Forty Eight Hours in Northern California: "Get the Good Stuff. Leave the Rest."
Wherein me and my SFAM try to eat every oyster we see for her birthday. We had success.
That stands for Sister-From-Another.. you know.
Anyway - I cashed in some points on Delta and flew to the Bay Area for a rapid fire birthday tour for my bff Dana. We are both fresh off those strong, seismic and near cataclysmic pandemic shifts that don’t seem too uncommon amongst Americans these last several years. Plus, I heard a rumor or two about the moon or Jupiter being in weird places and phases, something, something, and second houses in retrograde, something something. Can’t keep track. Things have been intense for everyone, including the moon. But you know what? Something shook loose this spring. We were both ready to stretch our legs a bit. There has been a bit too much nose-to-the-emotional-and-spiritual-grindstone these past few years. We needed oysters. And each other.
Thanks to the dryspell and everything coming to a full stop for a few years, I’ll say here: I was on a tight, so tight, budget. People seem to think that in order to travel, you must be flush or loaded. Or, that if you are traveling, you have transcended to some financial level that allows you to forget your worries, come on get happy. There is certainly privilege associated with travel - it took me years to figure out the credit card game. Any recreational flying I do is only because I figured out how to use a credit card for milk and bread and gas and collect miles. These are not things kids from blue collar homes, like me, are taught, btw. If you don’t already come from a family that has figured out how to play the Capitalism game, you learn the hard way (or never at all). Truthfully though, that aside, I’m also just the kind of strange bird who will go across the country, or world for that matter, with $50 in my bank account and not worry for one single second about it. I’ll do myself in someday. But not yet.
Since this trip was done with a steep budget in mind and I thought, instead of talking around it, I would just tell you where I spent my money and how. Note: It helps when you are traveling with someone who is splitting everything with you and who also is ready to be road rugged with you. That’s pertinent.
I’m overwhelmingly lucky to have a few solid travel partners in my life but my bay area dreamboat bestie is top on the list. We basically aim to do a few standard things on every excursion together: meander, strategically over-plan (we go with the flow and whittle it down as we go), eat, drink, be naked in the woods as frequently as possible - preferably in a hot mineral bath or cold mountain creek - eat some more and create playlists from the series of hours or days we are together which we will give a title that is pertinent to the trip. The one we are currently working on per this trip is called Tan Mouth & Titaaaaaaanic, just to squelch any curiosity.
Our food budget has occasionally been more sizable than it is now. The post-pandemic squirrly fiscal feelings are real. And, likely moreover, we are older, wiser, know how to follow our noses with zero hesitation. Get the good stuff, leave the rest. We aren’t above packing a loaf of bread and some cheese and making more than a few meals of it in order to afford the stuff we know we don’t want to miss. Anyway, most of our activities outside of eating cost little to no money at all: hikes, hot springs, museums, vistas. It is helpful that we aren’t interested in many overpriced and underwhelming “It” places. The money we do spend never feels wasted. We go hard on proven old steak houses with a good Crab Louie and a few martinis thrown in and make up for the cost of of that by basically not eating breakfast (I have never been a breakfast eater, don’t yell at me.) Or we’ll simply crush something cheap and brilliant like tacos or coast side grilled oysters for $1 a pop. None of these things feel like a sacrifice in a place like Northern California, however. Gnawing on wedge of sourdough for lunch, to my mind, is as good of a Bay Area victory as eating a feast at Swan’s.
So! Where did we eat? Here’s a brief list because, obviously, SF/Bay Area is chockablock full of incredible meals and opportunities. This short list has just a few of the places that we crammed into this particular weekend. I’ll be out there again this July and look forward to giving you a longer low-down.
Fisherman’s Cove at Bodega Bay
After leaving our secret hideout mountain spot up north where, for two solid days, we soaked in hot springs and lounged naked in the warm sun like cats stretching our little toe beaned feet toward the sky after a long cold winter, we drove down and decided the only thing we wanted to eat all day, like proper love cats, were oysters. We arrived a little late to Fisherman’s Cove - they were closing up shop in fifteen minutes, taking their last orders. As industry folks, it’s not our style to show up right before closing typically. We were crestfallen but were willing to take the hit for our tardiness. The look of disappointment on our faces must have been too much to bear, though, because the sweet crew tucked us over to a quiet corner of the oyster bar, told us to hold tight, shucked us a dozen of their best, freshest oysters and let us slurp them down as they cleaned. They sent us packing with a half dozen grilled oysters which we happily ate in our car after we drove to find the perfect spot, previously discovered and perfectly navigated by my dutiful passenger. I will go back with more time and eat as many things as I can next time. It was packed, full of happy customers, it was delicious and it was friendly in the most lovely, salty shore man, gritty old-fashioned way that you might think doesn’t exist in the world anymore. It does. And it is served up with the best mignonette I’ve eaten so far in my lifetime.
Tadich Grill
This was one of our big spends, though I’ll tell you: for an historic and classically executed steakhouse meal with impeccable service, I still found it to be a steal.
Tadich has been around since, hold on to your creamed spinach, 1849. It has all the markings of a restaurant I love: classic early American restaurant recipes (Oysters Rockefeller! Boston Clam Chowder! Thermidor! Ribeye! Half Avocado w Shrimp!); a service protocol that is at once friendly and outwardly attentive without being too “familiar”; a thorough understanding of what makes them good and a commitment to that exact thing with zero worry about being out of fashion or “stale”. Throw an ice cold gin martini, straight up, extra dry, super industrial, extra cold, extra British, extra olives and this is last meal status for a girl like me.
I am certain that this place is killer for a special occasion dinner. They have lovely wooden booths you can cozy into with a party of four - or six if my trained server eye is still sharp. We chose luncheon, which is my favorite way to experiences these type of places - especially on a cold, grey, windy, drizzly San Francisco day. Tucking into that ambiance, settling into a meal that will take time with servers who know how to keep your table full while never, not once, rushing or overwhelming you with their pacing, seeing you through from a long linger over a crab cocktail appetizer to a perfectly made cup of coffee and an intriguing take on rice pudding that seems, to my pastry chef mind, like a long ago mistake made good. You aren’t rushed. You never wait too long. You are professionally expedited.
The rice pudding at Tadich is baked, like a flan. The rice sits at the bottom underneath about two inches of delightfully textured and tasty custard. It is set so firm it can be cut into rectangles, but is so soft to the taste - not too eggy, not too baked, not a curdle in sight. I imagined being the cook that stirred their rice pudding together and tried baking it, the rice all settling to the bottom and coming up with something altogether new - maybe not so much as a disappointment but a delightful discovery. Maybe they imagined it would bake throughout and learned it would sink to the bottom and got, instead, this wonderful, whimsical slice of pudding. Or maybe it was plenty intentional. Either way, it is unlike any rice pudding I’ve ever eaten before. It made for a stunning presentation and was just simply so texturally on point that I have had a strong urge to play with my own rice pudding recipe, see what I can come up with.
The Snail Bar
This was our other Big Spend and I would gnaw on sourdough alone for a week straight if I needed to in order to make it back to this place with a generous budget. I might be getting a bit settled in my ways, the old curmudgeon stick was not spared on me, but I will continue, forevermore, to have a sweet spot for the new kids, the yoots, the babes in the woods who are still living for the thrill of perfection and precision and technical prowess on a competitive (even if it is just with themselves) level. I grew weary of even so much as a waft of this as I left restaurants some years ago. It was a different time and my weariness waned and I started to be able to separate the blowhard “cool kids” from the generous hearted cooks. I’m glad I have some fresh eyes again and can still find myself in an earnest and distinctly dedicated place such as Snail Bar, full of quality, inspired dishes, aspirational flavors and a sharp eye to technique. I especially jumped on board when the staff and crew were simply the most overwhelmingly pleasant as fuck people I had encountered in some time.
I loved every single thing about Snail Bar. I left wanting to open my own - an illness all chefs seem to carry with them when they have an experience they can’t get over. We had more oysters, again with a memorable mignonette but an even more memorable shared ice tray of mussels with caviar and magic. There was a crudo / ceviche tiger milk style dish with local, outrageously flavorful strawberries. There was asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, there were the snails, there was incredible pet-nats, there were tuna tostadas, there was very chill, very attentive service, there was a lovely patio where we felt just cozy enough with our neighbors but never encroached upon, there was sunshine, there were easy jokes with our server, there were quick lessons in classic Hip-Hop (the sweet baby angel who was serving us didn’t know who Digital Underground was, bless him), there was a different server who was from Kentucky who thought we were making fun of his accent and we thought he was making fun of our accent but really we were just three southerners twanging it up on an Oakland street corner, talking about family gatherings and weird Christmas presents - he was donning a snail necklace that a sister or cousin got and hated and he claimed it with bravado. It was meant for him. He wore it very well.
When I tell you that this was truly, absolutely, the highlight of my trip, I beg you to remember that I had just spent two days with a person I love more than 98% of the things on this planet, bathed naked in the deep valley of a mountain for days, eaten oysters on the coast, saw super blooms AND redwoods AND hung out in MFK Fisher’s house for fun (more on that later!). Also an indicator: I hardly ever take photos of my food - I actually can’t stand the activity. BUT LOOK AT ALL THE PHOTOS. It was somehow more delicious than it was beautiful. I might be a bit reborn.
We took a few bottles of natural wine with us (they have a very smart and well researched retail selection in the restaurant) and rushed over to the Berkeley Bowl where we bought some strawberries and a whole chicken to roast that night for dinner. This was part of our budgeting. We only got a few of the menu items that we wanted (we could have gone so much harder), but we took it easy and opted for a moderately priced bottle of very good wine and a $14 whole chicken for our “dinner”. Budget balance, see. It was my final night in SF and it was sweet, simple, generous and so memorable.
This is where I’ll wrap it up. The day is getting away from me and there will be more time to talk about Northern California later this summer. There is so much more from this trip alone that I could tell you about - Vesuvio’s, a perfect Korean bathhouse, The FatLady Cafe, market stands, a place in Marin County that was recommended by our tour guide at Ms. Fisher’s home that was pitch perfect from seating to dessert, a brutal car break in, lots of laughs, lots of sites. But someone recently emailed me and wrote TLDR, so shit, I guess I need to practice brevity every once in awhile. Plus, those highlights of the trip might be little keepsakes just for me.
Upcoming, though, I will go into finer detail about my surprise trip to MFK Fisher’s house in whole other dedicated post. Who plans a surprise for their friend on THEIR birthday? This is the caliber of human I am fortunate enough to love and call friend. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.
And, next week, more recipes for spring and early summer.
My appetite is back.
See ya, luv ya!
-lisa
WHAT I’M WORKING ON:
I just wrapped up edits on a piece for Garden and Gun that will be in print this August. Can’t wait to share it with you!
Heading to France in just a few days - stay tuned for travel times and foodstuffs and discoveries and exuberance.
Yes, to the rice pudding recipe experiments!