rain city

In the fall of 1995, I moved to Seattle to accept a spot in a Master of Fine Arts program at the University of Washington.  I had just completed my bachelor's degree at the University of a Maryland in College Park,  and had been living in (and loving) the neighborhoods in and around Washington D.C. for the 4 years prior.   I had honestly never given Seattle a second thought before I was offered the opportunity to go to UW and used to joke that I couldn't have found it on a map before I moved there.  I had absolutely no inkling that it was a city that would change my life.

Lots of people had random tidbits of knowledge to bestow on me when they found out I was moving to Seattle.  My favorite example is one of my Pennsylvania aunts trying to convince me that the city was teeming with serial killers.  All I really knew was that there was rain and there was music.  I definitely found those things (luckily no serial killers), but I also found a city with fantastic food, lots of interesting, creative people and beauty -- natural and otherwise -- pretty much everywhere I looked.

In the six years I lived in Seattle,  I became an artist and a member of a creative community like none I've experienced in any other city.  I became a much better cook and fell in love with gardening.  I also became a wife and the member of the giant clan of Seattlites that came with my husband.  With the husband and the clan came the gift of always being connected to this fabulous city.

You can imagine why I consider it my second hometown. 

Beauty.  Natural and otherwise.

It probably seems like a tourist move (it isn't, unless you go on a Saturday in, say, August), but I almost always start a trip with a visit to Pike Place Market.  My first apartment is Seattle was in Belltown in a time (before fancy condos had taken over) when the closest grocery store was either Larry's Market in Lower Queen Anne or the Safeway on Broadway.  Pike Place is where I did my shopping and it was, and remains, one of the most inspiring and places for me.

I never get tired of this place.

Sosio's, Don and Joe's and The Pike Place Market Creamery were my go-to spots.   I was additicted to the baguette and croissants and pretty much everything else at Le Panier.

The plan is always to eat as much seafood as possible while in Seattle.  It is not hard to find the good stuff.

Even with good places in abundance,  my sentimental favorite in the market is DeLaurenti.  When I landed on Seattle's shores I was a 21 year old Italian-American girl from the east coast.  I was terribly homesick for the Italian food culture that I grew up with, so DeLaurenti became the place I went to comfort myself on many a gloomy (and not-so-gloomy) Seattle day.

It was Super Bowl weekend when I was in town, and I've never seen Seattle so pumped up about sports.  It was Seahawks everything, on everyone, everywhere.

Rachel, all dressed up for game day.

There are lots of other things to see and do, but really Seattle visits are all about the food.  I made it a point to eat some oysters from the paradise that is Uwajimaya and lots and lots of Theo Chocolate, but the through line of this trip was sandwiches.

The Pork Medium (P Med) from Pecos Pit Barbeque - a thing of messy, eat with a spork beauty so good that I will sit outside in Seattle in January to eat it and the sweet and spicy beans that are it's perfect mate.  Pecos is the only BBQ joint with a sauce too spicy for me to order the hot version.  The medium is ass-kicker enough.

We are a family of bloggers and food nerds, so of course there was documentation of the construction process of Drew's fried chicken sandwich with spicy slaw --special request for my sister in law's birthday dinner.

Really good burgers from a drive-in count as sandwiches, right?

There is no trip to Seattle that doesn't include a stop at Dick's Drive-in.  Did I mention that it was Super Bowl Sunday?  Lots of very excited Seahawks fans were also having burgers for brunch.  By the time we got our Deluxes and cheeseburgers, fries and a chocolate shake, the all of the lines stretched well into the parking lot.  It was a sea of blue and green.

More sandwiches during the halftime show.

A team effort creating salmon BLTs for Super Bowl sustenance.

My husband is a Seattle native, and he grew up in one of the giant Victorian homes in the Capitol Hill neighborhood (you can see his childhood drawing of that house in this post).  In the past few years, much of the family and quite a few of our friends have moved to Ballard.  When I lived in Seattle, it was a sleepy neighborhood filled with retired fishermen from Scandanavia.  In the last decade or so it has transformed with lots of new condos, restaurants, breweries and shops along the water at Market Street and Ballard Avenue.  They also have a fantastic Sunday farmer's market.  It is a neighborhood where everybody walks and bikes, even in the rain. 

Many of our friends and family have bought cute little houses on the streets surrounding "downtown" Ballard.

A mild Pacific Northwest winter means that the daphne (and lots of other gorgeous flowering things) were ready for spring as early as January.

Quite a few of the little craftsman houses in Ballard are being remade into Northwest modern homes like this one.

There's a fabulous view of the diving lady, my Ballard beacon, from the living room window of my in-laws' condo.

Here's how she looks when the fog rolls in.

And I could never make a post about Seattle without talking about coffee.  I miss the coffee culture so much -- Los Angeles just can't hold a candle to it -- so I have to have "real" coffee when I'm in town.

The Ballard outpost of Bauhaus Books + Coffee.   The original store at the corner of Pine and Bellevue had amazing views of downtown and the Space Needle.  It was one of my haunts during graduate school.

A perfectly made mocha.  And that's a little bar of chocolate on the rim of the cup.

It was a fabulous Seatown weekend -- in so many ways a trip "home".  I am so grateful that I'll get to do it all again soon.

city camping

The first architect I ever worked for had his office in an Airstream trailer up on blocks in his Venice backyard.  I had never seen one before coming to the West Coast, and had certainly never been inside of one.  My family did not camp.  And though I grew up in Pennsylvania where lots of people did camp, the families I knew who did, well, they did not do it in anything as cool as an Airstream.   For me, these sleek silver pods were a sort of symbol of the west, of the freedom of the road, of my beloved California.  I became an almost instant Airstream enthusiast and have longed to buy and restore one in the decade since.  And although I sometimes comb craigslist and lust over the odd gem for sale, I remain Airstream-less and have to get my fix in other ways.

In May of 2013, I read an article in Sunset magazine about an Airstream hotel in Santa Barbara called Autocamp.  Right away, I was sure I wanted to spend my 40th birthday (in September) there so I called and emailed and had zero success.  Turns out they were booked solid for almost six months.  Lots of other Airstream lovers must have read that Sunset article, too.

Fast forward to February 2014.  I was on the Autocamp website looking for photos and just happened to check to see if they had the weekend of my 41st birthday available.  Miracle of all miracles, there they were.   Tucked into the calendar surrounded by lots of no vacancy,  three days were available in a 1973 (built the same year as me) Airstream Sovereign.  I snapped them up and have been looking forward to my birthday weekend all year.

Our home, nestled into the the heart of beautiful Santa Barbara.  Did I mention that there's a queen-sized bed, claw foot bathtub, cable TV?  Yep.  Not exactly roughing it.

This place has been here for a long time.  I totally understand why.

Here's the view of the mountains from our patio.  And see those beach cruisers in front of our neighbors' Airstreams?   We had those, too.  No driving for three days!  To a Los Angelino, that is the best birthday gift ever.

Pretty much any trip that Drew and I take begins with a meal.  For some places it is totally specific (the very first stop in Seattle is always Dick's Drive In), for others, not so much.   We've been visiting Santa Barbara since way back before we were married people and there are lots of spots we like, but no favorite.  Many, many people seemed to recommend Norton's Pastrami when we mentioned our upcoming trip, so we decided it was time to give it a go.  It did not disappoint.

My half of "The NYC".  I was not prepared for how good the onion rings were and I ate every one of them.  And the garlicky, chilled homemade pickles and cherry soda.  Perfection.  We even managed to snag a couple of seats at the (gorgeous) counter so we could watch all of the sandwich action in process.

The thing that I always forget about Santa Barbara -- and it is the thing that dazzles me most when I'm there -- is the beauty of the place.  The blue Pacific is there and the mountains are green and between them is a little gem of a city that has taken care to preserve the old and grow in a way that respects its architectural history. 

The color of the sky doesn't look real, right?  It is.

Spanish style is so soothing and so stimulating.  And I love that I can't tell if this is an old or new building.

One of the places that is new to Santa Barbara since our last visit is the Santa Barbara Public Market.  It was an easy place to spend an afternoon -- and eat some fantastic food - before heading back to to camp.

The counter seats at Belcampo Meat Co.  It is pretty cool to sit and watch a real butcher at work, too.

Spinach and ricotta and ham and cheese croissants from Crazy Good Bread.

One of the fresh cases at The Pasta Shoppe.  Italian girl nirvana.

At the oyster bar at Santa Monica Seafood, we found these beauties.   We also ate a really fresh ceviche and a perfect New England clam chowder, but they were devoured far too quickly to photograph.  Drew drank a lovely Poor Man's Blonde Ale from Barrelhouse Brewing Co., brewed right over the hill in Paso Robles.

We walked past the Arlington Theatre at least a dozen times as we traveled up and down State St.  I think it is my favorite building in Santa Barbara.

Inside the lobby at the Arlington.  Drew does not enjoy having his photo published, but he's neccessary for scale here.  We are plotting a way to set up long tables and throw an epic dinner party in this space.

This incredible mosaic (yep, thousands of little tiles) mural on on the Santa Barbara Public Market building is almost an entire block long.

The next morning we had a giant brunch on the gorgeous (and crowded) little patio at Scarlett Begonia.  After filling up, we rode our bikes along the coast, through a state park and back through town.  It was a lovely (almost 11 mile) route that I found on the Santa Barbara Bicycle Coalition's website.  They provided a great map of the ride that proved to be really helpful along the way.

My absurdly good (and messy) house made bagel with lox and dilled cream cheese.  And the Bloody Mary was made with spicy salt and fresh tomato juice.  That's Drew's tri-tip sandwich with chimichuri on house made bread in the background.

Did I mention that there was a claw foot bathtub in our Airstream?  A perfect remedy after a long ride on (seriously rickety) beach cruisers.  After a soak I was ready for champagne and picnic supper on our patio.

The big tree that shaded our spot during the day lit it up at night.

Champagne.  Lots of it.  In seriously cute glassware.

My birthday cheese party, DREWfood camp-style.

The entire weekend was the was the perfect way to celebrate the beginning of my 41st year on the planet.  Santa Barbara remains a charming and magical little city, Autocamp is a new favorite place to stay and an awesome Airstream fix.  I'm determined to do it all again really soon.