peanut dipping sauce. Clearly house made and with only a nod and a hint to it’s Thai roots this sauce was dark brown and amazingly rich. A glass of the Honig Sauvenan Blac the perfect crisp accompaniment to the meal.
Issues? Ah, yes. The service was excellent. The food was excellent. Somehow I managed to through a wild card to the hostess by asking her to get me change for a bill. I had paid in cash, but was still shy of the requisite tip. Paid cash for the bill and then had a bill changed. Seemed pretty simple to me. After saying goodbye to the waiter and chatting with the hostess who graciously made change for me I parted ways with Hideko. From there I walked a block down the street looking at shiny pretty things in the windows of the shops still savoring the incredible soft shell crabs… “Sir, excuse me sir.” I am seldom approached by strangers in the street calling me “Sir!” I looked to find the charming hostess who, apparently confused, wanted to know if I had, in fact, paid my bill. Did she think…? What? Well, yes. I had indeed paid my bill. I also tipped the waiter with the bills that she had provided. Confused? Not me. I explained. She retreated back down the road. How odd. Is cash such an unusual manner of settling a bill that it can totally unhinge the hostess at the Hayes Street Grill? I think that is clearly the case. Did the waiter not get his tip? Did he pocket the entire amount I had paid? Or perhaps a better question: Did she apologize after realizing it was her error? No, she didn’t.
So? The food was good. The service was great. I have a lot of choices when eating lunch in S.F. and this kind of mistake is inexcusable. Yep. Get it together people.

Grow Fresh Basil!

It is summer and basil is so easy to grow that you should be embarrassed if you don't have some of it in a tidy pot growing close to your kitchen. Thai basil, sweet basil and Italian Basil. You can grow all of them in the same pot and you'll find all of htem are delightful additions to many meals. Do not be shy. Grow as much basil as you possibly can and if you have a bumper crop then start giving basil to your neighbors. This can be seen as a good will mission and will make your neighbors hate you less when you have loud parties that end with squad cars surrounding the property and/or any kind of hostage situation that might occur as a poker night at your place gets a bit out of control. Really. People love basil. Buying basil in the local supermarket is a chump move. Don't do this. It shows the shopkeeper that you are both lazy and a sucker. Keep that extra $4 and spend it on cheap red wine. You will be happy you did this as cheap red wine is a lovely accompaniment to Italian dinners and that fresh basil will more than make up for the fact that you no longer drop $100 per bottle for a decent Brunello. Make Thai soup. Tom Yam Gai is a good one. Garnish with fresh Thai Basil. Make Vietnamese Pho. Again garnish with fresh Thai Basil. The Italian varieties can be used for caprese salad. Fresh mozzerella, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and a fat leaf of sweet basil. Life is good. You do not need to go further here. Nope. So, grow basil in the summer and you will be delighted. Yep. Get some seeds and get started. It's not too late. Really.

Snacking on Wild Blackberry's in The Santa Cruz Mountains

Snacking on Blackberry’s in The Santa Cruz Mountains

It’s summer and the tomato crop is now delivering my favorite heirloom tomato, the ‘Pink Belize.’ Firm and pink they taste amazing and are one of the many heirlooms we are growing that you will likely never see in a farmers market. Well, perhaps you have them at your local market, but I have never seen them in all my years of snapping up high priced heirloom tomatoes while living in Bernal Heights. Nope. Never. Now, we get up and wander around the pots filled with tomatoes and pick a solid cluster of summer goods. Purple cherry tomatoes, white cherry tomatoes and the ‘Pink Belize’ seem to be the order of the day today. Birds are chirping and we are walking around finding colorful treasure hidden in the deep green tomato vines. We’ll be eating these for lunch with some balsamic vinegar and olive oil later today. Why am I yammering on about tomatoes when this piece is supposedly about blackberry’s? Well, it is summer and summer in the mountains is all about summer crops. Summer is also about one of the best free crops around. Blackberry bushes are pretty much everywhere. Kind of like poison oak only far more desirable for snacking purposes.
So, we like to walk the dog up a country road not far from the house. It’s a wide and relatively flat road that has country living all over it. There are places with goats and even one yard that’s has a resident cow. There are towering redwoods above and some very, very thick brambles from the blackberry bushes. All winter long we walked past these bushes in the hammering rains, thinking the multitudes of treats that would be available at some distant point in the summer. “Ah, some day…” That time is now.! Walking up the road now there are always sightings of opportunistic blackberry gathering locals. You might see one tucked into a patch of thorny goodness focused on the job at hand. Carefully selecting only the very best and most ripe blackberries. It seems these are sacred moments and semi-private matters, not a good time to shout out and/or bellow a cheery “Good morning!” We respect their privacy and wander further on the road until we find a particularly enticing region of bushes and then dive in…
I look into the bushes and begin the ritual and selection. The smaller ones seem to be the ripest. Perfect. Not a hint of green left on these delicate summer morsels. Nope. Perfect flavor. The bigger ones look good, but they have a bit of a sour tang that seems not quite right to me. I offer a few of the better ones to Dianthe. She is in heaven. There is something perfectly wonderful about growing your own tomatoes. No doubt about it. There is something straight up magical about gathering wild blackberry’s that are happily grown without any assistance… Which of course reminds me that King Boletus and Chanterelle mushrooms season is coming up and there will be more magical treats to be found on our hikes in the forest.

The Cupboard is bare? Don't Panic. Get creative!

Your Cupboard is bare? A pity, but no reason for panic.
Back in the day I would walk to the butcher for pretty much each and every meal I prepared at home. Living in Bernal Heights was culinary nirvana. When Avedano’s opened my life became effortless. I am not joking. They have the very best of everything. The local grocery store, The Good Life, did a damn fine job of providing nearly everything a new age shopper could desire and all the bacon I could ever need for a Sunday brunch. But the fish was never all that fresh and the steaks were absolutely lacking. (stay tuned for a gushing review of Avedano’s at a future date.)
I live in the mountains with raccoons and wicked squirrels that steal apples off my tree. I can certainly get to one of two grocery stores. Johnny’s is lowbrow Safeway of sorts. The New Leaf is your basic hippie food store that has a solid array of all the basics. If you need hot dogs, BBQ ribs and Captain Crunch you hit up Johnny’s. For tofu, soymilk and weird hemp seed cereal you go to the New Leaf. Needless to say I shop at both with maniacal frequency.
Still, I am a broken shopper. I do not stock up. What can I tell you, my shopping habits were hard wired in Tokyo where people typically pick up what they need for dinner on the way home from the office. Fresh foods in small portions. Less is more. You can only imagine how amazed and repulsed I was the first time I went to a Cost-Co. Baffled and bemused I walked out of there with twenty pounds of beef jerky, a thousand Advil and enough paper towels to mop up the Pacific. I like boutique shopping, I do not like malls. So, are we getting clear on the psychology behind the daily shopper? No? Well, work with me here. Empathy. Yes, if you were me you would shop this way too and you would be fine with it. Regardless, this continual shopping and a definite lack of hoarding has some very obvious flaws. For starters there is that issue of, oh well, sometimes the store is closed. In Tokyo this was never a problem as things are typically available in convenience stores 24/7. No, you can’t get into the basement food stalls in Mitsukoshi Department stores before ten a.m., but there is always 7-11 and, well, they have everything from socks to 'manga' and freshly packaged 'bento' box lunches to gurgling pots filled with ‘o-den’ (a Japanese stew sold primarily in the winter)
What do I do when there is nothing to eat? Best bet is to get creative and to toss caution to the wind. Basics, like eggs? I never run out of these. Dinner time and nothing to eat? Have breakfast! Simple and easy. A simple omelet is a wonderful survival meal. In a pinch you can always dine, if not in style, at least on a fluffy egg treat. Any cheese in the house? You will most certainly need this. Any lunch meat? I am not joking here. I think salami might be a breach of dining ethics, but you can certainly shred some of that lunch meat, honey glazed turkey and toss it into your omelet. Because the dish requires that you fold one side over on top of the other you’ll be hiding many potentially unsightly ingredients. If you are having a dinner date they may not even notice that you put the sandwich meat slices into the mix. I generally have fresh garden herbs on hand at all times. These put a nice touch on a survival dinner. They add the gourmet flare to your meal of empty cupboard desperation.
A glass of wine? An excellent accompaniment to the 'breakfast for dinner' plan. For that matter an excellent choice for day old pizza or even that wretched last resort, the canned soup you found in the nether regions of the cupboard behind the canned pinto beans. Top Ramen? I don’t typically keep this in the house, but if I did? Rest assured it would taste better with an exceptional pinot noir from the Willamette Valley in Oregon…
Dessert? A fine place to dig deep. You must have sugar in the house. Use this to make dessert. In a pinch? Cinnamon and toast would work. Chocolate of any kind helps keep the blues away. Baking chocolate is fine but you will need to add the aforementioned sugar. If you have the ingredients for a chocolate souffle that would be splendid. You might need fresh cream for a topping though... Tapioca is a great one, but you will generally need to wait for it to chill and set. Patience will be rewarded here if you are indeed trying to impress a date. A light dusting of freshly grated nutmeg can also reap rewards on the style charts.
Generally this is not a terrible problem because, well, I like to shop on a daily basis. It’s not like I am holed up here in the woods with nothing but crackers and bakers chocolate to eat for months at a time. Survival training for the Marines involves dining on grasshoppers and worms. I am happy to report that survival in my world as a daily shopper will avoid crickets on the menu and keep the palate at a reasonable state of joy until that damn store opens in the morning…

Chopstix, Felton - The Santa Cruz Mountains

Chopstix, Felton – The Santa Cruz Mountains

Some time back Dianthe and I were riding our bicycles along the tight and winding Highway 9 in the redwoods. There are number of towns between Saratoga and Santa Cruz. There is a significant lack of decent places to eat around here. OK, I know I have been sniveling about this for quite some time now. So, when I find a good meal I am 100% going to mention it and give props where they are do. Such is clearly the case with the unfortunately named Chopstix. Upon seeing this place we both began to laugh. Let’s just start with the clear and obvious fact that they have misspelled the word. Yes, perhaps they did it in a ‘clever’ way and really know, deep down, that this is not how the word is spelled. Sure. My guess is that they place was opened in 1910 by a Swedish couple new to the San Lorenzo Valley. Since then the place has clearly changed hands a few times and now the people running the place offer Pho, which last I checked is a Vietnamese dish and not Chinese as their menu suggests.
Sure, so the place has a silly name. Still, options in Felton? Fast-food burgers, pizza (actually quite tasty. I’ll get to this at some point soon) & of course Don Quixote’s for Mexican. So, not many places to eat around here and after leaving the holy lands of Chinese food options in and around San Francisco where you can take dim sum tastings as varied as the wines of Napa and Sonoma County. So, here we have Chopstix. OK. We are game.
Inside we find tables and take a look at the menu. Pho is pretty clearly being touted as the meal of choice at Chopstix and I have not had a bowl in quite some time. I order mine with raw beef and get some steamed shrimp dumplings off the appetizer list for us to share.
The Pho is steaming hot and flawless. The rare beef is indeed rare. This leads me to wonder if the Swedes (who couldn’t spell chopsticks) had moved back to Stockholm and sold the place to some Vietnamese couple. I am pretty sure this is the case and do not bother the waitress with any bizarre questions about why the place is spelled “Chopstix.” Instead I finish off every bit of my Pho and get the check.
If you are in Felton you should eat at Chopstix. Get the Pho. It is prepared with love and affection.

You will not be disappointed.

Breakfast at Spanky's in Ben Lomond

Breakfast in Ben Lomond, Santa Cruz Mountains

So, when you wake up in the summer with a wicked cold what do you do? Well, for starters the last thing on earth I do want is to get into my kitchen and make any kind of mess. It’s 9am here and already 85 degrees out. Summer in the Santa Cruz Mountains generally means that it’s going to be hot. Which, for those who really wonder, is exactly why I moved out of San Francisco. Yep. I got really tired of the summer months meaning foggy cold days and wind. Nope. A couple of failures with tomatoes in my backyard was another reason, but suffice to say lousy weather is a damn fine reason to move.

So, here I am on another piping hot summer day and I have a cold and don’t want to cook. Let me start by saying my options around here are limited. Very limited. We tried to go to the Mountain Home for breakfast because people had told up that they have a “great” breakfast. Of course some of these same people once told me that Scopazzi’s was good and that place most definitely is not. So, Dianthe and I decided we’d give it the college try. What the hell? Hop in the car and roll into downtown Boulder Creek. The sun is shining and the birds are singing. And? I have a cold. Not your usual run of the mill sniffles, but the sinus infection and sore throat that kept me up for the bulk of the night. A bad cold and a foul attitude. Why is there no place to get bagels in this town? Grrr…

We park. We walk up on this fine Wednesday morning to find: “Closed. Closed on Tuesdays and Wednesday’s.” Well of course. That makes perfect sense. Oh, this kills me. Next option? Get out of town and go to Ben Lomand where they have a somewhat normal breakfast place that, as I recall, sells perfectly straight up and serviceable breakfast and has lunch options. “Eggs and bacon. Burger and fries.” I can live with that. There really are not enough places to eat in this town. Granted we are not in the East Village. I know, I know, I know. Yet still. There are people here. Would not the fine people of the San Lorenzo Valley enjoy a Thai dinner or a steaming hot bowl of Japanese Ramen for lunch? Perhaps not. Curry from Northern India or Cambodia would also make my heart sing… OK. I get it. We are in the mountains now and in the world where pizza, burgers and Chinese are about as exotic as it gets. I know, I know. But still… OK. Enough already. A decent breakfast is a decent breakfast and at this point I’ve already had a perfect French press coffee pot of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee and thus, my gourmet fix.

We pop into Spanky’s. The place was lovingly named after the TV character Spanky from The Little Rascals. The walls are adorned with pictures from the comedic television show, which reminds me, fleetingly, of my childhood. The place is classic diner style with a hard working kitchen in the back. The waitress is blond, thin, cute and efficient. Friendly not chatty. She takes our order and quickly clears up any confusion I may have had on the true nature of their version of cottage fries. (They are just like any other version of breakfast potatoes and not to be confused with hash brown potatoes. [Which in a diner setting I prefer] So, I order eggs, toast and bacon. Dinathe does the same. We are creatures of habit and generally like to go with a known win. No sense getting crazy and trying the pancakes. [Note: there are very few places that make decent pancakes in America. Shocking, yes, I know. ] We also get coffee. Dinathe does not like her coffee. She tells me it is “not very good.” Again. Expectations. Here and in all diners I walk in that door knowing with total assurance that I am going to have some average to poor coffee. I like my coffee strong. I drink my coffee black. Because it tastes more like coffee. Because you can effortlessly detect each subtle nuance of flavor. Cream and sugar are a blanket of warm fuzzy that hides those incredible notes of tobacco and leather or that hint of blueberry and the scent sunlight as it warms a summer field. So, not sugar and no cream for me. Except? Expect when I am in a diner. The coffee is not freshly ground. The coffee was not, by any stretch of the imagination, freshly roasted. The coffee was a bulk purchase. The coffee is a high margin money maker that some accounting minded person deemed another place to increase profit margin while shopping at Cost-Co. So, I sure as hell use some cream when having cups of coffee at a diner. The coffee is also seldom strong. Meaning? You had damn good and well better drink a lot of it or your heart might stop beating from a clear and evident lack of caffeine.
OK, enough ranting and raving about my coffee snob nature. The food is delivered in a fast and efficient manner. We are asked “if there is anything else..” There is nothing else. We tuck into our hot platters of exceptional diner food and I feel that all is good in the world. A simple and perfect meal. There is no need to snivel about the coffee. There is no need to bemoan the bad economy, my chronic neck and back pain or the most recent 24 hours of absolute hell suffering from a cold that would most certainly kill a less able man. No. Now, everything is perfect and I am putting grape jelly on sourdough toast that looks like it was spread with some kind of liquid butter. [the color of the butter is frightfully yellow and the spread itself far too uniform to have been lovingly taken from a slab of salt free Gilt Edge butter.] Yet still, grape jelly (not jam) comes from those tiny white rectangular packets with the peel off top. Generally you’ll find strawberry, orange marmalade and the grape jelly. I like the grape best as it seems almost entirely synthetic in taste and structure. The strawberry often has a near jam like consistency and the orange periodically has a hint or a notion of it’s actual roots with a zest or bit of rind. When in Rome? As synthetic as possible. Yep. So, I slather this bright purple jelly on my toast and enjoy piping hot eggs over easy (two of them) and crisp, perfectly done bacon. (four rather generous slices) and that perfectly devious sourdough toast with grape jelly. Dianthe also enjoys her meal with true, heart-felt enthusiasm.
Soon we ask for our check and wander back out into the increasingly hot summer day in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Another cup of coffee from the French Press would sure me nice….

Summer Garden 2010 - Santa Cruz Mountains

Summer in the Santa Cruz Mountains – Tomato’s & Basil…
I had planned to have an entire garden filled with every imaginable vegetable & fruit. From Honeydew to Musk Mellon and Arugula to Artichokes. Yes, there was to be towering sweet corn and lovely vines of sweet peas. Well, it turned out to not quite work out this year. I planted a tidy crop of strawberries, some kitchen herbs and way, way too many tomatoes. Sadly the soil around the house is far too sandy and somewhat suspect in general. So, we did everything in pots. Picture a driveway almost totally covered with varying sizes of tomato plants and an odd assortment of cilantro, multiple kinds of basil and the aforementioned strawberry plants.
What does all this mean? It means that we are eating caprese salad almost every day now. Fresh mozzarella, hand picked heirloom tomatoes and lots and lots of basil. It is nice. It’s not the cornucopia of veggies we had hoped for, but I am certainly having more success here with my tomato plants then I ever did in San Francisco. Yep. No doubt about that.

Breakfast at 7-11 in Tokyo

Breakfast at 7-11? Only in Tokyo!
I would like to suggest that if you are going to Japan you spend some time wandering around convenience stores. 7-11 is a great place to start, but there are many others. They are similar yet so very different from the Quickie Mart places you might be familiar with from the U.S. On a recent trip I was amused to find a popular place that advertised “Family Market – Alcohol & Cigarettes.” Super.
So, there are many things you will find at a 7-11 in Tokyo that simply do not ever exist at, say, a 7-11 in South Dakota. There generally are no beef sticks, beef jerky or other meat treats. In Japan there is an alternative and that is ‘ika’ or squid. It is prepared in a similar fashion to beef jerky. It tastes pretty good, but for the uninitiated it is an acquired taste. It does have a fairly distinct fishy taste and while living in Tokyo we found that our dog was absolutely wild for the stuff. He would dance on hind legs and spin in circles for a nibble of dried ‘ika’ from 7-11. There are also pretty wild candy and drink options. Tiny “health” drinks are available. Some newer ones come in foil pouches and are loaded with vitamins and flavored with artificial grapefruit and grape. I like these. Many of them have a gelatin like texture and make wild claims of both energy and health on the packages. Others come in small brown bottles. These have been around for ages and are packed with everything from sugar and caffeine to alcohol and nicotine. My favorite of these is a small brown bottle called ‘Oronamin-C.’ Tasty and loaded with vitamins, sugars and caffeine. You will also find all kinds of wacky sports drinks and an incredible array of canned coffee and teas. In the winter you can buy either hot or cold cans of coffee. (If you really want to read a spectacular bit of writing on Japan get a copy of Kuhaku. There is a chapter on canned coffee and the “reviews” of each brand. Very funny. You will laugh until you cry. Well, I certainly did) There are also the usual sodas and all kinds of beer and canned drinks fortified with alcohol. Chu-hai in a can is a lemon flavored drink spiked with sho-chu (distilled sake, generally about 25% alcohol) Also, recently they have begun offering “strong” beer. This is 7% beer. Not an IPA, but just a Sapporo with more alcohol inside each can. Neat!
Food? There is an entire section of bento box lunches and ‘oni-giri ‘(rice balls) This is where you go for breakfast when taking a quick trip to Tokyo. First and most important these convenience markets are generally open 24/7. So, if you are up at 3am with jet lag you can pop into the nearest Family Market and get some smokes, a “strong” beer and a few ‘oni-giri.’ Now, you might think “Hey, I’ve seen the frightening super nachos and withered corn dogs for sale in the U.S., there is no way in hell I’d eat anything from a 7-11.” Yes, well certainly there is no good food at a 7-11 in the U.S. Nope. Never. There is, however, some really good treats at these places in Japan. I am not kidding. The ‘oni-giri’ is excellent and always fresh. I like the ones with cooked salmon or pickled plum. They are wrapped with crisp ‘nori’ seaweed. What? How is it possible that you can plastic wrap “crisp” seaweed on rice and keep it crisp? All, as you’ll find a continual theme in Japan it is all in the wrapping. There ‘nori’ is wrapped in a separate sleeve outside the rice ball. When you are ready to eat you simply un-wrap the package and then re-wrap after removing the plastic. Voila!! Crisp and crunchy ‘nori’ around fresh rice and hidden treats inside towards the core.
So, if you are in Tokyo be sure to get an o-bento or a few ‘oni-giri’ from a 7-11 for your morning meal. Browse the ‘manga’ cartoon shelf and marvel at the incredibly perverse cartoons. Wow! There is truly nothing like this outside of Japan!

Chanko-Nabe - Sumo Food in Tokyo

Chanko-Nabe, Ryogoku – Tokyo, Japan
Chanko-Nabe is a dish that is famous because sumo wrestlers eat it to gain weight. It is a ‘nabe’ dish, meaning it’s kind of like a stew that is prepared in a pot and generally consists of daikon, potato, tofu, onions, cabbage and pork. It is surprisingly tasty and a bowl of it is generally not as overwhelming as one might guess. Sumo wrestlers actually eat bowl upon bowl upon bowl of this in order to become massive…
So, I am in Tokyo with Jeff Inahara and his Dad. We are on a mission to pick up some souvenirs. Apparently Sam needs a pair of wooden ‘geita’ shoe/clogs. These are the cloppity-cloppity wooden sandels with two chunks of wood at the bottom that make a peculiar sound when walking. They are very cool in an anime-samurai kinda way. Thus Sam wants them. Sam has big feet. In Japan this is a problem. We first ask about these extra large ‘geita’ in what we figured was an appropriate store. The man at the store shook his head and explained that a size 10 was, well, “difficult.” Very Japanese of him. Not “impossible.” Just “Difficult.” This means it is going to be just North of Impossible. After living in Japan for over a decade I have heard the expression “Difficult” many times and can assure you the answer almost always means there is really no way in hell. I try to explain the meaning of “no” to Jeff. Jeff is American. He does not know the meaning of the word “no.” We press further. We are told “possibly” out in Ryogoku where the sumo stables are… Makes sense. Sumo wrestlers are huge dudes and can’t possible have small hands and feet… Later that day we also try Mitsukoshi Department Stores flagship store in Nihonbashi close to the Ginza shopping district. It is unquestionable one of the very best department stores in the world. Foreigners shop there. There most be large shoes. Wrong. They are very polite, but we can tell that we may as well be asking them if there are elves on the roof dancing with unicorns. They are polite because we are clearly nuts. There are no size 10 geita. But? Well, possibly out in Ryokoku. How far is it? About an hour away. Goodness. We thank them and wander off.

From Roppongi we take the Oedo subway line all the way out to Ryogoku. It’s a long way. One we get there I figured there would be all kinds of cute stores selling enormous shoes and comically sized yukata. Instead there is a long and busy road with traffic and little else to see. We go to the koban (police box) to ask a police man about shoes. He tells us there is a store that sells clothing for sumo wrestlers, but ‘geita?’ “Difficult.” Oh, no. Here we are again with "difficult." I thank him and we all set off. (it was, for the record in the complete opposite direction from where we had already wandered) Finally, I see the store. Inside there are indeed comically sized yukata and one pair of overalls that could quite effortlessly fit four of me inside. We have a good laugh at these overalls. Three thin men all laughing at overalls. The proprietor can tell we are not real customers. We are gawkers. She asks if she can help us. I ask about ‘geita.’ No. She does not have them. Incredible. Do giant dudes in truck sized overalls stroll around barefoot in Tokyo? She points us to a tiny traditional shoe place down the road. We go there. Yes, there are huge slippers and sandels and ‘geita.’ Nice! The little old man working there is surrounded by wood carving tools and helps us select an appropriate pair of wooden geita carved from single chunks of wood. Now, we are clearly close to the sumo holy land. I ask him about ‘chanko-nabe.’ He smiles. He tells me there are many places. But? There is only one that he likes. He gives us directions.
We wander off and eventually find the sumo-zone. There is a giant auditorium where the actual matches take place. There are chanko-nabe places everywhere. We are hungry. We are really hungry. It’s a good thing we find the place. I ask the guy, “You have chanko-nabe, the good chanko nabe?” I am told he does. “The best?” Absolutely. “The best in the World?” Yes!
That was one of the best meals we had on our trip. Wow. If you are going to Tokyo you really need to have chanko-nabe. Oh, and thanks to Sam and his huge feet. We would never have come all the way out here if he had small feet..

Pizzeria Delfina

San Francisco has had a pizza problem since the very start. Yes, the beautiful city by the bay has been famous for food since the gold rush. There were oysters back then actually thriving in the bay and local bakers made sour dough bread that was, i am sure, quite tasty… Fast forward to the modern age. Michelin Star restaurants and food from all over the globe. I could point you to places for amazing and perfectly authentic food from Russia to Cambodia and from Africa to India. San Francisco is a food lover’s paradise. Yet, for some very odd reason it has always been New York for pizza and bagels. Yes, we have always had both. But? Really? No. Well, then Anne and Crag Stoll of Delfina woke up one morning and undoubtedly had the same epiphany I’d been having for years. “Why is there no authentic, thin crust Italian Pizza in S.F? Why is there no amazing pizza here?” Unlike my years of bitter complaints they actually did something about it. They opened Pizzeria Delfina next door to Delfina. Nice. Is it good? Yes. Is it good enough to rant and rave about? Absolutely. Better than pizza in Italy? Sometimes. Yes. Well, let me just say that it is so damn close to some of the best pizza that I’ve had in Italy that well, it really doesn’t matter. A side-by-side taste test is not possible. Pizzeria Delfina is thin crust bliss in the Mission District of S.F. It does not try, in any way shape or form, to compare to the New York Slice. Nope. They serve whole pies that are fairly small. Each pizza comes hot out of the over hot and perfect…
But where am I now? Sitting on my couch. Surrounded by redwoods in the Santa Cruz Mountains. I sold my house in Bernal Heights and moved to the mountains. I am now 1.5 hours from Pizzeria Delfina. The distance has limited any impulsive pizza purchases. They say distance, at times, can make the heart grow fonder. Well, not sure about that logic, but I can assure you that when I am in San Francisco now I plan my meals with strategy and with purpose. There is also shopping, but I’ll get into the sorrow of shopping at say Johnnie’s vs. Avedano’s Holy Park Meat Market at another time… Yes, I come into the city and I plan my lunch carefully. Once or twice a week I am back in the land of quaint Victorians and the blight of chilly summer fog. I am in the land of amazing restaurants. I am in food heaven. So, I work for each and every meal in S.F. these days and I really appreciate them. Yep. So, Delfina?
Yesterday I was in the city and had lunch with Hideko. She and I met on a rare sunny day in August. Always exciting to leave the sunny comforts of the Santa Cruz Mountains and ride along the spine of the Mountain range flashing past different climactic zones. From hot to cold and back as I wind along the twisting road through the redwoods. Into the chilly wind along the Highway 35 looking off to the coast where a blanket of fog (and the cold) sits off shore menacingly… But today? It is hot and beautiful in the city. We get a table and the light and airy pizzeria. We chat with the waitress and are told to get the soup. This is always a good move. Beyond pizza? Everything on the menu is good to the point where it will make you weep. If sand dabs are in season you will find them on the menu. Always get the sand dabs. Today I get a “cherry pie” made from cherry tomatoes. Hideko gets the calzone. Our food is celestial. It is almost too good to believe.

The pizza is amazing. A pity they don’t deliver…

Mexican Food in The Santa Cruz Mountains

Don Quixote’s Mexican Restaurant – Felton
O.K. So, I moved here from San Francisco. I am very, very into food. I plan my travel around restaurants and spend far too long pondering options and ingredients when cooking. I guess I knew what I was getting into when deciding to move to the Santa Cruz Mountains. Not many options for high-end restaurants. Guess it depends on expectations as well…
Don Quixote’s, Felton? Looks like a dive bar with a sprawling restaurant attached and a venue for live music tossed in there for good measure. The first time Dianthe and I rolled over there on our bicycles there was some motorcycle club’s poker run taking place in the bar. So, a solid cluster of Harley’s and thuggish dudes milling about the bar. A nice older lady told us to sit “any place” we liked. We liked that. There were a good number of empty tables to choose from. A bad sign? A sign of the times? Not sure. Still, we sat and ordered cold bottles of Pacifico on the hot summer day.
Wound up getting chicken enchilada’s with a beef taco and a side of rice and beans. It was pretty average, but no real complaints. Kinda like Mexican fast food at a sit down restaurant. Still, it was not bad. This is what I was talking about earlier with “expectations.” Yes, I like the best food possible and if it were up to me there would be food from every country on earth available here in the woods. There would be more Michelin star restaurants here in the San Lorenzo Valley than in Paris. I would be really happy. Sadly, food here is not something that makes my heart sing. Food here is simply something warm to fill the belly. This is a sad state of affairs. Yep. It is why I sometimes need an escape to New York. Or an escape to Tokyo… Yes.
Still, Don Quixote’s is not bad at all. I have since been there a couple more times and am generally pleased to have a platter of Mexican treats for dinner. Living in the Santa Cruz Mountains is absolutely beautiful, but you really need to “kill it and grill it” as Ted Nugent once said… Otherwise you are at the mercy of some pretty average fare. I did move here to garden and to work out in the hills and in my kitchen. So, sniveling is only because I am being a baby… Oh, and Mexican food around here certainly works in a pinch.

The Boulder Creek Brewery & The Demise of an excellent Burger

The Boulder Creek Brewery – 2010
After college I moved to the somewhat sleepy beach town of Santa Cruz where I planned to make a living as a part time writer and as a full time surf bum. Ambitious, I know… So, I did just that. Found a magazine in L.A. that wound up publishing a series of articles under a pseudonym. Eventually I found that I was really not making enough money and I sold out and took a job selling software for a start-up company in Sunnyvale. So, I began commuting and eventually thinking that a spot halfway through the redwoods would be ideal to live. Boulder Creek. Nothing going on in this tiny mountain town. Perfection. Just redwoods and mountains and a tiny little microbrewery that, at the time, had some of the best beer in California. That alone would prove reason enough for me to move there.
In the early 90s The Boulder Creek Brewery was a destination brewery. This was really the start of microbreweries in California and the brewer at the time really got the concept. There were a number of classic “go to” beers on tap at all times. The Redwood Ale was an award winner and was consistently excellent. The Oatmeal Stout was strong and had a bite and the appearance of black coal. I loved that stout. They would also have amazing seasonal beers. High alcohol Belgian triples in the winter and one, particularly memorable, Belgian Wit, a Wheat beer flavored with coriander and orange peel… The food was also good. Really good. Californian Bar Comfort food. The Boulder Burger was big and had cheese, bacon and mushrooms… Ahhh… the glory days.
Since then the brewer and all the staff have moved on. The burgers have ranged from average to poor. Now, the beer is solid, but none of the amazing seasonal beers seem to be happening anymore. The Oatmeal Stout has lost it’s luster and the Redwood ale, well just not like the glory days. Hell, even the Lompico Gold IPA never came back after a change in brewers some time back. The new IPA is a solid beer… It’s just that the beer was a solid A plus at the Boulder Creek Brewery back in the 90s and now it’s a B. The food? It went from an A to a C minus.
Will I still go there? Hell yes. Is the beer good? Well, the IPA is good. The other beers are not strong enough for me. Yes, they make their own beer on site. It is still a microbrewery, but the glory days seem long, long ago. I want that crazy craft beer back! I want the best of the best! Why not? We are in California and a quick trip to a decent pub offers excellent beers from all over the state and all over the country. This was once a destination bar where people would go well out of their way to taste the best of the redwoods. Now? Sure, you get tourists rolling through town and a smattering of local drinkers. But destination brewery? Not by a long shot.
Oh, and the burger? Well, it’s not like it used to be. It’s smaller. It’s not as good. Ah, so sad….

Hayashi Tenpura - Tokyo

Hayashi Tempura – Perfection

By

Michael J. Skurko

Hayashi Tempura. The Temple of Tempura. We’ve made arrangements in advance per the suggestion of our “Food Guide to Tokyo.” With guide book in hand we follow the twisting treasure map from Nihonbashi subway station to this immaculate hole in the wall. We walk in the door and see that this shrine of tempura is an expression of culinary minimalism. At a glance it is… perfect. I have a good idea of what is to come from the restaurant guide and I am feeling a giddy sense of delicious anticipation.

The tempura bar itself is made from beautifully polished cypress wood. The wood is bleached and smooth from the religious fervor with which it is cleaned. We sit around the counter, Mom and I, awaiting the arrival of Saito-san. There are six other seats at the bar occupied by Japanese businessmen. They talk business as we sit transfixed by the calm before this culinary storm. At any moment the star will arrive. His slippers await him on the perfectly polished wood floor in front of the bar. A one man show. A one act play. Seating for eight. One setting per day. No menu. He’ll select what is the best, in seasonal seafood and vegetables. We know this from the book. Sweet shrimp, scallops, squid, kissu fish, and perfectly grown Japanese vegetables. Ah, yes… Anticipation mounting with increased tempo. Soon, the master will arrive. We are now waited on continually by nearly invisible wait staff. Crisp and cold, golden Yebisu beer appears in tiny glasses. Steamed ‘oshibori’ hand towels arrive on a bamboo tray. Mom and I are tucked in the corner enjoying the sanctity of our domain. Box seating at the culinary opera. To my right the six Japanese businessmen nibble on small snacks and drink sake. They chat and drink seemingly oblivious to the beauty of the place. The staff seems to know these men and do not need to ask what they need. Silent, nearly invisible service. These are the three people assisting Saito-san. One appears to be the food prep guy. The other two are dressed in kimono and waiting on customers at the counter.

The stage is set. Eight customers at a wooden bar in a tiny room in a towering building in Nihonbashi. Inside the setting is ancient. Outside the blinking lights and bleating horns seem a lifetime away. Here there is calm. Here there is perfect simplicity. If an item is not 100% required for the task of preparing tenpura it does not exist. A single gas tube connects to the industrial looking gas burner. This range is a circle of iron that sits atop the wooden counter. A single pan of clear oil.. To the left of that there is a stainless steel sink. There is a very narrow walkway where Saito-san will soon perform his tempura artwork. He makes the scene and slips into his slippers.

Saito-san. A humble, middle aged man has appeared. Silently, moving in front of the counter. He is a somber, serene man. He greets us each individually. His assistant has already brought today’s selection. From our seats we can see a beautiful array of scallops, live shrimp, kisso, asparagus, sora-mame (beans) and what we are later told are some special fish from lake Biwa. There’s a small pile of shiitake mushrooms and squid. Did I already mention that these creatures are very much alive? The shrimp are in a stainless steel bowl and are thrashing around until… Saito-san quickly goes to the task of preparing. He takes the prawns one at a time from the bowl and quickly and very effectively kills, shells and de-veins them in what appears to be a single martial arts move. It looks like he is performing miniature judo moves on these hapless shrimp. Quickly and effectively he is immobilizing their attack. His movements are practiced and precise. It is an amazing sight. I am transfixed. He plucks a trashing shrimp from the bowl and in two quick hand moves has rendered in ready for the batter. Poetry in motion. The businessmen to our right are still engrossed in the minutia of business talk. Mom and I remain speechless. We can not stop staring at the master in motion. How to describe this perfect moment? Timeless. Perfection. Zen. This is really huge and we haven’t even had a bite to eat yet. This man has an awe-inspiring presence. Over stated? Nope. This is what I am soon to find is the best tempura of my life.

So, now the food. Saito-san begins. He adds some flour and water to a stainless steel bowl. The oil is now quickly gaining in temperature. He takes the chopsticks and dips into the batter splashing a test dollop in. It spatters and dances at the surface of the oil. Must be approaching perfection. The prawns are now gently bathed in batter and slowly dropped into the oil. Amazing grace. The scent of ama-ebi, sweet shrimp, rises to my eager senses. I know what is coming. That extra special prawn is upencoming, soon to greet my lips. Saito-san lays a single prawn on my dish. As he places this gem at my plate of worship he smiles with modesty and suggests “sukoshi shio of tsukete ne..” This translates to “with just a little salt…” I dip the prawn first into the salt dish and then into the daikon oroshi, grated 'daikon' radish. Atop this standard garnish is something even more exquisite. There is fresh-grated ‘yuzu,’ a Japanese citrus that is similar to a lemon only with a more delicate and distinct flavor. To me the touch of yuzu in a meal is the essence of Japan. Ahhh… I move the prawn from my dipping sauce to my mouth. Sweet, delicate, delicious. Love, bliss, cosmic. Unlike any other culinary moment. The prawn and sauce give rise to five distinct flavors. I can taste it. I am in love.

There is nothing like Hayashi Tenpura. Yes, I would (and have) now come to Tokyo just to eat dinner here. It is that good. Each time. Magical.