I get up a 5 Tuesday morning, load up the Tacoma, and take off for my friend Louie’s, 3 hours up the coast on Hwy. One. Fragrant latte and cookie at Toby’s in Pt. Reyes Station (best coffee in Marin), then skirt the eastern edge of Tomales bay, mist drifting across tide flats. In spite of the terrible things going on all over the world, I still have these days, magic moments when I’m thrilled to be alive. The hills are still moist from all the rain. Cattle all have shiny coats. Flock of fat butterball looking sheep. Coffee, ganja, blues on radio, not too shabby eh?. Sometimes a song will be perfect with passing scenery, and I make a movie in my mind, moving through space with music. It’s a low tide and I check out a clam digging area for future trips. Lots of clams, a bunch of clam diggers. Pick up some beautiful large sheets of nori seaweed, will see if I can clean and dry it when I get home There’s a roadkill faun on the highway, but it’s too old.
Great breakfast (preceded by um, a Bloody Mary; hey, it seemed appropriate) at recently refurbished Timber Cove Inn. There’s something good going on in that kitchen. Looks like a great place for a weekend getaway, on rocky point looking out at ocean. Not cheap, but elegant in its present incarnation.
Around noon I get out to Louie’s, which is in a valley, on a river. I unpack in this room, which always makes me happy, every part of it is so right. Bed on right, desk for my MacBook at left, looks out into sunny vineyard, redwoods in background.
Louie and Lloyd House are my two favorite builders in the world. Louie’s next project will be willow furniture, There are always little things around that are a delight, like this Birch branch hose holder:
I go down to the swimming hole, lie in sun a little, boy does it feel good to have sun on my skin, I’d forgotten. Dive into deep green water, the river is beautiful (and cold) right now. About 8′ deep alongside rock face.
Three 13-or-so-yr-old girls are on the beach, talking.
“And I’m, like, no way!”
“She like had 2 kids.”
“He’s like, sorry to be so late.”
“And she’s like, where have you been?”
Then, like, a 15-yr old boy comes and he and the girls start jumping off the cliff into the pool.
They’re playing and giggling, having a great time. Gaiety on a sunny afternoon at the swimming hole.
Back home: I wrote a bunch of stuff yesterday afternoon, will post when there’s time. Also shot movie of going 500′ across river on Louie’s aerial tramway cable, which I’ll get up on YouTube.
14 years ago, we thought the world was ready for a cookbook based on what’s growing in the garden, the wild, or locally available. We published this book — which turned out to be ahead of its time. Now we’re happy to have it back in print. It’s a great cookbook “…for people who want to learn more about how to use healthy ingredients to whip up delicious meals without too much fuss.” Suzy and Charlie Restino moved from New England to Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, in 1971, built a house, planted a huge garden, large greenhouse, root cellar, had chickens, cows, goats — a real homestead. Suzy’s a real writer, witty and insightful, and did all her own drawings. A few people have told me it’s their favorite cookbook. This is the style of cooking we practice. As local as possible. As home-grown (or gathered) as possible. “Country cooks have to do a lot of improvising, experimenting, and inventing in the kitchen. You have to, since the store may be far away.…” Interspersed with homesteading experiences of two people who left city for country in the ’60s (and super relevant today).
