Southern California

Last Friday I took my daughter Hannah to tour Chapman College located only an hour south of Los Angeles, making it very convenient for her to bring me her laundry should she get in.  Chapman is located in the charming area of Old Town Orange and we were given a personal tour of the campus  by none other than the Dean of Admissions himself, Michael Pelley. Look in the dictionary for the opposite of ‘stuffy’ and you'll find Michael Pelly. Hannah had never interviewed at a college before and she was uncharacteristically mute when meeting with the Dean of The Film School.  But not with Pelly. He was the ultimate host giving us a comprehensive tour that created the appropriate sense of longing.   

At the end we walked to the corner of campus to Bruxie Gourmet Waffle Sandwiches. I love their tag line: The Bold Fold. Was this part of the tour? It should be.

With a list of savory and sweet waffle sandwiches clearly the proprietors have a vision. Michael recommended the grilled portabella mushroom, goat cheese, sun dried tomatoes and arugula with a drizzle of balsamic reduction.  Hannah had the ‘smores. They also have fresh lemonade along with locally crafted artisan colas made specifically for Bruxie’s.

You might remember we were on a slight squash kick recently. It coincided with a visit to one of my favorite restaurants here in Long Beach, Michael’s Pizzeria. I’ve said a million times that I don’t really “do” restaurant coverage because a) it’s overdone and b) it’s not my thing. I think the irony is that I get to eat in some of the most amazing places all over the damn globe and could probably have a blog over just restaurants alone, but again, it’s best left for others. Having said that, when I do write about a restaurant it’s because I find it pretty special and/or I’ve graciously stolen a recipe to inspire me at home. This is one of those cases on both accounts.

A few things you will not engage me on unless we are best friends and in the comfort of my own home: religion, women’s reproductive rights, politics, and who makes the best pizza. I’m no dummy. Each topic is loaded with sensitivity, opinion, and weighs a million tons. I’m better off just smiling and talking about pretty plates and napkins and puppies.

When it comes to pizza, I will not argue with you about what you like or who makes the better pie. Why waste my time? I will, however, tell you that I prefer a thinner crust, only a few high quality toppings, and fired quickly at a high temperature. See? How evasive was that? Truth be told, meet my few easy requirements and chances are I’ll enjoy it. Which is why I prefer pizza napoletana. Keep your deep dish, pal.

We were on our way back from Death Valley where the only thing on the side of the road is an occasional purple flower, a bit of brush, a lone cactus or two… My husband suggested that we take a detour to Lone Pine.

“Why?” I asked him.

“Because I went there once,” he said “and it was sort of quaint and charming. And you’d like it?”

“Really?” I made a face. I have a skinny tolerance for western mountain towns.

“And,” he added, “I bet they have a restaurant there. And you know you get cranky when you haven’t eaten.”

He had me there. So I instantly googled best diner in Lone Pine and came up with what sounded like a somewhat charming diner called Alabama Hills Café and Bakery.

Up the mountain we went, into the town that was sort of quaint and charming. But we couldn’t find the restaurant and then he made a random right turn in an effort to turn around and there we were right in front of it. And it was sort of adorable except the clock in the door said 1:58 and there was a sign on the door that said that they closed at two.

I was truly astonished when they let us in. “Why not?” he said. “I’m here and so are you.”