Southern California

The whole Friday night crowd is out in University Heights. Good thing we reserved at Adams Avenue Grill. This is really something: they start at 8 am and serve lunch until 2 and open at 5 for dinner. They do it seven days a week and, if that isn't more than enough, they deliver. Three meals a day, seven days a week. Really. How'd we end up here? It's Michele's turn to show me and The Thin Man places we won't find on our own in San Diego.

Butcher paper and crayons are fun while we're waiting. Too bad our game of Hangman is riddled with artistically challenged and bad drawing. A painter with much better ability has a show here of fine water colors. We have flowers plus actual salt and pepper shakers on the table. (You can hardly find salt and pepper anywhere anymore. We'll uncover more about this another day.)

We're going simple. The Thin Man opts for Anjou pear, Mandarin orange and arugula salad with grilled chicken and Boston lettuce, spinach, walnuts and blue cheese. Pears are perfectly ripe and oranges are juicy. We're partial to salads with heft from cheese and nuts and if you throw in some croutons, that's great. Californians take greens for granted although we were in a Whole Foods, somewhere between Costa Mesa and La Jolla, and the greens were not what you expect. Anyway, in Boston we take lobster rolls for granted. Not beans, not ever.

You might remember we were on a slight squash kick recently. It coincided with a visit to one of my favorite restaurants here in Long Beach, Michael’s Pizzeria. I’ve said a million times that I don’t really “do” restaurant coverage because a) it’s overdone and b) it’s not my thing. I think the irony is that I get to eat in some of the most amazing places all over the damn globe and could probably have a blog over just restaurants alone, but again, it’s best left for others. Having said that, when I do write about a restaurant it’s because I find it pretty special and/or I’ve graciously stolen a recipe to inspire me at home. This is one of those cases on both accounts.

A few things you will not engage me on unless we are best friends and in the comfort of my own home: religion, women’s reproductive rights, politics, and who makes the best pizza. I’m no dummy. Each topic is loaded with sensitivity, opinion, and weighs a million tons. I’m better off just smiling and talking about pretty plates and napkins and puppies.

When it comes to pizza, I will not argue with you about what you like or who makes the better pie. Why waste my time? I will, however, tell you that I prefer a thinner crust, only a few high quality toppings, and fired quickly at a high temperature. See? How evasive was that? Truth be told, meet my few easy requirements and chances are I’ll enjoy it. Which is why I prefer pizza napoletana. Keep your deep dish, pal.

We were on our way back from Death Valley where the only thing on the side of the road is an occasional purple flower, a bit of brush, a lone cactus or two… My husband suggested that we take a detour to Lone Pine.

“Why?” I asked him.

“Because I went there once,” he said “and it was sort of quaint and charming. And you’d like it?”

“Really?” I made a face. I have a skinny tolerance for western mountain towns.

“And,” he added, “I bet they have a restaurant there. And you know you get cranky when you haven’t eaten.”

He had me there. So I instantly googled best diner in Lone Pine and came up with what sounded like a somewhat charming diner called Alabama Hills Café and Bakery.

Up the mountain we went, into the town that was sort of quaint and charming. But we couldn’t find the restaurant and then he made a random right turn in an effort to turn around and there we were right in front of it. And it was sort of adorable except the clock in the door said 1:58 and there was a sign on the door that said that they closed at two.

I was truly astonished when they let us in. “Why not?” he said. “I’m here and so are you.”

Solvang is a tourist town through and through. This quaint, Danish-themed city is located smack dab in the middle of Santa Barbara's wine country. If you aren't in town for the pastries or chocolates, you're probably visiting because of your love of wine. It sort of looks like a Disneyland version of what people imagine Denmark to be like, but we are assured by Danish friends is not really based much on reality.

Though it has a slew of winery tasting rooms the food options, post breakfast, are pretty slim. Like most wine regions it has a few high-end restaurants that require reservations (like Root 246), but after a long day on our feet we just wanted something casual and uncomplicated. Fitzpatrick's Tavern fit the bill perfectly. Open for around 6 months, it's everything an Irish bar should be and a nice change from the other mid-priced options around town (pizza, pasta, sandwiches). Chosen mostly for comfort and convenience, we sidled up to the bar, so we'd have a good view of the game.