Over the course of our weekend in Sonoma, I went on three morning runs.
They were chilly, but beautiful.
I mean, running in Central Park has its charms, but even the views downtown from the north side of the reservoir have some stiff competition when it comes to these.
Way back when at the beginning of December, I flew out to San Francisco for the very best reason of all - to celebrate a friend. My friend Jason turned 30 recently, and 13 of us gathered in Sonoma to fête him with the proper pomp and circumstance. On our last day, we headed over the hills to Yountville for a visit to one of Jason's very favorite places, Thomas Keller's family-style restaurant: Ad Hoc.
And then came the main event: fried chicken with sourdough waffles. Two dishes like this one were brought to the table, and the six of us killed them both. How could we not? It was the best fried chicken I've ever had. (Keep in mind, that's coming from a Yankee, so...) I could tell the meat had been brined, but only in the good way (not in the overly-salty, too-watery way), and the crust was crisp, flavorful, and adhered. Adhering is key, you know, because you want some in every bite. Skin that comes away in one piece with the first bite is no good to me.
I could only eat three bites of dessert, but not for lack of delicious. It was a spiced chocolate pot de crème with Chantilly cream, with snickerdoodle shortbread served alongside. The cookie and chocolate went marvelously together, and that's coming from a woman who rarely likes anything other than marshmallow, caramel, salt or nuts coming anywhere near her chocolate.
After lunch, we went for a little stroll around Yountville, starting in the garden behind the restaurant. As a born and bred Northeasterner, I don't know that I'll ever get over the magic of citrus trees in full bloom. Or perfect fried chicken.
When Louisa visited New York ahead of Thanksgiving, we spent a whole day together doing a whole lot of nothing. Or, more specifically, got ridiculously long massages and then had a ridiculously long lunch at Balthazar, one of New York's best approximations of a Parisian brasserie.
Oysters and Champagne were both enjoyed, as was a fair bit of salty conversation. I do love visiting Austin, but sometimes I wish I could have lunch with Louisa every week.
Merry Christmas, everyone! I'm enjoying a cup of coffee in my Christmas cup before heading over to my brother's place to open gifts and have some waffles, bacon and insanely delicious maple syrup.
Healdsburg is one of my very favorite places in all of Napa and Sonoma. It's small and charming, but chock full of excellent shopping, food and coffee. And they decorate the pine trees in the park in the center of town, too. So freaking adorable!
On this trip, we made a stop at Flying Goat Coffee before making a circuit of the town. I haven't made an exhaustive survey or anything, but I feel comfortable saying it's unlikely you'll find a better cup in the area. I had a bittersweet mocha, and it was delightful. Rich and interesting, and not at all too sweet. My friend Jeff had the Mexican version, with a whole host of ingredients that sounded overcomplicated, but actually turned out to join together and sign in perfect, delicate harmony.
And such pretty machines, too.
This weekend, I'll be building a gingerbread house! I'll be joined by my friends Caroline and Ellie, and it's going to be a blast, no doubt. Caroline and I used to do these every Christmas, back when we were growing up a block apart in our picture-perfect (especially at the holidays) little Connecticut town.
A couple of weeks ago, I ventured out to the Sonoma Valley for a friend's 30th birthday extravaganza. Many a good time was had (with many a detail to come), but one of the highlights was revisiting the amazing taco truck I discovered back in 2009, when I visited Sonoma for my 30th.
While the truck is no longer named Angelina's, the food is just as spectacular - and, trust me, we ordered enough of it to be sure of its consistency. Something like 12 tacos and two burritos - not to mention the tlayuda the staff insisted on making us. It's a sort of giant tostada, and it's a popular food in Oaxaca, where the staff come from. It was pretty freaking good, guys, and I wouldn't recommend leaving the truck without ordering one. Carnitas, tomatoes, avocado and cheese adorned a huge, fried tortilla. Between the six of us, it went so fast that I couldn't even get a shot of the thing.
The tacos were stupendous as well, with the chorizo coming out ahead as a favorite. I ate everyone's radishes, since they didn't see fit to do so themselves.
And, finally, the burritos. You have to go supreme, because you need that crema, trust. And make sure to get the lengua. It's rich, flavorful and just a touch on the chewy side of tender, which is exactly what I like in a piece of meat. (I always go sirloin over tenderloin.) While the carne asada burrito was tasty, the lengua burrito brought us to our knees, to the point where we just repeated the word "lengua" at random throughout the weekend.
