Thursday, October 4
My parents, who took care of the boys while we were away, arrived around noon so that we could have lunch together. Following a splendid meal of Punch wood-fire pizzas and a glass of chianti, our server delivered my tiramisu with a candle. The entire restaurant sang “Happy Birthday” to me, which was pretty touching.
After lunch, my parents gave us a ride to the airport for the Sun Country three o’clock to San Francisco. Once on aboard, I had the luxury of a three-hour flight where I could read uninterrupted and nearly finished the breezy mystery I’ve been carrying around for a few weeks.
Eventually, we landed and picked up our very heavy, but very attractive, duffle, then made our way to the rental-car counter. Since we were hoping for a top-down adventure, I rented a convertible. We were meant to drive a PT Cruiser. I had one on hold with a confirmation number, but when we arrived at the rental counter, we were offered a Sebring. Never mind, it’s still a convertible.
After a quick stop at our hotel to change clothes, we boogied to Berkeley for dinner at Chez Panisse. Finding the restaurant wasn’t easy. The building is located on a bustling commercial street and there is no obvious sign identifying the place. Even though I knew this, we still drove by restaurant a number of times before we parked and walked a few blocks.
It has long been a dream to eat at this seminal restaurant, and sharing a meal with my handsome husband on a special birthday was ideal. We ate in the main-floor restaurant where a four-course prix fixe meal is served nightly (there is also an upstairs café featuring an a la carte menu). A confluence of elements—walls clad in dark-wood paneling, brass wall sconces and ceiling lamps with Arts and Crafts styling, hand-tinted woodcuts of fruits and vegetables, and intimate seating arrangements—all make for an elegant and comfortable dining room.
The kitchen sent out a bowl of olives with fresh thyme. For some reason, Chez Panisse olives tasted better than almost any other olives I ever eaten. We nibbled on these and sipped $18 a glass champagne, toasting the best birthday ever (so far). That evening’s menu was both a farewell to summer and a preview of the wonderful fall produce trickling into California markets. Soon, the first course arrived—a composed salmon salad with perfectly sweet, tiny cherry tomatoes, tender-crisp baby fennel, and more. Next, mushroom soup. Then, the main course of spit-roasted pork loin with a dab of fig chutney—the tiny hole left by the spit was encrusted with rosemary—and a side of corn, which was my favorite item of the entire meal. I could have eaten three courses of the corn. Dessert was an apple-quince tart with burnt-honey ice cream providing an interesting counterpoint to the sweet fruit. We drank a local wine, which is to say a wine from Napa or Sonoma.
It was all simply amazing. Local, seasonal, fresh—the restaurant’s mission is accomplished.
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