Mendocino evil hear no evil

Mendocino is a small Victorian town in northwest California that evokes New England. It was founded about 150 years ago by transplanted east coasters, and at one point the population grew to a bustling 20,000 residents. Today that number is more like 1000. You can see why northern California provided the perfect backdrop for Hitchcock films. There's something isolated and vaguely eery about this little village. Maybe it's all the late 18th century photos of thickly mustachioed founding Mendocino fathers hanging in our hotel room, but this place gives me the creeps. Last night Amanda and I sat by the fireplace in the lobby, chatting over glasses of organic Cabernet, and everyone around us gave the distinct impression of being a ghost or former inmate. Or both.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I must digress for a moment and say a few words about this blog. Obviously, the blog has become quite a crowd pleaser. People are really starting to get into it. As evidence, I submit this photo of Sasha Strauss White of Mill Valley, CA enjoying an entry from our proneymoon adventure.


Even Hobson the Havanese enjoys the daily updates.


As we drive up the coast, I am constantly thinking of comments to include in the next entry. Sometimes I record the ideas using the dictaphone on my iPhone. Sometimes I write them down. Sometimes I tell Amanda. In any given day there are endless possibilities. Yet it has been brought to my attention by my blushing bride-to-be that I may have - unwittingly you understand - wrestled control of the blog away from other participants. The word being thrown around in these parts is "hijack" as in "you have hijacked the blog".

Yes it's true, I often compose the daily updates while Amanda is still sleeping (today is no exception). And it's also true that I have taken to calling it "my blog". But when a man feels himself drawn to something with intense magnetism, he cannot help but follow that compulsion. I am such a man...

Tuesday morning we woke up in San Francisco. This was fortunate, since we had also gone to bed there. After a quick stroll for coffee, we met up with Eric (who was out with us the night before as well) in Union Square for a taco tour of the Mission.


Jamie Jaffe had suggested we try La Taqueria. Eric arrived with an extensive list of taco places, which included La Taqueria. So we started there.




We ordered Carnitas, Carne Asada and Chorizo tacos. These would be our constants at all the places. The tacos at La Taqueria are pretty large, and are made with beans and a generous dollop of salsa.
From there we made the short walk down Mission to El Farolito. Their tacos were a different style from La Taqueria's (smaller and more basic, served with sliced avocado on top) but still delicious.



Amanda was pretty excited about the place when we walked in because they were playing Madonna on the stereo. Eric confessed that he had never been there during the day - only late at night. After looking around the place, Amanda said, "Sometimes it's better to only come to these kinds of places at night."

After El Farolito, we walked to 22nd and Harrison to a taco truck that Eric said has been getting good reviews.





We varied our standard order to include tacos Al Pastor. It turns out that even Amanda is capable of chorizo overload. Eric said: "I'm not sold. I mean the truck is fun and all, but the tacos aren't that great." Amanda added, "the Al Pastor has a sloppy joe vibe".



So the truck was a bit of a bust. But the walk through the Mission made it worthwhile.

We had time for a quick coffee on Market street with Anne Nicklin before heading over the Golden Gate Bridge to Terry, Michael, Sasha and Hobson's house.

I don't mean to make it sound like all we do is eat, but let me skip the bullshit and tell you that we went to Chez Panisse (the infamous Alice Waters restaurant in Berkley) for dinner that night. It was phenomenal. We ate in the more formal, downstairs restaurant, which is a set menu. It was all very simple but beautifully prepared, and the ingredients were wonderful, fresh and of a very high quality. The duck was a high point for me.

The restaurant was surprisingly low key, and they encouraged patrons to check out the kitchen.


Yesterday morning, we stopped briefly at my cousin Ari's house in San Anselmo. He was out of town, but his family (Sarah, Abe, Grace, and little Levi) greeted us on the front steps.



We then drove north to Heldsberg for some wine tasting. We met these two very nice guys there.

Wait a minute! Aren't those the same guys we saw in Vegas?


After a few too many glasses of wine, we headed northwest towards Mendocino on highway 128, an amazing road that winds through the mountains, past countless vineyards, sheep, deer and cows. There was almost nobody on the road but us. We pulled into Mendocino around 8:30 pm, found this charming, elegant and sufficiently spooky hotel and the rest is history. Today, we have vowed to turn off the GPS, put away the maps, and just let ourselves be drawn somewhere, hopefully with intense magnetism.