Category Archives: California Dreaming

New Tastes

Winding through the streets of downtown LA, my son watched carefully for the narrow alleyway between the area’s darkened and tightly packed office buildings. Disguised as a driveway to some unknown loading dock behind the buildings, those who didn’t know the city’s Korea Town would never suspect the alley was there.

Grilled meats and an amazing variety of Korean vegetables and dipping sauces.

Finally my son spotted the entrance, navigated the dark, narrow alley, then hit the brake as a valet popped out of the darkness and held up his hand. Both men chuckled as I gaped in amazement. Before us was a paved courtyard strung with twinkling lights and lined with tiny shops selling jewelry, handbags, and flowers. Laughing children, parents, grandparents, dating couples, girlfriend groups, and young men in twos and threes strolled through the courtyard and gathered in front of restaurants featuring Korean food.

The sights, sounds, and language of the Korean community swirled around us as we got out of the car and made our way toward a restaurant owned by a local folk hero. My son and I joined the group waiting in front and leaned into the smoky scents of Korean barbecue–literally a dozen different cuts of grilled beef and pork–as we waited for a table. When we finally got inside, we were seated at a round table with our own grill in the center. Servers in black t-shirts and jeans, bluetooth devices forming an almost Borg-like connection between them, swarmed around the table to grill the meats we selected and surround us with metal bowls of soups, stews, vegetables, wasabi, a saffron rice accented with lychee nuts, and a different dipping sauce for each offering.

A cocophany of sight, sound, smell and taste

Blissfully, I tried everything. One new flavor after another burst across my tongue, and I grew bolder with my choices and faster with my chopsticks.
Eventually, though, I put down my sticks, signaled for a cup of tea, and sighed with happiness. How often, I wondered, is there so much light hidden within darkness?

Grilled meat, a soy/okra dipping sauce, and kim chee

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A Malibu Morning

Sitting in the black BMW as it zips around the twists and turns of a sandstone canyon through the Santa Monica mountains, all I can think about is the beach ahead. Every year at this time, Malibu’s bluffs are crowned with wildflowers, the surrounding hillsides are loose with yellow stone, and the roadsides are joyfully littered with casually-parked jeeps, SUVs and VW buses carrying surfboards, parasails, and kites on their roof racks and spilling over their tailgates.

This morning, however, as sunshine ricochets around the canyon, my son and I emerge from the mountains into a morning mist that feels as though it’s a thousand years old. Wordlessly my son guides the car toward the beach, slides it into a parking space just steps from the sand, and unpacks our gear.

There are few people here. Pelicans hunt the waves in pairs, sea gulls ride currents of warm air high in the sky, and a little girl and her brother wheel and dart in and out of the surf.

My son’s attention is caught by the mood and sound of the sea. Quickly he shoots a few pictures of what seem to be a bundle of rags on the sand near the lifeguard’s station. I join him, pulling out my own camera to shoot the morning light as it breaks through the mist, blesses the waves, and overcomes the darkness.

We learn from each other.

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The Cove

Climbing the seemingly endless stairs that lead from street level in the small, coastal village of LaJolla to a restaurant perched high on the cliffs above the cove, I pause to take a deep breath. The delicate smell of fresh, grilled fish wafting down from the sun-filled deck above is simply begging to be inhaled—and experienced—more deeply.

Lunch above the cove

I know the aroma. The first time I experienced it was when I met a young chef named Gavin Kaysen. Gavin and I were meeting to talk about a book I was writing, but as we talked about food and wine and books and people and the play stove his mother had given him as a child, I gradually fell silent. The exquisite fish taco on my plate, which Gavin had recommended, engaged my senses on so many levels that I was completely absorbed.

Seals and seabirds rest on the rocks

The freshly-caught fish melted on my tongue. The crisply fried shell added a contrasting crunch of texture. And the minced tomato, greens, and–of all things!–mango were delicately highlighted with a splash of lime. The result was something so simple and fresh that I would never forget it.

Moving toward my table today, I look out over the seals and seabirds basking on the rocks below and realize how much I share with these creatures. There’s something to be said for the simple life. Warmed by sun, and fed by the sea, we are truly blessed.

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On the Road

I’ve left the cottage to gather stories from women in California for my new book.

Life in the high dessert requires strength


A trip up into the San Gabriel Mountains reveals a topography that reflects the strength and beauty of those I’ve met.

Blessed silence as the clouds move in

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Summer’s End

The garden’s a shambles. The lettuce, beans, corn and cucumbers have been harvested, the cucumbers have been pickled and canned, and the strawberries and blueberries are in the freezer. Thanks to my friend Ann, there’s also enough blackberries and shredded zucchini in there to make blackberry cobbler and maple zucchini bread until spring. The second crop of spinach will be ready in a few weeks and I’m leaving all the carrots in the ground until the cold weather sweetens them up.

I had a story to write in Los Angeles, so with a break in chores, I packed my bag and headed for Malibu and my favorite cove.

The cliffs high above Malibu

The cove is on that isolated stretch of PCH that winds along the coast north of LA.

High tide at the cove.

At dusk, I pulled off PCH to watch the parasail surfers—and into the only restaurant on the planet that can still tempt me with fried food. Neptune’s clams are purely amazing.

hot clams

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Morning Quiet

A quiet space under a tree. A cup of tea in the sunshine. A moment in which to breathe.

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