Big Sweet Tooth

The Big Daddy Belizean Bamboozle

Belize.

I've read about you.  Dreamed about you.  Plotted toward you.  

And, then I got offered a free ticket to you.  

Coming up on the tooth - what really happened in Belize...

 

Minka Goes To Baja - For Baja Bound

Here is the latest article for Baja Bound - guess I loved writing in Minka's voice!

As a dog, there are a couple of things I will always know to be true when I hop in the truck with my mom and dad. There will always be a big adventure when we finally stop. There will always be lots of new friends to kiss. And, there will certainly always be blissful bits of road scraps to be wolfed down. My folks like to eat like kings and most times, I just follow their bellies, knowing that if I’m a real good girl, I’m gonna see and taste all sorts of new delicious things. Little did I know what was in store for me on my first few trips to Baja (grilled fish, creamy avocado, bones galore, big chunks of machaca) but I’m now an old pro at border crossings (four times in less than a year!). However, in the beginning of my puppy days – whew, what a whirlwind!

My first mega trip across the border into Baja (December 2012) involved all sorts of preparation. We visited my vet to get travel paperwork, we set up the back seat of the truck with lots of soft blankets (I actually called shot gun most of the trip), and we hit the pet food store so I could select a new toy (Mrs. Squirrel, whom I happily unstuffed just outside of Santa Rosalia). We made it across the border and lots of military checkpoints and nobody ever questioned me, or my wagging tail.

I know my folks were nervous about finding hotels that were dog friendly along Highway 1, especially with limited internet access to do research on the way, but my mom is a smartie – she used the website vrbo.com (vacation rentals by owners) for most of the trip and when we got into no mans land she’d just perkily enter a hotel (with me) to see if pets were allowed and once they saw my super cute face and cheery smile, they always said yes. I always noodle my whole body around peoples legs to make them comfy and usually they give me a little treat or at the very least a good scratch behind the ears. I’m a really big fan of the nice cool rooms at La Mision Hotel in Loreto. We always get bay scallop risotto there and so many new friends pet me in the lobby every day. The life in Loreto is just my speed – chilling in the town square while my mom sips a mango margarita and I touch noses with all the dogs off leash running around. They usually want me to come with them on their scouts through the village, but I know the best place in the world to be is right at the base of my mom and dads feet. Ever had nibbles of the scrambled egg and cheese burrito from Café Ole just off the square? Wow.

Now as for food along the way, the perk of being a road dog is the quantity of good girl treats I get. My mom always takes me to the funnest restaurants – all with outdoor seating, so I’m always invited. Tiny shacks on the beach where I get to jump in the water, practice my fetch skills and eat lots of grilled shrimp and fresh fish. One of my best Baja friends is a really pretty girl named Pele down on the beach in Bahia Concepcion – her parents run Ana’s Restaurant on Playa Santispac. We ran on the beach until we were delirious, but you gotta watch out cause those little pangas have anchor lines to shore that will clothesline dogs like me if you aren’t careful. Pele and me witnessed that travesty firsthand.

 

Mom enjoys tequila and there’s the most amazing place we trek to in La Bufadora where I have certain spots that I hide things and then rediscover on later trips. She raves about the housemade tequila to everyone, and I quote directly from mom’s mouth:

"Just south of Ensenada is La Bufadora, the world’s 2nd largest blowhole. It’s interesting to see it shoot 100 ft. into a cloudless sky, but what’s more enthralling is what’s tucked behind the bar at La Bufadora Tequila Grill, just up the hill from the blowhole. Literally – the best tequila you will ever taste. You’ve never sipped tequila like this before. Yes, you sip it. And ever so slowly. The recipe for this vanilla pod, herb tangled, orange peel, raisin infused thrill ride runs back triple generations and is like nothing else you’ve ever let tickle your tonsils. You can take in a few rounds onsite while watching the sun set over the Pacific or even better buy a bottle to go ($100 per) and you will be the kingpin among all the dis-believers when you bust it out at your next dinner party. This is a handcrafted batch of Gods’ tears and rumor has it that it’s good enough for Tiger Woods to chopper over for (he’s building a golf course nearby), consider it next level sippin’."

There is also one of my fave spots on earth – San Javier. Turns out this little village in the mountains above Loreto, is full of dogs. Only 140 people live there and there are at least 20 dogs running around! Oh, the joy. I’ve never played with a friendlier pack of pups in all my days. Little ones, big ones, sassy ones, and one real funny one who had a beer can tied to his tail. Guess everyone wanted to know when he was coming down the boulevard! Mom likes to drink skinny margaritas at the little café on the square and just recently we got an amazing tour of the huge farm behind the church. One of the oldest families in San Javier owns it and they have lots of old grape vines to make wine from and olives for fresh pressed olive oil. I can’t wait to go back for the harvest this fall. I’m definitely planning on a personal tour with Memo again. He’s the handsome cowboy that makes the homemade machaca I love so much at Palapa San Javier. He’s famous for it and was even in a book!

Anyhow – this roundup barely touches the life I lead down in Baja. Like my mom and dad, I dream of it often. But, as I say to the border guard at the Tecate crossing (we always use this one cause it’s shorter lines and a prettier drive) – Woof! Woof! And catch ya on the rebound! He just tosses me a smile and waves us right through.

Pet Traveling Tips

• Pack your pet's travel paperwork with you just in case.
• Let the hotel desk clerk meet the dog right away before they jump to conclusions.
• Check out Baja Bound's Pet Friendly Hotel Guide for hotel ideas in Baja Norte.
• Pack a chilled towel so when the fun is over you can rub your dog down, cleaning and cooling him/her at the same time.
• It is recommended to give your pet bottled water.
• Let your dog play with the local dogs – just keep yours on leash.
• Bring an extra harness and leash in case for some reason yours snaps in the middle of Baja.
• Coconut oil soothes hot, sore paws from long walks in the heat.
• All restaurants are dog friendly if there is outdoor seating – and that’s what Mexico is all about.

My Floating Home - Land of a Billion Projects

How am I supposed to get a thing done in this world when there are tomatoes to roast, plants to prune, so many mags to rage thru, boats to watch, floors to sweep, wine to drink, chile oil to make, soups to conjure up, lists to make, ideas to hatch, stretches to do, trips to take, trucks to clean, shows to shoot and all that good stuff. 

Yet - here we are.  I'm about to freak on Floor 3 of Flo the next little space of time and in the meantime, the inside is looking good! 

I managed to make it to Tulum for a cooking workshop at Hartwood (and managed a quick trip to Isla Mujeres); I still haven't said a peep about the jungle Belize journey; and the trip I just took to Baja was epic (scouting for a TV show and a new 4WL location) - which I do believe has been found!

More soon on all of those, but in the meantime - time for a Sunday afternoon marg.  I will never really tire of them...

 

 

Snapshot of My Life

Guess seeing the sails up on Enola makes me real, real happy. 

It's all coming together.  Somehow, someway.  It really is.  I'm Mexico bound in the AM to scout for a show I'm shooting in June.  How I love me so Mexicoooooo!

Hands Down, The Best Sandwich I've Ever Made

Sunday's are my crazy day. 

All hell breaks loose in the kitchen, every home project is in a half state of completion, various new cocktail concoctions flow all the live long day, and I'm just generally a happier person once I get home from the farmers market and can just wile away the day. 

I tend to pull all the old from the fridge, combine it with all the new and draft up some new things to munch on.  I start out with the best of intentions - maybe something REAL healthy...but after one rye drink, the condiments pop out and the world is a mayo/homemade chili oil fest.

This sandwich I whipped up last Sunday literally took our breath away in its simplicity and deliciousness.  The toasted ciabatta was slathered with butter before being tossed in the broiler, then both sides layered with incredibly generous amounts of Kraft mayo.  The tuna I made about an hour beforehand was the good stuff - the kind that is poached in olive oil in a little glass jar.  I mixed it up with capers, fresh parsley, lemon juice, tiny bits of celery and rosemary infused feta cheese.  Once that was plopped on a mayo rich piece of bread, it was topped with sliced hard boiled egg, slivered red onion, sliced cucumber, fresh basil and a generous lug of the chile oil.

This is the sandwich that legends are built around. 

Now - the shrimp & cauliflower pasta on the other hand.  Delish in its own gluten free pasta/I love tumeric way...but don't you know it was even better cold the next day with guess what?  A boatload of mayo and some fire-like chili oil.

What does your Sunday hold?  Mine is just starting!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Z is for Zilch....as in No More To Do Lists!

Z is for Zilch...as in No More To Do Lists!

I'm to the point where the Daily To Do list just gives me hives.  Same shizz, dif day.  I have to put a halt to them.  I have to get them done.  I have to move on.  It's one and the same - if I stop them, nothing gets done.  Yet, they keep growing...and growing.

At least some planting is on the make.  Lot's of final details are getting sorted.  The Smith + Noble shades have been installed.  My sailboat is sitting pretty in her spot beside FLO (with new brightwork happening as we speak).   The drawers of BS are getting organized.   The returns are happening.  The margaritas are flowin'. 

Also - this week is all about getting inspired about the super fly outdoor living space that takes over most of Floor 3.  The orange rug just off the bedfoom is making me happy - and I just planted som madness on that particular porch.  Or veranda.  Or deck.  Or whatever you wanna call it.  Chillax spot facing sunset?

Now - it's all about sorting books, outdoor living (ready by June 1, I'd say - all custom crazy cool furniture being made from recycled metal and wood + some funky cool sun shade idea I wanna try and crank this week).  More planting (half the boat is shade and half is sun), and generally curating all the stuff that one collects over time.  Plus good food, good drink and a boatload of magazines to rage thru.

Meanwhile, the pickled floor already needs to be redone :)   That said, I'm having some vino and making a new to do list.  It's in my blood.

 

Y is for Yes, I STILL Love Baja!

Y is for Yes, I STILL love Baja!

About a month ago, I had to get away from FLO and let the workers do their thing or I would have slaughtered all...so I cranked a 2+ week roadtrip down to the tip of Baja and back.  I fell in love all over again (so much so I need to shoot some TV shows there - more on that later, though).

I got loads of new material for this cool column I've been writing for Baja Bound called In the Belly of Baja.  It's basically a monthly shakedown of me and my doin's south of the border and I've been having a boozy time writing again, sharing the best of Baja, and attempting to recall what it's like to keep to a deadline. 

Here are the 3 latest columns:

4 Mouthwatering Reasons to Head South of the Border Right Now

Baja's Perfect Mid Winter Escape

"Next Time" Surprises to Experience in Baja

 

X is for X-tra Special Floating Home

X is for X-tra Special Floating Home

It really is.  Just the coolest little spot that takes up 16 x 50 feet of boat slip.  3 floors and tons of character & special elements.  A place like this deserves x-tra delicious cocktails with huge ice cubes (see above) made on a daily basis.  And, there are so many funky things/pieces of the FLO puzzle that I need to share, they can't all be done in one post. 

But, here is one - my super cool dining table chandelier made from old reclaimed Napa valley wine barrels.  I had to modify this one a tiny bit cause I have low ceilings, but how cool is this?  I also got lots of cool sconces made from the same artisan (Wine Country Craftsman) and the glow these pieces put off is just lovely. 

W is for WTF - is the FLO finally done?!

W is for WTF...is the FLO finally done?!

Been so long since I've checked in, but I've been real, real busy. 

Finishing off the never-ending to do list on FLO; moving my sailboat Enola into the slip right beside the floating home (what are the chances it would open up?); making all kinds of good food in my new kitchen; researching plants and flowers and edibles for all the planting I'm going to rock this weekend; taking a trip to Belize to shoot a cool sizzle reel in the jungle; trying to get some sort of workout program going; kissing Minka a billion times per day; jammin' a 2 week road trip thru Baja; coming up with new ideas and schemes for the rest of my years; cleaning out all the madness in storage; and just generally trying to pull life together.

I think I'm back though.  And, I must finish off these damn letters so I can move on with fresh meat.  It shall all be done by Monday...and I can fill in all the blanks of my past few months, as well as try to make sense of the future.

 

V is for Very Close Now - a Floating Home Update

V is for Very Close Now...a FLO update.

The final stages of the Floating Home remodel are happening right now and I finally move in this coming weekend!  I mean, holy moly.What an undertaking! 

I can't wait to show some of the cool stuff that I integrated into the boat (wine hatch that opens to the sea, french doors, soapstone counterop, rooftop day bed, custom pretty much everything, hidden storage, casement windows, reclaimed pickled floors, stair rails made of recycled scrap metal, additional master bath, 1920's French farmhouse dutch door, etc...) - and really just move back onto my own vessel, sleep in my own bed and unpack somewhere.  Just make some good, homemade food for the love.

I'm currently down in Baja - been traipsing this whole peninsula for the past few weeks as the finishers did their final tweaks and I migrate north in a few days.  Internet has been spotty, but there is much to share from this magical land as well.

A billion updates to come about the continuing saga that is FLO and all my upcoming projects.  

But, first - I'll be heading to town soon as my fave little restaurant opens for a hit of French rose and giant pile of grilled shrimp.  MMMM....

 

 

 

 

 

 

U is for Useful Things My Dog Has Taught Me

U is for Useful Things My Dog Has Taught Me

Minka has easily become the most important - most present - element in my life.  She's by my side at all times - living the same little adventure that make up my days - but she's got her own special spin on it. 

Here's a few things that I've picked up from this very social, very happy pup.  She's just so neat.

1.  When someone you care about is hurt, race to their rescue.

2.  Never hesitate to coze down when there is a soft blanket nearby.

3.  Begging gets you nowhere (and is actually quite unattractive) - but if you stand by quietly and be a good girl, you will get treats.

4.  IF you have an itchie, an owie, or any sort of general ailment - address it immediately.

5.  Stretch like maddddd before even getting out of bed.

6.  Never fear the ocean.  Water feels so, so good on the body.

7.  Learn a few tricks and you just might get somewhere in life.  (Mouse can roll over, sit, lay and shake).

8.  When out and about, stop and smell some flowers now and again.

9.  Stick close to those you love - they will always take care of you.

10.  Happily greet every stranger you see.  It may be exhausting, but sometimes you might make a new friend.

 

 

 

 

T is for Twelve Minutes from LAX

 

 

Twelve minutes from LAX lies my little floating home that

someday soon I shall move back onto.  

Dear God, it's taken forever, I've lost my mind, but it's on the horizon...the hunkder down for spring in LA is on the make.  Cause lord knows I haven't dont jack what I wanted to down here in the desert.  I've been on the road for eons, how could I?   Takes all I've got to pay the bills, research the needs for FLO, plot a few new shows and try to make some good food.  Toss in Minka's daily pup needs and keeping up with the news, and the day is done. 

Now, once I get back on the FLO, pls do remember, I'm a scant 12 minutes from LAX, which if you have been a toothie long, you will recall one of my first posts ever was about what makes a perfect place to live?  Has to be close to an international airport.  And, for that reason alone - I can't imagine being anywhere else but the marina if I'm to reside in LA.  Means, in 12 minutes I can be at the 'port, ticket to elsewhere in hand and on my way to another land. Usually Mexico. Or Indo.

  

This past trip to Casa de Mita, I discovered the chill village of San Pancho and a sweet little organic restaurant down a side road tucked into a funky hotel.  Turns out the owner of the hotel and restaurant lives 1/2 mile from me in Venice.  In a place I walk past all the time.  Small, small world.

 

The food at Bistro Organico was simple fusion food.  A twist of Mexico, a sting of Tahiti, and a whole lotta freshness.  They're throwing Thai red basil into cocktails, whipping up their own tequila, and taking the vibe of the S. Pacific islands and making them come alive in charred mushroom pots and coconut shrimp curries. Super light and fresh.   

And, with LAX only 12 minutes away from me, just that much closer.  I do so love SoCAL.

S is for San Pancho, Mexico

S is for San Pancho, Mexico

Rarely does a super cool village come my way that is as special as the person waxing poetic about it claims it is. So, when I heard a whisper about the village of San Pancho, Mexico while I was staying at Casa de Mita in December, I knew I'd regret it if I didn't go - or would I?  I almost didn't head there - who can deal?  Like I said, most peeps talk of secret haunts and then you go and its like WTF?  They clearly have no clue what makes a great village.

I'm even on the fence sometimes.  I think it's a mix of several things that elevate typical towns and villages into a league worth raving about. Usually there's either a beach or mountains involved.  The word "organic" is starting to pop up (be in in regards to a bakery, a farm, a spa).  The people are super chillaxed and just living in the moment, not rushing to and fro, all frantic. There might be more than normal amounts of motor bikes, golf carts, scooters, or bicycles as a huge portion of the transport.  Reclaimed materials are seen inside restaurants - as bars, tables, wall art, or benches.  Everyone waves and says hello - abnormally friendly folks reside there.  Artists usually flock there either for the light, or the cheap living.   You've never really read about it in magazines - at least when you first discovered it.  There's at least one yoga class, if not that, then pilates.  Wi-fi is def to be found most places.  People return year after year cause they want the guarantee - you want to know it's gonna put you in your right mind at the end of a stay.  The food served is fresh, local and sustainable - and they don't have to preach it...it's just the way that is always has been.

How many places can you name that have the above elements?  It's hard...next to impossible really.

Anyhow - San Pancho.  I was expecting another Sayulita - which I'm def not a fan of.  So many tourists, so much influx. I run from places like this.  San Pancho though (about 20 min from Sayulita) - was special upon entry.  It's tiny.  It's walkable.  It dead ends at the beach.  It's prob what Sayulita was 15 years ago.   There were games of dominos on the happs.  Some hippie looking surfer folks were prepping some kind of food on the beach, surrounded by adorable dogs all perched to get a treat if they were good boys and girls. Cold cans of beers were in the hands of the locals round about 3p, as chicken was being grilled up in a tiny alcove off the main street (I was offered a sample and it was the best street chix I've ever tasted - sweet and charred at once). The beach was relaxed and quiet.   Live music was floating in from one of the few beachside restaurants.  You know the margs were good (meaning I don't have to tell them no pre-mix, I want fresh lime proper-style).  Cute hotels. Organic restaurants.  The happiest street dogs in the world (seems San Pancho is known for their dogs - in a good way).  Local artists on the square, selling really cool stuff (not mass produced junk).  Candles being lit in bars and restaurants.  Daily special boards being set out.  I mean, I could go on and on.  Reminds me a little of when I first came upon Isla Mujeres years ago.  Or certain villages in Bali.  Old school SMA.  

It's just a certain vibe you get off places that makes you stay up late night, researching real estate and land and potential business prospects.  Thinking of ditching all and moving on down to do what is is people do in places such as these.  Live.  I need a little more of that.  Just livin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

R is for RV Parks

R is for RV Parks

Absolutely, my new fave way to live. Chilled up at the RV park in Malibu for about a month while the FLO remodel takes place and now repo'ed down to Borrego Springs (90 miles E of San Diego) as it all winds down.  Literally love it here. It's the place to come for pretty dang near perfect weather and freedom of the mind. It's like I can finally make some good food with proper ingredients, read a ton of books, research recipes, do a bit of hiking, get through piles of magazines, wander the awesome library in town and just generally chillax. I can write. I can think. Ponder. Dream.

 

Mouse has the most active social schedule ever. 3p in the doggie park is a MUST for anyone who's anyone in the dog world. She sprints desert trails. She traces the perimeter of our perfecto spot. She is the perfect tennis spectator.  She is truly a participant in nature here. No need to bark at every little motion. She's livin' in them all.

 

This little town is pretty tidy. Just a few stores. Couple of Mexican restaurants with decent margs (though I do have to request my style of drink - silver tequila, fresh lime and little else). Tish's Health Food Store makes me so happy with a well curated array of goodies.  The only grocery store in town in loaded with stuff you'd find in Whole Foods and there is a perfectly awesome Farmers Market on Friday in the town circle.  It's pretty delightful running into town to grab some sesame seeds for spelt bread or pick up a few jalapenos for tortilla soup (makin' that today) and not have to wear myself out thinking about all the options.  There are none.  And, they are GOOD ones. Really dig the escargot at the French restaurant in town too.  And, what mussels.  They roll out in a huge pot - so freaky good.

 

As for the actual RV park.  I mean.  It's just nutty.  I want to spend every Jan here just regrouping.  In between the daily sessions in the hot springs, nightly swims in the heated pool, yoga & pilates classes, tennis games, and golf if you want it - is a super efficient gym, a little library, a wellness center, and just the friendliest people ever.  It's all surrounded by palm trees, an beautiful golf course and super dramatic mountains.  Cocktails begin about noon-o-thirty (usually a margarita or two), and this comes after either a hike to Hellhole Canyon (6 miles round trip to a secret waterfall), perhaps a yoga class where a bit of marching happens after each move (the ancient hips really loved that part of it) or a whirl in the gym rockin' the Tibetan Rites. 

 

Books are being plowed through (thank god I discovered the town library), and I'm just happy browsing recipe suggestions from every mag and cookbook I'm always too busy to jam through.  The sun is pretty much always shining (been near 80 all week) and each little slot here has it's own lemon or grapefruit tree.  Hell, these camp hosts even cruise around in the AM picking up your trash and recycling.  It's just nuts.  Portlandia in the desert.  

Early afternoon, I might start up a soup (clam chowder is just so so easy to make and I think the key is skip the flour...I loathe glompy soup); throw on Greek green beans; or just let a big pot of beans simmer.   The days fly and fly here - up at 6 am and I swear to God, I'm tucked in with a book 'round about 7p.  Guess this is life.  Not a program.  Just life.  Where does work fit back in?  Having a real hard time even thinking about that one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Q is for Quick Life Update...

Q is for Quick Life Update

For the love, how time flies.  I was on the A to Z roll and then out of nowhere, Malibu RV Park drove me mad and I had to bolt to Baja for Xmas.  To the wonderful delight of Minka.  She popped a 4 day weekend down in wine valley (oh ps - not a soul checked her doggie papers either way across the TECATE border) with a 6 pack of farm dogs.  You have never, ever seen such joy.  Meanwhile, I once again had some next level food in the Valle.  GD - it's just surreal what folks can do with a sprout, a leaf and a swish of some pork paste. 

But, before even that - another Mexico adventure.  It was TIME 2 at Casa de Mita.  I was once again convinced that Mexico is in my blood and that Casa de Mita is literally one of the best places on the planet.  Lalo and Memo (and all the staff at the Casa) make my heart swim.  See the pic above?  Let's just call it my own private mansion for the week.  It was nothing but daily body boarding in the mighty Pacific (almost lost my life a few times - damn those waves :); billions of perfect margaritas; awesome yoga classes with Tomas (ever tried the 5 Tibetan Rites anyone - amazing....); fresh ceviche; awesomely fulfilled requests for pozole and paella; brilliant games of late night scrabble and let me just call it a thriller a day (as in spy, CIA, espionage books).  Dude - this place is truly one of a kind.

Then, back to Malibu.  Which don't get me wrong.  I love it there - the fresh seafood market at the bottom of the hiking trail.  Letting Minka run leashless round the hills.  The amazing sunsets nightly.  But, all it did was remind me up close that the FLO was not done.  If I'm gonna be on vaca - welp, I need to be on VACAYYYY....

So - now - Borrego Springs.   Right now, the 'stream is popped up in a perfect spot in what is prob the best RV resort in the world. Mouse is chewin' on a chunk of sugar cane from the simple-but-delightful farmers market here in town and I've got a pot of spicy beans on the oven.  Sun is shining.  Wine is flowing.  I actually worked out this AM (hello Tibetan Rites) and I got a new thriller from the library today.

More and more soon.  I must finish this damn alphabet I started and get onto a whole new tooth journey. 

Meantime - a few pix from Casa de Mita to satiate your desires to ditch all and high tail it to Mexico.  I know it's in the back of my mind right now - but for the moment - Marley and wine and fresh margs will suffice :)

 

P is for Perfect Meal (@Sandzibar in La Cruz, Mexico)

At least for me, this is the perfect meal.

Thing is, I'm a straight up nut when it comes to finding the perfect meal.  I walk in.  I walk out.  I sit down.  I get up and leave.  I sniff about.  I make up a reason to bolt.  All if the vibe don't suit me.  If the food on other peeps plates looks suspicious, later.  If the wait staff blows, holla.  If there is lit no good vibe, I'm out.  I can't deal and I'd rather spend the dinero elsewhere.  

It's been known to drive my pals MAD. I just want good, good food all the time. I do the research.  I put in my time.  I read the mags.  Peruse the blogs. Talk to the locals.  Scan the horizon for a sign that my belly will be satisfied - and it's usually not coming from the super hot spot.  Or the most expensive. Or the raved about.

 

It's just coming cause it's damn good food.  

Fresh. Natural. Organic. Special.  

Which is why I was really stunned that the meal I had at beachside Sandzibar (just a stones throw from Punta de Mita) a few weeks ago down in Mexico was so freaky delish.  This place is the kind of spot that I usually avoid.  But, I was on the hunt for fresh seafood, hadn't eaten since breakfast, had just tore down from the mountains and was shakin' for a cold, cold margarita.  Don't get me wrong, the vibe is pretty chill there.  The view is lovely.  The staff is friendly.  It's more about the customers.  All seem rich.  All seem like they'd literally curl up and DIE before eating at a nana's place down the dirt road. They would turn over their first born before tasting the juicy chicken off the roadside grill in San Pancho (another entry is needed for that one).  So, therefore, I'm usually keen to head on.  But, we stopped.  

Immediately, I slurped down a PERFECT margarita.  Then another.  We ordered up a greek salad and seared octopus over hummus.  Simple enough.  Well, freakin' kudos to these chefs (and chefs they are - no backhand cooking up in here).  

From the greens, to the cheese, to the dressing, to that AMAZING hummus, to the bread and sauces, to the charred octopus, to the limey/tangy/perfect 'rita - I was just taken aback.  Like skidding to a stop every few seconds to let my mouth regroup.  Reset.  

Which brings me to why this was a perfect meal.  It's cause it was CLEAN. Super clean and super fresh.  It's literally the way I need to eat every single meal of every single day.  Small portions.  Immediate ingredients.  Well paced and thoughtfully presented. Just right.  Right with the bellys and the minds and the eaters of the world.   

That said, I aim to have the perfect meal every day from here on out.   At least...my version of it.  You never, ever have to diet if this is the daily way.  God, it all seems so simple.

The Super Moon on full display

Tonight is the super moon.

Night kayakers and boats all out and about. Shot from top deck of flo - this thing is looming...30% brighter and appears 14% larger.

What a world.

O is for Olives (at Bell Street Farm)

...in Los Alamos, CA

A one street town with a crazy cool vibe.  It's on the way back down from No. Cal - we literally flew past the sign hauling ass in the airstream, but I knew if we turned around, I would find something real, real good. 

It was sprinkling baby raindrops when we wandered in, all wet, starving and parched.  One look at the front case full of local cheeses and the front wall full of regional wines, I was in.   It's just the way you should consume meals.  No matter it was barely noon - several glasses of wine were in order.  Big plops of cheese on a slab of wood.   Grainy mustard, crusty bread and a small bowl full of ripe olives.  Oh joy!

The shelves were covered with all the cookbooks I need to own, their were yummy smelling candles tucked in every corner, and the chicken that rolled out of the kitchen was like non other.  Once in my life have I had a bird like that  - and it was in a remote French village a billion years ago.  The chicken salad was my perfect creation of a salad (for real:  half-rotisserie Huntsinger free-range chicken, butterleaf salad, torn bread croutons, house vinaigrette with rosemary & white bean hummus - this is how the menu describes it), while the prosciutto & Bellwether pepato (meat with butter on a French roll) was trippy delish.  I simply did not want to leave this little haven.  And, the even let the little beast Minka in the front door.  We're delighted to have her, in fact.

Oh you know what happens next - I'm looking up land, yelping all the local restaurants, day dreaming about my own personal take over of Bell Street Farm.  But, the only prob is - it doesn't need improvement.  Usually I want to take over so I can bring a joint to it's full glory.  But, BSF is in it's prime.  I cannot wait to go back.  And, on the real - when the F am I going to just open a little eatery.  Enough already!

N is for Next Year

Yah, there will be one...

Seems tomorrow is supposed to be the end of the world.  I say bring it.  Sick of the stress of this here life.   However, if for some reason we all make it through the end of time, I for one plan on livin' it large.  

Here's what I'm done with.  Actually, I was about to launch into all the bad of the bad.  Cause some days it def seems like it's straight up the end of the world as we know it.  The bills.  The lack of communication.  The work.  The unhealthy habits.  The truck repairs.  The ugly hair.  The jacked body.  Oh, it's bad.  But really - what's that bad?

We got laughs.  We got big ideas.  We got good food.  We got future plans.  We got funny pets.  We got good family.  We got killer friends.  

May next year - and, let's just say tomorrow starts the NEW YEAR, I wanna just keep on keepin' on with the good food like Alila Bali serves up.  Homemade jams.  Super shaken cocktails.  Tiny omelette's.  Poached fish in coconut milk. Baby quiches blanketed in greens.  

Cause good food = good exercise = good love = good life.

Dead ramble, but it's real and it makes sense if you really, really think about it.  Hopefully with a real nice glass of lightly chilled pinot noir.  

M is for Music

M is for Music.

Met up with my gal Kylie for lunch.  She looped me into the video for Walk off the Earth - 5 peeps on the guitar.  GD.  Been singing and dancing to it all the live long. Sent to all I know.  To the dead confusion of all.

Just wanna hit it hard on the soft, soft grass in Indo.  Dance like there be no tomorrow.

L is for Log from the Sea of Cortez

"If it were lush and rich, one could understand the pull, but it is fierce and hostile and sullen. The stone mountains pile up to the sky and there is little fresh water. But we know we must go back if we live, and we don't know why." - Steinbeck, Log from the Sea of Cortez

The Baja calls my name like no other.  2013 pls come quickly.

K is for Kill the No Dogs on Beaches Ban

K is for Kill the No Dogs on Beaches Ban

For real, how could you not let dogs run free on the beaches without the possibility of a hefty fine?  No real beaches in LA allow dogs - but everyone does it.  Which is great - 'til you get a fine.  Minka gets a taste of the Pacific several times a day.  She's dead asleep one minute, then the next, she's literally bounding down the sandy beach - digging a hole to China, chasing other dogs, testing the waters, discovering piles of seaweed, and racing after her favorite orange ball.

The minute we come into contact with a fresh ocean breeze, she's hanging her head out the truck window, sniffing the salty air.  Her super sonic puppy instincts the second we're back in the confines of the marina and can't wait to prance the promenade.  

So, for all the puppy glee - why the ban?  Just allow dogs everywhere.  So many people have them.  Why are they made to feel like they are doing something illegal when they head to the beach?  Unreal.  

That's yet another reason why Mexico is the place to be.  Down in Cerritos, where we go surfing, dogs play in the same warm water the surfers play in. They run wild with joy - swimming, exploring, lounging, and straight up smiling.

I love Mexico.

J is for Just Chillin

J is for Just Chillin'

I mean.  Enough said.  This lifestyle was tailor made for me.  

I is for Immerse

I is for Immerse.

My good friend Hassan is a photographer.  I can't say I made him one, but I certainly took him under my wing and paved a narrow dirt path for him to traverse.  He started out a student at the CDC in Indo - courtesy of 4th World Love.  He spoke a tiny bit of English when I first met him and he hovered on every word that I spoke, especially when it came to explaining things about taking photos.  

We'd roll around the island on motor bikes, checking in on the local folks, noting improvement in sponsored activities and he was constantly there - available to assist, happy as a clam, and always super on point.  Just ready and avail to hold my camera.  Waiting for me to utter one quick tidbit about any new slice of education he could possibly scrap up - notepad at the ready. He was willing and hungry to immerse himself in learning.  Just like a sponge. Soaking it all in.  

I tend to give him a camera every time I'm back in Indo.  My random cast off technology.  Not cause it doesn't take good pix.  But because he deserves to have what I have.  To learn on what I learned on.  To have the freedom to immerse himself in a trade/craft like anyone in the Western world can do.  

He sends me pix now and again - I love the macro shots and the wedding pix. He's become the village photographer.  He speaks great English now.  He's still a farmer at heart, but he makes me proud as a mama bear with his tenacity, gift and humor.

Hassan.  My friend, the photographer.  

See his pix below.

H is for Honor Thy Body

H is for Honor Thy Body

This is the steak that started it all (see above pic).  My summer of relentless meat debauchery.  You see, I don't eat meat.  Oh, I slurp up the juices.  I don't mind the just-so stocks.  I love when mashed potatoes are smothered in lamb shank - I skip the shank and shove down the infused potatoes like an animal.  But something happened to me this summer.  I went to Baja, had a bit of red wine, and literally fell off the wagon harddddd.  It was a charred piece of meat that had no dressing save for it's own smoky scent and some fat hunks of garlic.  I took a tiny nibble and before I could count to three, the plate was snatched up and planted in front of my lips.  Sharing with nobody!!

That one Mexipade threw me off my veggie ways all summer long.  To this moment. But, you see the thing is, I'm an A blood type and guess what we're not supposed to have?  MEAT.  I'm sure it's the reason I'm sleepy all the live long day.  I'm certain the cure for my lethargy is coming off the stuff, but it's been a hard, hard road.  

I've spent the long, long days of summer and early fall devouring animals in any which way I can find them.  Sure, they are grass fed.  They are free range. They are cage free.  They are roaming with the Gods, I'm sure.  

I've had vats of pork belly in blissful bowls of ramen.  I've had pounds of steak and eggs with homemade A1 sauce & tangy chimichurri.  There's been dabbles with carpaccio (eeeee!).  I've consumed my body weight in mayo slathered all over soft sesame buns bathed in hamburger grease.  Chicken potpie of all types (PS - best one EVER is at MB Post) is my new best friend.  Acorn fed pig is like nothing in this world.  I've found biscuits that rival my grandmothers/moms/dads literally swimming in creamy, pepper-sprayed sausage gravy.  It's been a heart-attack 6 months, but the time has come to get back to honoring me bod.

Cause, you see...I just feel so, so much better sans meat.  I still rock the dairy, but the meat has got to go.  Minka can have all the bones she wants, they just can't come from my leftovers.  It all starts manana.  Back on the MST juice of life.  Til the next fire charred strip steak comes by way down in Mexico.  Even then - I think I'm in the right frame of mind (finally) to deny...HONOR THY BODY (*and blood type).  

I'll probably add 10 years to my life if I do so.  Or die trying.

G is for Going Underground

G is for Going Underground.

Holy moly, now that the Airstream is on the move...it's time to get down and dirty on the road.  This little silver nugget feels straight up luxe.  No projects to complete, no tile to buy, to decisions to be made.  Just one huge shopping trip at Camping World and a farmers market run this weekend and we are sorted.  The headroom alone just blows my mind - should have done this months ago (granted, who knew the Flo would take so long...and I do so love living on the run).

That said, Mexico is right around the corner...literally on the horizon of the new year.  All my old haunts are 'this' much closer to being right out my front door.  Primo sushi and sunsets at Carlitos Place; perfect surf after a couple margs at Cerritos; kite surfing attempts in Las Ventanas; crazy fresh yellow tail at Rancho Pescadero; random snapshots of movement up and down the Baja; stars by the gazillion; whale birthing season in Magdelena Bay; Minka Mouse chasing birds on deserted beaches; a possible land purchase down near Loreto; a couple of cold beers here and there, but mostly frosty margaritas; researching the TV show I'm gonna craft in the nowhere sand dunes (think conspiracy/espionage/traitors/esoteric vibes); cooking up a storm - meaning finally mastering cooking a whole fish; homemade ceviche from just caught fish; slowly kayaking the Sea of Cortez; finally diving again (Indo seems so long ago); searching out a new 4th World Love CDC (for those who can't make it to Indo); remote spots that only solar can reach; and buckets of all the goodness that makes up Mexico. 

It will be real, real, real tough to come back across that border, I can tell ya that much.  Going underground HAWDDDDDDDDD.

I will just be devastated if the Mayans called it.

F is for Flo Bo

F is for Flo Bo.

Which is shorthand for floating boat.  It's what I live on.  It's what I'm currently remodeling.  It's why I'm writing this from a tiny hotel 350 miles from LA.  I am on the make - headed north - to grab the Airstream cause I just wonder - when will I have the opportunity again to live in the Malibu RV Park?  Of course I could live there anytime - but right now, after living on the sailboat, in hotels, on the road, in a sublet, at my pal Lisa's, and pretty much anywhere I could score a good night of shut eye - I just need a little more space and it seems to make sense.  Funny - space now means a 23' travel trailer.  And, it feels luxe.

Meanwhile - loopin' back through some old pix, I see these of the Flo and think, Oh!  Guess that shit was cute even before I ripped her to shreds and uprooted my life and my Keetsa bed and decided to redo her top to bottom.  Even before I tossed everything into storage and decided to basically live out of my truck. Thank God I discovered this Rip Curl luggage.  Easy to tote, light as a feather and so, so tidy.

I just know that in a few weeks the beast will be done.  It has to be done.  Toss on some paint, throw in some soapstone, hook up some appliances, tie in some lighting and let's call it a day.  I want my mind free from it all.  So I can get inspired again.  So I can open up a new avenue of thought again.  It will be a real, real blissful day when the super-fly 1920's Dutch door from France gets installed.  And, it's all locked up tight and a new day begins.

E is for Escapade

E is for Escapade

There is nothing like a true fisherman's marina in the wee hours of the night. Especially when you are me and think you are on some sort of covert mission (which I was at the time - eventually a TV show will come).  

I drove to Rhode Island one fine day earlier this year while I was stationed out on the East Coast.  Took forever.  Night had long fallen by the time we pulled in and the hard-to-track-down fisherman we were looking for we're long gone home.

No matter.  There are still things to document.  Workers to spy on.  Stories to craft up.  Doors to sneak behind. All for no good reason, of course...except for the sparkly drama of rolling in late, long lensing the scene (black ops style) and rolling out before the first shift of the morning clocks in.

You crawl into bed around 5 am knowing a scene was set, material has been found, and one more notch has been added to the story belt piecing itself together in your mind.  Ahhhhh.

 

D is for Drift

D is for Drift

In true MST fashion - the next big thing I wanna do is learn to fly.  I took a flying lesson earlier in the year and I was stunned how easy it was. Especially compared to the sometimes terror that sailing can bring on when the ocean turns and the waves crest the boat and you just know this is the one you won't make it through.

We shot up out of Santa Monica Airport in less than a minute and we're drifting up the coast toward Santa Barbara like we were just headed to the supermarket for a gallon of milk.   When the instructor let me take over the plane, it was nuts.  I have a bit of a heavy hand and just wanted to start doing rolls immediately.  But, it was just so easy. We landed at an airport in the valley, took off again and swung back across the hills.   We zoomed over my parents boat in the Marina and waved (what a cool moment) - and I got to see my sailboat and floating home from the air.  Just so, so easy.

Once we landed back in Santa Monica (love that airport), I was obsessed with buying a little plane.  They aren't as expensive as you'd think - and after a few glasses of wine at Typhoon (a great little restaurant at the 'port that serves all kinds of exotic bug dishes), I was hooked.  There are all kinds of newspapers there that have small planes for sale, but just like with boats - it's all about how much luxury do you want/need?

There's a cool dirt landing strip down in Baja that I keep thinking about flying to.   Why?  Lord knows.  I just wanna be able to fly down there - have a margarita, a swim in the Sea of Cortez, and a night under the stars. Then, fly home.  Or not.  

Think - if I get a plane someday...I will have an airstream, a sailboat, a plane.  And live in a floating home on top of the Pacific.  A perfectly mobile life.

 

C is for Corral Canyon State Park

C is for Corral Canyon State Park.

I was just simply looking for a place to take Minka.  A dog friendly place to hike which is oddly rare most places.  A quick hikespeak search brought me straight up PCH to Corral Canyon - a place nobody I know seems to have heard of.  I went with Mouse on Thanksgiving morning - it was blissfully empty as we started up the 2.5 mile loop.  Oh the leashless (pronounced to Minka - Ah leesh lay) joy a 6 month old puppy can exhibit when given a fine dirt path in the woods!  

We walked to the top and sprinted to the bottom - her tenderly exploring hidden nooks and crannies that lined the trail and me drinking in all the wonderfully herbacious smells permeating the path:  anise, fennel, mustard, sage.  She races ahead, spins around, waits for me to catch up and takes off again.  My special Minka whislte causes the birds nearby to whistle back - which causes Minx to cock her head and wonder why my lips aren't moving YET SHE HEARS MY WHISTLE...

I went again the next day because I was so happy to know this patch of land. It made me feel alive again.  To the point of - time to go get the airstream finally and move it to the Malibu RV Park :).  Hell, the Malibu RV park is right next door, there's a fish market and restaurant (Malibu Seafood) that shares the parks parking lot, and there are loads of other trails up and down PCH that we now have to explore (we will just be doing it from the airstream next week instead of boat/apartment/sublet/hotel hopping).

Oh and I just got the new Backpacker magazine in the mail this week and found a whole new hiking journey to undertake next year.  A new 100 mile trail that is part of the new Wales Coast Path.  OMG.  I have to go do this hike - hidden towns where you can bed down for the night, local food, carrying nothing but a day pack and I'm sure a lovely weight loss to boot :).

The feeling after a super good hike/run is what exercise should feel like.  I HATE THE GYM.

Oh and quick note - I am always on the hunt for perfectly cooked whole fish and after day 2 in Corral Canyon, a quick pit stop at Tavenra Tony had me wolfing down just that - a lovely whole sea bass.  Ended it with a next-level cappuccino that restored my faith in humanity & puts most coffee to shame and a hulking chunk of baklava.  Thing is, after a trek like that you deserve the best of and don't even think twice about a 2nd glass of pinot for lunch!

ALSO - after that fish, Mouse needed a walk and just around the corner from Tony's is the probably the best little walking park I've been to in LA. It used to be a big empty field and is now the most beautiful park ever - complete with a duck pond, herbs to die for, and loads of friendly dogs.

Next up is a hike thru Escondido Falls - about 19 miles up the coast from Marina del Rey.  I'm literally giddy with the idea of hiking.  As it should be :)