The best way to U.K. in L.A.

by MacKenzie Geidt, Sunset assistant travel editor

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a proper cup of tea is hard to find outside the Commonwealth.   

But if you find yourself marooned in the colonies and desperately seeking the civilities of the Empire (clotted cream with your scones, petit fours with your tea, digestive cookies, a proper curry, Cadbury chocolate, and the latest production from Masterpiece Theatre), you must get thyself to the "British Ghetto" in Santa Monica,  where a bevy of pure-bred English establishments is a welcome respite from the orange tans and short shorts of Los Angeles.  Follow the Queen's mandate and proceed to the following:

You can get a decent pot of tea at the Tudor House Tea Room, but even better, you can pick up England's most popular tea (PG Tips is "Britain's favorite cuppa") to take home from their market full of delectable British imports (just for a little perspective, sources allege that Britons drink 35 million cups of PG Tips per day...)

Or stop in for a pint or a Pimm's at Ye Olde King's Head Pub (310 Santa Monica Blvd.)

The King's Head also has a market where you can stock up on your favorite British imports (including British newspapers and magazines--who doesn't love getting updates on the royal family from HELLO! magazine?!)   And doesn't it make you feel less guilty to eat a cookie when it's called a "digestive"??

To catch a game of Cricket (just pretend like you understand what's going on), there's the Cock 'n Bull Pub (2947 Lincoln Blvd) or the Britannia Pub (318 Santa Monica Blvd.)

If you have time to pop over to Abbott Kinney Blvd in Venice, you can even shop for all-British threads at Brick Lane (1132 Abbott Kinney Blvd.)--the red telephone booth marks the spot.

Crikey, there's simply LOADS of ways to celebrate the Brit in LA--do drop me a line if you think of any more locales I've missed.  God Save the Queen!

Coronado Island for the rest of us: How to bask in seaside wealth at the Hotel Del without busting your bank account

By Amy Wolf, Sunset travel editor

I had the great good fortune this past weekend to stay at the Hotel del Coronado, which, if you’re in the club as I am now, you refer to simply as “the Del.” If you don’t know about the Del already, you should. Let me tell you why.

Reason #1: The beach. The Del is the only beachfront hotel on Coronado Island, sprawling right down right to the beach. And what a beach it is. It’s crescent shaped, with white sand that sparkles silver-gold in the sun. It has views of Point Loma and the Coronado Islands.

Here's what you can see on the beach:

Good-looking, super-fit Navy Seals, who often do their morning runs and swims out here at 7 a.m. (I saw them, and felt a surge of patriotism.)

Dolphins, who frolic offshore from time to time (saw them too).

Panoramic sunsets what seems like every night.

Reason #2: Nostalgia. Built in 1888 (just 10 years before Sunset Magazine was founded!), the Del is a remnant of an era when seriously wealthy Victorian trust fund types—the kind who never had to work, not even the dads—used to travel out West by train to amuse themselves by the beach for months at a time. (Can you imagine wearing these get-ups to the beach?)

But why should you care about that? Here's why: Because you can still experience a lot of that grandeur, like the original cage elevator hand-operated by a uniformed attendant. (“Ever get your fingers caught in that cage?” my husband asked him on our ride up to our room. His response: “I try not to do that anymore.”)

Or like the incredibly lavish Sunday brunch (think free-flowing champagne, bloody Marys, a full-on chocolate bar... the works) in the Del’s Crown Room, the hotel’s original enormous, grand dining room.

Reasons #3 and 4. Family and fitness. Kids love the Del because it’s on the beach and because everyone’s nice to kids here. Even the yoga instructor was unruffled by my two-year-old’s antics. I was impressed by all of the Del’s fitness classes, from yoga on the beach (there are few things that feel as good as child’s pose on a sheet in the sand) to boot camp on the beach (only for the hard core).

Here’s the only hitch: the hotel is a little pricey. Non-view rooms start at $295; oceanfront rooms start at (yes, start at) $750. Which is really the norm for nice hotels these days, but still. Who has that kind of money? (And what am I doing wrong?)

But here’s the good news: if you’re willing to bypass the thrill of staying in a room with a view of the beach, and being lulled to sleep at night by the sound of the waves, and riding up and down all day in an antique elevator operated by an attendant who will answer your inane questions, you can sleep somewhere else on the island and still experience the best of what the Del has to offer. Here’s what non-guests can enjoy:

The beach. (But you’ll have to do your morning stretches on your own; yoga and other fitness classes on the beach are for Del guests only.)

The restaurants. 1500 Ocean has incredible food and service if you’re up for a splurge—think of all the money you might be saving on lodging!

The new Eno Wine Room, where you can order wine flights to pair with cheeses or chocolates. I tried a flight of Spanish whites, including a Rosado Rioja (that's a rosé), a crisp Albarino, and a flowery Verdejo. The space was sophisticated, the service  attentive, and I learned something new about Spanish wine.

The new Spa at the Del. (If you’re into deep-tissue massage ask for Brennan, a former football player with seriously powerful hands.)

The bike tours. You can go for a two-hour, 6-mile guided bike tour ($30) around the island. Rent a surrey like we did, and bring the whole damn-family! Our little guy snoozed between us while our 3-year-old sat in the front basket, directing operations as we cruised around Coronado, scoping out homes for sale and stopping midway for lunch.

So the point is, whether or not you sleep at the Del, you should definitely go play and eat and drink there. And sleep there if you can swing it—it's worth the splurge.

Tune in next week for other lodging options around Coronado.

The happiest hot dog in Santa Monica

by MacKenzie Geidt, Sunset assistant travel editor

Since I'm developing a negative reputation around here as the low-brow food junkie of the group, I just want to say right off the bat that this is NOT a blog about corn dogs. Okay, it kind of is, but it's MORE about the people who make them and what they get to wear.  Is this not the most fabulous employee uniform for someone making corn dogs and lemonade? 

Hot Dog on a Stick, which opened their first stand in Santa Monica in 1946, is still the best place for corn dogs and fresh lemonade in LA.  Hands down.                                                                                       

But what I really can't get over is just how darn cute the uniforms are!  Those primary colored striped jerseys, cute little navy shorts, and funky fez hats are enough to make me want to work there (okay maybe just for a day, since dipping the dogs in batter and churning the lemons sounds rather labor intensive...). Don't they just look cheery and retro chic?  Look at this little gaggle of HDOS gals--they look like they're part of a hot dog sorority that I want to be a part of!                                 

Please let me join this lemony sisterhood!  Don't they look joyful and happy?  (maybe it's because the company is employee-owned??)  Do you think they choreograph routines to do in their uniforms?

Here's their stand right next to the Santa Monica Pier on Ocean Front Walk (it's the original stand from 1946!)

So you really should stop here the next time you're in Santa Monica and get yourself a freshly dipped dog and a citrusiously tasty lemonade (they even sell jugs if you want to take some home).  And take a moment to appreciate the adorableness of their employees.  As cheesy as it sounds, I feel happy every time I go there, so who knows, maybe it'll have the same effect on you....

Surprises along Highway 1, and why driving slowly is a good thing

By Amy Wolf, Sunset travel editor

What do you do when you see this sort of thing through the windshield of your Volvo Cross Country as you’re driving 50 mph along Highway 1?

If you’re like me, you yell to your husband, “Grab your camera! This’ll make a great blog!” If you’re like my husband’s friend Peter, you say, “Camera? Forget that—grab the knife. This looks like good eats!” If you’re like my husband, you ignore your preposterous friend and listen to your wife, and dutifully snap a photo of the cow.

Then you inch closer to get a better shot (while your wife waves and gestures and smiles to the driver of the oncoming car in the other lane, who is just as amused as you are). And you note how nice everyone is, remembering how the driver of the car who crossed paths with you moments before let out a polite honk that you hadn’t understood at that moment but that made sense when you saw the cow. It was the “warning: cow crossing” honk.

And then you inch even closer, to get a really good look at this bovine breaker of CHP laws. What is this dude doing way up on this vertiginous cliff? You can’t really blame him, though, the views are so incredible up here.

And then you drive on, shrugging your shoulders and chalking it up to life here in sunny California, where even the cows like to be nonconformists.

My new favorite town along the Mendocino coast: Gualala

By Amy Wolf, Sunset travel editor

When we were packing up to head to the little coastal town of Gualala for Memorial Day weekend, I wasn’t entirely sure I knew where Gualala was, even though, truth be told, I edited a story about this rugged stretch of the Sonoma Coast just a couple of years ago.

Nor did I know how to pronounce Gualala. Do you?

In case your answer was no, Gualala is just north of Sea Ranch Lodge, about an hour south of Mendocino. And it’s NOT pronounced GWA-la-la. It’s wa-LA-la. Locals are adamant about that. I saw a license plate that said GWAA-LA-LA. Damn, I should have photographed that. Anyway, now I’m in love with Gualala. Here’s why.

Reason #1. The drive to get there is spectacular. This is the kind of scenery I like to use to prove to my New York in-laws that they're missing out.

Reason #2. It’s got stunning little beaches that no one goes to. Like the one just down the road from the house we rented. We were the only ones there. Us and the sand crabs, actually.

The sand crabs made a fine appetizer later that evening. My husband gathered a bunch and held them captive in his new Real Deal hat. The hat, by the way, was one of the best pieces of swag I've received in a long time. It's made of recycled tarps from Brazil and is not only an ecologically genius idea but also sort of sexy. Don't you think?

My husband's friend Peter pretended to eat a crab raw, just to freak out my kids. (I don’t think the crabs thought the hat was so sexy, by the way.)

Reason #3. It’s abalone divers’ heaven. (Please don’t ask me for details or my husband will never speak to me again.)

Reason #4. It’s got a gorgeous county park, Gualala Point County Park, with a spectacular blufftop trail that I got to run along yesterday. The trail cuts through Sea Ranch Lodge property, so you get to enjoy the lucky Sea Ranch dwellers’ views without having to pay to stay there. I made sure not to stray from the well-trodden path for fear of being shot (signs all along the way remind you not to trespass) as I drank in dizzying views of the ocean and the sweet-honey smell of yellow lupine.

Reason #4. One of the coast’s best restaurants, Pangaea, is right in town.

Reason #5. The absolute most amazing beach I’ve ever been to, Bowling Ball Beach, is 15 minutes away.

Tune in tomorrow for more on the bowling balls, plus the most unusual experience I’ve ever had on a California highway...

Indiana Jones and Iron Man: location, location, location

by Matthew Jaffe, Sunset senior writer

We moved into the summer movie season this weekend and as usual the West is making cameos as every locale from Afghanistan to the Amazon. Even in an era of increasingly sophisticated computer generated effects, nothing beats location shooting, as two of the year’s biggest movies, Iron Man and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull are proving. (For a look at some of these and other film locations, check out Vacation On Location at fandango.com.)

Living in SoCal, I’ve grown accustomed to seeing places I know pop up on screen, even in comic book movies such as Iron Man.  Movies always require a certain suspension of disbelief, but this one a bit more so than usual thanks to its use of familiar locations.

Tony Stark’s mansion for example was computer generated then plopped down on one of my favorite coastal spots, Malibu’s Point Dume— which luckily has stayed mostly free of such architectural megalomania. There are key scenes at Walt Disney Concert Hall, a building that managed to look every bit as futuristic as Tony’s home, while the Alabama Hills and the Eastern Sierra near Lone Pine stood in (and convincingly) for Afghanistan.

Along with Kanab, Utah and Monument Valley on the Arizona-Utah border, Lone Pine is one of several remote spots around the West with a long movie tradition. Filmmaking in this High Desert Hollywood dates to the 1920s and the stark landscape has appeared in numerous westerns, as well as in epics ranging from Gunga Din to Gladiator.

Each October, the community hosts the Lone Pine Film Festival, which features screenings and tours of movie locations, including a special guided trip, Iron Man and Beyond, that will take visitors out to sites used in the film. The Lone Pine Film History Museum (which has a new Iron Man exhibit) also offers an excellent self-guided tour brochure with ten stops in the Alabama Hills along what has come to be known as Movie Road.

Indiana Jones also made extensive use of western landscapes. The movie opens in Nevada, which is actually played by New Mexico’s Ghost Ranch northwest of Santa Fe. With appearances in 3:10 To Yuma and The Missing, Ghost Ranch has emerged as a go-to filming location in recent years. Then again, Steven Spielberg, Ron Howard et al have nothing on artist Georgia O’Keeffe; she moved to the area in the 1930s and eventually lived for 50 years around Ghost Ranch and Abiquiu.

The landscape became synonymous with her art, and she described it as “perfectly mad looking country—hills and cliffs and washes too crazy to imagine all thrown up into the air by God and let tumble where they would. It was certainly as spectacular as anything I’ve ever seen—and that was pretty good.”

The other major location for Indiana Jones is the Puna District on the Big Island south of Hilo. Spielberg used the dense jungles of this, the wet side of the Big Island, during a chase scene that ranks with the best in the Jones series. The swinging vines and chaotic thickets of albizzia and wild guava are the botanical opposite of the open high desert expanses of Ghost Ranch. It helps give the movie the geographic sweep that viewers have come to expect in the Indiana Jones films and is a reminder of what Hollywood has known for generations: to see the world, all you have to do is get out and explore Sunset’s West.

(Movie Stills copyright Paramount Pictures)

'Tis the season for bachelorette parties—and Bass Lake, in Bolinas, California

By Rachel Levin, Sunset senior editor

I remember, not too long ago, when Bass Lake—a rare, swimmable body of water in West Marin, reachable by a 3-mile hike along the coastal Palomarin Trail—was a secret. Or at least it felt like a secret... I’ve skinny-dipped there on second dates (bold, I know); dog-paddled in the rain with old boyfriends; lounged on blow-up rafts gossiping with girlfriends... Each time, we’d have the shrub-enshrouded lake all to ourselves, treading sparkling black water, leaping off the rope swing, feeling like the carefree kids we used to be. (And, of course, getting poison oak from the overgrown path to the water every time.)

This past weekend, though, I went back to Bass Lake for a friend’s bachelorette party. (Vegas, obviously, isn't our style.) We rolled in mid-morning, our cars covered in dust from the long dirt road, to a sea of other dusty cars which would multiply by noon. (Looking for parking to spend a day outdoors has gotta be one of my biggest pet peeves, but such is life in the beautiful Bay Area.)

Still, we hiked, chatted, laughed, complained about how damn hot out it was and how we couldn’t wait to jump in. We were one of the early groups to arrive, so we were able to spread our picnic blanket in one of the few shady areas left. (The picnic, by the way, was a Sunset spread. Not my doing, I swear! The party organizer organized a potluck: grilled buttermilk chicken, corn and arugula salad, spiced cornmeal pound cake. A few bottles of reisling recommended, as is the entire menu. Click here for recipes.

If you haven't been to Bass Lake, a few things to note: 1) Lest you think there’s a long, sandy beach to lounge on, there’s not—just a dry plateau with a few scrambles leading down to the water. 2) The ranger, unfortunately, just cut the rope swing when we were there. (Maybe someone will tie a new one...) 3) The launching areas are pretty tight, and skinnydippers do occasionally take over, so it can get kinda awkwardly crowded down there. Just so you know.

A writer actually pitched Bass Lake as a “secret” for our July SECRETS issue—coming soon to a newsstand near you—but we axed it because, well, it’s just not anymore. But don’t let that deter you. It's still one of the very best ways to spend a summery day in the Bay Area. That parking lot is crowded for a reason. Just get there early enough to score a spot.

California State Parks: Good News and Wrestles Over Trestles

by Matthew Jaffe, Sunset senior writer

Just in time for Sunset’s June issue and its article celebrating the glories of California’s state parks, we received the news that a budget proposal that would have led to the closure of 48 parks and service cuts at 16 beaches has been rescinded.

Times are tough and good budget news is certainly hard to come by. Still when word came in January of the proposed closures, it was hard to imagine the shuttering of such classic state parks as Henry W. Coe and Montana de Oro— especially in a time when environmental awareness has never been higher and the need for places where the public can be active and reconnect nature has never been greater.

So this latest bit of park news is something to celebrate. But other pressures on state parks remain and nowhere more so than at San Onofre State Beach in Orange County, home to the world famous surf spot, Trestles. A proposed toll road would run through property currently used as parkland. After a raucous hearing attended by several thousand people in February, the California Coastal Commission voted down the plan, a decision that is expected to be appealed.

Toll road proponents say the extension would help alleviate traffic pressures in the county and tout the environmental sensitivity of its design. Opponents say that it would destroy park acreage and potentially threaten the series of breaks at Trestles.

Along with Surfrider Beach at Malibu, Trestles is perhaps the most sacred surf spot in Southern California. In his new book All For a Few Perfect Waves: The Audacious Life and Legend of Rebel Surfer Miki Dora, author David Rensin quotes Dorian (Doc) Paskowitz (he and his family are the subject of the new documentary Surfwise) about the uniqueness of Trestles:

    “San Onofre is the greatest wave of its kind in the continental United States.”

‘Nuff said. A couple weeks ago I went out to Trestles to catch a professional surfing event at Lowers, one of its five main breaks. Coming here is certainly a departure from the experience of visiting most Southern California beaches— despite its proximity not only to Interstate 5 but a nuclear power plant.

You walk in from a remote parking lot, hiking a path through beach scrub and across train tracks before reaching a beach less notable for its dramatic scenery than the perfection of its waves. And conditions were prime for the event, as the following overheard conversation between contestants would support:

    Dude1: How was it?
    Dude2: Good.
    Dude1: How good?
    Dude2: Good good.

And it was good: For those of us who flail more than surf, seeing the pros up close under ideal conditions, especially with the running narration of a PA announcer describing the action, offers a crash course in the nuances both of world class surfing and of Trestles itself.

Not that surfing hasn’t become a big business, but you won’t have a more relaxing experience at a sporting event than hanging out on the beach at a surf competition. If you want to catch an event at Trestles, check out the upcoming National Scholastic Surfing Association’s  championships June 24-28. You’ll not only see future surfing stars, you’ll also witness some of the finest waves in the world.

Why everyone should bike to work, and the wonders of Highway 35

By Amy Wolf, Sunset travel editor

Did you ride your bike to work today? You’d better have answered yes. It is national Bike to Work day, after all. But even if it weren’t, biking to work is simply the cool thing to do. Here’s why.

1. You’ll see things from a whole new perspective. Like Crystal Springs Reservoir (shown above; photo by Kevin Collins), which most people know only as the blur they speed by en route to or from work on Interstate 280.

2. You'll discover things you never knew about. I usually ride my bike 25 miles to work from Burlingame to Menlo Park along Skyline Drive and Canada Road (which is especially fun to ride on Sundays, when it's closed to traffic—but it's not bad on weekdays either). But this morning, to mix things up in honor of Bike to Work day, I tried a new route: Highway 92 (toward Half Moon Bay) to Highway 35. This is a stunning road unbelievably woodsy and untrafficked. It's edged by redwood forests, horse pastures, and tempting-looking open-space trails, with views of the Peninsula shimmering below.

2. You might discover the town of your dreams, and decide your life’s destiny. This happened to me, just this morning. I decided, right there on my bike, that when the time is right I’m moving to Woodside so I can see this beauty every day, and hang out at the legendary Alice's restaurant (pictured at left), where bikers of all kinds congregate.

3. You can let your mind have a rest, and dream up trippy thoughts, while your legs do the work. I rode my bike 35 miles to work along Highway 35. I swear, I did 35 along Highway 35—how weird is that? This is better than drugs!

4. Speaking of legs, riding to work will make them look better than you ever imagined they could. Why do you think I’m a devoted Tour de France spectator? So I can gape at all those gorgeous legs!

5. You can build up major karma points by treading as lightly as it’s possible to tread as a commuter. Biking to work is even greener than carpooling, or taking the train. The only gas you’re burning is your own.

6. You can burn enough calories to justify having an extra grande latte when you get to work. Or an extra homemade corn dog, which is what was being served in Sunset’s test kitchen this morning. (You can check out our test kitchen, and you should—it has nine stoves!—at this year's Sunset Celebration Weekend.

Ready to try it? Post your comments on your most beautiful ride to work. We’d love to hear from you.

More bang for one buck in Los Angeles

by MacKenzie Geidt, Sunset assistant travel editor

What can $1.00 get you in LA?  Not much, right?  I can't always find my favorite gum for under a dollar!  But here's some sound financial advice for you: if you only have ONE LOUSY DOLLAR in your pocket, the best way to use it wisely is to make a b-line for DIDDY RIESE COOKIES.  LA is nuts for this place, and for darn Diddy good reason. 

Smack in the bustle of Westwood (hence the crowds of value-conscious UCLA students that don't take their Diddy for granted), $1 at Diddy Riese will get you 3 cookies!  3!  (if you're being moderate and you only want 1, you're crazy, but you only need .35 cents!)  Behold the divinity:

We're talking made from scratch, fresh and warm, baked all day.  Where the heck else in LA can your money go quite so far?? 

If you can scrounge up another .50 cents, you can increase your indulgence exponentially. 
Here's how:

You can be the architect of your own gluttony!  Build your own ice cream sandwich, with cookies and ice cream flavor of your choice.  For $1.50!!  It's too good to be true, but it's true!  Doesn't it just seem wrong to pay so little for something so good? 

If you have other suggestions for how to spend a dollar in LA, let us know!  Let's find the best single digit buys in the city....

The most kid-friendly meal on the coast: an airport diner near Half Moon Bay

By Amy Wolf, Sunset travel editor

Parents, listen up. There are kid-friendly restaurants, and then there are really kid-friendly restaurants. If you, like me, have one, or in my case, two, very young and very restless children—or even more than that, heaven help you—you know that eating out with the little darlings is a huge pain in the behind roughly 95% of the time, moderately tolerable 3% of the time. That leaves a 2% margin of error for fun.

At the 3 Zero Cafe, the other day, I think I used up my 2% quota. (It was Mother’s Day, so I deserved it.) Having decided to take an impromptu road trip along Highway 1 with the main destination being an elaborate playground called Moss Beach Park (because I’m that kind of mom), we piled into the car and cruised north from Half Moon Bay to Moss Beach.

We were tempted to stop at any number of pony ride concessions, nurseries, and farm stands (note: the strawberries are spectacular right now). Instead we forged on, eager to reach the long-awaited slides and the monkey bars. But when we came upon the diminutive little Half Moon Bay Airport, where cute little planes were lined up to take off, we had to stop. Which is how we noticed the 3 Zero Cafe.

Minutes later I was sipping a mimosa made with fresh-squeezed orange juice, my husband was nursing good coffee, Lilli was standing on her chair trying to reach the miniature airplanes that hung from the ceiling, and Toby was bashing a toy airplane on the table. Which the waitress said was just fine. This is my idea of a good time out.

And our lunch was amazing! Hot grilled salmon for my husband, an artichoke heart and zucchini fritatta for me, a waffle (with whipped cream!) for Lilli, and some cute little corn dogs for Toby. All for a total of 40 bucks. This is no surprise, considering that 3 Zero is the sister restaurant of the Flying Fish Grill in Half Moon Bay, which Sunset nominated last November as one of the best 15 restaurants along our North Coast seafood tour.

En route home we stopped at Sam’s Chowder House, which you can read about in the upcoming July issue of Sunset, to pick up a couple of tuna steaks for dinner in the shop next door. The restaurant looked so tempting, with tables looking smack out on the water, and fresh-looking food, that my daughter announced that we should go out to dinner here, right now. In fact, we do want to go back to Sam's for dinner next time. But we’ll leave the kids at home.

Tacos in L.A.: keep on truckin’

by Matthew Jaffe, Sunset senior writer

These are the slogans that have moved nations and changed the world:

Patrick Henry’s “Give me liberty or give me death.”

The Spanish Civil War’s “No pasaran.” They shall not pass.

And now, the rallying cry of the huddled masses yearning to eat cheap while waiting in line at taco trucks throughout Los Angeles:

“Carne asada is not a crime.”

A law is about to go into effect in Los Angeles County that would require taco trucks, those meals truly on wheels that with their blue rooftop vents and paintings of Our Lady of Guadalupe are as much a part of the L.A. landscape as palm trees and botox, to move locations every hour or face $1,000 fines or even jail time for their owners. The rationale for the law is the idea that restaurants lose business because taco trucks can undercut their prices.

Without debating the law’s merits, it’s a reminder of the role that these trucks and tacos play in the life of L.A. And not just in East L.A., where restaurant owners have been most vocal, but throughout the city. From Whittier Boulevard to the lofty climes of Bel-Air, home to a fleet of taco trucks that sets up along Mulholland Drive just east of Beverly Glen, wherever there are people looking for good and quick eats, you’ll find these camiones de carnitas, these maquinas con machaca.

I’ll hit taco trucks on occasion but there was a time when I was eating at one almost daily. Back then our office was located in the Mid Wilshire district, where a couple blocks of buildings had been demolished for construction of the Vermont and Wilshire Red Line station. We had virtually no lunch choices, except for a taco truck operated by a guy named Steve. The Truck, as it became known simply and reverentially, emerged as our local cantina and Steve, who greeted just about everyone with an improvised song, was our angel of mercy.

The food? Pretty darn good, especially the Macho Burrito, an assemblage of ingredients that reduced afternoon productivity throughout the office due to a sleep-inducing mass and density. The burrito was a favorite of a co-worker, one Mr. Trumbull, who accomplished the greatest eating feat of those years, when he followed up a macho with Steve’s famous Texas Pattie Melt.

This gastronomic event came to be known by office historians as “The Rumble In The Trumbull.” But I digress.

I recently headed out on a day of taco tasting, hitting several trucks as well as a favorite stand, Yuca’s in Los Feliz. The taco truck experience was once largely a matter of local knowledge and personal experimentation but thanks to internet sites such as The Great Taco Hunt, the accumulated wisdom of the L.A. taco underground has gone global. A veritable Tacopedia.

By the time I reached Yuca’s, I was stuffed but I couldn’t resist a couple of their carne asada tacos. Yuca’s is a hut that despite a fixed location shares traits with its more mobile cousins. It sits on the edge of a parking lot with al fresco seating, if one can be that grandiose, featuring shaky tables and mismatched chairs and stools. Yuca’s founder, Socorro, was on hand to take the orders. She waits outside the hut next to a poster of James Dean that for some reason is propped up against the wall along the ground. Socorro writes down your order on a paper plate before handing it off to the staff. Drink choices are limited: milk, coffee, lemonade, and orange juice. For anything else you go to the liquor store across the lot.

The tacos? Close to perfect and wrapped in soft and steamy corn tortillas, with a marinade so tasty that there’s no need to embellish with hot sauce. I walked back to my car, which was parked in front of a wellness spa that touted itself as, “Your sacred place of vibrational bliss.”

I don’t know about the vibrational part.  But sacred and blissful is a pretty good description of the Yuca’s experience.

My Virgin voyage

By Rachel Levin, Sunset senior editor

Why do I love Virgin America? You know, Richard Branson’s new low-cost airline aimed to “make flying good again.”

Oh, let me count the ways:

1. They roll out the red carpet. Literally. When I first walked into the sprawling San Francisco International Terminal, I had no clue where to find the Virgin America ticket counter. Late for my flight to New York City (I’m always late), I searched frantically, feeling like a 4-yr-old lost in Grand Central Station. And then, I caught sight of a true oasis among the chaos: a cushy red carpet and a hotel-lobby-like-table topped with an oversized vase of white orchids. (Okay, they're fake, but, still...) There were plenty of open kiosks, plus a friendly woman there to help walk me through the touch-screen. How pleasant!

2. They set the mood. No piercing lights in this Airbus. Instead, a purplish glow and comfy black leather seats (white leather—plus massage—in first class), create a calm, lounge-like atmosphere never before experienced at 39,000 feet. (The bathroom isn't bad either; they've got Method products and everything.)

3. They look good. Flight attendants aren’t dressed in some stiff, navy polyester throwback outfit with stockings, scarves, and nursing sneakers. Men wear black button downs (Johnny Cash-style); women wear white.

4. They keep you entertained. Not with a mandatory viewing of “Everybody Loves Raymond” or a grainy VHS version of “Astronaut Farmer”—but with essentially anything you want. Thanks to "Red"— your very own iMac-of-an-entertainment center. “The Office!” “30 Rock!” First-run movies on demand! (for a fee, of course, but who cares.) Video games! Seat-to-seat chat. (If you don’t like the guy drooling next to you, make a new friend.) And, best of all, a library of 3,000 songs—from Bjork to Beethoven to female folkies like Patty Griffin (my fave); listening to a crystal-clear recording of Patty’s “Trapeze” at lift-off, normally a kind of a tense time, I couldn’t have been happier.

5. And well-fed. Whenever you’re hungry, not when the stinky cart clunks by. Instead, just scroll through the touchstone menu for fresh, organic fare: yogurt parfait... caprese sandwich...fruit and cheese plate (gouda, manchego, Brie)...Swipe your credit card and food arrives within minutes. (First-class gets tapas like marinated bocconcini with peppadew peppers; Italian salametti with artichoke and roasted tomato; Louisiana crab salad.) Thirsty? Just grab as many mini-bottles of water as you want, from the always-stocked cubby hole in the back.

6. Best of all, they have the best safety video of all time. My favorite line? “For that .001 % of you who don’t know how to buckle a seatbelt...” Can’t wait to see it? Click here to watch now.

Virgin America currently flies to 7 cities with daily flights from: San Francisco (SFO) to Los Angeles (LAX), SFO to New York City (JFK), SFO to San Diego (SAD), SFO to Washington, D.C. (IAD), SFO to Las Vegas (LAS), LAX to JFK, LAX to IAD— and, this spring, they launched flights from San Francisco to Seattle and Los Angeles to Seattle. With more on the way!

Seeing double on San Francisco's Nob Hill

by MacKenzie Geidt, Sunset assistant travel editor

I'm a San Francisco native.  Born and raised.  But I STILL manage to get a thrill every time I experience a sighting.  I'm not talking about anything extraterrestrial, or your garden variety celebrities.  I'm talking about THE TWINS! San Francisco's Brown Twins!  And if you're on Nob Hill, or The Nob, as I like to call it, you might be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of these 81-year-old San Francisco icons.

Last night....I got lucky.  I caught Marian and Vivian in their leopard cowgirl splendor!

I was in the middle of devouring the most amazing salami pizza at Nob Hill Cafe (an adorable neighborhood nook with truly truly exceptional Italian fare--they deserve their own un-twin-focused posting), and my heart stopped when, lo and behold, the twins walked in!

Let's be serious...who the heck are these ladies?  Well, according to Wikipedia, you might recognize them from a slew of television commercials, even a cameo in the movie Nine to Five. The San Francisco Chronicle awarded them the "Best Local Character" in 2000 (they even beat Robin Williams!), and they've also won "most identical"  at  twin conventions.   (TWIN CONVENTIONS?)  In any case, Marian and Vivian have dressed alike since birth, and they've only been apart for 3 weeks total.  Wow.  (You can't really hold twins to the same co-dependency standards as the rest of us...) 

Apparently the gals have a standing Tuesday night date at Nob Hill Cafe, so you'll probably see them in their window seat if you walk by.... (or if you eat there, which you should since the food is amazing...)

Do me a favor--if you see them, let us know!  Let's record all the fun places that we see them around town.

And because I just can't resist, here's them cutting a caper near the Transamerica Pyramid. 
                                            Vive the Twins!

Our staff photographer's favorite places

By Christine Richard, Sunset senior editor

This morning in an editorial meeting, staff photographer Tom Story sat next to me. He hadn’t been in the offices much lately because he’s been on the road. Because he travels constantly and looks at landscapes in a different light, I asked him what some of his favorite destinations are. Here’s what he said:

Eastern Sierras — beautiful — I'm looking at getting a little piece of land out there to build an A-frame … The Salton Sea is another one of my favorite-est places in the West — the beautiful decay, crazy surreal light and people, the fact that John Waters narrated a documentary about it, tons of bird watching… Orcas Island. Amazing.

When I asked him to explain amazing, he had already hit the road again (but I found a couple of his Orcas photos on the server, above). Executive editor Irene Edwards would back him on that: She has an Orcas Island license plate holder. (She's got a mild obsession with it).

Kids at art: San Diego's New Children's Museum

By Matthew Jaffe, Sunset  senior writer

It was always one of the sweetest moments of the year: I can still remember the instant on the first day of school when I broke the seal and opened a new 64-count box of Crayola crayons. There was that unmistakable waxy aroma and a blast of colors. From burnt sienna to periwinkle, the crayons stood at attention, immaculate and pointy with possibilities.

I had a similar sensation walking into The New Children’s Museum in San Diego, a 50,000-square-foot facility devoted to visual arts that opened this past weekend.

Talk about possibilities. At time when schools have cut back on arts education, the museum puts the visual arts front and center in a dramatic building designed by San Diego architect Rob Wellington Quigley. 

This is no cutesy little playhouse but a soaring, light-filled space that also happens to be one of the greenest museums in the state: it incorporates recycled materials, uses a passive air handling system, and its elevator shaft doubles as a cooling tower.

On one gallery wall, there’s a quote from Andy Warhol, who declares, “Art is what you can get away with.” And at this museum, compared to the more staid destinations of my own field trips past, kids are going to get away with murder—and maybe create a lot of art in the process. Out front they can paint an old Volkswagen bug. Inside they can climb on a mural, get hands on (a nice word for messy), and ride around on Legways, scooter-like vehicles designed by artist Roman de Salvo. This is a museum to engage bodies as well as imaginations.

While most of the galleries and installations were designed for the museum, other pieces are works of art that were not specifically designed with kids in mind. That’s in keeping with the museum’s mission to bring sophisticated contemporary art to families without making false distinctions between what's for children and what's for their parents.

Here’s a museum that knows fun can be good for you, and what’s good for you can be fun. No matter how old you are.

Coming attraction: San Francisco’s spectacular new Academy of Sciences

By Peter Fish, Sunset Editor-at-Large

I just had a back-stage tour of the new California Academy of Sciences building in Golden Gate Park, the Renzo Piano-designed, sustainable, grass-roofed shrine to scientific inquiry set to open in late September.  I didn’t get to wear a hard hat, but otherwise the tour was great.

Here’s what I learned.

The Swamp lives. The ornate pit that houses the Academy’s alligators is still there, a pleasingly dank and crepuscular focal point for the new piazza at the building’s center. Now, however, you can also go downstairs and peer at the alligators underwater, just like you were at some 60s Mad Men poolside cocktail lounge where you gaped through portholes at synchronized swimmers. Except that these are alligators, and you’re not drinking a mai tai.   

The African Hall is still there. “We did lots of focus groups,” Stephanie Stone, the Academy’s Director of Communications told me.   “People loved the alligators and they loved the African Hall. We had to keep those.” In the hall’s case, all the dioramas have been carefully restored; the largest of them will now hold actually living (as opposed to taxidermied) African penguins, splashing around in an actual (as opposed to painted) pool. 

The Foucault Pendulum still swings. For the reasons noted above. People love a pendulum, even if nobody knows who Foucault was. 

Everything else about the Academy is new and pretty damn spectacular. The piazza is light-filled and gives you the sense of still being out in Golden Gate Park even though you’re inside a building. Housed in a four-story dome, the walk-through Rainforests of the World lets you travel from the Amazon to Borneo to Madagascar to Costa Rica, all of them suitably humid. The Philippine Coral Reef is the second largest living coral reef exhibit in the world. On my visit it was one of the few exhibits with some animals already in occupancy: rays and skates zipping around looking elegant and menacing in the way rays and skates do. (The rest of the Academy’s 38,000 living fish and reptiles and insects and birds will arrive over the next few months, transported from the Academy’s temporary downtown S.F. location and elsewhere. And you thought your moves were a pain..)

As the literal and figurative topper, there’s the Academy’s Living Roof, which has already drawn major press attention: 2.5 sustainable, eco-friendly rooftop acres planted in native California grasses and flowers. What’s great is that observation platforms let you look at the roof close up. And even now, when the plants aren’t fully grown in, it’s beguiling: a whimsical Teletubby-like landscape nonetheless tied to its site, the undulations echoing the topography of Twin Peaks and Golden Gate Heights just to the south. I’ve found the location for this year’s family Christmas card. (If you want to know more about grass roofs, check out Sunset’s 2007 story, Eaves of Grass.)

The Academy is set to open September 27. For updates, visit www.calacademy.org

Rockin' the Casbah...

by MacKenzie Geidt, Sunset assistant travel editor

Wanna go to Morocco?  Yeah, so do I.  Desperately.  Maybe it was my former stint as a belly dancer that inspired my absolute love and fascination for North African culture (I'm sparing you pictures from that unfortunate era in my past—trust me, they were YMCA classes, so it really wasn't what you might be thinking...)

But THIS is the closest that I've come to Marrakech, and it happens to be in downtown LA: welcome to the world of the Figueroa Hotel....transporting enough to make you feel like you've crossed continents...(so transporting that leaving the hotel and coming upon the Staples Center across the street makes for extreme cultural confusion....)



Doesn't this remind you of a Paul Bowles novel?  Or The English Patient?  Or a sultan's palace?    If you had a harem, wouldn't you want them to stay here? (no surprise that my influences are all fictional...)

Many of the rooms are named after Moroccan cities...the one above happens to be The Medina.  The building started as a YWCA in 1925 (do you think they offered belly dancing?) before becoming a hotel after the Great Depression.

Even if you can't spend the night, you should definitely stop in for a drink, Casablanca style (remember Rick's Cafe?), at the bar by the pool.  Celebs have been known to haunt the terrace in the early morning hours for secret trysts, and frankly, you should do the same.  It's gotta be one of the most romantic (and private!) watering holes in LA.   

                                                
OK, yes, you're still in LA after all. And you do have to use your imagination if you're expecting Bogie to show up.  But if you're craving a lush Saharan oasis, until you can go for real, this is it, folks.  All the fun without the sandstorms. Play it again, Sam.

Southern California: The hills are alive

by Matthew Jaffe, Sunset senior writer 

Southern California has heated up over the past few days but before spring ends and the hills turn gold you can still experience the best wildflower season since the big rain year of 2005.

Now that my school days are long since past I’m no believer in grade inflation, so I’ll give the 2008 bloom a solid B, just shy of a B+.

Much to my regret, I never made it out to the desert but I have hiked several nearby trails in Topanga State Park and elsewhere in Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area.

The current bloom is especially notable because during last year’s record low rainfall, the hills barely greened up and wildflowers never showed up at all.

Get out now and you'll see a transition taking place. The local mountains offer a mix of lingering early blooming plants (such as bush sunflower and lupine) with chaparral yucca and other harbingers of late spring.

The creamy white clusters of the chaparral shrub chamise have added texture and definition to valleys and ridgelines, and some trails practically pulsate with the orange and yellow of sticky monkey flower and the pink and rose whorls of purple sage— as well zillions (not an official population figure) of happily buzzing bees.

The bees are apparently having a big year too because a friend who discovered a swarm in his chimney was told by a bee removal expert that our area has never been so busy.

This has also proven to be an enormous year for non-native mustard. I’ve been on trails where the mustard stands almost eight feet tall and completely covers hillsides. I hate to admit it but the mustard display can be gorgeous this time of year. Still, there’s no forgetting the major impacts that it has on native plants and animal habitat.

Farther out, the Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve is hanging on with one of its better blooms in recent years. And for a comprehensive look at regional hotspots, check out the Theodore Payne Foundation’s Wildflower Hotline.

Annie Liebovitz: a life in photos

By Julie Chai, Sunset associate garden editor

I know little about photography, and even less about who’s who in the field. But I love Annie Leibovitz and her work, so when I heard she was having an exhibit at San Francisco’s Legion of Honor, I wanted to be first in line to see it.

At the recent media preview, Leibovitz led a tour through the exhibit which is like a visual time capsule containing some of our collective cultural history from 1990 to 2005. Well-known faces look out from the 200-plus photos—a once-radical shot of pregnant Demi Moore from 1991, the Clintons, W and crew, the Queen, and scores of other actors, musicians, and public figures.

But the collection is also a snapshot of Leibovitz’s private life during those years. Interspersed amongst the famous faces are intensely moving images documenting her personal history with shots like those we might have in our own family albums: her pregnancy, the birth of her children, Susan Sontag going through chemo, her parents’ 50th anniversary, her father’s death. Leibovitz discussed having misgivings about sharing these, saying she opened herself up in a way she’ll probably never do again. About a portrait of her mother, she said, “It may be the best picture of the show, it may be the best picture of my life.”

San Francisco is the last U.S. stop of the exhibit’s tour before it heads overseas. Be sure to see it before it ends on May 25.

The best April drive in California

By Peter Fish, Sunset Editor-at-Large

April stresses me out. First there’s all the tax stuff to contend with. Then there’s my son’s birthday party. It’s not that I don’t love my son and not even that I don’t enjoy birthday parties. Just not parties I plan. The thing about children’s birthday parties is that they invariably involve piñatas. And when it comes to piñatas, remember this simple rule:

    PIÑATAS=TEARS

How will the tears come? Here are the four main pinata-tear generators:

1. Piñata refuses to break.
2. Piñata breaks too soon.
3. Piñata breaks in timely fashion but blindfolded birthday boy/girl who broke it cannot pull blindfold off. Party guests swarm over candy, leaving none for birthday boy/girl.
4. Blindfolded child attempts to whack piñata but whacks other child/parent/grandparent/newly arrived park ranger. In this instance tears may be accompanied by visit to E.R.

So this past weekend instead of doing taxes or picking up the SpongeBob piñata for my son, I played hooky and took my favorite springtime drive in all of California, Jolon Road in Monterey County. Why is it so great? First, it’s efficient—exit U.S. 101(going south) at King City or (going north) at Bradley and you add only 45 minutes to your trip.  But it’s a sublime 45 minutes. The two-lane road winds past vineyards and ranches and, this month, green, green hills splashed with poppies and lupine. Every oak in every meadow is leafing out.

If you have only a little time on a drive up or down 101, this is just a very pretty detour.  If you have more time, stop at Jolon, midway on your route, and follow the signs to Mission San Antonio de Padua.

If I were going to nominate one California place that everybody should see that most people haven’t, it would be this mission. Is it the most beautiful of California missions? Partisans of Santa Barbara or San Juan Capistrano may say no. But it's very beautiful. And, miles off a main highway and protected from development by adjacent Fort Hunter Liggett, San Antonio is the only mission that still feels much as it might have in the 18th century. The quiet here is elemental, like the sunlight, like the wind. You stroll, you admire the chapel, you smell the roses in the courtyard garden, you go back outside and sit beneath a sycamore tree and consider the way the mission’s red-tile roof glows against the green folds of the Santa Lucia Mountains behind it. I did that for quite awhile, and then looked at the wildflowers dotting the meadow in front of the mission, and it struck me that the red and yellow flowers resembled candy spilled from a broken piñata. But I was feeling so relaxed and happy I managed to put that troubling thought aside.

P.S. Traveler’s advisory. Mission San Antonio de Padua lies within Fort Hunter Liggett, which means that you’ll be required to stop at the base entrance gate and show driver’s license, car registration and proof of insurance before you proceed. The Mission is worth it.