Cali, Final Edition: Keller Unbuttoned, Greasy Burritos, and Barbecued Oysters

Nick's Cove: gorgeous views and fantastic oysters

By Mollie Chen

And finally, five last reasons to love California. Now I can stop procrastinating and get started on all the very late copy I owe our Production department.

  Liberty Farms duck at Ad Hoc

11. At Ad Hoc, Thomas Keller takes a step back (he isn't even digitally present in the kitchen) and lets you serve yourself from family-style platters. The menu is scrawled on a blackboard (Liberty Farms duck breast encircled by a cheery heart) and the servers claim to be the best-fed staff in town (their staff meals even include dessert). Plus, unlike at many star chef-run restaurants, the patrons seem like neighborhood folks and not rabid foodies with to-eat checklists.

12. In tiny, crunchy Point Reyes, the Tomales Bay Food Company only has a few tenants but they are an impressive bunch: Cowgirl Creamery, which has a display kitchen where you can watch cheesemongers making Mt. Tam; the Cowgirl Cantina, where you can get a scoop (or three) of the to-die-for Three Twins cardamom ice cream; and Little Shorty's small but wonderful produce stand.

13. The corner of Mission and 25t St. in San Francisco: within a few storefronts radius, you can have a delicious burrito at La Taqueria, a gooey pupusa directly next door, or a slice of homey pie at Mission Pie (the retail outlet of Pie Ranch, an educational farm in Davenport, CA).

14. When you order a fruit salad, whether at the hippy-ish Homemade Cafe in Berkeley, where we stood out as the only non-tattooed clientele, or at the self-consciously sleek SolBar at the new Solage Resort in Calistoga, the fruit actually tastes like fruit and not like water. I believe bountiful is the word: strawberries that were bright crimson in the center instead of white; firm, happy persimmons, oozy figs, and sweet-tart plums.

15. A crazy, serpentine drive from San Francisco, recently opened Nick's Cove occupies a surreally gorgeous stretch of Tomales Bay. Sit in the light-filled patio, where you feel like you're floating over the crystalline water, and order the oysters - raw, barbequed, and fried. Slurp them noisily, then lean back and enjoy the view. If you can afford it, rent one of the cabins that are perched on stilts over the rocks -- then you can settle into your own rocking chair for the sunset.

More Reasons to Love California: Dancing Cows, Au Courant Dishware, and Loveable Neighborhood Grocers

Brand-new Spruce has style and substance

By Mollie Chen

I had strawberries yesterday and it was a sad reminder of what we on the East Coast are missing. Even as I am excited to cook my favorite fall soup (green apple, squash, sweet potato, turnip, and any root vegetable you can think of - roasted, then pureed with maple syrup and cayenne), I am still stuck on California.

6. In Napa Valley, you can have fresh-baked goods at any number of stylish, overpriced breakfast spots. Or you can pull off Hwy 29 at the ten-foot tall dancing cow that marks Taqueria La Vaca and have a belly-busting meal of red hot chilaquiles with hand-mashed guacamole. Don't leave without posing for a picture with the aforementioned cow. Smile big.

7. Peet's Coffee. On every street corner, cheaper than most Manhattan deli cups, and without the guilt that accompanies your Starbucks latte.

8. Barely larger than my corner bodega, Bi-Rite Market in the Mission District is packed with all manner of natural, organic, sustainable, responsible, and local foodstuffs. I left with Kika's Treat's caramelized graham crackers with dark chocolate and a jar of June Taylor blood orange marmalade and then walked up the block to their sister shop, the Bi-Rite Creamery. I'd heard about their salted caramel ice cream and it didn't disappoint - with a deep, just shy of burnt flavor and pronounced saltiness. The malted vanilla with peanut butter is a close second.

9. No Styrofoam anywhere, just biodegradable bowls, cups, and utensils. They're understated, minimalist, sturdy -- just the thing for all of us Al Gore groupies who can't give up our ice cream and coffee breaks.

10. In many ways, San Francisco's Spruce is just another irritatingly hip new restaurant: cool architectural quirk (former car garage); chic industrial decor (exposed steel trestles, textured, sisal-covered walls); and hot ticket menu items (burrata, foie gras, heirloom tomatoes, house-made salumi). But wait. There's a fat, juicy $12 burger served with top-notch fries and a refreshingly simple shaved zucchini salad, plus any number of other dishes worth coming back for -- tender Berkshire pork with just-shelled beans and a deep, dark chocolate fondant. At the canteen at the front, you can buy charcuterie (don't miss the decadent duck mousse), cheese, and other prepared foods.

Still more to come...

Conch Fritters Taste Like Childhood

Memory lane looks a lot like a Turks and Caicos beach

By Mollie Chen
This past weekend, in the Turks and Caicos, I was thrown into Proustian fits of nostalgia by a deep-fried ball of seafood, flour, and spices. For me, conch fritters will always mean Miami - or, more specifically, a single restaurant in Miami.

When my family first started going to Scotty's Landing it was just a scruffy little outdoor spot near the Grove Key Marina on Biscayne Bay. The most coveted seats were at the rickety picnic tables off to the side of the main dining area, itself simply a wooden platform with white plastic tables and chairs. The Chart House was right next door so while the adults were drinking beer and catching up, us kids would dash up the slope to the windowed dining room, make faces at the fancily dressed folks eating lobster, and then tumble down the hill. The only things I think were ever ordered were cheese fries (to this day, everytime she goes to Miami my sister goes directly from the airport to Scotty's for a double order of these), chicken fingers, fish n' chips, and conch fritters. As kids, we loved that we were allowed to order 20-ounce sodas and Snickers ice cream bars for dessert; later as teenage sailing camp counselors, we'd motor over to gas up our dinky skiffs and get snacks while we waited. Now Scotty's has put in a real deck with fancy striped umbrellas over the plastic tables and I hear the picnic tables look suspiciously like those in a Crate and Barrel catalogue. They're supposed to have a great blackened dolphin sandwich but ordering that would feel somewhat unfaithful to the Scotty's of my childhood.

The secret behind Scotty's lovability was that you knew what you were getting: great setting, straight-out-of-the-fryer food, and a blasé, shit happens attitude. Same goes for most of the Turks and Caicos' eateries. And, more importantly, Scotty's was where I first came across conch fritters.

Mexico: Corn Fungus and Cutting-Edge Design as Far as the Eye Can See

Chiles en nogada and mole poblano in Puebla
By Mollie Chen
By marvelous coincidence, the special Latino America-themed September issue of Gourmet arrived on my desk just hours before I was scheduled to fly to Mexico City. The charred tamales piled on a cheery azure plate seemed to promise four days of lively mariachi music and rustic and authentic food. I sped through the magazine on the plane, salivating over Robb Walsh's story of lesser known taco truck cities and flagging Junot Diaz's article about Dominican food in uptown Manhattan. By the time we touched down, I was primed for Mexican food and I wanted it right away, preferably prepared in front of me and subsequently gobbled while standing up.

In reality, my first Mexican meal was a packet of Primera Plus galletas (delightfully buttery, with a subtle sabor de naranja) on the bus. When we arrived in San Miguel de Allende three hours later, where we had come to attend the birthday party of an old family friend, my parents and I were grumpy with hunger and poised to attack the next unsuspecting tortilla maker. But because we were in San Miguel, which is charming and beautiful but dominated by expats, we met our friends in the lovely courtyard of the restaurant Bacco. In a setting reminiscent of a more modest Italian villa, we ate pizzas and drank copious amounts of red wine. For dessert: chocolate cake. I went to bed dreaming of poblano chiles.

Delicious Reads for All Types of Travelers

Mexico: Land of one thousand bus rides.

By Mollie Chen
I just got back from a four-day trip to Mexico where I fell in love with corn fungus (more on that later) and the "first class" national bus system. Fung Wah and Greyhound, take note: Mexican buses offer complimentary snack packs and eclectic movie selections, ranging from director Yimou Zhang's soaring Chinese epic House of Flying Daggers to the low-budget 80s heartwarmer The Slugger's Wife. Between approximately twenty hours of flights and driving, I had ample time to catch up on my reading. For your own late summer jaunts, our latest issue has 86 must-reads; in addition, here are some of my most recent food-themed favorites.

Local Intelligence: Robertson Boulevard, Los Angeles

Jean Therapy: Paige Premium Denim is just
one of the celebrity haunts on Robertson
Boulevard in Los Angeles.

By Nandita Khanna

When I'm traveling it's not the guidebooks that I turn to, or even the area magazines (but I do buy them)-- it's the locals. Who knows where to eat, sleep, and hang out better than those who call the city home? Earlier this spring I headed to Los Angeles on assignment for the magazine's 20th anniversary issue. While I'd like to think I know the city well--I grew up there-- much like New York, things change in the blink of an eye. And while I insist that In and Out Burger is still the best place in town to grab a bite, I invited these three trend-setting women below--all of whom have taken up post on perpetually packed Robertson Boulevard--to share their favorite secrets and tips in the City of Angels.

Next Generation Spa Food

The restaurant at Miami's Canyon Ranch Living will cater to those seeking spiritual enlightenment with a side of perfectly seared grass-fed beef

By Mollie Chen
Ironically enough, yesterday's International Spa Association media extravaganza was absolutely exhausting. I am not kidding. Before I started at Traveler, I thought spas were somewhere to get your nails done. Wrong. Spas are seriously big. Huge, actually - in the US alone, they have revenues in excess of $9 billion annually. And from working on our annual Hot Spas list, I know that every year there are more elaborate and more luxurious resort, destination, and city spas opening around the world. 

I've never been a spa person -- I get stressed out during massages (a strange Type A personality tic that never ceases to baffle people) -- but I do love lounging about the plush meditation rooms and snacking on the various edibles that are on offer. It is not just lemon water and cucumber slices: Hawaii's spas always have a surfeit of tropical fruits and refreshing teas; city chic Bliss outlets display trays of brownie bites and cheese; and the Willow Stream at the Fairmont Scottsdale Princess is known for their signature Anzac cookies. And, from what I saw (and tasted) yesterday, spa-goers have a lot of happy eating in front of them.

Endless Summer

We heart NY: Bond No. 9's latest tribute to New York.

By Nandita Khanna

What's summer for if not to conjure up scents and memories of vacations past? Or even, in many cases, to inspire one's peripatetic pursuits. Personally, I prefer the latter, as I'm longing to escape the sweltering heat of New York at the moment. While editorial deadlines (and, ahem, financial constraints) permit me from hopping on a plane on a whim, I'm delighted to report that there are several new perfumes, candles, and even diffusers (my absolute new favorite olfactory trend) to help transport you--even if temporarily-- to far more idyllic destinations. No SPF required.

To Market, To Market

Perfect produce from Eckerton Hill Farm

By Mollie Chen
There is something to be said for shopping as therapy. For me, when melancholy or frustration (or even the spare half-hour) strikes, I head not to Barneys or Saks, but to the nearest market. Francine Prose captures the spiritual nature of grocery shopping in her lovely essay, "Religion Found," in the June/July Saveur. It is worth grabbing the issue for that piece alone. I know all too well what she means when she talks about the euphoria inspired by crates of ripe fruits or rows of unfamiliar ingredients. Whenever I travel, I head straight for markets, whether it is the iconic Boqueria of Barcelona or the fascinating convenience stores of Shanghai. In Carrboro, North Carolina, of all places, I stumbled upon the underlying hippie co-op culture at the amazing Weaver Street Market. In New York, there are infinite purveyors to investigate and discover. When I lived in Hell's Kitchen, I could spend hours in the various shops along 9th Avenue: the wonderful International Grocery run by a wizened shopkeeper whole doled out generous samples of feta and manchego and the West African Grocery stocked with unfamiliar items like efirin and dried fish.

Eating New York (and New Jersey)

On the hunt for micro-greens, garlic scapes, and gooseberries at the Union Square Greenmarket

By Mollie Chen
Upon finishing Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Science, Miracle, I had an uncontrollable craving for fresh, local produce. I grabbed the reusable tote bag that my mom gave me (after I veto-ed my father's suggestion that I should invest in a rolly cart like the one my grandmother drags through Chinatown) and skipped to Whole Foods, smugly imagining the luscious local fruits and vegetables I would buy -- so recently picked as to still have dirt clinging to their humanely cultivated roots. I sped through the automatic doors, plunged into the frigid air-conditioning, and made a beeline for the produce department. And there they were: strawberries from California, bananas from Peru, and apples from New Zealand.