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!