I’m on the road for a couple of weeks on official business, a conference in Southern California. Sadly, I am “stranded” in San Francisco for a few days before I move along, little dogies. Does this mean I will be eating and drinking my way through the Golden State? Why yes, I believe it does.
To fortify my spirits and arm myself with gifts, I stopped at the Rogue Creamery in Medford, OR, about two hours south of Eugene, fresh when they opened at 9 am. I had to represent, yo. So I bought a large chunk of Rogue River Blue and another of a new cheese, available only at the creamery.
The first thing I do when I return to my beloved Bay Area is to drive across the Bay Bridge, turn on the jazz station, and feel the chillout start to move through my body. It’s one of those little rituals that gives such an immense feeling of absolutely gratis pleasure. (Well, there is a $4 fee for crossing the bridge. WhatEVER. Jeez.)
Last night, I discovered how to sustain the pleasure — drive immediately to Alembic bar thereafter. When I arrived, my friend was already there with our first cocktail, and yadda yadda yadda, we had tried half the menu and the evening was in its cups.
I’m now off to sit zazen in Berkeley Bowl, prowl thrift stores for errant Duralex Picardie glasses, eat Ethiopian food in Temescal with a friend, and listen to the sweet sounds of someone I don’t know’s guitar at a pub with other friends. Life could not be better.