This One Has Legs

2 03 2014

The wine is warm from the stove
I would be fine cooking
When she wears so little
Around her waist; my hands
Tremble, the thought of burn
A raw infusion so deep:
The oil takes pains
To embody her flavor.


Sausalito Ferry

28 03 2011

Our hotel room has a view of the city’s southern skyline. We also get half of the last span of the Bay Bridge, and you can see the traffic coming in from the east bay. There’s a cathedral just below, its bells ring only once a day, so far as I can tell, at 5 in the afternoon. The MOMA is just beyond that, as is Yerba Buena park and the Contemporary Jewish Museum. I could write a novel with this view, and I could write another one about this view alone.

Romantic. We went to a crêpe place for breakfast. The real Normandy style (painstakingly made by a Latino). One savory, one sweet. Because that’s the way to do it. We ordered the savory first, with our coffee. Mushroom, cheese, and sausage on the hearty, chestnut brown buckwheat crêpe. We must have been hungry, because it didn’t last long. Halfway through it, we ordered our sweet crêpe (butter, banana, and honey) because that’s the way to do it. To ensure you enjoy it piping hot.

There is a ferry. It runs from the Ferry Building to Sausalito and back multiple times a day, even on the weekends. After our crêpes, we rushed to the 16th Street BART station so we could meet my mom and sister at the hotel, collect our bags, and rush off to catch the ferry. Apparently the overcast and darkening skies did not inspire maritime travel for them, so we decided to just drive, which worked out fine because Julia had never walked the Golden Gate Bridge, which we pulled off the 101 to do.

Sausalito is the kind of town that loves to have terrible parking on a sunday. Though I think we managed to find the last public spot in town. Our destination, Wellington’s Wine Bar, didn’t open until 3, so we stepped next door to Bar Bocce. They serve fine, modern Italian (shaved artichoke salad with fennel and pecorino, eggplant parmigiana with panko crust) and thin-crust pizza, and the patio is right on the water, looking out over the baylet to Tiburon. The wine was reasonably priced: I had a proper, earthy Napa Zinfandel that would have cost twice as much in LA, had it been offered at all. And yeah, they have a Bocce court just off the patio, in case you were wondering.

By the time we paid the bill, the mist in the air had escalated to a drizzle. Wellington’s had opened, and we were happy to grab a cozy couch by the window to watch the rain instead of be out in it. We enjoyed a 2001 Cabernet Franc from Diamond Mountain in Napa with the house charcuterie plate. As the wind picked up and the rain fell heavier, we couldn’t imagine a better activity to while the storm away.