Category: Travel

A Slice of My Life – Kauai Edition

April 23, 2013

Last week, that week of utter craziness in Boston and Waco and unbelievable disappointment in our government, I was in Hawaii.  Kauai to be exact.  We heard the news about the bombings because a friend who came with us on our trip happened to be watching the news as she ran on the treadmill.  We were six hours behind the East coast and, it felt, a million miles away from all the bad things that were happening.  Kauai was actually a great place to be in a time of fear and uncertainty.  We didn’t have to shield our kids from the news because they were in the water from morning until evening.  And truthfully, whenever the tv was on, it was tuned to the Disney channel or Cartoon Network.  I relied on Facebook and the New York Times on my phone for updates and I felt utterly sick at times that I was sitting by the pool with a Mai Tai and watching my kids splash around while people were recuperating from unimaginable injuries in hospitals and others were imprisoned in their homes while a manhunt went on.  But what can I do?  I was on vacation, on an island in the middle of the Pacific, while some really bad shit went down in our country.  Does that mean I shouldn’t tell you about our trip?  I don’t think so.  So here we go.

This was our family’s fourth trip to Kauai.  Our first time Spencer had just turned a year and Graham was three.  I remember, viscerally, the stress of traveling that far with children that young.  My kids actually did great, I was the one who was a mess.  In general, I am not a high stress worrying kind of person.  But traveling across time zones on long flights with my children when they were young was hard for me.  It is so different now, at ages eight and six.  They pretty much entertained themselves, with the help of a combination of iPad, Leap Pad, and DVD players, and all the snacks that I don’t usually let them eat (think those white crackers with spreadable cheese), for the duration of the five hour flight.  We left Oakland early in the morning and arrived, thanks to a three hour time difference, around 9:30 in the morning.  That left us with a bonus day of sun and swimming.  Above is where I parked myself for the first three days of the trip.

If you have been to Kauai, you know the weather is not a sure bet.  Our first time there, we had six hours of sun in seven days.  (You should click on that link if for no other reason than to see my kids at ages two and four – impossibly cute if I do say so myself.)  After that trip, we decided it would be a good idea to tack on a couple of days in Poipu at the beginning of the trip.  Poipu (which the boys thought was the funniest word ever) is on the sunny side of the island and it is nice to know that, if nothing else, we will get a few days of sun.  The Sheraton has a terrific pool and the beach is just steps away.

The view from our room in Poipu, setting up for the luau.  We contemplated going but realized that there was almost nothing for the boys and me to eat (the vegetarians in the family), so we opted to just watch from our balcony.

The boys liked the pretty girls “shaking their booties”.  All righty then.

Several examples of island style.  My dress is from that cool boutique in Oakland.

It wasn’t all sun and swimming and fruity beverages.  After three days in Poipu, we headed north and west to Princeville.  We stopped on the way for lunch in Kapa’a at a restaurant where we have eaten before.  Randy ordered fish tacos as he usually does when he has the opportunity.  About five minutes after finishing his lunch, he got a really bad headache.  Then his face turned bright red.  I suggested we turn around and head for the hospital near the airport.  He told me that he wanted to press on and we’d see how he felt.  This is something that Randy sometimes does, he won’t admit that something is wrong until it is dire.  Is this a guy thing?  Not only would he not turn around but he insisted on driving.  As we got on the road, I saw a sign for an urgent care just out of Kapa’a and made him make the turn.  It turns out they have an ER, thankfully.  In just a few minutes after checking in, his whole body turned bright red.  In order not to scare the boys or have them tear up the waiting room, we went back into town to get shave ice, more on that treat later, and waited for the call to come get him.  It turns out that Randy got scromboid poisoning, something that can affect certain kinds of fish if they are not refrigerated properly.  The redness was basically one huge hive that covered him in a histamine response.  It is amazing what the body can do when faced with an invader.  After some IV benadryl, his color was back to normal and away we went.  Needless to say, I drove the rest of the way.  Later in the trip, Randy got a bad cold and was hit by a car while riding his bike.  Again we were lucky and he was all right.

Princeville.  The only downside to our time share is that is not on the beach, although the pool is terrific.  We are just a few miles from Hanalei Bay, one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen, and we are up the hill from a lovely St. Regis, where we have beach privileges.

Not too shabby.  We have to bring our own towels so we are recognized as the riff raff and we are NOT allowed in their pool.  We are allowed to order $15 cocktails however.

I’ve lived most of my life on the West Coast and right near the water.  The water has mostly been a Sound and is most recently a Bay.  Being in Hawaii and looking out on the Pacific Ocean is awe-inspiring.

I read three books.  Two are not really worth mentioning (all right, I read The Night Circus after hearing great things about it and all I thought was meh).  This one though.  Wow.  I’m kind of a fiction snob and was prepared not to like it or just to think of it as a beach read.  It was a beach read in that is has a great plot, but I also found it moving and very well written.  I half expected it to fall apart at the end as so many books that start well do (helllloooo Gone Girl), but the end was just as great as the rest.  Pick it up!

Every single day we had shave ice.  That is not a misprint.  In Hawaii it is shave (no “d”) ice and it is nothing like a sno-cone.  The ice truly is shaved from a huge block so it melts on the tongue like ice cream, and there is no crunching or pool of syrup left in your cup when you are done.  At first we got one for the boys to share (they are large) but Randy and kept dipping our spoons into it.  Then we got each of the boys their own but Randy and I kept dipping our spoons into it.  Finally, the boys each got their own and Randy and I got one to share.  Such good stuff.

Those rainy days I was telling you about.  It was still in the 70′s so it did not stop the boys from swimming.

Or me from drinking.

The annual boys in Aloha shirts in Randy’s arms photo.  (Here is the one from last time.)  I warned him that after poisoning, a bad cold, and a collision between his bike and a car that he did not need a hernia on top of everything.  Maybe next time the boys will pick him up.



Slice of My Life – A Month in France

July 17, 2012

Hello Friends.  I have missed writing my slice of life posts.  I have missed sharing the silly little photos (and some not so silly) that represent my week.  I thought about just picking up where I left off, ignoring, for the moment, that I just spent a month in France.  But last week consisted of a 10½ hour flight back from Paris, jet lag, coming back to a house that I dearly love and that now seems palatial, and going through this house, room by room, purging us of excess stuff that we have accumulated in 5½ years.  And then an impromptu trip to Lopez Island.  It has already been a week of relief (so nice to be home), sadness (how can we leave this city and that island?), and being overwhelmed (will we find a house in Oakland? are we doing the right thing? will the moving part of the move ever be over?).  In other words, not a week to share in photos.

So, I’ll share my month is France instead.  To make it a little simpler for myself, these are all photos I took with my phone.  If you follow me on Instagram (I’m @danatreat), you might have already seen some of these.

In case you didn’t read this post, we stayed three weeks in a lovely town called Cagnes-sur-Mer.  We found our place using VRBO.  It’s the one with the red flowers.

This was the view from the tiny deck off the third floor.  (Yes, three floors, but each one had two small rooms.)

Cagnes-sur-Mer really consists of three parts and we lived in Haut de Cagnes, or high up on the hill.  There were four or five restaurants up there with a beautiful courtyard and a boule court over to one side.  The view was spectacular.  We tried a Vietnamese place (fair) and ate several times at a pizza place (good).  The boys could come sit for a few bites and then run around.  It was ideal.

Our days on the Côte d’Azur went one of two ways.  We either did a beach day in our town or we piled into the car for an adventure.  Either way, each morning the boys and I would walk down our steep hill to one of the two bakeries we liked best.  (There were at least five others in our little town.)  I would buy the days’ first baguette and they would get a treat.  Sometimes we would walk back up the hill and sometimes we would wait for the little bus to take us back up.

(This photo is actually taken at the little stop across the street from our place.)

Beach days included slathering on lots of sunscreen and then loading up our bag for the half hour walk to the beach.  It was HOT, especially the second two of the three weeks we were there.  But the breeze at the beach was lovely and the temperature of the water was perfect.  The boys would spend hours looking for sea glass, playing games with rocks and sticks, and playing in the waves.

The snack shack at my childhood neighborhood pool had things like Fudgesicles and bad frozen pizza.  This guy had crèpes, delicious paninis, freshly made salads, and amazing granitas.  When they were going to get their “drink” became a point of obsession on beach days.

Orange was their favorite.

If it was an adventure day, we walked down to the town parking lot and loaded up in our rental Peugot.  We always brought Veronique – the France friendly GPS sister to our American Veronica in our car at home.  Veronique made driving and finding our way around about as un-stressful as driving around an unfamiliar, and very crowded, region can be.  We would pick a place we wanted to visit and let her guide us there.  Mountain towns, beach towns, large cities, small villages – we saw a lot.

Vence was one of the first places we visited and it remains one of our favorite towns.  This was the only cloudy day in three weeks.

I mentioned this in my last post but this is the Matisse chapel.  No photos were allowed inside.  It is magical there.

Windy back roads and the view of Nice from on high.  Our poor boys walked with us all the way up on a very hot day but we rewarded them with this.

I had never seen a carousel as pretty as this one.

We spent a day gaping at the beauty and wealth in Monaco.  They have a terrific aquarium there but honestly, I don’t feel a need to go back.

Probably my favorite thing we did was drive to St. Raphaël and then catch a ferry to St. Tropez.  St. Tropez is on a peninsula so it is difficult to access by car.  We knew it would be ritzy and it was but it was also small and charming and very beautiful.  It was over 100ºF that day but ducking in and out of gorgeous (and blissfully air conditioned) shops made it bearable.  As did ice cream.

The ferry back.

We went to so many sweet towns.  This one was on our way to Cap Ferrat – Villefranche sur Mer.  We ate over-priced pizza and just stared at the view.

We saw a lot of art on our trip.  Matisse is prevalent throughout small towns along the Côte d’Azur and there is a particularly lovely museum in Nice.  There was a Renoir museum in our town and we loved the Chagall mueseum, also in Nice.  I had a poster of this painting on my wall throughout college, so seeing it in person was a real treat.

The boys were relatively patient on our adventures.  Not that there wasn’t complaining.  We had to keep reminding ourselves that they are 7 and 5 years old and wandering through mountain towns in search of table linens is not really what they wanted to be doing.  So in addition to the beach days, we did two days at water parks – Aqualand and Aquasplash.  If you ask the boys, this was their favorite thing we did in France.

I just have to include this photo of Spencer.  This was our view of him for much of this vacation.  Long board shorts and just a peek of butt crack.  No matter how many times we pulled up his bathing suit, this was how it looked.

On many days, the walk back up the hill, or the ride up in a hot and crowded bus, was just too much to face.  So we would pause in the town square and enjoy a  beer (or an apple juice).

After three weeks, our time in southern France came to an end.  We celebrated our last night by getting dressed up and eating dinner at our favorite place on the top of the hill.

And then we went to Paris.

Where we rode the ferris wheel in the Tuileries.

Which is right next to the Louvre.

We went to Euro Disney – the boys’ first trip to a Disneyland park.

We went to the Musée d’Orsay where the boys lasted a full two hours before staging a full-on protest.

We ate felafel.  For an hour after lunch, Graham kept exclaiming, “That was SO GOOD!”  I was a proud mama.  Even Spencer said, “I tried that brown thing and it tasted good.”

This was our view from the living room window.

And this was the last picture I took before we slept our last night in France.



From France, With Love

June 22, 2012

On Monday, June 11th, our little family woke up at the usual time. We ate breakfast and finished putting toothbrushes, stuffed animals, medications, snacks, and all manner of necessary things in our suitcases and backpacks. A lovely friend who is staying in our house while we are gone, came to get keys, information about garbage and mail, and where to get coffee and all manner of Tangletown things (that is the name of our neighborhood). And then, before we could really wrap our brains around it, we were off the airport for the long day and night of travel to France.

I realize that loving food and loving France is kind of cliche. There are a lot of Francophiles in the world. But France has been an important part of my life for much of my life, so I’d like to talk about France and what it has meant to me in my almost 42 years. I went for the first time when I was just under a year old. My parents tell the story of packing a full suitcase full of Pampers, because they were unavailable in Europe in 1971, and also of me making lots of noise in museums and eating tons of French fries. They went on to take me to numerous other countries over the course of a 3 week trip when you really could do Europe on $10/day, and I remember none of it.

The next time I went, I was 16 years old, on a bike with a group from my high school, three months riding along country roads, sleeping in tents, eating more bread and chocolate than I ever thought possible, and really truly, learning the language and also learning to love the French. We rode through the castles in the Loire Valley; the apple orchards of Normandy; startled goats off treacherous roads in Corsica (and had two solid weeks of sunshine); had snow-capped mountains as our constant companions through the Alps,; and tried to remember why it was that we chose the region of Auvergne, in the Massif Central mountains, until we came upon the Gorge du Tarn – a place so wild and beautiful that we frequently had to get off our bikes to just stare.

My next visit was when I was a junior in college and spent a semester in Paris. I decided that, in order to make the most of my 5 months and to learn the most Franch possible, I should live with a French person. My college teamed me up with a woman doctor who, for reasons unknown to me, was so depressed that she never left the apartment, had a dog named Ginger who would shit in the hallways, and who would give one sole dinner party the whole time I was there, telling me I had to stay in my room while the guests were there, and then would leave every single dish and platter in the kitchen for weeks so that, when I came in from class, I would have to cover my face with my shirt so the stench of rotting food wouldn’t make me sick. It is a true testament to the wonders of Paris, its beauty and the amazing food, that I left after that semester vowing to someday return.

Somehow, it took another 12 years for the next visit to France. Randy and I did a quick two nights in Paris on the tail end of our honeymoon in Spain. I was coming off some terrible bug that made me grateful that you can buy antibiotics over the counter in Europe. We made our way to a horrible hotel in the Latin quarter and ate the foil pouch of peanuts available in our room for dinner. That was about all my stomach could handle. But the next day, while Randy went to a business meeting, I walked the streets and eventually found myself in a brasserie, trying out my once quite-good but now-rusty French, and ordering a sandwich that had thin slices of hard-boiled egg, mayonnaise, tomato, and lettuce, on the perfect half of a baguette. I could not believe how good it tasted.

Soon after we were married, Randy and I moved to London for a year, and I went to France no fewer than 4 times that year. The last time was as we were getting ready to move back to the States. We flew to Paris, rented a car, and took our time driving down to Provence, with stops in the Loire Valley, Lyon, and my beloved and still-as-magnificent-as-I-remembered Gorge du Tarn, before meeting up with friends at a villa on a hillside covered with lavender. I was 22 weeks pregnant with Graham. I had felt his first kick sitting and waiting for our luggage in the Charles de Gaul airport. I brought a maternity bathing suit which I used daily at the pool onsite, and one cookbook, Patricia Wells’ The Provence Cookbook, and from that lovely book, I made dinners for a group of 8 every night. We all took the train back to Paris after our magical week and the group watched Llance Armstrong win his 6th Tour de France at the Arc de Triomphe on, or maybe the day before, my birthday. Randy went with me to an art gallery on the Ile St. Louis where my mom and I had seen some amazing paintings on a trip to Paris earlier than spring and, without me  knowing about it, he bought me a painting and had it shipped home. It is my favorite painting in our house, to date.

The next time I went to France, I was the mother of two, and getting ready to celebrate my 40th birthday. It was a seven year dream to go to Paris and buy copper pots and while I did buy a most beautiful copper double boiler (which I have only used a handful of times because it is so beautiful), I also got to go to Cannes on the Cote d’Azur – a region, in all my time spent in France, that I had never visited.

(Our beautiful street for 3 weeks.)

And here I am again. 3 weeks in Cagnes-sur-Mer. A small town between Cannes and Nice. Small enough that it is easy to find our way around, large enough that almost everything we need is here in our town. Including a beach. We have been here a little over a week and have already done day trips to Nice and Antibes, the hill towns of Vence and Grasse, as well as a day at the water park known as Aqualand, in addition to plenty of time spent at our town’s somewhat rocky but still totally acceptable, beach. We visited the small chapel that Matisse was commissioned to create the murals and stained glass for – a chapel I remember studying for my term paper on Matisee in senior year art history, and when my little family and I walked inside, I immediately started to cry. Seeing such works of beauty in person, when you never thought you would actually see them, can be very overwhelming.

The Cote d’Azur is warm. Hot even. Our little place is sweet and, um, little. We are almost at the top of a hill of such epic proportions that we usually opt into taking the free shuttle (the Navette) to it each day. I have been cooking dinner almost every night. It’s not so much that I am inspired by the produce, which – truly – I am not, but that it is relaxing for us to be at home and not trying to figure out whether the boys should eat pizza or pasta for the umpteenth time. At home, we vegetarians can make sure we are getting nourished. It’s not that bad for me – I am happy with salads, but my kids, especially Spencer, are having a harder time. My little kitchen has two burners and I am putting them to work, mostly making simple, but delicious, things. Polenta with cream and Comte cheese stirred into it and topped with homemade ratatouille, omelettes with sautéed mushrooms and radicchio, lots of salad, curried couscous with Le Puy lentils and chickpeas, tagliatelle with goat cheese, oil cured olives, and basil. Nothing fancy but all delicious, made even more so by the fact that we are depleted by the sun and by all the beauty we are seeing each day.

We still hope to see St. Tropez and Monaco. We need to check out the chateau at the top of our extremely steep hill because the town’s Renoir exhibit is temporarily housed there. We might get on a train for a day trip. We might not. We might go to a relatively nearby town in Italy for the Saturday market. We might not. We are going to eat a lot more pizza and a LOT more bread. Spencer has decided that he likes goat cheese and pizza with olives on it and that is more than I could have hoped for him. Graham ate most of a cheese crepe without being too sure about it and I am proud of him for that. They have already been on a 100 year old carousel and, if you asked them, them are hoping for more beach time, more carousels, and more ice cream.

Randy and I have had time to process all that awaits us when we return home. I have already freaked out a couple of times. Being far from home can sometimes make me crave home – stability and things that are known instead of unknown. We will return to Seattle and a brief lull of calm before jumping into a full blown move and throwing our comfortable worlds into chaos. There has been some second guessing, some tears, and finally, the very real thought that this move is the best thing for us at this time. How do you reconcile feelings of caution? When do you say ok, I am just feeling anxious about this big change and when do you say, this is too much for me? That question is what kept me awake for the first 5 nights we were here. Ultimately, I am choosing to move beyond the doubt and celebrate the positive. A friend asked us, as we were trying to make the decision about whether or not to move to San Francisco, if we would regret it someday if we did NOT move. I have come back to that question time and time again. When we were trying to decide whether or not to move to London, I was having a hard time with that decision. Now, looking back 9 years later, there has never been a moment when I have thought, “Wow, we should never have moved to London.” I get it – this is different, kids and schools and jobs and buying and selling homes and 3+ years vs. 1 year makes it all different. But I can’t help but think that if we don’t go, we will both regret it.

We have another week and a half in Cagnes-sur-Mer and then we head to the Nice airport and fly to Paris. We will have six nights there. I hope to do another Cote d’Azur post before we leave. I am having a heck of a time uploading photos so I’m sorry there aren’t more in this post. If you are on Instagram, I am @danatreat and I post photos each day. A bientot!



A Slice of My Life – Week 23

June 5, 2012

My week started with a very important shoe purchase.  I bought these wedge sandals.  I was thinking they were cute and slightly comfortable.  As it turns out, they are very comfortable – score!

Wednesday was the opening day for our little neighborhood farmers’ market.  We can walk to it and the boys love getting a quesadilla and listening to the music of the day.  It is our Wednesday tradition all summer.

Spring onions + asparagus + morels + homemade pasta made a delicious dinner.

Randy took this picture of us.  It haunts me.  Who are those big kids?  And where did my babies go?

The big event of the week was a trip back East for my 20th college reunion.  Not hard to leave Seattle with weather like that.

I went to college in Connecticut but I got to spend two days in New York.  I met my friend Darcie for an incredible dinner at ABC Kitchen.  We shared a bunch of plates and everything was truly extraordinary.  The kind of meal where you wish you were a cow and had 4 stomachs.  The highlight was the beets with homemade yogurt.  I’m totally committed to making my own yogurt after that dish.

The next day I was lucky enough to have time with one of my favorite blogging friends, Stacey of Stacey Snacks.  We have met before on another trip to NY and the time just flies by with her.  She brought me to one of her favorite spots, Corsino Cantina, where we had some incredible food.  The highlight for me was the fried brussels sprouts with bread crumbs and chili flakes.  She said they were great and that lady doesn’t lie.

Stacey is a good customer and they brought us some extras, like burrata with grilled bread and this exquisite tiramisu.

My trip continued with a drive up north to Connecticut College which is in New London.  Darcie (on the left) was the fearless driver.  She and I were very close in college but living on different coasts has made the friendship not as present for either of us.  Having a lot of time with her over the course of the weekend was one of the best parts of my trip.  The lovely lady on the right is Victoria, who was my freshman year roommate and my very close friend.  That brave woman went through breast cancer and came out the other side an amazing survivor.

The one full day we were on campus, the weather was terrible.  It is unfortunate because Conn looks pretty glorious in the sunshine.

See what I mean?

Before getting back in the car to head back to the city, Darcie and I snuck into the theatre.  I spent countless hours in that building and the smell of it nearly brought tears to my eyes – so many memories.  This is the room where we had most of our classes and where we staged small plays.  It is also the room I was sitting in when I decided that Conn was the school for me, on a college visit in the spring of 1988.

My hotel view in Times Square.

One more exquisite dinner.  I’ve been wanting to try Locanda Verde for years and finally got my chance.  Again, we shared lots of dishes and everything was delicious.  I have to say, I liked both ABC Kitchen and Corsino Cantina better although the fresh ricotta appetizer and the lemon tart at Locanda Verde were life-changing.

I had just enough time to eat lunch the next day before heading to the airport.  Shake Shack was across the street from my hotel and I glanced at the menu in the pouring rain and did not notice that there is a mushroom burger that is actually a mushroom.  So I didn’t go.  Boo hoo.

Instead I found a sweet Provençal restaurant that had intoxicatingly smooth hummus (I’m a sucker for hummus and grilled pita) and a Moroccan omelet that was so good, I’m making it for dinner tonight.



The Dole Summit

May 25, 2012

(There is, believe it or not, a recipe at the end of this post.  Thank you all for your patience with my lack of food posts lately.  Thank you for your support during this uncertain time.  And thank you to Dole as well for being patient while I took my time writing this post.)

I would imagine that each person who starts a blog has several hopes for it.  Some people might want to make money, others might want to make friends.  Others want to convey a message.  I think I have four hopes for my site.  I want to capture my cooking and my family life as we eat and live it.  I want to share the beauty of homemade treats.  I want to help people see that vegetarian cooking is not about a lack of something but instead a bounty of almost everything.  And I want people to find joy in salad.

Yes.  Salad.  If you have spent any time here, you probably know how I feel about salad.  It is not a way to shovel vegetables in you mouth and it is not a deprivation thing, as in “I will have salad instead of what I really want.”  Salad is a beautiful and delicious thing unto itself.  I truly believe this and perhaps that is why there are currently 53 salad recipes on this site.

So, it made sense to me that when the good people at Dole invited me to Monterey for the Dole Summit, that I should go.  Each time I get offered something because of my blog, whether it is a product to try out, a new tool to use, or a trip, I carefully consider whether it makes sense for me to accept.  In the case of Dole, I did pause.  In the past few years, I have come to really love buying big heads of lettuce from my local farmers’ market.  In my cooking classes, I encourage people to do the same.  Would it be contradictory of me to say one thing and do another?  And then I had to realize that, as much as I do love those big heads of local lettuce, at least half of the year they are not available.  Lettuce still has not made an appearance at my market this year.  So what do I do in the off-season?

Sometimes I buy whole heads of lettuce but truthfully, they are often waterlogged and tasteless.  I’ve realized that I am better off either buying lettuce in a bag or buying the newer clam-shells that hold small heads of lettuce.  Dole has a terrific one with one head of red leaf and one of green and, once you cut out the core, the leaves are perfectly bite size.  Basically, once I got over myself, I said yes to Monterey.

And I’m so glad I did.  I had been to Monterey once in my life, at a time when I was personally very unsettled.  How nice to be back in such a beautiful place in a much happier (albeit a bit uncertain) time of my life.  The Dole folks set us up in a beautiful hotel, The Clement Intercontinental, and planned a lovely and informative two days for me and some wonderful bloggers.  Truthfully, what I like best about these trips is getting to meet new people and reconnect with old friends.

Our time together was nicely split between fun and learning.  We got to visit the Dole headquarters where we learned that this company, which is the largest producer of fruits and vegetables in the world, actually contracts with as many as 9,000 individual farmers around the country.  We learned about the tremendous amount of research that goes into every product they take to market and about some of the science behind the bags.  We got to taste several different salad blends that all tasted wonderful to this savory breakfast fan.  Then they sent us to lunch in Carmel.

 

I can tell you, without question, that this was the best lunch I have had in a long time.  Perhaps ever.  The amazing people at La Bicyclette put together an incredible spread for us, using Dole’s produce, and every single thing I tasted was amazing.  I happened to be sitting at a table with a number of gluten-free or vegan or gluten-free/vegan folks and the restaurant did an amazing job taking care of everyone.  If you have read any account of the Dole Summit, you have probably heard about the carrot risotto.  Superlatives are not enough praise.  It was to die for.  I had the added bonus of being able to taste the vegan version which was just as good – just different.

From Carmel, we headed to where some of the lettuce was being harvested in the incredible fertile Salinas valley between the mountains.  It was mind boggling to realize that much of our country is being fed off what is harvested in that valley.

After donning our hair nets (Irvin looks particularly handsome in his, don’t you think?), we walked out to where a group of people were, one by one, picking heads of iceberg lettuce and preparing them for shipment.  They worked with assembly line precision although this assembly line was out in the fresh air and sunshine.  I’ve never been a big fan of iceberg lettuce, but seeing them perfectly ripe and tasting them just after picking, I think iceberg can have a place at my table.

We concluded our trip the next day with a beautiful tour of the legendary 17-mile drive, taking us along spectacular scenery of the Pebble Beach Resort.  We stopped for the views, took lots of pictures, chatted about seeing each other all again at BlogHer, and contemplated what we were going to make when we got home.

One of the salads that they served us on that first morning had an intoxicating sun-dried tomato dressing.  They were kind enough to share the recipe for the salad and I made it almost as soon as I got home, with some tweaks.  I am the kind of crazy person who has burrata in my refrigerator (just in case!) so I used that but a good fresh mozzarella would be delicious too.  This is hearty, almost main course salad, the kind that I so advocate here on my site, and I’m thankful to Dole for the inspiration and for a terrific trip.


Greens with Sun-Dried Tomato Dressing and Parmesan Cheese
Inspired by Dole
Serves 2-3

For the dressing:
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
½ cup marinated sun-dried tomatoes
¼ cup balsamic vinegar
¼ cup water
1 clove of garlic
3 Tbsp. freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Salt and ground black pepper, to taste

For the salad:
5 ounces bagged salad greens
½ pint cherry tomatoes
½ cup kalamata olives, pitted and halved
¼ cup shaved Parmesan cheese (a carrot peeler is good for this)
4 ounces burrata cheese, pulled into small pieces (or fresh mozzarella, cut into small pieces)

Make the dressing:
Place the olive oil, sun-dried tomatoes, balsamic vinegar, water, garlic, and Parmesan cheese in the blender.  Blend until smooth.  You may need to add more water to get a thinner consistency.   Set aside.

Make the salad:
Preheat the oven to 400ºF.  Place the cherry tomatoes on a small baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Roast in the oven until softened and starting to brown in spots, about 15 minutes.  Remove and set aside.

Place the olives in a salad bowl.  Shave the Parmesan cheese into the bowl.  Place the greens on top.  Spoon in a bit of the dressing and toss well.  Add more dressing if you wish.  Place the burrata or mozzarella cheese over the surface of the salad and serve with additional dressing on the side.



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