I had heard a lot about Le Bistro in Petaluma. After all, the restaurant, sitting unobtrusively on Petaluma Boulevard South a few blocks from downtown, has been there for 19 years. When people talk about Le Bistro, they mention owner and chef Corey Basso. Many call Basso a first-class chef, even a genius, but note that he is particular about how Le Bistro is run. One woman on the reviewing website Yelp compared him to the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. It all sounded a little intimidating, like I was going to a restaurant run by some sort of brilliant culinary dictator.
Imagine my surprise, then, at how pleasant Le Bistro is on the inside. The tiny restaurant has only 10 tables, but it feels far from crowded. In fact, there is enough space that you don’t even feel like other diners are eavesdropping on your conversation. The atmosphere is peaceful, with a calming blue-and-white décor and the sounds of soft music and a fan whirring somewhere in the background.
Le Bistro’s menu is simple: one soup and a list of salads and entrées. The prices are reasonable–$16 to $19 for a main course–and the portions are big enough to fill you up. I ordered the pork medallions, and my companion ordered the Dijon-crusted halibut. Both dishes came with the same vegetables, green beans, carrots and young asparagus spears fanned out on the plate. Only the potatoes varied; my companion’s potatoes were mashed while mine were stacked in a small pile.
My three pork medallions sat in a well-developed red wine sauce. It was rich and clear with flavors of garlic, shallots and meat. The pork, however, was on the dry side. Although the medallions were not inedible, I found myself dipping them in the sauce to add missing moisture as much as flavor.
Without a doubt, my companion had the better dish. The halibut steak came sitting on a bed of mashed potatoes and floating in butter sauce. In the hands of a lesser chef, this dish could have been nauseatingly heavy, but this was beautifully blended, from the butter sauce tinged with the bite of capers to the smooth texture of the fish to the crunch of the mustard crust. I eyed his plate jealously as I dipped my pork in my sauce.
For dessert, I asked the waitress for a recommendation. She suggested the pecan walnut tart, which Basso has been making since the beginning. I was not disappointed. Like the halibut, the tart was perfectly balanced. The nuts retained their nutty flavor without being too raw or too syrupy. Underneath was a bed of sugary goodness and a flaky crust. It was topped with a whip cream almost lighter than air.
My companion tried the chocolate dessert, which was a chocolate port mousse with raspberries. The waitress told us the chef had recently started making the chocolate desserts in-house. Good decision; the mousse was delicious. Although I didn’t taste any port, there were entire raspberries at the bottom of the mousse, which was an unexpected and lovely surprise.
Given the excellence of the entire meal, the dryness of my pork may have been an anomaly. In any case, Le Bistro is worth a visit. It offers well-rounded French-style food without a trace of pretension and–a rarity around here these days–a reasonable price.
Le Bistro, 312 Petaluma Blvd.S., Petaluma. Open for dinner,Wednesday-Sunday. 707.762.8292.
Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.
Busting at the Seams
By David Sason
Rufus Wainwright has it all: teen-idol good looks; an astounding vocal range; formidable songs with catchy hooks; and certainly the proper rock pedigree (his parents are renowned folk artists Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle). He’s been hailed as the greatest songwriter of his generation by NME and the best on the planet by Elton John. He’s also been in many high-profile films, either onscreen (The Aviator) or on the soundtrack (Brokeback Mountain). So why–five critically acclaimed albums and a decade into his career–is he still not a household name?
Perhaps it’s the elaborate nature of Wainwright’s music, often described as “baroque pop” or “popera” (pop opera). Many of the 34-year-old’s compositions are densely packed, dizzying amalgams of strings, horns, operatic choruses, ragtime rhythms and his own distinctively warm vocal timbre. After all, how many Top 40 musicians list “Papa Verdi” as an influence on their MySpace page?
Nevertheless, it’s hard to refute the accolades, especially USA Today‘s recent assertion that he is “his generation’s answer to Morrissey.” Like the British singer, who also recently performed at the Wells Fargo Center, where Wainwright holds court Aug. 2, Wainwright has an insanely dogmatic legion of fans (affectionately known as “Rufophants”), a lyrical penchant for mixing high art and clever colloquialisms, a gift for dark humor set against sunny melodies, a disdain for the establishment, a penchant for Miltonic dissertations on divine tyranny and deep esteem for classic Hollywood figures.
But like all cultural torch-passing, Wainwright’s bolder in all respects. In the piano stroll “Going to a Town,” off his new album Release the Stars, his first self-produced effort, he equates the current United States with no less than Nazi Germany during its own bid for diabolical world domination. Like all his intensely personal albums, Stars brings us Rufus the man, in all his foibles and contradictions. Not only is he writing an opera for the Metropolitan, in September he’s bringing his acclaimed Judy Garland re-creation to the Hollywood Bowl, just as he did for her famous 1961 Carnegie Hall shows back in June (a CD and DVD are released the same month). On his last album, he heralded the arrival of a “Gay Messiah,” who’ll be “wearing tube socks with style and such an innocent smile.” Judging from his recent stint on the True Colors Tour, not to mention the green lederhosen in Release the Stars‘ liner notes, Rufus may be it.
Rufus Wainwright and band dominate the Wells Fargo Center on Thursday, Aug. 2. Sean Lennon and A Fine Frenzy open. 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. 8pm. $39.50-$45. 707.546.3600.
Triple Play

Arcadia 2007:
Summer is in full swing, and gardens across the North Bay are bursting with goodness–beautiful basil, cucumber, garlic, green beans and the first tomatoes of the season, just to name a few. Such a cornucopia is just one of the many reasons we live in this magical place.
Another reason we call the North Bay home is that we’ve got so many talented chefs to guide us on what to do with this grandeur. Chefs who grow their own ingredients obsessively source out the best of everything from salt to olive oil and know how to put them together in such inspired style that even the most simple dish sings.
We asked three of our great chefs to share their favorite recipes of the moment, within just a few basic parameters. One, the ingredients should be the stars–no foam or froufrou. Two, that preparations be something a normal person (not that chefs aren’t normal, of course) could do. And three, that the results would be light (no heating up the kitchen, please), lively, and so delicious we would want to prepare them again and again.
Chef Bruce Hill
Picco, 320 Magnolia Ave., Larkspur. 415.924.0300. Pizzeria Picco, 320 Magnolia Ave., Larkspur. 415.945.8900. Bix, 56 Gold St., San Francisco. 415.433.6300.
Picco chef-owner Bruce Hill has worked at some of America’s most impressive restaurants and now owns three of his own in the Bay Area. He caught our eye at the recent Golden Glass event in San Francisco (go, Slow Food!) and with his commitment to using locally grown organic produce whenever possible.
Hill also favors the Asian twist. He’s spent time in Japan, and in October is heading back for a tour as San Francisco’s culinary ambassador. This dish is inspired by that country’s cooking, he says, “where the simple combinations often add up to deep flavors.”
Hill prefers Mariquita Farm (Watsonville) tomatoes, especially the Early Girls, hailing them as “the benchmark of tomato flavor.” Pair this salad with a lush, fruity Daiginjo sake.
Heirloom Tomato Salad with Arugula & Toasted Garlic Miso Vinaigrette
Serves 4
20 slices (1/2-inch thick) best quality heirloom tomatoes
4 c. organic arugula
1/4 c. basil oil (or torn basil leaves, 12 per salad)
toasted garlic miso vinaigrette (recipe below)
sea salt and fresh pepper
Toasted Garlic Miso Vinaigrette
1 c. chopped garlic, rinsed in cold water
2 c. pure olive oil (not extra virgin)
1 c. mirin (sweet rice wine)
1/2 c. white miso
1/2 c. rice vinegar
Sauté the garlic in olive oil over medium heat (10-15 minutes), watching carefully so it doesn’t burn. As soon as the garlic turns golden brown, add the mirin (it will bubble and boil). Remove from heat, add the miso and rice vinegar, whisk until smooth.
Lightly dress the arugula with toasted garlic miso vinaigrette, and mound evenly in the center of 4 plates. Season the tomato slices with salt and pepper and arrange around the arugula. Drizzle some vinaigrette on each of the tomato slices and garnish with basil oil or torn basil leaves.
Chef Mark Malicki
Cafe St. Rose, 463 Sebastopol Ave., Santa Rosa. 707.546.2459.
Cafe St. Rose owner Mark Malicki isn’t hung up on pretension. His tiny shop opened late last year on an unlikely residential/commercial street in downtown Santa Rosa. There are only about 15 seats in his shabby-chic space, and the bare bones menu changes daily, reflecting what’s good in the market plus, well, whatever Malicki feels like serving that night. Usually, it’s prix fixe; sometimes there are choices on courses, and sometimes not.
One thing is certain: the dishes will be out of the ordinary, with surprisingly effective out-of-the-hat combinations and casual, almost careless respect for “cuisine.”
Not surprisingly then, Malicki veered a bit from one of the constraints we put on him; local just wasn’t his bag that day. But simple? Check. And luscious? Check, check, check.
Malicki’s recipe comes from a fishing trip he took last year in Redding. He caught some brown trout and turned it into breakfast, though it turns toward dinner with a suggested pairing of a fennel and radish salad. The ham he likes lately is Smithfield from Virginia, the salt is Halen Môn 100 percent natural smoky Welsh sea salt, and the olive oil is Spanish because, as Malicki says, “To be frank, Spanish oil has lots of similarities [in quality] to Italian, but it’s priced a lot better.”
Trout with Serrano Ham
Serves 4
4 trout
4 slices jamon Serrano (or Smithfield ham)
pinch of salt
3 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
Cut the head and tail off the trout. Stuff fish with ham, and season with salt inside and out. Heat the oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat, add the fish and cook for three minutes. Carefully flip the fish over with a spatula and cook for two more minutes. Remove from pan and serve immediately.
Chef Victor Scargle
Go Fish, 641 Main St., St. Helena. 707.963.0700.
With three talented chefs in the Go Fish kitchen, it might be challenging to come up with one simple, stunning recipe everyone can agree on. The big names partnering here include Cindy Pawlcyn (Mustards Grill and Cindy’s Backstreet Kitchen), Victor Scargle (lured away from COPIA’s Julia’s Kitchen last winter) and Ken Tominaga (owner of Hana Japanese Restaurant in Rohnert Park).
Ultimately, they let Mother Nature name the dance, then leave it up to executive chef Scargle to choreograph.
“Here in Napa, we take advantage of the seasons,” Scargle says. “Right now we’ve got so many beautiful fresh beans, herbs and cucumbers.” He plucks his own from the organic garden behind the restaurant. Key to the recipe is the grapeseed oil verjus, from Napa grapes. “It’s different from vinegar and has a nice acid,” Scargle explains.
Alaskan Halibut with Summer Beans Verjus Vinaigrette & Salute Chardonnay Grapeseed Oil
Serves 6
6 Alaskan halibut fillets (5 ounces each)
1/4 pound yellow wax beans, cut in thirds on a bias
1/4 pound Bluelake beans, cut in thirds on a bias
1/4 pound haricot vert, cut in thirds on a bias
1/4 pound purple dragon beans, cut in thirds on a bias
1 stalk fennel, diced small and placed in water
6 stems chives, chopped fine, stems reserved
12 sprigs chervil, chopped fine, stems reserved
12 sprigs parsley, chopped fine, stems reserved
24 Tarragon leaves, chopped fine, stems reserved
kosher salt
white pepper
2 quarts Salute Chardonnay grapeseed oil (for poaching) plus 1 tbsp. to finish plate
1 tsp. coriander seed
1 tsp. fennel seed
Vinaigrette
1/2 c. red verjus
1/2 c. Salute grapeseed oil
1 medium shallot, minced
kosher salt
white pepper
Mix verjus, shallots and 1/2 c. of grapeseed oil. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Method: Bring heavily salted water to a boil, and cook beans in separate batches for four minutes each. Remove and blanch in ice water. Drain and pat dry.
Place herb stems, coriander seed and fennel seed in a cheese cloth and place in a saucepan with 2 quarts of grapeseed oil and bring to a simmer. Add diced fennel. Simmer for 15 minutes, strain fennel out and keep warm.
Season halibut with salt all over, white pepper on the skin side. Return grapeseed oil blend to heat, but do not let boil. Add fish and cook 8 to 10 minutes depending on thickness.
While fish is cooking, heat vinaigrette. Add beans and simmer until slightly tender, then add reserved fennel. Add chopped chives, chervil, parsley and tarragon.
Remove beans from vinaigrette with a slotted spoon, and place on center of plate. Remove fish from oil and lightly blot on paper towel. Season fish to taste with salt, and place on top of beans. Finish with a grapeseed oil drizzle around the plate.
Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.
Winery news and reviews.
Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.
Recipes for food that you can actually make.
Doin’ the Pigeon
By Gabe Meline
Don’t let his MySpace headline (“I’m Going to Kill You”) fool you–Pigeon John is one of the gentlest, most gracious MCs in all of hip-hop, an anti-thug whose personality is reflected in the absolute nonaggression of his vocal delivery. On the cover of his 2003 album, Pigeon John Is Dating Your Sister, he holds flowers at the gate of a white-picket fence with a hopeful look in his eye that says, “I am here to please your parents.” His music is melodic, bouncy and fun; he rarely, if ever, swears; his general lyrical stance is that he probably isn’t good enough to win you, girl, but he’s sure gonna try to talk you into it. And if that’s not enough for mom and dad, then shouting out to the Black Eyed Peas in his verses should probably do the trick.
None of this should scare any hip-hop fan away from seeing Pigeon John live, which remains one of the most welcome surprises I’ve ever had. Drenched in charisma, Pigeon John worked the stage like a trampoline, using his Chuck Taylors for their original purpose in a gymnastic display of showmanship. He’s one of the few rappers I’ve seen who explains his songs in detail beforehand, and he repeatedly thanked the crowd for showing their love.
Near the end, off to the side, the stage manager pointed to the clock and made the universal throat-cutting signal for “your time is up.” Most rappers would have milked it for one, maybe even two more songs, but Pigeon John turned to the house and exclaimed, “All right y’all, that’s my time, I gotta go, thanks!” While the crowd roared, he bounced off the stage, doing what the best performers always do: leaving them wanting more.
Pigeon John, who seems to have had a falling out of sorts with your sister, performs this Saturday, July 28 at 19 Broadway, 19 Broadway, Fairfax. $12-$15. 415.459.1091. For more info, cue up www.pigeonjohn.com.
What’s in a Name?

Arcadia 2007:
Splitting his time between Guerneville and Manhattan, acclaimed consultant Clark Wolf graces these pages with the occasional diatribe from the periodic local.
A well-intended, self-described “celebrity” chef was attempting to build enthusiasm for his new project in Sebastopol. “We think it’s the gateway to wine country,” he purred.
What? Huh?
How about the Crossroads of Farm Country? This is, after all, where Luther Burbank did all that experimenting to develop some of the 900 varieties of edible, sniffable goodness he created before showing it all off around his aptly named “show” home and gardens in Santa Rosa. How ’bout Last Stand in Apple Country? This is where we fight to preserve those heirloom Gravensteins. Maybe call it Gateway to Christmas Tree and Redwood Country. Or Salmon Spawning River Region, Land of Flooding Creeks or even Gravel-Pit Central. But to simplify it to yet another vino appellation tells so little of a deep, broad and delicious story.
This is also now a place that sports some world-class and wonderful bakeries, first-rate and fair trade organic coffee roasters, transcendent chocolatiers, major antique malls and way much more.
Don’t get me wrong. I love wine and am thrilled by the often world-class and truly transporting vintages regularly coming out of the nooks and crannies from all over the North Bay. But please don’t call this just wine country. That term so understates the unique and glorious mix of magic we have here and is getting to be as overused as “homemade,” “home-style” or “family-friendly.” These days, Lodi is wine country, Alameda is wine country, Livermore Valley is wine country. The third aisle on the left at Safeway is wine country, with AVAs popping out all over like poison oak on a rapidly warming earth.
Don’t get me wrong about that chef. I’m fond of him–he really can cook when he wants to–and I appreciate anyone who makes a sincere effort to contribute and participate in this glorious region. His restaurant will get better, perhaps even good, if they all just stick to it.
In fact, that’s what a lot of folks in this region have in common: sticking to it. Wine grape growers and the vintners themselves can wait years to get the first, right crop. Olive growers wait longer still. The luminescent Laura Chenel toiled at goat-herding and cheese-making for some 27 years before she was able to put her creamery into some one else’s devoted hands and take a few days off. But even so, she’s still right next door tending the goats.
Speaking of which, for a lot of folks, the North Bay is very much Dairy Country–great milk, cheese, butter–or, more specifically, Grass Country. From Northern Marin on up to Eureka, this has long been known as the Pastoral Region, which is why we get great California fromage, wonderful, tasty birds (hello, Petaluma!), delicious lamb and grass-fed beef. Even those pesky wild pigs and boars love what grows here. Let’s face it, if it weren’t for our lovely grasses, flowers, acorns and clover, Michael Pollan’s bestselling book The Omnivore’s Dilemma would have been less of a challenge and life-changing story.
Recently, I was pleased to be part of the celebration of the 31st annual Environmental Achievement Awards in Sebastopol. In a world suddenly going all green, ethical, hybrid and solar on us, they’ve been at it for over 30 years! Suddenly, they’re spitting with the wind. That’s devotion and history. That’s Sonoma County.
In fact, we could easily call this Flower and Fragrance Country. We’re well-known for Mr. Burbank’s Gerber daisies, but we’re also lousy (in a good way) with lavender and roses and so many herbs that we may as well have a couple of villages called Fines Herbes and Potpourri.
A lot of us think of this as Land Preservation Country. The land trusts of the North Bay (Sonoma, Marin Agricultural, Napa) are among the amazing efforts that have resulted in the supposedly eternal protection of hundreds of thousands of acres of woodlands, marsh, wetlands and all sorts of rural and other natural landscapes. We’re blessed with watersheds (like the right-there-in-the-middle-of-it-all Laguna de Santa Rosa), those critical eco-systems we’re just beginning to realize we’ve got to protect (hello, Katrina!), so maybe we could even call this Eco-Education Country.
Then there’s what might be called Pergola to Garden Country, because we’ve got us some doozies. This region has lovely, productive and magical gardens, both personal and public, and for many a unique and critical part of life, from the lovely Food for Thought sustaining patch in Forestville to Blanche Lennie Cruz’s crowd-pleasing garden at Zazu restaurant to the jewel of Armstrong Woods–a private treasure chock-a-block with all manner of bursting, fruiting, blooming splendor called Nathan’s Garden–to some mainly artistic and otherwise unique Edens like the Wildwood Farm Nursery and Sculpture Garden, Kruse Rhododendron State Reserve, Bouverie Preserve, Garden Valley Ranch and Bamboo Sourcery (see Sidebar).
And then there are the witty and engaging winery gardens like the ones at Kendall-Jackson, Ferrari-Carano and Matanzas Creek or out at the Vintner’s Inn, where herbs, fruits, flowers and veggies mirror or complement the range of nuanced flavors hoped for from the wines made from the grape varieties planted nearby. Even at Korbel, where the grounds are usually more appealing than the wine, I heard a very, very tony old gal in silks and straw hat proclaim that “the gah-dens ah sue-pahb!”
(Who could forget that we’re also Art Country? I recently came across a promotional card with a provocative headline: “There’s more to Sonoma County than great food, great wines and great vistas.” Apparently, this viewpoint is not mine alone.)
In fact, in a lot of regions where the food is really good (the greater Atlanta area comes to mind), much of the best cooking is done at home. That’s so Sonoma County. There was a time where just about the only big-deal restaurants were John Ash, Bistro Ralph and that Girl with her Fig. Now, we’ve got Cyrus, the Farm House, Zazu, all of Graton (OK, Willowwood and Underwood), Stella’s, Dry Creek Kitchen and three more every time you turn around or survive a flood.
So call it Wine Country if you must, but please don’t forget the other subtleties and headlines. Don’t forget the people and the produce, the joys and the challenges and the magic of a place worthy of a lifetime or two of exploration and serious digestion. Urp!
Clark Wolf is the president of the Clark Wolf Company, specializing in food, restaurant and hospitality consulting.
Bamboo Sourcery Over 300 varieties of the stuff. 666 Wagnon Road, Sebastopol. 707.823.5866.
Bouverie Preserve This Audubon Canyon Ranch adjunct offers guided hikes fall, winter and spring. Six miles north of the town of Sonoma on Highway 12. Visit by appointment only. 707.938.4554.
Ferrari-Carano Vineyards & Winery Rhonda Carano took over a year just to plan, let alone plant, the fabled French and Italianate gardens surrounding her family’s tasting center. The winery even has a tulip hotline (707.433.5349) for bulb fans to use as spring progresses and the winery’s 10,000 tulips begin to break. 8761 Dry Creek Road, Healdsburg. 707.433.6700.
Food for Thought/Sonoma County AIDS Food Bank Mark the annual Calabash fundraiser held each autumn down on the calendar, this year scheduled for Sunday, Oct. 7. 6550 Railroad Ave., Forestville. 707.887.1647.
Garden Valley Ranch Roses! Roses! Roses! 498 Pepper Road, Petaluma. 707.795.0919.
Kendall-Jackson Vineyard Estate In addition to their acclaimed culinary and sensory gardens, K-J holds a hotly anticipated heirloom tomato festival featuring some 170 varieties of the love fruit, this year slated for Sept. 8. Even at $65 per, this event sells out very quickly, so now is the time to act. 5007 Fulton Road, Santa Rosa. 707.571.8100. Tomato fest tickets, call 800.769.3649.
Korbel Champagne Cellars With over a thousand varieties in bloom, Korbel offers weekly Sunday garden tours, April–October. 13250 River Road, Guerneville. 707.824.7000.
Kruse Rhododendron State Reserve Lush displays of rhodies. On Highway 1 at Salt Point State Park, road marker 43. 707.847.3221.
Matanzas Creek Winery This estate is synonymous with lavender, as some 4,500 plants produce over 2 million fragrant stems a year. Early summer finds the fields surrounding the winery at their most purple glory. 6097 Bennett Valley Road, Santa Rosa. 707.528.6464.
Wildwood Farm, Nursery and Sculpture Garden Fabulous gardens and rotating outdoor art exhibits. 10300 Sonoma Hwy. (Highway 12), Kenwood. 707.833.1161.
Zazu Wander the gardens while you wait for your table. Zazu hopes to soon provide a full third of all its produce needs from its own plots. 3535 Guerneville Road, Santa Rosa. 707.523.4814.
–Gretchen Giles
Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.
Winery news and reviews.
Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.
Recipes for food that you can actually make.
What’s in a Name
Guessing Games
Arcadia 2007:
This year, given our hidden theme, we decided to play around, using the child’s game of 20 Questions to help shape out brief sketches of many of the North Bay’s towns. Playing along are Brett Ascarelli, Gretchen Giles, Patricia Lynn Henley, Gabe Meline and Amanda Yskamp.
Sonoma
Bodega Bay
Animal Seagulls, bobcats with attitude, steelhead trout, coho salmon, rock crab, a nippy elephant seal (see: bitten pit bull, hurtin’ surfer), migrating gray whales, sea urchin (the largest of the bay’s haul, by weight), oyster on the half shell, yummy.
Vegetable Ice plants with hot pink and chrome-yellow starry blooms laced over the cliffs, forestalling erosion. Violet cones of Pride of Madeira. A stunning array of wildflowers: seashore lupine, Indian paintbrush, wild iris. Kelp beds to entangle any mermaid.
Mineral Granite outcropping; dunes that give rise to the notorious “blowdega” sand storms; rose quartz and crystal dolphin mobile; hot basalt facial stones (50-80 minutes, $115-$160); titanium and zinc sun block, SPF 30. –A.Y.
Cotati/Rohnert Park
Animal, domestic. Barrel-chested, short-legged, fluffy, carefully groomed but definitely aging cocker spaniel. Pedigreed, of course. From a puppy mill, which is fortunately just a dim distant memory in my furry little mind. I was the standard suburban factory-issue canine for a tract home with a father, mother and 2.3 kids. Except that 0.3 kid is now giving attitude in middle school, the middle child wears nothing but black and the oldest son is doing home-study after that unfortunate incident in the high school chem lab–which happened not too long after the Dad moved out to live with his 22-year-old administrative assistant. Now the mom and I spend most weekend evenings together, curled up on the sofa watching Netflix while she tells me what a jerk her ex is and feeds me half her popcorn. Life is sweet when you’re a dog. —P.L.H.
Forestville
1. Is it a mammal?
2. Is it four-legged?
3. Does it have sharp teeth?
4. Is it not afraid to use them?
5. Will it play nice sometimes, anyway?
6. Does it have a collection of first edition Virginia Woolfs?
7. Will it respond to “Here, Shorty?”
8. Have you ever eaten one?
9. Is it found in remote areas?
10. Can you lift it up?
11. Can it lift you up?
12. Will it put you back down if you say “Please” nicely?
13. Can it swim?
14. Is it handy?
15. Is it brown?
16. Is it green?
17. Can it jump?
18. Will it jump all over you like a flea?
19. Will you like it?
20. If you’re guessing that the answer to all these questions is yes, you’re in the right place!–A.Y.
Graton
You want hidden? I’ll give you hidden.
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Solution:
1. Where can you cut your own Christmas tree while drinking hot chocolate?
2. Where were the very first grapes in the Russian River area planted by Yegor Chernykh in the early 1800s?
3. Which block-long town boasts some of the best dining to be found in Sonoma County, at Underwood, Willowood and Mexico Lindo?
4. Where is the land once deeded to God? (By ex-Limeliter Lou Gottlieb, once his commune, Morning Star Ranch, ran into financial difficulties.)
5. Where can you see a llama walking on a leash?
6. Where is noon signaled by a former air raid siren?
7. What town has become a magnet for artists and art lovers, where a fine gallery and many visual artists, writers and musicians make their home?
8. Which town opened Sonoma County’s first Day Labor Center to improve the working and living conditions of day laborers?
9. Where can you find several award-winning wineries alongside a cider pub and a tea shop?
10. Which town has what might be the oldest butterfly garden in the country?
11. Which location was first inhabited by members of the Southern Pomo tribe and now gives its name to their confederation?
12. Which Sonoma County town was adopted for re-envisioning by Orrin Thiessen? (Which hasn’t?)
13. Where can you connect to 13 miles of walking trails?
14. How do you spell Graton?
15. G.
16. R.
17. A.
18. T.
19. O.
20. N.
—A.Y.
Guerneville
Animal, of a sort. More accurately, a mollusk. Soft-bodied, no visible skeleton. Overall I’m what I think of as a lovely yellow hue, with gorgeous deep brown spots. My coloring is good, if I do say so myself. Smaller than a bread box–a lot smaller, almost hidden in the underbrush as I make my way slowly from one point to another, my path clear behind me. No rush, no hurry, just doing things at my own speed and in my own way, blending in when I want to, at other times standing out in glorious technicolor, proudly displaying who and what I am. Oh yes, some humans scream when they spot me wriggling my slow way up a tree trunk, across a branch or along a trail. But what do they know? I am beautiful, I am wonderful, I am a banana slug in all my glory, secure that I am exactly what I was meant to be and happy to live as I do, where I do.–P.L.H.
Healdsburg
Animal, but only if the definition of animal is pretty broad. Insect, actually. Sometimes called a water bug, water skimmer, backswimmer, water boatman or pond skater–but those are labels many humans apply to me and my numerous cousins when they don’t really know what the heck we are. You tend to lump us all together, but I am unique. I am an individual. I glide across the top of the Russian River as it winds its way through town. Not for me any worries about low flows, cutbacks, new construction simultaneous with mandatory water conservation, human recreation vs. fish procreation, changing lifestyles, changing values, small-town flavor mixing with big-city amenities and movie stars spotted around the town square. Not my world. For me, life is the smooth, green surface of river water stretching out before me like a sheet of dark glass. All I’ve gotta worry about is not being eaten by a fish.–P.L.H.
Occidental
What follows is the actual transcript of the online 20 questions game I played with the computer: http://www.20q.net. Stumped the ‘bot this time!
1. Is it dangerous?
No.
2. Is it located in the United States?
Yes.
3. Is it made of stone?
No.
4. Is it part of a democracy?
Yes.
5. Are there two or more words in its title?
Yes, if you count California (which I did).
6. Does it have a nickname?
No, but it should.
7. Is it involved with the NFL?
No.
8. Do people live there?
Yes.
9. Is it a structure?
No.
10. Is it smaller than a town?
No.
11. Is it hilly?
Yes.
12. Is it very noisy?
No.
13. Is it an ideal honeymoon destination?
Yes.
14. Does it have a lot of trees?
Yes.
15. Is it an island?
No.
16. Is it a state or a province?
No.
17. Is it out of this world?
No. (But that’s a matter of opinion.)
18. Is it located on an island?
No.
19. Is its official language English?
Yes.
20. Is it Park City, Utah?
Um, no.
—A. Y.
Petaluma
Animal, and let me tell you–she’s built. Tight sweater, poodle skirt, saddle shoes, great legs. She and the Bopper got married, did the kid thing and now that the rug rats are in high school themselves, Peggy Sue and the Big B are having the time of their lives. Hanging at the Moose, dancing to Val, eating out four nights a week, still open to tokin’–this grownup thing rocks.–G.G.
Santa Rosa
Animal, hands down. A bull, actually, in a china shop, except that this bull keeps trying to rebuild the china shop after each overanxious demolition. Because of the money and red tape required to assemble a new china shop, the bull, though studied in the particulars of what it likes to destroy, is not so skilled at recreating its own shambles. Knock-off Swarovski and chipped Waterford can be found on the cheap, which has increasingly satisfied the bull’s short-sighted planning of its demolition, and certain pristine areas of the china shop that haven’t yet been rampantly plowed become more and more attractive to the bull. Employees of the china shop, many of whom have worked here for generations, have tried to slyly feed tranquilizers to the bull as they sidestep its charges, but the bull’s hormones have grown too powerful–even injections of legislative sedatives are useless in the long run. The bull keeps charging and rebuilding and charging again, while the employees watch their precious china shop reduced to a shard-scattered wasteland of damaged brilliance and argue over whether they should maybe, just maybe, stop feeding this bull altogether.–G.M.
Sebastopol
Vegetable. Lots of them. Apples, too. Plus, pommes frites, wood-fired flatbread, hangar steak, fresh oysters, Yucatán tamales, organic strawberries, lavender ice cream, fondant for Dean & DeLuca, Texas-style barbecue, drive-in burgers, raw fish wrapped in seaweed, wedding cuvée, potato mountains, front yard peaches, apples again.–G.G.
Sonoma
Vegetable. Once a round, firm vegetable (OK, technically I’m a fruit), now I’m delicately sliced, artistically arranged on a bright yellow Crate & Barrel plate, drizzled with B.R. Cohn extra virgin olive oil, and sprinkled lightly with Sonoma Gourmet sea salt and freshly ground pepper. I’m not just any old garden-variety tomato; I’m a dark, plump and juicy Purple Cherokee heirloom. Organically grown, carefully harvested and lovingly offered for sale at the weekly farmers market in front of Sonoma’s city hall, I’m a major ingredient in a mouth-wateringly beautiful picnic supper, right next to the iced bottle of Kistler Chardonnay resting on a soft fuzzy blue blanket spread out on the Plaza’s thick, green and carefully nurtured lawn. There’s a jazz band playing in the amphitheater and this is what’s known as the good life, baby. Sonoma-style.–P.L.H.
Windsor
Vegetable, highly processed. Cut long, sanded smooth and neatly stacked along with a lot of others just like me. Not top grade, but we’ll do the job. We had to be covered with a tarp in the recent rain–contractor didn’t expect that, hadn’t planned for even a sprinkle during the warm summer months that are so perfect for construction. He had me and the others delivered on a flatbed truck and stacked in the driveway, waiting for the work to begin. The rain slowed things up, but not for long. Now hammers are ringing and soon it will be my turn to be framed, to be picked out of the pile, measured, cut and set into place in the new upscale arbor/outdoor kitchen behind this three-bedroom home. A change in jobs means the folks living here have to move out of the area, which means selling this place–which means doing all the repairs and improvements that were put off for years. Doing them right now, lickety-split, with a spit and a polish and the place is on the market looking as spiffy and upscale as possible. Which is where I come in, new lumber ready for this quick-and-dirty make-it-look-wonderful remodeling project. The real estate agent said something had to be done and here I am piled neatly in the driveway with all my siblings.–P.L.H.
Marin
Fairfax
Mineral, like Pompeii is mineral. Untouched by the firestorm of volcanic change all around.–G.G.
Larkspur/Corte Madera
Vegetable, cellulose fibers held together by hydrogen bonding. Spruce, aspen, hardwoods, softwoods, pounded, pulped, formed and dried. Stamped with ink, bound and illustrated, glossy jacket, photo on back. “Smith’s best yet!” “Where Stephen King left off, Jones picks up!” Packaged, bundled, trucked across the country. One pallet’s worth dropped on Tamal Vista Boulevard; the other, Corte Madera Town Center. Which will win?–G.G.
Mill Valley
Sure, I’m papery, bulbous and round–but, hey, I’m nicely formed. There are lots of parts to me, each one an individual surprise ready to be popped into a pan at Caffe Oggi, Frantoio, La Ginestra, Gira Poli, Pasta Pomodoro, Piatti, Piazza D’Angelo, Pizza Antica and Rocco’s. Any town that loves Italian food this much has got to love me.–G.G.
Ross/Kentfield
Animal Buttery leather, calfskin, suede.
Vegetable Torn baby lettuces, dressing on the side.
Mineral Sapphire, diamond, silicone.–G.G.
San Rafael
Animal, vegetable and mineral, I am Thai, Mexican, Puerto Rican, Honduran, Colombian, El Salvadoran, Japanese, Persian, Eritrean, Chinese, Indian, Italian. I am a golden retriever trained to aid the blind, a pedigree canine meant to be carried, a long-haired cat on a leash. I am flash-fried purple basil, five pounds of oranges in a cheap mesh bag, the blue-green scale of dinosaur kale, Araucana eggs, hot ribs dripping sauce down your chin. I am movie stars and film directors gathering modestly at the cinema, chalk reproductions of Italian masters sketched out on the asphalt, the old courthouse long burned down, outdoor Shakespeare at Dominican. I am a storefront as wide as your shoulders, Macy’s on the downslide and Louise Boyd aimed for the Arctic in freshly ironed linen.–G.G.
San Anselmo
Animal: What they actually all are in law school, believe me. Animal: What the nanny reminds me I am when I see her bending over that way. Animal: God, I love the smell of this car when it comes back from the detailer. Animal: The lamb should be rare. Take it back. Animal: Is my Kestrel RT700 really good enough for Ridge Road, or do I truly deserve something better?–G.G.
Sausalito
She’s Blanche DuBois without all those flighty, fainting neuroses. She regularly depends on the kindness of strangers, indulges in frothy dress that magically renews each day and attracts a grittier underbelly to her many feminine charms. Belle Reve lives on.–G.G.
West Marin
Animal Rennet, fallow deer, red-tail hawks.
Vegetable Jewel lettuces, chantrelles, thimble berries.
Mineral The regrettable ash of Manka’s December fire. (The lodge’s 10 rooms remain open; restaurant will resurrect in 2008.) —G.G.
Napa
American Canyon
Animal, technically. Florsheim. Leather upper. Sound instep for ample arch support. Size 11, men’s. Lace-up. Brown. Rubber sole. Foot: right. Shoe tree: pine. Relatively new construction. Light basalt dusting, but nothing that a little Kiwi wax won’t fix. Floor sample. Patiently waiting to join my better half. Also interested in the company of a mild-mannered, tortoise-shell shoe-horn. Packaging: Lidded cardboard box, appropriate for stowing dreams of patent leather grandeur. Best feature: eyelits. On sale for 30 percent off. Made in America. Above all, sensible.–B.A.
Calistoga
Animal covered by mineral. Iridescent tail. Scallop-shell bra. Age: 19. Father: Poseidon. Mother: grouper fish. Hairstyle: the Mary-Kate Olson. Favorite rock star: Ethel Mermaid, even though she doesn’t sing my favorite song of all time, which is and always will be “Octopus’s Garden.” Yeah, Ringo, forever! New whip: Mazda Seahorse GLS. Fully loaded, candy-apple red (Daddy-O doesn’t mind paying the extra insurance). School: Freshwater State U. at Crystal Geyser. Major: abnormal ichthyology. Foods: pizza, fruits de mer, seaweed. Weird hobby: drinking bottled water. Yeah, I know, but I’m a total sucker for the plastic. Favorite activity: mudbathing, which is, of course, what I’m doing now. Slosh. Biggest forseeable hangup: keeping it real. Sigh.–B.A.
Napa
Animal, almost. Good attitude. Clear, with unfertilized, yellow center. Grade indeterminate, as of yet, but hopefully, AAA! Laid in a chicken coop (duplex). Aspiration: frittata. Better yet, I dream of being poached one day and added to the salade Lyonnaise at Angéle. Ah, yes, the warm bacon vinaigrette and I will caress the frisée. I can almost feel the jagged leaves now. I just wanna be special. OK, so I wanna be rich, too, and popular. But is that too much to ask? I mean, goddamit, how much longer can it possibly take? I know egg cups in high places. Hello! Look at me! Fine, then don’t. So, it’s come to this. Chefs, have at me with the beaters. I’ll sacrifice my integrity for the sake of becoming a really buoyant soufflé. Just don’t let me rot here. I’m already starting to turn green. Please, someone? Ahem. I simply will not settle for being hard-boiled anymore.–B.A.
St. Helena
Mineral. Precious. Three carats, and so finely cut. Yes, doing positively well, if I don’t say so myself. People go ga-ga at the sight of my fire. Stunning sparkle; flawless, in fact. Yes, clear as a bell. Absolutely no color at all–just the way I like it. Ideal cut: just one facet. —B.A.
Yountville
Animal. Much bigger than a breadbox, old sport. Fond of highballs, white flannel suits and pressed pink shirts. Multimillionaire. Business philosophy: Don’t ask, don’t tell. Immense West Egg residence, resembling the Paris Hotel de Ville. Maestro of social orchestration. Host expansive, yet intimate, weekend soirees. R.S.V.P. Own gorgeous, yellow automobile; hydroplane for guests. Usually a leisure swimmer, yet lately the pool feels so ominous. Previously known as James Gatz of North Dakota. Battled briefly in the Argonne Forest. Attended Oxford. Confidentially preoccupied, you see. Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true . . . —B.A.
Hidden in Plain Sight
Arcadia 2007:
Lawd knows there’s more to it all than eating and drinking and taking some silly quizzes about North Bay towns. There’s also that wild elixir known as fresh air. Here are some of our favorite lesser-known haunts. Getting out and about are Brett Ascarelli, Gretchen Giles and Patricia Lynn Henley.
Sonoma
Sonoma Overlook Trail
A stroll with a view. That’s the Sonoma Overlook Trail, which winds its way up a hillside on the edge of the picturesque town of Sonoma. Most of the path makes its way through oaks and brush, giving a sense of relaxed exploration. At the top the trees and other foliage give way to open meadows, providing fantastic views of the surrounding region. On a clear day you can see the north end of San Pablo Bay as well as the streets of Sonoma spread out below.
Returning back down the trail, there’s an alternative route to the upper trailhead located inside the tree-shaded Mountain Cemetery, where Sonoma’s pioneer families were laid to rest. The round trip, including a loop at the top, is slightly less than three miles, and the hike is a gradual one, never more than a 7 percent grade. It’s estimated that the entire trip, including walking from Sonoma Plaza to the trailhead and back again, requires less than an hour and a half for most brisk walkers. Many hardy locals use this well-maintained trial for jogging.
The trail was created after a 1990s corporate attempt to turn the property into a $2,000-a-night exclusive resort. Angered by this proposed use of publicly owned land, locals rallied and passed a ballot measure preserving the property as permanent open space. Volunteers built the trail, with financing from individuals, civic groups and local businesses. This year, the lower trailhead’s parking lot was realigned and an informational kiosk installed. Low stone walls that will also serve as benches and landscaping using drought-resistant native plants will be added by early next year, making an already appealing trail even more enticing.
The lower trailhead is at the entrance of Sonoma’s Mountain Cemetery, just north of the Sonoma Valley Veterans Memorial Building, 178 First St. W., Sonoma. For those who like to know what foliage they’re seeing as they walk, the Sonoma Ecology Center offers free docent-led hikes. Trail is open dawn to dusk daily; no pets, horses or bicycles allowed. 707.833.6900. —P.L.H.
Short List: Sebastopol Super Playground Great fun for little ones (corner of Pleasant Hill Avenue North and Valentine Avenue). Shiloh Park Lovely hiking trails, unexpected pond stocked with plenty of noisy frogs at the top of the ridge (5750 Faught Road, Windsor). Cloverdale River Park A super place to launch kayaks and canoes into the Russian River (31820 McCray Road, Cloverdale).
Marin
Robson-Harrington Park
Travel back, if you will, to the magical world of Marin, circa 1972. The family car is a convertible VW bug. The family home is a Ross Victorian that rents for $175. The family roach clip is affixed to a ghastly marble sculpture from San Francisco’s tony Gump’s department store. And in the summer, every Thursday, the family pastime is meeting other families in San Anselmo’s Robson-Harrington Park to drink Annie Green Springs and play volleyball.
At least, that’s what the adults did, whooping it up and pretending to like sport, when the real pleasure probably came from lying on the grass panting, drinking pop wine and sneaking the roach clip around.
Meanwhile, we kids had all of Robson-Harrington to explore. There was that ghostly, lovely old home with its many terraced gardens and its mysterious corners and curious nooks. There were the terrifying rumors that someone still lived there, or was it a ghost? There were the heavy, scented, fruit trees aching with summer’s growth; the full lush grass of the front garden; the low walls ringing the entire property; the fig trees to climb; the brick remains of another house to hide behind. What a large, overwhelming playground of the imagination is Robson-Harrington Park!
Surely, it must have shrunk.
At less than three acres, Robson-Harrington can’t sustain the grandiose memories of childhood, but it’s still a lovely place to stroll, climb, picnic, loll, hide and wonder.
Built as the family home for a lumber baron in 1906, the house passed into real estate magnate Kernan Robson’s hands in 1923. He later named it in honor of his father and mother, whose maiden name had been Harrington. Old photos show the home, which once boasted an adjacent carriage house and the requisite out-of-place palm tree, alone on its haughty hill, where now it is crowded by residences on all sides just two blocks from San Anselmo’s main street.
Kernan and his wife, Geraldine, lived in the home for decades, childless but devoted to their garden and the community. After Kernan’s death in 1956, Geraldine stayed on with her housekeeper until her death in 1967. The town of San Anselmo took the property on in 1968 and the housekeeper lived on until her own demise in 1990, which explains a lot about that childhood sensation of being watched shimmying down trees and making mild mischief in the gardens.
Renovated as a Marin Showcase Home in 1979 and until just recently under the care of the Robson-Harrington House Association, which disbanded in 2005, leaving the property to the town’s recreation department, Robson-Harrington is now a marvelous experiment in community gardening. Geraldine Robson’s dear terraced gardens are rented out as individual plots for area residents to use in raising their own food and flowers. A recent Saturday afternoon visit found the beds thick with the scent of basil and that particular cat-pee-but-pleasant smell that hot tomato leaves emit in the sun.
The lawn that once hosted volleyball every Thursday could use some water, but the Italian ceramics that adorn the brick walls all throughout the property are a marvel in this age of Ikea. Robson-Harrington remains a magical place for the family to spend hot summer nights, even circa 2007. Robson-Harrington Park, 237 Crescent Road, San Anselmo. 415.258.4650.–G.G.
Short list: McNear’s Beach Park On San Pablo Bay with a swimming pool, this park provides the best of both worlds, including a snack bar and fishing pier (201 Cantera Way, San Rafael; $8 parking, $4 pool fee). Paradise Beach Park allows just anyone to enjoy Tiburon, too. Horseshoes, beach, picnic areas and fishing (3450 Paradise Drive, Tiburon; $8 parking).
Napa
Kennedy Park
Tucked discreetly beside Napa Valley College, the 350-acre John F. Kennedy Memorial Park is normally bypassed by visitors who are flooring it to make their winery appointments farther north. For locals, this is a good thing: they like having it to themselves. It’s one of those parks where those in the know go almost every day, stopping every now and then to carouse with the other regulars and their canines.
But as for the rest of you–well, you’re missing out. For the lite outdoorsman, the park offers sand volleyball, a sports green, a playground, a golf course and a driving range. Five picnic areas with barbecue stations fan out across the grass and are available to rent. There’s even an asphalt pad for launching model planes.
Best of all, the park runs alongside the Napa River and boasts a small boat-launch facility for starboard-savvy day-trippers. But for those whose pleasure craft is still several years on the horizon, a river trail provides the perfect alternative. Eventually, the river trail will lead all the way up to Trancas Road, about five miles north of the park, but for now, it’s roughly two miles long (at press time, the city of Napa Parks and Recreation Department could not confirm exactly how long the trail was, since a new section had just been added).
Although planes flying in and out of the nearby airport make the occasional, jarring din, the river trail usually floods with more pleasant sounds: foxtails rustling and bicolored blackbirds twittering.
One Tuesday morning, a local who’s preparing to move away laments having just discovered the park. While she walks, small, white butterflies flit prettily in and out of a wire fence that the Army Corps of Engineers has erected to foster riverbank plant growth. The air smells clean, too, like cedar and fennel. In the distance, traffic silently tootles over the corridor which will soon shuttle her away from Napa and to the South Bay. Kennedy Park, Streblow Drive off of Highway 221, Napa. 707.257.9529.–B.A.
Short List: Pioneer Park An old-fashioned, grassy and shaded neighborhood spot replete with small gazebo. This is a charming place for an evening picnic (on Cedar Street just a block off of Lincoln Avenue, Calistoga; 707.942.2838). Cuttings Wharf A two-lane boat launch on the Napa River, adjacent to Moore’s Resort, Cuttings is a small world of its own, perfect for fishing and culture hawking (take the Cuttings Wharf Road exit off of Highway 121). Bale Grist Mill State Park Also contained within its grounds is the first church in the Napa Valley, as well as the old “pioneer” cemetery and the 1846 water-powered mill that was once the center of Napa’s social life. Trails adjoin to nearby Bothe-Napa Valley State Park. (3369 N. Hwy. 29; 707.942.4575).
Fair Play
Dizzy: We like the annual county fair because it’s the hippest time to be a 4-H kid.
By Karl Byrn
County fairs are a marvel of American music, from local blues bands playing for free to heavy metal blasting from rides to ambient midway organ tunes. More historically important than carnival noise, however, is the rich thematic source material that rural and local fairs provide to a huge vein of American music.
It’s no surprise that pop music about fairs is the province of roots and folk/blues-based rock, while urban forms like hip-hop, jazz and techno make only scant references. But even in the rock and R&B tradition, the depth of fair music varies. Some music touches the fair in name only, like the Replacements’ alt-hit “Merry Go Round,” the Ohio Players’ funk smash “Love Rollercoaster,” the Stooges’ proto-punk disc Funhouse or the fine 2007 disc Journal by Midwestern country-rockers Booker Lee and the County Fair.
Real fair music begins with luscious, familiar, sensory details. Amusement park sensations provided favorite details for early rock/soul acts. Freddie “Boom Boom” Cannon rode the merry-go-round, the Ferris wheel and the tunnel of love at “Palisades Park”; the Drifters could “almost taste the hot dogs and french fries they sell” when they were “Under the Boardwalk”; and Brian Wilson lost his girl when he couldn’t win a stuffed bear at the Beach Boys’ “County Fair.” This descriptive mode continued on the title track to Phil Alvin’s 1994 disc County Fair 2000, where the rockabilly master inhales cotton candy, a candied apple, pink lemonade and a mustard dog.
Deeper in the fair-based music tradition, beloved sight and smell details give way to a murky, slippery sense of impermanence. Leon Russell’s 1975 disc Carney isn’t about carnivals, but rather references carnival themes to create a sense of doubt and unease. Marin rockers Protein joke in their 1997 song “Obligations” that age has made them forgetful, but highlight the memory that “we used to all be at the county fair / With feathered hair” as a moment of clarity. In Joe Walsh’s proggy-druggy classic rock cut “County Fair,” he observes that “it’s a county fair picture / Part of me’s there,” seeing that “some of the pieces are still at the fair.”
The deepest core of fair music gets it both ways, as if the very immediacy of comfortable, fleeting pleasure is a signal for dread. Something on John Wesley Harding’s 2004 cut “The Night He Took Her to the Fairgrounds” is mysteriously wrong, and it’s not just broken hearts on the midway. Graham Parker’s 2004 track “Fairground” describes fair workers with both desire and cynicism. Parker doubts his own hopes (“Get your tight blue jeans out / And try to get them on”), wants to ask a fair worker how he feels, and wonders if a young carney “murdered that clown / and got away scot-free.”
The supreme achievement in American fair music is Bruce Springsteen’s “County Fair,” an outtake from his early ’80s Nebraska era. Here, the gooey thrills of Freddie Cannon and the Drifters merge with the darker dissatisfaction of Walsh, Protein and Parker. Springsteen is conscious enough of fair impermanence to name the free local band James Young and the Immortal Ones. As he watches fellow fairgoers stuck in traffic, he looks heavenward, and with an ominous, communal minor chord, prays that “I never have to let this moment go.”
Finally, the fair-music genre is graced by Elvis Presley, with “The Fair Is Moving On” from his gospel/big-band, late-’60s “mature” period. If the Boss’ “County Fair” is a triumph of classic art, the King’s “The Fair Is Moving On” is better yet a triumph of plain-spoken fair music. The song begins with Presley matter-of-factly noting that “All the rides are over and done . . . and no prizes are left to be won.” It seems like an obvious thrill when he later sings “the trailers will soon hit the road.” But the thrill isn’t really gone; “It’s the last time you’ll be on your own,” Presley sings, tempting the audience to await the return of next summer’s county fair.
The Sonoma County Fair runs now through Sunday, July 29, with plenty of live music. Free concerts include: July 18 at 8pm, Eddie Money; July 19 at 7pm, Jonas Brothers; July 23 at 8pm, Kimberley Locke; July 24 at 7pm, Pride and Joy; July 25 at 8, Blake Shelton; July 26 at 8, Melissa Manchester; July 27 at 7, batalla de grupos; July 28, 2pm to 9pm, blues festival with David Jacobs-Strain, Volker Strifler Band, Patrick Sweany, Michael Burks, Janiva Magness and John Lee Hooker Jr.; July 29 at 4pm, Mariachi Los Camperos. Sonoma County Fairgrounds, 1350 Bennett Valley Road, Santa Rosa. $7; kids under 12, free; Monday, carnival rides, $1; Tuesday before 3pm, everyone free; Tuesday and Thursday, $20 for all rides; Wednesday, seniors free. 707.545.4200. www.sonomacountyfair.com.
First Bite
It’s interesting how, sometimes, service makes the meal. The waiter at our recent dinner at Sal’s Bistro & Grill in Petaluma was so friendly, so attentive and so enthusiastic about everything on the menu that he boosted my dinner check by perhaps double. He also upped my happiness to such heights that I didn’t realize until quite a while later that I hadn’t enjoyed my food quite as much as I thought I had.
Which is not a bad thing, not at all. Just interesting.
Sal’s is a small spot that opened this spring in the Albertson’s strip mall on Petaluma’s Lakeville Street. From the sidewalk, it looks like just a pizza joint, but it’s not. Sure, New York-style pie is offered, yet so are fancier specials like cioppino and seafood risotto. There’s a hot pastrami sandwich on the menu, but also a rib-eye with peppercorn brandy sauce. Sal’s has got an order board over the front counter, and on the night I was in, was populated by gang-enforcement officers grabbing takeout, but there’s no overlooking that head-turning table service.
For example, when our waiter overheard us wondering if we should start with the French onion soup ($5), garlic bread ($5) or a small combo pizza ($10), he enthused, “Get ’em all,” rhapsodizing about the gooey Gruyère-cloaked broth baked in a crock, the real garlic pressed into the bread’s butter and Parmesan, and the masterful blend of 13 ingredients in the pie.
It wasn’t until mom and I were halfway through our orgy of apps that the glow faded and we realized the soup was indeed gorgeous but sadistically oversalted, the bread not much better than everyday toast and the pizza remarkable for how, in just eight inches, it hosted ridiculous amounts of Italian sausage, salami, pepperoni, smoked bacon, mushrooms, bell peppers, onion, olive, tomato, artichoke heart, basil, tomato sauce and mozzarella.
My chicken Parmesan ($14) was ordinary, and I’d have preferred spaghetti alongside instead of over-roasted potatoes and string beans. But my waiter had slipped me “a very fine” Greek salad instead of the usual green toss that comes with, so I was happy. Mom’s cioppino ($23) was superb in its own right, swimming meaty with fish, clams, shrimp and shell-on crab in a chunky tomato broth; we didn’t really care that, if our waiter had let us know this dish came with garlic bread, we could have saved five bucks on the appetizer.
The dessert our waiter had extolled as “chiffon kissed by summer fruit” was not, but with his pretty words ringing in my memory, the strawberry shortcake ($3) was pretty darn lovely.
As I sat at the table, I thought, “I’d like to come back. Sal’s feels good, really good.”
I got to my car and thought, “Huh. Sal’s was nice.”
Which is not a bad conclusion. Just interesting.
Sal’s Bistro. 919 Lakeville St, Petaluma. Open daily, 11am to 10pm. 707.765.5900.
Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.
First Bite
Triple Play
What’s in a Name?
Guessing Games
Hidden in Plain Sight
First Bite
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