Ask Sydney

October 18-24, 2006

Dear Sydney, can a long-distance relationship last for seven years? What do you think is the absolute maximum number of years that a long-distance relationship can work? Please help!!

Dear LD: There is no formula for this type of thing. Technically, you can maintain a long-distance relationship for your entire life. The question is not how long can it last, but how long are you willing to put up with it? From the number of question marks and exclamation points in your question, it seems safe to say not much longer. Unless you really love freedom to such an extent that you are willing to put up with only occasional intimacy, not to mention ridiculous phone bills, then at some point someone has got to move. If neither of you can or will–if locale is more important than being with each other–maybe you just shouldn’t be.

Ultimately, your love for each other has got to be more important than everything else, and if it isn’t, maybe you should both take a look at that. Then again, maybe you like things the way they are. Maybe the distance keeps everything fresh and exciting. But if what you want is to enmesh your life with your lovers’, then both of you are going to have to make some kind of adjustment and compromise. If living together is absolutely not an option, then you need to decide how much longer you can keep this thing going while maintaining your happiness and, if necessary, let it go and look for something closer to home.

Dear Sydney, I want to come out to my family but I don’t know how to come out. See, it’s really hard for me because my family is Christian, and I know they will hate me. I need advice. Thank you.–Stuck in the Closet

Dear Closeted: More then anything, I would love to be able to tell you that a parent’s love is impervious to change, that no parent would ever stop loving a child because of his or her sexual identity. But you and I both know that’s just wishful thinking. This does not mean that your parents will stop loving you. You have no way of knowing how they will react until you tell them. And so while I cannot in good conscience tell you that your fear is unfounded, you need to consider that, despite the religiosity in which your parents are currently ensnared, they still might be able to love you as you are.

This is a heterocentric society, which means you will always live a double life to some degree. So it’s not out of the question for you to consider not telling your parents. Perhaps the cost is too great. And that’s OK. You don’t have to tell them–or anybody, for that matter. Sometimes it’s necessary to protect yourself against other people’s harmful belief systems. On the other hand, it’s exhausting to lead a double life, and the more you insist that there is absolutely nothing wrong with who you are, the stronger you will be. And no matter what, if and when you do tell your parents, do not apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.

Dear Sydney, I have a 13-year-old daughter, and I don’t know what to do about clothes. I have always dressed her as I’ve seen fit. I don’t really agree with a lot of the clothing the other girls wear–too sleazy! My daughter was picked on because her jeans were worn too high and her style was, well, not showing her body (no belly shirts, etc.). I don’t let my daughter wear makeup, and although her friends are doing it, I won’t allow body piercing. I don’t want my daughter to be picked on, but first of all, I don’t have the kind of money to spend on sleazy clothes, and secondly, I don’t want my daughter to look sleazy. But I do want my daughter to be happy! Her happiness is the most important thing to me. What do I do?–Worried Mom

Dear Mom: The overt sexualization of girls at seemingly younger and younger ages is not something to take lightly, any more than it is avoidable. Every generation presents its horrors to the one that came before it, and your daughter’s is no different. There’s the world you wish you could provide for her, and then there’s the world she actually gets. Unfortunately, in the world she gets, many girls wear skimpy clothes and are taught that their power resides in their sexuality. But your daughter doesn’t care about any of that; she’s entering adolescence. She wants to fit in and look like her friends, and you have to support her in this.

This doesn’t mean let her put on a micro-mini and stiletto heels to go to school, but let her try out a more hip cut of jean. She doesn’t think she looks sleazy; she just looks like the other girls, and that’s what’s most important to her. Don’t go buy her an entire new wardrobe, but cut her a little slack next time she needs something new. Let her pick out what she wants. Being made fun of, at her vulnerable age, is so much more damaging then showing a little bit of tummy. If she wants to wear make-up, teach her how she can wear just a little bit. Then teach her how to be safe, no matter what she has on. Remind her that she’s beautiful and likable not because of what she wears, but because of who she is. She probably won’t believe you, but never stop telling her.

Dear Sydney, about four years ago my Grandmother died. I am a teen. However, I never got to speak to her before she died nor attend her funeral. She was cremated. I still find it difficult to deal with and feel like I need to say goodbye properly. Do you have any suggestions as to how I can say goodbye to her?–Miss Sarah O

Dear Miss O: You are suffering from the elusive sense of loss that so often accompanies the death of someone we love. In a way, it can feel like they just went on a trip, maybe moved to another country, and that they are still out there somewhere. Except that they never visit and never write. In order to keep your grandmother close to your heart, and to avoid feeling so lost, put mementos of her–a picture, a letter, a gift she once gave you, something to think of her by–somewhere that you can see them daily. If you have anyone you can tell stories to about your grandmother and your memories of her, then tell them; if you don’t, write them down. Plan a ceremony of your own. Set up an altar, with candles and special things in your room or out in the garden. Invite your best friend or your dog, and tell your grandmother goodbye. Sometimes we have to create our own rituals, and now is a time for you to create one for yourself.

No question too big, too small or too off-the-wall.


News Briefs

October 18-24, 2006

Meditate on this . . .

Plans for a Transcendental Meditation club at Terra Linda High School sparked a heated confrontation, abruptly ending a parent-information meeting. Parent Susan Crittenden reportedly leapt on stage and denounced TM as a religious cult that she belonged to for 35 years. Crittenden could not be reached for comment. Principal Carole Ramsey, who obtained a $175,000 grant from the David Lynch Foundation to pay for TM training, says the daily meditative practice will reduce students’ stress and aid learning, especially for students with attention deficit disorder. “There are people who believe [TM] is religious in nature; there are people who believe it isn’t,” Ramsey says. “I don’t see the connection to religion.” Out of a total enrollment of 1,060, more than a hundred students have expressed interest in the voluntary after-school club, Ramsey says. The campus already hosts a Christian club and a Jewish club.

Park hopes

Speeches, a march down Petaluma’s Windsor Drive and an anonymous donation of $1 million kicked off a campaign to raise enough money to buy the 58-acre Scott ranch before developers turn it into 93 luxury homes. Project opponents want the property’s oak woodland habitat used to expand the adjacent Helen Putnam County Regional Park. The $1 million contribution was announced Monday at a celebration hosted by the Bay Institute and Petalumans for Responsible Planning (PetRP). “This property marks Petaluma’s western gateway to the rolling hills and farmlands on the edge of town,” PetRP spokeswoman Susan Jaderstrom says of the parcel at D and Windsor streets. The goal is to purchase the land, which Davidon Homes of Walnut Creek bought for $7.8 million in December 2004. “The question facing us is when or at what price they might be a willing seller. We want to be prepared.”

More jobs coming?

A recent study predicts a 23 percent increase in jobs in Northern California in the next few months. Conducted quarterly for the past 40 years by Manpower Inc., the survey contacts 14,000 U.S. employers, asking if they expect to hire more employees, maintain current levels or reduce payrolls. For the final quarter of 2006, 31 percent of California companies contacted expect an increase, 50 percent say no change, 9 percent plan to reduce staff and 10 percent don’t know. In Northern California, the figures are 31 percent hiring, 49 percent no change and 8 percent with reductions. In the Santa Rosa area, 29 percent expect expansion, 63 percent will stay the same and 8 percent plan cuts. For Napa and Solano counties, 37 percent say more hires, 39 say no changes and 17 percent foresee cuts. In San Rafael, 70 percent expect to hire, 20 percent will stay the same and 10 percent plan fewer employees.


Letters to the Editor

October 18-24, 2006

Plundering and Robbing

is right on the mark, which is more than can be said about smart bombs (“Bush Whacked,” Oct. 11). Is Byrne the only writer with the guts to spell out to the voters how this shower of legalized graysuits are–by their misguided actions and policies–plundering and robbing every man, woman and child in this country of their basic rights, namely, a good education, good medical care, good salaries and a toxic-free environment?

This is not a lot to ask, really, when you consider the billions of taxpayer dollars that are being squandered on the illegal invasion of Iraq. The voter never wins; only the government wins. This, in turn, translates into companies such as Halliburton walking away with the spoils of war. In this case, those spoils are contracts and more billions of dollars going to the very few who are inside the special boys club. Wake up, America, and spread the word!

John Clifton, Sebastopol

A groupie born every second

I didn’t read Peter Byrne’s articles at first, writing him off as another young Turk with a tendency to blow with the prevailing and ironic idiocy of the post-boomer crowd. And then I read a recent piece a few weeks ago that was as good as Hunter Thompson ever wrote. OK, close. But this last (“Bush Whacked”) made me a convert, and if I was ever that kind of person who looks to bestow adulation, I would be a Byrne groupie. He nailed it beautifully and courageously.

Eugene Hill, Geyserville

Dum Dee Dum Dum Dumb

Your editorial response to the two writers who complained about your fall fashion issue (, Oct. 11) included the remark that “we have been forced . . . to produce fashion issues.” What I would like to know is: who forces you?

Ever since the Sonoma County Independent was taken over and its name changed to the North Bay Bohemian, I have been dismayed to see that, overall, the standard of investigative journalism has gone down. I was also saddened to note on takeover that the mission statement of the Independent, which was to provide in-depth, quality journalism on serious issues, was quietly dropped.

True, there have been one or two bright spots, a few crumbs thrown to the masses to keep them pacified, but they are paltry compared to all the lightweight stuff you produce, such as the fall fashion issue. This lack of serious journalism has led to the stunning success of locally owned newspapers such as the Russian River Times and the Forestville Gazette.

Study your competitors, and stop dumbing down the news!

Dee Cope, Sebastopol

There is a common misconception that the transition from the Independent to the Bohemian involved staff or ownership changes. It did not. It was a name change and a redesign. We are the same fine paper run by the same fine people after the name change as we were before.

Dad didn’t amount to much

How do you possibly figure is a “Working Class Hero” when his dad is a rich and famous author and Hollywood screenwriter? (Music, Oct. 4.) McMurtry junior is a very, very wealthy and privileged man. Not taking away from his songs, but there are a lot of us out here with great songs who you’ll never hear because our parents are not well-connected names in the entertainment industry. Norah Jones, Rufus Wainwright, Lenny Kravitz–the list of familial cronyism-determined success stories is grossly long.

Mark Weigle, New York

Stories and faces

Thank you for (“Sweat and Tortillas,” Oct. 11). The photos of these hard-working men are some of the few images we receive of these people in our midst that work hard to better their lives and ours.

The current media is fraught with images of immigrant laborers as dangerous, threatening our borders and a problem. I for one am far more afraid of the vigilantes and their racist ideas and methods than I ever have been of these workers.

Some community people and the obreros themselves have worked for years to help this community by providing free English classes and establishing a hiring hall. Go to Graton to see what can happen in an atmosphere of humane support, instead of a one of fear and threats.

Thank you for your humane piece. By making these people more visible, you have added to the effort toward acceptance. We have a long way to go toward a peaceful world.

Vicki Smith, Graton


Judicial Review

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Ikes!: Yep, scared us, too. Up for reapproval, Associate Justice Paul R. Haerle served under Ronald Reagan’s gubernatorial guidance.

By Patricia Lynn Henley

There’s a mind-numbingly long list of uncontested judicial offices on California’s Nov. 7 ballot. While it might seem odd to have so many positions with only one candidate each, that’s pretty much par for the course in a gubernatorial election year when voters are asked to say thumbs up or thumbs down to California’s new or continuing supreme and appellate court justices.

“We can get a lot of questions from voters,” says Debra Russotti, Sonoma County’s election services supervisor. “It’s confusing when there are all those names and no candidate statements.”

What exactly is going on?

The California Supreme Court is the state’s highest court; its decisions are binding on all other state courts. There is one chief justice and six associate justices. According to the nonprofit National Center for State Courts’ annual Survey of Judicial Salaries, California’s chief justice pulls down $199,000 annually; the six associate justices each earn $182,000.

The Courts of Appeal provide what’s considered an intermediate review, evaluating lower courts’ rulings to ensure the law was interpreted and applied consistently and uniformly. The state is split into six appellate districts. Most of these are broken down into divisions, each with one presiding justice and three or more associate justices. Appellate cases are heard before panels of three judges. The national salary survey pegs their income at $178,000 for presiding justices and $171,000 for associates.

That gives us seven well-paid Supreme Court positions with another 105 at the appellate level. All are considered nonpartisan, and voters don’t get to pick their favorites; they are merely asked to approve or disapprove a preselected appointee who is already serving on the bench.

Here’s how it works: First, the governor chooses potential candidates for any supreme or appellate vacancies. Those candidates’ backgrounds and qualifications are reviewed by the Judicial Nomination Evaluation Commission, which includes lawyers and members of the public. This commission’s evaluations are then sent back to the governor, who then officially nominates the candidates.

Those nominations are forwarded to the Commission on Judicial Appointments, which consists of California’s chief justice, attorney general and a senior presiding justice of the Courts of Appeal. After another public review of the candidates’ qualifications and experience, the commission either confirms or rejects the nominations.

If confirmed, the candidate becomes a justice and takes his or her seat in court. Each serves 12-year terms or, if replacing another justice, however many years are left in that judge’s term.

Every four years during a gubernatorial election, California voters are presented with a list of justices–those appointed to the bench within the past four years; those who have moved up a step within this judicial hierarchy; and any finishing their current term and want to serve another 12 years.

All of which is to explain why there are so many judicial names on the Nov. 7 ballot with voters asked only to mark “yes” or “no” to each one. Still not sure how to vote? One semiblind way to determine preference is to pay attention to which governor appointed the judge.

The exact appellate candidates listed on a specific ballot vary depending on the area. For example, there are 10 candidates in the 1st District, which has 20 justices in five divisions covering 12 counties: Alameda, Contra Costa, Del Norte, Humboldt, Lake, Marin, Mendocino, Napa, San Francisco, San Mateo, Solano and Sonoma. Voters in those counties will receive ballots with the names of all 10 1st District candidates.

State law prohibits printing explanatory candidates’ statements for these judicial elections in the official voters’ guides. However, detailed official biographies for both the supreme and appellate courts are online at www.courtinfo.ca.gov.

That’s all folks. Civics class is dismissed. Here come da judges.

On Nov. 7, North Bay voters will be presented with a faceless list of justices up for approval; two at the Supreme Court level and 10 in the 1st District appellate courts. Here’s a quick overview of who’s who.

Associate Justice Carol A. Corrigan is a Stockton native who previously served as a district attorney and an associate justice at the appellate level. She was appointed to the Supreme Court by Gov. Schwarzenegger in December and confirmed last January.

Associate Justice Joyce L. Kennard, previously a deputy attorney general and Los Angeles Superior Court judge, was appointed by Gov. Deukmejian in April 1989 to fill a Supreme Court vacancy, and is wrapping up a 12-year term that began in 1994.

Specific to District 1, the following are on your ballot:

Division One Presiding Justice James J. Marchiano: Named presiding justice, January 2002; appointed associate justice by Gov. Pete Wilson in 1998; served 10 years on the Contra Costa County Superior Court; was a practicing civil litigator.

Division Three Presiding Justice William R. McGuiness: Named presiding justice in January 2002; appointed associate justice by Gov. Wilson in 1997; served 11 years as an Alameda County Superior Court judge.

Division Four Presiding Justice Ignazio John Ruvolo: Named presiding justice by Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger in January; appointed associate justice by Gov. Wilson in 1996; appointed to Contra Costa Superior Court by Wilson in 1994.

Division Five Presiding Justice Barbara Jones: Confirmed as presiding justice in 1998; appointed to appellate court by Gov. Wilson in 1996; served on San Francisco Superior Court 1992-’96; practiced general business and personal-injury litigation for 16 years.

Associate Justice Sandra L. Margulies: Appointed to the appellate level by Gov. Gray Davis in January 2002; previously served as a deputy district attorney and an Alameda County Superior Court judge.

Associate Justice Paul R. Haerle: Appointed to the Courts of Appeal by Gov. Wilson in 1994; practiced law before and after serving as appointments secretary to Gov. Ronald Reagan, 1967-’69.

Associate Justice James A. Richman: Appointed to the appellate court by Gov. Schwarzenegger and confirmed in February; 10 years on Alameda County Superior Court; was a partner in an Alameda law.

Associate Justice Peter Siggins: Appointed by Gov. Schwarzenegger last December; practiced civil law and worked in the California Attorney General’s office before becoming Schwarzenegger’s legal affairs secretary (2003-’05) and interim chief of staff (September-November 2005).

Associate Justice Maria P. Rivera: Appointed by Gov. Gray Davis in January 2002; served on Contra Costa County Superior Court 1997-2002; previously worked in private practice, for the Department of Justice and as a deputy district attorney in San Francisco.

Associate Justice Patricia K. Sepulveda: Appointed by Gov. Wilson December 1998; appointed to the Contra Costa Superior Court by Gov. George Deukmejian October 1989; deputy district attorney in Contra Costa County for 11 years.

–PLH


Morsels

October 18-24, 2006

Just what was Hemingway drinking when he pulled the trigger? The name Ernest Hemingway probably evokes at least one of the following images: men boxing, men watching bull fights, men fishing, men in battle, men drinking in cafes. For more avid Hemingway readers, the last image may contain particular details, such as a man drinking a Pernod, a neat Scotch or a coffee. However, few, if any, would imagine Hemingway prissily sipping from a plastic bottle of water.

This will change. Coming soon to a grocery or convenience store near you is Ernest Hemingway One True Water, a new brand promising to be “pure water, free of additives” that is bottled straight from the rapidly diminishing “glaciers of Alaska.” Even more absurd than suburban teens proudly sporting Che “Ernesto” Guevara on mass-market T-shirts, Papa is now on a plastic bottle of potable pap.

While it may not be illegal to appropriate cultural icons for marketing purposes, this is one of the more laughable examples in recent memory. Putting aside the inappropriateness of using Hemingway’s name to perpetuate an unsustainable water delivery system, the brains behind this operation could of at least fashioned a better title. Why, for example, Alaska? At the very least, the bottles could contain a small portion of water from Mount Kilimanjaro—or is it all melted away?

As for the name, did marketers actually consider and reject “A Clean, Well-Filtered Sip,” “The Waters Also Rise” or “A Moveable Drink”? And finally, Hem’s moniker seems least apt for selling water in light of the fact that he drank more like a fish then he actually caught one. Why distilleries have yet to buy rights to his name is baffling. Who wouldn’t put back a double “big two-hearted sour mash” on the rocks?

Hemingway might have only been trying to write “one good sentence,” as is oft-repeated, but he was most keen on advising people to develop a “bullshit detector.”

This water? Bullshit.

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.

Local Lit

Mythic Journey

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October 18-24, 2006


Millions regard Lonely Planet as the quintessential guidebook to international travel, but I prefer using local literature to navigate foreign lands. I have read John Steinbeck through California, Jack London through Alaska and Bill Bryson while hiking anywhere in the woods. This summer, I traveled for seven weeks by bicycle through Greece, and I used none other than Homer’s Odyssey as my guide to the geography, cuisine, ecology and culture of this historical nation.

Odysseus, a handsome brute, is the hero of this bloody classic. Greedy and ravenous for wealth, he goes romping through the Mediterranean Sea in search of riches after his service in the Trojan War. Odysseus conquers islands, eats the cattle, kills the men and possesses the women. Homer has endowed Odysseus with a “teeming brain,” yet the big Greek winds up in all sorts of trouble; his men perish like flies, he loses his way and he takes years to get home.

Homer’s shipload of protagonists fared well on a diet of meat and wine, and to gain a true Greek experience, I followed a similar eating plan for about 20 days. However, this diet eroded my energy reserves, gave me stomach trouble and steadily drained me of vigor and happiness. Although most Greek restaurants proudly offer a few healthful options, like oil-sopped eggplant, white bread and fried vegetables, more often than not I felt sick and bloated after a meal. Tobacco is another staple of modern Greek nutrition, and twice in two weeks I found cigarette butts in my food. The gallant Odysseus would have flayed the chef with his axe for such sloppiness.

Feta cheese is perhaps the most illustrious of traditional Greek products. It comprises a good 60 percent or so of all national cheese types. I recall one blazing sunny afternoon in early June when I had lunch at a roadside tavern with several traveling motorcyclists in the northwest mountains of Zagoria. These large and agreeable men treated me to a party-sized platter of half a dozen cheeses.

“Half a dozen?” I thought when they first ordered the dish. “They must be imports from Western Europe.” But they weren’t. When the meal arrived, I observed that it consisted of feta, grilled feta, herbed feta, fried feta, oiled feta and a piece of local yellow cow cheese. To balance the meal, the waiter served us a sliced tomato, also doused in oil.

In Homer’s time, luxurious lodging was readily available throughout Greece, as demonstrated in his narrative. Hardly a chapter passes in which the exhausted travelers do not wind up in a wonderful palace on the beach, where the maids bathe them and rub their aching torsos with extra virgin olive oil while the landlord slaughters several oxen and goats for the occasion. The maids then escort Odysseus and his crew to the dining hall, where abundant appetizers, or “dainties,” have been arranged on the table amid several gallons of red wine.

Times have changed, I suppose, for I never encountered such extravagant hospitality. In my 2,000-mile journey, which saw me through virtually all regions of Greece except for the Peloponnesian Peninsula in the south, I had to camp out most nights in the cold. There were only six occasions when friendly strangers invited me in for the night, and never did I see either maids or livestock on the premises. My hosts rarely drank wine, favoring instead ouzo and a moonshine version of this same liquor called chiparo. Moreover, they reserved olive oil solely for use in the kitchen, a disappointing revelation for me, as my torso and legs were always aching.

In the Odyssey, Homer uses the phrase “wine-dark sea” in three out of every four pages, and on the fourth page he calls the sea “fish-infested,” to spark some variation. The only waters I saw in Greece were turquoise, and they were not fish-infested. I snorkeled frequently in the Aegean Sea. I found it starkly lacking in life, and never did I see a specimen larger than a trout. This unfortunate facet of the Mediterranean Sea is clearly reflected in Greek street markets, where local fishmongers stand behind their tables of sardines, anchovies and assorted fishes the size of a child’s hand.

Unlike other more helpful travel guides, my Odyssey contained not a word of Greek. Thus, I learned the local talk largely through conversation. It was a challenge, this strange archaic language, for English has grown mostly from Latin and Germanic roots, and there are just several words that bear similarities to Greek: megala for big, neekto for night, beera for beer and supermarket for corner liquor store.

It was from one of those last, dimly lit holes, that I bought much of my food. In fact, after three weeks of dining out, I gave up on Greek cuisine all together and adopted instead a healthful diet of bananas, cantaloupes, dried figs, mulberries and almonds. If I felt short of protein, I bought feta, which supermarkets carried at around $2 per pound. On this fresh and raw diet, my body grew strong and lean, and became populated with beneficial stomach bugs and vital enzymes. I pedaled my baggage-burdened bicycle over the mountainous land, visiting such notable locations as Delphi, Meteora, the Corinth Canal and the northeast peninsula of Halkidiki. By week six, I was in far better physical condition than the average Greek citizen, who rides a motor scooter for exercise.

I also abstained from alcohol outside of social occasions, and on many an evening camped in a quiet alpine meadow or on a placid beach, my mouth watering as I read the Odyssey. How those men drank! They guzzled “mellow” wine, “sweet” wine, “mixed” wine and still more wine. When they grew thirsty, they drank wine; when their mouths were full of meat, they washed it down with wine; and upon setting off on a new sea or overland expedition, they filled their casks with yet more wine.

Mount Olympus is the pride and joy of Greece. While a thousand American peaks dwarf Olympus, in Greece it’s the tallest hill they’ve got, skyrocketing out of the Aegean Sea to about the height of Mount Tamalpais. The citizens of this nation once believed that a group of superhumans lived in a big palace on the summit, way up high at 9,000 feet, top of the world. It was comfortable and warm up there because it’s so close to the sun, which was drawn in circles around Greece all year by a couple of flying horses.

Homer and his contemporaries cooked up so much hype about this hill that I vaguely imagined spending a week exploring its lonesome slopes, sleeping in caves and sharing meals with kind goatherds and hermits. However, in the end it took me just a day and a half to circle its base and I saw no one but a few local village boys riding up and down the dirt roads on their intolerable motor scooters.

Like any group of rambunctious tourists, Odysseus visited numerous Greek islands. I visited several, too, but the names of them all seem to have changed in the years since Homer composed his tale. I found no mention of Lemnos, Lesbos or Chios–the three islands I explored–and the book helped me none in finding hospitable palaces or streams frequented by single nymphs.

I had a window seat on the flight home, and as we lifted up, I watched the surface of our planet slowly rotate southward. The miraculous speed of air travel quickly diminished the lands of the Odyssey and my own travels to a tiny spur of sun-beaten rock in the Mediterranean Sea. We passed over the Alps, the plains of northern France, off the western edge of the continent and over the great Atlantic. The lion-hearted Odysseus would have clubbed the flight crew to death for such a view of the earth, but I was tired. I ordered a flight-sized bottle of ouzo, pulled down the window shade on that wine-dark sea and finished the last chapter of the Odyssey.

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.

First Bite

With the trend toward flash instead of substance, it’s the simple things that often get overlooked. I’ve got just enough German in me to insist upon things like reliability, punctuality and substance. This hunger for order (and my renowned hunger for food) are the reasons that the Bluewater Bistro at the Links at Bodega Harbour speaks to my most primal self. It’s a well-oiled Bosch engine that not only runs, it hums.

I appreciated that a simple call ahead of time got us immediate seating in front-row seats to a coppery Bodega Bay sunset. Our sleek oil lamp was lit with an air of ceremony just as the last sliver of sun melted into the horizon.

The menu is short and to the point, another pleasant departure from the Cheesecake Factory mentality that once engendered a 40-page bill of fare. We began our feast with coastal steamed mussels ($8.50) and Dungeness crab cakes ($11.50). Both dishes arrived promptly and were as beautiful to look at as they were to ingest. The crab cakes were a bit smaller than we expected them to be, but the payoff was their meaty flavor, especially good with the complement of tarragon aioli. The huge portion of plump, earthy mussels rested in a chili, basil and coriander broth that was so luscious I couldn’t stop myself from sopping it up with the warm, crusty Bennett Valley Bakery bread. (So, all right—I didn’t even try to stop.)

For his main course, my husband chose the special Alaskan halibut ($24.50). It’s easy to go wrong with halibut, but here the chef used a delicate hand to leave this noble flounder moist and flavorful, while still managing to etch in a deeply caramelized outer layer. Nestled into a bed of sautéed corn, basil and tomatoes, it was summer on a plate. For my part, I chose the filet mignon ($26.50). It, too, was served upon its accompaniments, emerald green spinach and magnificent scalloped potatoes, a chubby cushion of bright flavor and homey richness. A fairy dusting of French-fried onion snippets provided crunch to every bite.

The grand finale was a fete of art both visual and gustatory. A snowy white rectangle arrived laden with a geometry lesson: a triangle of caramel apple tart ($5.50), an orb of vanilla ice cream and a sphere of whipped cream. Half of the cream was elegantly draped in apricot purée and the other side in pomegranate red raspberry sauce. Every bite was better than the last, as we adjusted to the perfect ration of elements.

Bluewater Bistro isn’t a night-spot for the hipster hell bent on sipping slinky sloe gin fizzes. This is the place for family anniversaries, birthdays and other rites of passage. The overall ambiance of Bluewater Bistro is relaxing and rejuvenating. The food is traditionally delicious, the chairs are unfashionably comfortable and the service is warm and reassuring. Without a doubt, we’ll be back.

Bluewater Bistro, 21301 Heron Drive, Bodega Bay. Open for lunch daily; dinner, Thursday-Saturday; breakfast, Saturday-Sunday. 707.875.3513.



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Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.

Dirty Dozen

Wine Tasting Room of the Week

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‘Don Coppola, I am honored and grateful that you have invited me to your winery to enjoy the rebranding of your estate. And may your first wine be a masculine wine.” This is what I would have said upon meeting film-director-turned-wine-maven Francis Ford Coppola if we had met during my visit to his Rutherford compound (recently rechristened Rubicon Estate and formerly known as the Niebaum-Coppola). Further camouflaging my sycophancy as wit, I planned to follow up with “I love the smell of Napa in the morning,” in the hope that the Godfather would guffaw approvingly, throw a bearish arm over my shoulder and drag me off for a night of hard drinking and talking about what a brilliant filmmaker he is (and how brilliant I am to agree).

Never happened.

I did, however, take the opportunity to survey some recent upgrades made to the joint, namely the reduction of the fanny-packed hordes that show up to ogle the movie memorabilia displayed on the property, now in the process of being moved. In the coming weeks, suckers for Tucker et al, will have to journey to the recently acquired Chateau Souverain (a Coppola-branded venture in the Alexander Valley) to commune with, say, the desk from The Godfather.

Like Coppola’s Apocalypse Now redux, Rubicon Estate isn’t a complete reworking of the original premise, but more of a restorative effort intended to recapture its lingering legacy. In a previous incarnation, the estate released a 1941 Inglenook Cabernet Sauvignon which is still lauded as one of the 10 greatest wines in the world.

With premium wines, however, come premium prices. Recent vintages of the eponymous Rubicon label go for as much as $140 a bottle. More cost-conscious selections include the vivid 2003 Cask Cabernet Sauvignon ($70), a robust berry- and cocoa-driven sipper which, at first blush, suggests cherry-flavor Sucret throat lozenges and triggered a sense memory of being home from third grade, bundled up, watching Leave It to Beaver reruns while my mom called Dr. Fugi. Also nostalgic, the 2004 Edizione Pennino Zinfandel ($40) is a pleasantly dusty wine that finishes like that last satisfying splash of Royal Crown Cola after the ice has melted in your cup and the waitress is off counting her tips.

For kicks, when you’re at the counter, ask for Bart Hayes—he’s the tasting room guru who happens to be a veteran of the San Francisco Opera. With some gentle goading, he’ll gladly sing selections from La Traviata.

Rubicon Estate, 1991 St. Helena Hwy., Rutherford. Open daily, 10am to 5pm. $25 for five tastes. 707.968.1100.



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