That, friends, is exactly what it says: Rugby Union Zürich's Player of the Year trophy.
And if you look closely, you will, in fact, see that the name next to 2016 is MY MAN'S.
Mike is RUZ's player of the year, folks, and I couldn't be prouder. GO, MIKE! CONGRATULATIONS! WOOOO! SOMEBODY GOT TOLD, 'CAUSE MIKE TOLD THEM.
Ahem.
And now, to California. Mike had a work trip back in June, and convinced me to meet up with him there for a little time in San Francisco and Napa--two places to which we used to make an annual pilgrimage when we lived in Denver. Nowadays I don't get to go nearly as often--at this rate, it's about once every 4 years--but it's so, so nice to visit the area and to catch up with the heaps of friends we have there. Oh yes...and to EAT, EAT, EAT. (Sooooo much good food there, good grief.) I flew into San Francisco, whence we drove immediately south to have dinner with our good friend Lori, and then to spend the night in Half Moon Bay. (Because, why not?) Our second day began with coffee at a cute local shop, and then we set out to explore some scenery, which included, of course, the off-season waves at Mavericks.
As it happens, there's also a lovely saltwater marsh and small bird sanctuary in the area...
...but really, this is what Mike wanted to see. As we were there in June, the waves were really small, but in the wintertime, they get much, much bigger. (Which is why one of the world's premier surfing competitions is held there.)
On our way out, saw a couple of massive blue herons flapping about in the marshes. Neat.
Followed with lunch in Half Moon Bay at a taqueria we'd spotted earlier. Positively delicious.
Next, we headed south on the Pacific Highway towards Santa Cruz. I know, I know, it's legendary scenery, and prior to this, everyone had seen it but me...but srsly, folks, what a coastline. Holy smokes.
Some lovely friends of ours had invited us to stay the night at their amazing house near Los Gatos (up in the mountains! so pretty!), but as we found ourselves with a little time to kill before dinner, we made a quick stop at Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park. Which is 100% as awe-inspiring as Muir Woods--a redwood grove/magical fairy forest--but with about 1% of the tourists found there. Yesssssss.
Mike (for scale) checking out the cross-section of a redwood...
...that was more than 2200 years old when it fell. I love how they've labeled the rings with various historical events; this tree predated Jesus, people.
I believe this was the Giant, the tallest tree in the grove, at 270 ft (83m) tall, and 17 ft (5m) wide at the base. (How amazing is that twist in the trunk??)
Crazy wavies on the bark.
These trees are mind-boggling and stunningly beautiful and amazing and magical and so, so tall. It really does feel like a fairy forest. One sorta expects magical creatures to be lurking just out of sight, frolicking through the greenery, hiding around the next corner, and watching the visitors. (Of which there were maybe 10, including us, at the time. Magic.)
Albino redwood needles on a tree that shares its root system with a regular green tree, whose normal chlorophyll produce the nutrients for both.
This crazy tree split into no fewer than 5 trunks about a third of the way into its full height...any of which was roughly the size of a normal pine tree. Insanely huge.
Such an amazing place. If you ever find yourself in the neighborhood of Henry Cowell, people, go. It's beautiful. (And yes, fine, I obviously took about a jillion photos of trees. Don't judge. You would have, too.)
After a lovely evening (and amazing dinner) with our friends Brad and Nila, we headed the next day towards Napa Valley to meet up with Jen and Dave and Tom and Sarah for a little good food and wine. First stop: bubbly at Domaine Carneros, where we inadvertently joined the worst tour of all time. (Er...let's just say that we were not the appropriate demographic for this particular tour, as we'd all, in fact, tried wine at least once prior to it.)
But at least the vines and baby grapes were pretty...
...and we got to see the bottling machinery, which was genuinely fascinating. (For bubbles, they invert the bottle to send all the yeast to the neck; freeze it to create a yeast "cork;" pop the yeast cork, to remove said yeast; and insert the actual cork afterwards. Here, the freezing machine on the left, and the yeast-cork-popper on the right. Neat.)*
That evening was something truly special: dinner at the French Laundry to celebrate Jen's birthday and Mike's and my anniversary (which, prior to this, in five years, I'd never managed to figure out were on the same day. Ugh. Pull it together, Sarah.). And while it was by no means a cheap meal, in my opinion, the place entirely lived up to its reputation. Outrageously amazing food, great service, and--something of a rarity in a three-star restaurant--a convivial and warm atmosphere.
Six different kinds of salt. (And no, I don't remember what kinds they are. Because as much as I enjoy fanciness and excess, for me...salt is salt.)
Although here's an excess I can get into: our table of six, absolutely smothered in desserts. (The little spring-flower meringues were for our anniversary, and the stripey cake was for Jen's birthday--on top of their normal 6-dessert spread. The stand-outs were the pink plum pudding-y thing [top left], the meringues [lemon curd inside!], and the chocolate-covered salted almonds. Yummmm.)
And look what they did for us with the menu! Hee! (In case you're wondering, where there was a choice, I went with the Oysters and Pearls, hearts of peach palm, mac 'n cheese [with some of the more subtle truffles we've tried--which I actually liked!], and lamb. And with the exception of the Oysters and Pearls, Mike went with the other option on everything. However. It was ALL FREAKING RIDICULOUSLY AMAZINGLY DELICIOUS. And none of us finished our desserts, 'cause as you can imagine, we were well and truly stuffed by the time they all arrived!)
The next day, after a bit of a rough night (my stomach: not terribly cooperative, ever), I slept in, while Mike, Jen, and Dave went to taste some Napa reds at Cakebread (and they even brought back a very nice bottle for us all to share later in the day). Thankfully, I was able to rally and join everyone for lunch at my absolute favorite of California institutions: the local taqueria. I'm not kidding you, La Luna is one of my very happiest of places. (Good food at the lunch counter in the back, and market shelves packed with Mexican goodies we just can't get here. Sigh.) And then, off to another happy, happy place: Joseph Phelps. Ahhhhhhhh.
Jen set up a fun tasting for us: we got to sample several red varietals, then experiment with making our own Insignia (their fancy, best-grapes-only red blend, which is pretty much always amazing). That's why we each got a ridiculous number of glasses: one for white (the appetizer, you might say), one for water, six for the blending varietals, and one in which to make said blends (note honest-to-goodness science lab pipette at bottom).
Outside on the terrace. Joseph Phelps has the best scenery in Napa, I think.
Dinner that night was at Bistro Jeanty--I think we all needed something a little more laid-back after the utter excess of the night before--where we all shared with some pretty decent escargot and an order of mac 'n Gruyere with ham, and then I had a magnificent green bean salad with goat cheese and roasted tomatoes (mouth...watering...) and a side of crazy-good Brussels sprouts. (And everything I stole off of everyone else's plates was pretty tasty, as well. My only regret: not having enough room in my belly to try out the ratatouille.) The next day, we parted ways with Jen and Dave (with whom we were soon to re-rendezvous in the city! woo!) and headed south towards Monterey and Carmel. First stop: the world-famous Monterey Aquarium, where I'm fairly certain I could have spent a week watching the octopi and cuttlefish alone.
The first thing you see when you enter the aquarium proper is this massive, 28-foot-tall tank containing a kelp forest and all manner of fishies. Here, something schooling. Fascinating and mesmerizing.
Elsewhere, a ridiculously smiley-looking scallop. (I wouldn't be so smiley if I were you, friend. Mike would like to eat you.)
These things were tiny and incredible: skeleton shrimp, which looked exactly like very slow-moving seaweed stems. (The shrimp here is that wee wispy thing in the center on the left branch, and there are at least three others [terribly out-of-focus] on the right. I took about a dozen pictures of these, and none came out terribly well. Boo.)
Tank full of crazily-colored moray eels. They're totally creepy to me, but ooh, look how spotty!
And there was this big oval room, the top 8 (or so) feet of which were lined with this huge aquarium of sardines endlessly swimming in a circle. It was hypnotic.
Oh yeah...and these were the other things I could have watched for a week: THE SEA OTTERS. Good Lord, are those the cutest things on earth.**
They just floated around and napped while we were there, and I still couldn't tear myself away. For like a half-hour. TOO. CUTE.
But back to octopi: this is one of the aquarium's two giant Pacific models, mid-color-change on the back wall of his tank. He's bright red, but changed to mottled gray to completely blend in with that rock wall in about a half-second. And then swam away and changed back. That was one of the most remarkable nature-y things I've ever seen, but of course, I was too stunned and slow (and, to be fair, it was quite dark in there, just sayin') to get any good photos. (Hmm, is anyone else sensing a theme here...?)
This little guy, I did manage to get: this is (I kid you not) the flamboyant cuttlefish, and his stripes were flashing and undulating all sorts. So incredible!
Here, you can see that the stripes just behind his eyes and on his tentacles have changed pattern. So, so neat! If it were at all possible, having one of these in a saltwater tank at home might just make said tank worth the trouble. (But probably not. And I doubt they have these little dudes just hanging around at the average pet store, anyway.)
I found it perverse that wandering around the aquarium made me crave seafood, but we'd already booked at Cantinetta Luca, a trendy Italian place in Carmel where we shared some crazy-good antipasti plates. (One of which, I must confess, had tentacled creatures on it. Can't help it! So tasty!)
Ughhhhhhhh, look at that meat board! We left nothing behind. (In case you're wondering, that's prosciutto; mortadella; house-cured pepperoni, bresaola, salame, and lamb-and-pistachio salame; Tyrolean speck; and a crazy-good Calabrese-style salami from [of all places] Canada. Mmmmm.)
Next came this gorgeous little plate of grilled tiny octopi, chickpeas, more of that Calabrese salami, roasted cauliflower, and a tomatoey salsa.
I followed those up with a bowl of some pretty terrific panzanella, and Mike had a plate of pasta with house-made fennel sausage, but really, those starters were the stars.
The next morning, after a quick (and quite tasty) breakfast at The Wild Plum, we hopped in the car for the not-insignificant, but rather beautiful, drive south to Hearst Castle, a place I'd been interested in visiting for a while. It's definitely a giant tourist trap, but also rather spectacular and well worth the visit. Quick summary: Hearst Castle was built on a 245,000-acre plot of land belonging to William Randolph Hearst, the early-20th-century media magnate whose travels across Europe inspired both the building itself and the acquisition of all of the antiquities therein. His architect, Julia Morgan, was ambitious and brilliant and far, far ahead of her time, devising (with her background in engineering) ingenious ways to construct and to maintain the massive and continually-evolving castle. Beginning in 1919, over the course of 28 years, Hearst and Morgan together created the 165-room building set in 127 acres of gardens, terraces, pools, guest houses, and outbuildings. When Hearst died in 1951, the family left exterior of the back half of the castle unfinished as a tribute to his connection to the place. If you're going to bother to get all the way out there, definitely, definitely take the Upstairs Suites tour; that's where all the great stuff is. (We skipped the kitchens and the guest houses, but what we saw was enough for one day. And what timing: I read this morning that after a couple of dangerous weeks, the castle is finally safe from the current wildfire nearby.)***
One of the many, many ridiculous views along the coast.
Behold! The main entrance to what Hearst called "Casa Grande."
This is the castle as viewed from the promenade, with a good bit of the unfinished portion in the background to the right.
On the other side of the main entrance is the massive Neptune Pool, finished in 1936. This thing holds 345,000 gallons of water, but was drained in 2014 due to leakage and the terrible drought conditions in the state.
And the inside! The Assembly Room, with--among other priceless antiquities--a 16th-century coffered ceiling from Italy and various Renaissance and Baroque tapestries. (Yeah...so, here, you can see how many other people were there.)
The Refectory--or, as most people call it, the dining room. Again, a 16th-century coffered ceiling from Italy, and I think they said those choir stalls on the walls were 15th-century Spanish.
Extraordinary 16th-century Spanish Mudéjar ceiling in the Morning Room. (As I just now learned myself, the Mudéjar people were Muslims who remained on the Iberian peninsula after the area was reconquered by Christian forces prior to 1492--but were not forced to convert to Christianity. Naturally, then, their art brought a distinctly Moorish style to some of the Romanesque and Gothic buildings of the era. It's really amazing stuff.)
And now, to the upstairs portion! Nice view of the carved wooden corbel animals above the balcony on the south side of Casa Grande--created by Swiss artisans, but of course.
One of the two symmetrical bedrooms on the second floor in the Doge's Suite. I thought the washed-out colors and floral motifs were quite pretty.
Plus, the views from up there weren't terrible...
The library, with yet another 16th-century Spanish ceiling. We were informed that every single urn and bowl and lectern in there is an authentic antique...which was pretty shocking, considering the number of intact and gorgeous Grecian urns around the ceiling. (And on display shelves...and over the fireplace...etc., etc.)
The Gothic sitting room on the third floor. I loved the vaulting in here, as well as the general coziness. This would definitely be my reading room.
But really, the show-stopper was the study, also on the third floor. This room was surprisingly huge and church-like and crazy ornate.
There is a little bedroom on the fourth floor of each tower, just underneath the bells--which means awesome views, but terrible noise. (Is staying here a privilege or a punishment, one wonders?)
And finally, there's the indoor Roman pool, finished after 7 years of construction in 1934. This entire massive place is decorated in 1-inch-square mosaic tiles, and the designs were, of course, inspired by some of the 5th- and 6th-century Roman mosaics in Ravenna. (Why, oh why, haven't I been there yet??)
Here's the view from the shuttle heading back down towards the visitor center (and our rather warm car).
The verdict: as we've seen rather a lot of palaces and authentic castles in our time, we tend to be a bit judgey of these sorts of things. However, if you're into architecture, early-20th-century American affluence and/or history, fancy floors and ceilings (oh, I have so many photos of ceilings!), or merely ogling the ridiculous ways in which people with tremendous wealth tend to spend it, it's worth the visit. Provided you're willing either to stay a night in the wee, sleepy town next to the place (...we weren't), or spend an inordinate amount of time in the car to get there and away again (...we were).
A bonus of making the drive, though: elephant seals! There they all were, just passed out on the beach.
Hee...big ol' elephant seal nose propped up on a neighbor.
And, and! Every now and then, one of the seals would flip sand over itself, probably to regulate body temperature and/or avoid sunburn. I wasn't quite fast enough on the draw to get the entire several seconds' worth of flipping here, but I did manage to get one single flip. (Oops.)
Dinner on night 2 in Monterey was at the rather hipster, but utterly divine, Restaurant 1833 in Monterey proper. (The name comes from the origins of the cool old house inside which the restaurant sits, which--as you may have guessed--was built in 1833. It was most prominently owned by a British ex-sailor-turned-snake-oil salesman and possible murderer, and so the place is full of colorful stories and is supposedly haunted. Yesssss.) After some tasty cocktails at their Apothecary bar (tequila and cassis, for me--so creative!), we headed upstairs to our table and started off with their "everything" Hawaiian bread. Then I went for a grilled romaine salad with peas, dill, buttermilk/black pepper dressing, and shaved smoked pork, and tried out their salmon in smoked tomato broth with corn, squash and broad beans for my main (ahhhhhhh, so good!!). I failed to write down Mike's starter, but his pork chop with hominy, green mole sauce, and carrots that came afterwards was also tremendous. For dessert, we shared a chocolate and hazelnut brioche (imagine the lightest, crispiest toast possible) with hazelnut pudding, sea salt, and chocolate-hazelnut ganache. (Love that sweet-and-salty combination. Mmmmm.)
Friday morning, we headed back towards San Francisco to drop off the car and return to the city. (Yay! No car! Big city! That's the life for me, kids.) It was really only partially coincidence that our visit fell on the weekend of the Pride Parade, an event which completely shuts down the middle of San Francisco, and which I utterly adore. (We spent our third anniversary in San Francisco during Pride Weekend as well, so it was kinda fun to come back around for the tenth anniversary of that anniversary.) After checking into our swanky, yet weirdly-affordable, hotel (thanks, downtown Omni, relatively empty on a weekend! so fancy, and such tremendously friendly staff!), we made our way through the lesbian Pride parade...
So many bikes to kick the parade off, and then so, so many people on foot!! (And with far less nudity than I was expecting, frankly.) I knew the big parade on Saturday would have about a zillion people in it, but I wasn't quite expecting the size (or light smattering of militancy, I'm not going to lie) of this one. It was huge and festive, though, and made me want to dance along with all of the various musics playing along the way. (And rock a feather boa, but alas, I was not in possession of one.)
...to Dave and Jen's for some pre-dinner drinks and snacks, then headed off to rendezvous again with our friends Tom and Sarah for sushi at Oyaji. There was some sort of fried eggplant special on the menu that night that was almost like eating candy, let me tell you, and we ate their sushi until we could barely stand. Mmmmmm.
The next day was coffee at Blue Bottle (so snooty that it's laughable, but man, do they serve up some perfect iced coffee), and then off to the parade...which was about a 5-minute walk from our hotel! People, I know it might sound weird to say, but I find the San Francisco Pride parade to be one of the most joyous, and yet deeply moving, events I've ever attended. It's all about love and acceptance and variety and celebrating differences, and it speaks to me. (And sings, and dances, and cheers, and is full of color and so much passion. Love wins!)
Ohhh, and the costumes. As always, I wasn't fast enough with the camera to get everything I wanted to capture, but I got a bit. In all honesty, I have no idea what these outfits had to do with ending homophobia in Russia, but these people went for it.
No idea what was going on here, but I admire their commitment to marching in those masks. It was warm out there.
These guys were having an absolute blast.
This was the "senior dog rescue" group. So many older goggies in strollers...!
Ohhhh, these guys. We saw them 10 years ago, and I got almost as weepy this time as I did then. I haven't been alive even nearly as long as they've been together.****
So I'm not sure why a Latino environmental collective would have a giant fluttery dragon, but hey...cool dragon.
HAH, this guy. Naturally, there was a rather large police presence at this event, what with the horrible shooting in Orlando just over a week before, and this guy just happened to be patrolling our area. At no point in time did he remove his clothes, but with the way he was posturing, I'm still convinced he was a Hot Cop.
HEE... baby Bart.
These people were INSANE. They were riding like this the entire time they were within view, and this parade is four hours long, kids. These had to be the fittest people I've ever seen in real life.
This group didn't stop dancing the entire time, either. It was remarkable.
These giant balloon backpacks seemed to be very popular. I pretty much love them.
There was still an hour or so of parade left when we decided to head out, but as we were leaving, I spotted this little goggie chewing resolutely on the rainbow flag. Awww.
Man, I could have stood there and watched that all day. It's quite a spectacle. I just love how everyone is so positive and excited to be involved, and that there's zero tolerance for any sort of shaming here. People of every conceivable shape and size and color were marching in various states of dress and undress, and nobody gave a hoot as to how big or small or out-of-shape anyone else was. And yes, in case you're wondering, I did select the safe-for-work photos here. I do, in fact, have plenty of photos of--including, but not limited to--nudists and folk in skimpy, skimpy showgirl garb and get-ups involving leather, but I try to keep things relatively tame here. (God bless 'em all, though, with that body confidence. Jealous.)
Post-parade, we headed to Chinatown to find some snacks (fail! there's no street food/convenient snacking to be found anywhere in Chinatown! for shame!) and to poke around a bit, since neither of us had been there in several years. I can't say any of the tourist-friendly restaurants really called our names, but the architecture and atmosphere are very cool.
These "gallery" stores are all over the place, and I find them appalling and spectacular at the same time. I think it's the sheer kitch value. (That is a supposedly malachite-covered piano in the middle, and there was a Chihuly-esque chandelier in their window. Ahhhh, knock-offs...so quasi-affordable, and yet, so fake! But somehow, still so delightful. And of course, this particular store was, rather conveniently, having a massive sale that day! Surprise!!)
But I digress. Chinatown. Neat.
Oooooh, dragony.
The architecture is absolutely amazing, but let me tell you, it came at a cost.
There is some nasty history here, alongside the beautiful buildings and festive colors. (As there tends to be, when a place deals with an influx of people who are culturally and physically different from themselves...) On a far less sober note, we somehow managed to explore thoroughly a rather extensive wok-and-kitchen-gadgetry shop and not come home with a second wok. (Self control is hard, though.)
It was about a 7-minute walk from Chinatown back to our hotel, and I couldn't stop craning. Man, I love a big city. Skyscrapers rule. Especially Art Deco ones, of which there are no short supply in SFO.
Speaking of which...! Pretty.
Dinner with Dave and our friends Jess and Mike was at a place Mike's been telling me about for years, Brothers Korean BBQ. It's the most stripped-down, no-frills place I've ever seen, but once you notice the grill grates in half of the tables and the ginormous vent hoods over the same, you realize that maybe this place is a little special. And holy smokes, is it ever. Because there were five of us, we ordered the tasting menu for six, and they promptly covered our entire table in tiny dishes full of wondrous condiments. The things I remember: sliced marinated tofu; shredded pickled carrots and daikon radishes; a nicely spicy chile sauce; some tiny fish-with-herbs that were quite spicy; kimchi; pickled sprouts; dried nori-style seaweed; and a few other pickled items, plus lettuce leaves for making wraps. And then came the real food: veggie tempura; clam, veggie, and tofu soup; a seafood and scallion egg pancake; noodles with beef and veggies (chop chae, is how they spelled it); and a giant plate of meats to barbecue on our very own in-table grill. Despite the presence of that massive hood, we still all went home smelling like Korean BBQ (and stuffed past the gills), and it was TOTALLY. WORTH. IT.
Our table before the soup, seafood pancake, and noodles got there. As usual, my stomach was not equipped for nor pleased by the quantity, but I HAVE NO REGRETS. You're not the boss of me, stomach.
On Sunday, we had a little time to kill before catching our flight back to Zürich, and as we hadn't really had any straight-up seafood yet, we decided to head over to Fisherman's Wharf.
Where we saw a handful of lazy, lazy seals...
...and a bunch of those adorable little old-timey fishing boats...
...Mike ate a giant crab...
...and we checked out the Ferry Building, which is full of upscale foodie stores where I could have spent a lot of money on kitchen gadgetry and fancy foodstuffs for which I have absolutely zero need. (But would maybe have bought anyway, had we any room left in our suitcases. Self control: no fun.)
And with that, it was time to make tracks to the airport. I can't even tell you how fantastic it was to catch up with our good, dear friends, and to revisit a city (and wine-making region) for which I have nothing but love. Until next time, SFO!
One quick thing here: poor, beloved Italy, dealing not only with loss of life, but with the loss of irreplaceable heritage as well, in the aftermath of yet another devastating earthquake. If you're interested in donating to the relief efforts, here are some resources: help displaced pets; Italian American Relief; Global Giving; and the Italian Red Cross (although not sure how secure this site is).
And now, back to the jollity and irreverence. Up next: food, food, food, and more food. (And then maybe a bit about London, if there's time.) Zürich has got this crazy pop-up and food festival scene going right now, and it's my intent to go forth and eat everything.
*Yeah, I know, that's a lot of uses of the word "yeast" in one sentence, but you try explaining that process without repeating it once or twice.
**Well, right up there with red panda with pumpkin and surprised kitty, of course.
***Man, keep yourselves safe, California friends. These fires, while not surprising and certainly not a new occurrence, are such a nasty bit of business for your beautiful and wonderful state. As New Mexicans, whose homeland is also perpetually on fire during the summer months, we understand entirely. Our sympathies are with you!
****WARNING: I get a little preachy directly ahead. You know that I generally try to stay apolitical on this here blog, but I'd like to explain why this parade means so much to me. I'm ashamed to admit that I really didn't have an opinion on gay marriage until the first time I saw this couple, and then the obviousness of what was right just washed over me. We're all people, for crying out loud. Why should I be legally allowed to marry the person I love, and they not, especially when they've been committed to each other for so long? How is it anyone's business other than theirs? Why does anyone get to deny others' civil rights (and basic human dignity, really), especially when based on something people didn't get to choose? I say, let him who is without sin cast the first stone, and judge not, lest ye be judged.✿ I say, let people be happy during their years on earth--and share in the benefits of a legal marriage, both emotional and financial--and let whatever Great Cosmic Force you believe in sort it all out in the end. Life can be miserable enough without piling on the judgy self-righteousness, and no one's being harmed here. Maybe we should all focus on making ourselves better people, and just respect each other and coexist peacefully...? Ahem. Soapbox dismounted. (And if you didn't know before that I'm turning out to be a raging liberal, now you do.)
✿I know, I know, it's a bit unusual to quote the Bible when writing in favor of gay marriage, but I like what the New Testament has to say about compassion, kindness, humility, judging not, and doing-unto-others. And I had an additional whole long sort-of rant written out here along those lines, but I'm going to skip it. For me, for now, 'nuff said.
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