I see that Golden Gate and it’s no wonder I feel so at home here. No wonder to me at all. I was thrilled to have a whole handful of dear friends join my sister, Sandra, and I for a springtime romp last week around the Bay (and, I must admit, a much-needed break from wacky and wonderful Los Angeles). “Mixed bag”, said lovingly, is the only way to describe this group: friends and lovers, Midwesterners to Frenchmen to our very own Guy, all complete with some serious quirks and compulsions, distinct humour and taste. However, if there is one thing we all share deeply, authentically, and to the core, it is our love of food and wine. And let me assure you, we sucked the Bay Area bone-dry.
These four days we spent up North were marked by that true San Francisco weather – grey and damp, romantic and inspiring of (very) early cocktails. I realize how spoiled I have become living in the alternate universe that is Los Angeles, where to “brave” the wet weather is a rare necessity. Back home in the Bay I happily don my duckboots and wool coat to the Ferry Building for Market where I get an initial sense of what the earth’s best offerings are in the top half of my home state: the last of winter’s finest citrus, hearty red Russian kale and tiny, lacy mustard greens. I went home with plenty of treasures…
Apart from the weather, the other defining theme of this grand excursion was eating with our hands. From gleaming Steam Boat oysters at Zuni Café to impeccable pizzas at Delfina, this action is so informal, so satisfying, so basic. It has got to be one of my very favorite things to do. Hands down…ha!
After a few days of immense enjoyment our trip culminated with a rather impromptu SummerWinter supper held at the home of our godparents, Glen and Masae Gormezano, where we were given free reign in this kitchen, with David happily at the helm. After collecting plenty of booty from Monterey Fish Market and Berkeley Bowl, we returned to Mill Valley, nestled in a pocket between Mt. Tam, Muir Woods, and the Pacific, and began to prepare. One by one, friends began to turn up (turnip!), offering their hands to help create what resulted to be a truly glorious meal. To see a kitchen filled with those I love and admire shelling fava beans side by side – really, I couldn’t be more content. Moments such as these remind me of the natural law of food and eating that favors togetherness. It is an essential and wonderful tendency to share not just the food itself, but oneself. Time. Attention. When I find myself at the Supper table I know I have arrived because there is no other place I would rather be.
This time, SummerWinter manifested in a very Northern California sort of a way. I recall slow-roasted whole spring torpedo onions with aioli, live Santa Barbara spot prawns on the grill like candy, Red Hawk triple cream from Pt. Reyes with smoked Monterey Bay sardine on ACME toast.
Of course, the trip to the airport couldn’t have been more of a harried, mad dash and yet, we still found five spare minutes to grab a boxful of warm croissants almost directly from Tartine’s oven. If this means nothing to you from experience, let me say that it is something like heaven cracking open just a little bit for you to see in. I’m sure my fingers were still buttery when we landed back in L.A.
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