He usually likes the car because it means Santa Cruz or the garden hose in my dad’s backyard, but since this adventure was not fraught with wild romps on the beach nor the endless spray of water he so loves to bite at, Fuji seemed pretty miserable during our impromptu whirlwind tour of Point Reyes.
We set out, actually, for Sebastopol (yes, ha ha) to go cider tasting at Ace Cidery, because if you know me at all, you know that cider is awesome and I can drink a whole pack at the start of the night. Here is Fuji in happier times, maybe hour 1 into the journey. Ever the intrepid traveling doggie, he gazes out the window, somewhat miffed at being relegated to the backseat.
Here he is, nestled on top of Tom’s coat! Again trying to rid the world of Tom’s scent? But that innocent head tilt! I’ve always wondered if Fuji gets car sick, and I’m not sure what he’s doing in this next photo, but it seems the equivalent to the need-to-stick-my-head-in-a-corner to try not throwing up manuever.
The cider pub has a one dog, first dog rule, which is basically they allow one dog on the outdoor patio (yes, because I date a smoker, I now note which places have outdoor patios, yuck) and first come, first serve. They got a new cider since the last time I was there, called the Joker, which was billed as a European style dry cider. Pretty excellent, especialy because my only complaint the previous time I went was that their ciders were rather sweeter than I preferred (I may not like beer that much, but I hate wine cooler-types more). Don’t get me wrong, their ciders are AWESOME, but I want to be able to knock a few–or in this case, a pitcher–back without that cloying taste. Anyway, the cidery is such a great place to have drinks and yummy food, and the owner was a really chill British guy who sat outside and smoked with everyone.
Since the cidery was up in Sebastopol, about a 1.5 hour drive from San Jose, Tom suggested staying up there since it was around 5 or 6 when we were done. We drove around for a bit until I found a place on the GPS that was near Point Reyes, where I had wanted to go after the cider pub anyway. Tom thoroughly enjoyed the empty, windy backroads of the Bodega Highway and Highway 1 and we made it to Olema Inn in time for dinner (expensive as BALLS but totally delicious in that natural organic California yipster way). Even though everything was good, everything Tom picked totally beat my meal. Me: chilled asparagus soup, halibut with blood oranges (I’ve kind of been on a fish kick lately), panna cotta with lavendar honey (wanted to see what all the fuss was about lavendar and food). Him: salad with 50-year-old sherry vinaigrette, risotto with scallops, creme brulee with some kind of amazing salt sprinkled on top of that caramelized shield of gastronomic delight.
Here’s how dependent I am on Yelp now; I was definitely ready to head home after the cider pub because I was afraid that any place I picked off the GPS would be terrible, having not done my Internet research ahead of time. How relieved I was that when I called the inn, the woman was really nice, the place was dog friendly, and she was even concerned about whether or not we’d make it in time for dinner. Not to menion I sort of had some lady issues, and she totally hooked it up big time. I’m not really one to overshare like that (although I do have a blog, so who knows), but that’s just hospitality.
So the end of the day, unexpectedly staying over at a small inn right off Highway 1. Fuji, passed out on the bed, was a bit wary of a new place, new smells, and the sounds of other guests.