California

California Mexican

/ Tara Taft / 4 Comments

When a friend asked me what my favorite food was, I didn’t hesitate. “Salsa!” I replied. I like chips, too, but mainly as a conduit to salsa fresca: tomatoes, onion, a pepper, cilantro, and lime juice. I love the chunky and the tart, with just the right heat. I like my salsa on the medium to mild side, too much heat and my taste buds are overwhelmed; too little heat and the salsa remains only a sidebar. Just the right amount, and I want to add it to everything, the burritos, the tacos, the enchilada.

I like the fresh, California-style Mexican, and I love fish tacos. In college, I traveled to Ensenada with a couple of friends where we ate fish tacos for a quarter from street vendors. Fried fish, salsa fresca, sliced cabbage, mayo and a little lime juice all within a corn tortilla. The best.

Now an East Coast transplant, I’m always searching for the perfect Mexican place. I’ve eaten at several in New England over the years, but no matter how hard I try, my favorite Mexican restaurants remain in California, and two of them are located in the Bay Area: Guaymas and Joe’s Taco Lounge.

Guaymas is the fancier of the two. Located on Main Street in Tiburon, Guaymas is perched on the Bay. You can sit outside among the seagulls and the sail boats or inside where papel picado banners (those brightly colored paper cutouts) decorate the room. I ate lunch at Guaymas after the Loma Prieta Earthquake – feeling safe and lucky in barely touched Tiburon, looking across the Bay at crumpled and warped San Francisco. At Guaymas, they serve a variety of salsas. Try the Ceviche de Pescado, the Poblano en Nogado, or the Tamales Platano.

Not far from Guaymas, you can find Joe’s Taco Lounge in the small town of Mill Valley (identified as one of the best small towns in Smithonian Magazine’s recent article). Small, noisy, and colorful, you have to get there early for a table or be prepared to wait. Here the only view is of colorful hot sauces lining the wall and the bar in the center of this tiny restaurant. I’ve heard the burritos are amazing, but I can’t get beyond the fish tacos, and I always ask for more salsa.

Photos on this post by Erica on trip taken in May 2009.

Walking the Span

/ Tara Taft / Leave a comment

Have you ever walked across the Golden Gate Bridge? Even though I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area and drove across the bridge hundreds of times, it took a visit with my family as a tourist to finally walk across the bridge for the first time.

Though you can park on one side and walk back and forth, logistics are simpler if you have a willing driver, and we did. My sister-in-law dropped us off on the northern side of the bridge then she drove across the bridge to wait while we walked the 1.7 miles to the other side.

It was December, the sun was warm and the wind just a little breezy. The six of us (two adults, two middle schoolers, a 6-year old and a 4-year old) strolled along the crowded walkway, avoiding bicycles (you can rent a bike and ride it across), photographers, and other walkers.

In between piggy back rides, we tried to count the tower’s rivets (600,000 in each tower) and gazed at the ocean.

We took photos of the towers, Alcatraz, and the boats, enjoying the sun on our faces on this 55-degree winter day. We thought of my sister’s family who did the walk in July on a foggy, windy day wearing winter jackets and wool hats and knew how lucky we were.

About an hour later, we were on the other side and ready for lunch just down the road at Crissy Field’s Warming Hut. For details on getting to the bridge, click here. For information about the bridge, click here.

Trip taken December 2009.

From Poppies to a Banana Slug

/ Tara Taft / 5 Comments

After hiking along the exposed trail where California poppies dotted the hills of Mt. Tamalpais and the views of the coastline blended into the foggy sky, we entered a world of green. The colors of lichen, sage, eucalyptus, and moss layered and interlaced, accented by the rich reds of the redwood and the yellowish green of the banana slug.

While my daughter chose a cultural experience, a trip to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art with her aunt and cousin, my son and I chose a natural one. With sneakers and windbreakers, he and I headed down the Dipsea trail from Mt. Tam’s Pantoll Ranger Station for a 4-mile hike.

We walked quickly, stopping only to take photographs or to take in a view. The trail was soft and mostly free of obstacles, unlike northeast trails where tree roots threaten to trip the unsuspecting walker. We neared the creek and crossed a bridge where the Steep Ravine trail sign took us right, away from the ocean and meandered along a creek.

Our guide book had touted the Steep Ravine trail as perhaps the most beautiful trail in California, I was ready to agree. Lush in colors and sounds, the trail is both peaceful and mystical. We encountered redwoods and fiddleheads, rocks and waterfalls and spider webs. Every so often, a hiker or two appeared from around the corner, passing us by.

We crossed another bigger bridge back to the other side of the creek before reaching a ladder. With its 14 plus rungs, the wooden ladder was slippery but stable. We climbed out of the dense greenness away from the creek knowing the end of the trail was near, and our hike was almost over. As we zigzagged up the side of the hill, we stopped to say hello to a banana slug. It raised its head toward us, as if to say good-bye.

For information on Mt. Tam hikes, go to the www.mttam.net, the Mt. Tamalpais Interpretive Association website, or visit the state park website.

Trip taken in April 2011

Hopping the Pools at Muir Beach

/ Tara Taft / 3 Comments

Hugging  the damp and slippery rock, I stepped carefully on its narrow ridge, avoiding the crashing shallow waves beneath my feet. Only three steps and I was safe; I jumped onto the dry sand and squinted. The tide was low at Muir Beach where Redwood Creek separated the tide pools from the main beach.

We hopped between pools of salt water among the rocks, searching for treasures of sea life. As we gazed, rewarded more often than not, sudden waves threatened to soak us with their sprays. Blues and reds, starfish and sea anemones and crabs held our fascination. We pointed and laughed and danced among the rocks before climbing the slippery trail back to safety, away from the crashing and encroaching sea.

We hadn’t planned on a visit to Muir Beach that day, but the parking lot at Muir Woods was full and as we drove down the road looking for a place to park, we continued nearer and nearer to the beach. It was the Sunday after Christmas, the sun was out and the temperature was in the 50s.

Now with wet jeans and shoes, we left the beach for the Pelican Inn. With its Tudor style building, its long wooden tables and fireplace, the Pelican Inn offers a British respite from the fog and trees and beach. We sat at the tables, laughing and sharing stories over pints of ale and mugs of hot cider, a sampling of cheese, apples, and a plate of chips before arriving at Muir Woods at dusk.

The giant redwoods loomed bigger in the dimming light. The salmon weren’t spawning, but the crowds were gone, and the woods were still. We walked quickly along the paved paths, smelling the damp mossy air, the blend of bay leaves and pine and bark, reveling in the magnitude and majesty of the trees, before leaving just as the rangers locked the gate behind us.

Trip Taken December 2009