Review: 'My Nepenthe'

My Nepenthe: Bohemian Tales of Food, Family and Big Sur. Romney Steele. Andrews McMeel Publishing. $35.00 (352p) ISBN: 978-0-7407-7914-5

My first visit to Nepenthe Restaurant in Big Sur, California was in the fall of 1983. It was a hot day and we sat outside on the massive terrace with a cold drink -- in those days white wine, or possibly beer -- and looked down at the unbelievable view. A view of the Monterey coast that went on forever. I've never forgotten that first visit. Or that first view. Yes, the parking lot was full of rental cars, and yes, there were crowds of tourists snapping photos but none of that mattered. I didn't know what to expect as we climbed the winding stone steps up through a canopy of oak trees to the restaurant. But once I stepped foot onto the large terrace and saw the view, I understood the magic of Nepenthe. No matter where you are at Nepenthe, the Phoneix Shop, the Café Kevah or the restaurant itself, the view is there. Always and forever. In my memory there were hawks floating on thermals almost at eye level. That is how high up Nepenthe is. In the clouds. At the end of our drinks it was very hard to pull myself away. Over the years I have gone back to Nepenthe each time I visited the area. How can one not visit such a spectacular place?

I was thrilled when I heard that a granddaughter of the original owners had written the Nepenthe story in celebration of its' 60th anniversary. I was even more excited when the book arrived on my doorstep for review. It is everything a book like this should be: a celebration of a place and time, a memoir from someone who lived it, and a cookbook with both family and restaurant recipes. I was recently in Big Sur, (see my last post) and I took Robert to Nepenthe for his first time. It was a joy to be back, and to see the magic at work on someone else. He was just as wowed as I was on my first visit. I love the Bohemian-hippy vibe that still exists in Big Sur and thankfully author, Romney Steele, infuses her writing with a lot of that historical detail. Nepenthe was and still is a gathering point for all sorts of interesting and unique souls. From writers, to artists and artisans, to film people, to through-voyagers. As a child Romney Steele was lucky enough to watch it all happen. From stories of her grandparents Bill and Lolly Fasset who bought the property from Orsen Welles and Rita Hayworth in 1947, to frequent visits by writers Henry Miller and Jack Kerouac, to filming of the Elizabeth Taylor-Richard Burton movie The Sandpiper, Ms. Steele was witness to it all. And a magical storyteller she is, as well as an accomplished cook.

The book is woven through with history, stories, memories, archival photos and recipes. Many of the non-archival color photos are beautifully shot by Sara Remington. The look and feel of the entire work is evocative of the free-living Bohemian lifestyle that permeates Big Sur's past and present. For me it was a fun read as I have been to Nepenthe, and to Big Sur many times over the years; it was wonderful to learn more about the history of both the restaurant and the area. Nepenthe is woven into the fabric of Big Sur and vice versa. They are a part of each other. I tried several recipes from the book and all worked very well, and were a pleasure to eat. On a recent Sunday I cooked this menu: 'Lolly's Roast Chicken with Sage Stuffing,' 'Cranberry Sauce,' 'Beet Salad with Sherry Vinaigrette' and 'Lemony Lemon Squares.' This time Robert and I were the only guests; we devoured everything, and loved it all. A few of the leftover lemon bars were passed along to family and friends -- all of whom have asked for the recipe, they were that good. What I like about the food in this book is that it fits in with the down-to-earth vibe the book embodies. Ms. Steele encourages use of local, sustainable ingredients. In fact she has a chart at the beginning of the book, 'Cooking notes,' that tells, (and suggests to), the cook the nature of each ingredient used when she developed and tested the recipes: 'Meats are prime,' 'Baking powder is aluminum-free,' 'Fruit is seasonal, organic if possible, and preferably locally grown,' and so on. This isn't fancy, five-star cuisine nor should it be. The food is earthy, hearty, filling and direct. It's food that makes sense for a restaurant and place perched high atop a hillside above the crashing surf in the wilds of Big Sur. Steele encourages the reader to find their own Nepenthe within the pages of her book. Steele is my kind of cook, this is my kind of book, I expect to pick it up often to both cook from, and to read more and again about life at Nepenthe. My Nepenthe.

Lolly's Roast Chicken with Sage Stuffing (Pg. 113)

Cranberry Sauce (Pg. 114)


Beet Salad with Sherry Vinaigrette (Pg. 279)


Lemony Lemon Squares (Pg. 250)

Upcoming Posts: Interview with Chefs John Stewart & Duskie Estes, owners of Zazu & Bovolo restaurants in Sonoma County. Cochon 555 Napa, a write up of the amazing pork festival that I went to in Napa. Reviews: The Spirit Kitchen: Everyday Cooking with Organic Spices by Sara Engram and Katie Luber and Kimberly Toqe.

Big Sur, California

Despite having seen most of the state while growing up and living in it as an adult, California still surprises. Over and over it reveals itself to me, reminds me of its beauty, and still makes me think it is one of the most beautiful places on earth. It had been a number of years since I'd been to one of my favorite spots: Big Sur. Robert and I recently spent a long weekend there and I fell in love all over again. There is something magical in the Big Sur air. Everything about the place appeals to me. The remoteness, the residents still living like it is 1968, the overwhelming natural beauty. We approached the area by car from the north; as soon as we drove into the valley where Big Sur starts we entered a lovely time warp. There is little to none cell phone coverage (bliss!). We stayed at Deetjen's Inn where there is no television, no Internet (more bliss!), and no locks on the doors. It was just the break I'd needed and was looking for from all the noise of modern society. It's amazing how quiet it can actually be without all the technology we surround ourselves with. I'd been hearing about Deetjen's for a number of years from my friend Jill, an American living in London who goes whenever she's in California. I am so glad we chose to stay there.

Deetjen's Big Sur Inn, 48865 Highway One, Big Sur, California, 93920, (831) 667-2377, http://www.deetjens.com

Built in the early 1930s by Norwegian Helmut Deetjen, Deetjen's is world famous for its rustic charm and quiet isolation. The story goes that Helmut left his native Norway to get away from the 'authorities'; when he discovered the remote Big Sur coast he decided to stay. He and his wife Helen Haight bought several acres in Castro Canyon which offered the privacy and seclusion he sought. Starting with a redwood barn made from materials from the canneries along Monterey's Cannery Row, 'Grandpa Deetjen' went on to build more structures all constructed using local, scavenged redwood. The inn now comprises twenty rooms and is on the National Register of Historic Places. Over the years it has been visited by numerous famous names from old Hollywood, (Rita Hayworth, Orsen Welles, Kim Novak) to such writers and artists as Henry Miller, Jack Kerouac, Ansel Adams, and Edward Weston.

We stayed in 'Edy's Room'; only big enough for a bed, and a couple of chairs and small tables but so full of charm that the lack of space was quickly forgotten. The room was cozy against the chill temperatures outside, and once inside I found it hard to leave. The doors only locked from the inside which at first gave us pause but as long as we were careful to take valuables with us was not an issue. This lack of locks fits right into the laissez-faire Big Sur attitude. For an additional bit of intrigue the room is supposedly haunted by Edy's
ghost. Reading through the journals left behind by prior guests
we learned of possible ghostly sightings. If she was around during our stay she didn't let us know. While we were at Deetjen's we ate a dinner and a breakfast in the quaint dining room; the food was hearty and filling in keeping with the Deetjen's spirit. Now that I have been I look forward to going again soon.

Big Sur Bakery & Restaurant, Highway One, Big Sur, California, (831) 667-0520, http://www.bigsurbakery.com

I used to go to Big Sur on a very regular basis when I worked in the restaurant business in San Francisco in the '80s. Jeremiah Tower, chef and owner of Stars restaurant, was once chef at Ventana Inn & Spa in Big Sur. Because of that connection, I always stayed at Ventana -- an upscale resort nestled against the Big Sur mountains just above the fog line. I usually ate in the Ventana restaurant. I also generally stayed put and enjoyed the beauty of Big Sur from on high. This time was different. Robert and I jumped in and really experienced it. We drove, we looked, we hiked and we explored almost every inch. One of the places I knew I'd be visiting was the newish Big Sur Bakery which I'd read about in the Los Angeles Times. I was quite intrigued by the story of three Los Angeles chef friends who chucked their urban-city lives to open a bakery and restaurant in the rustic wilds of Big Sur. It sounded so wonderful to me. Michelle Rizzolo, Philip Wojtowicz and Mike Gilson met while working in such Los Angeles restaurants as Campanile, La Brea Bakery, Joe's Restaurant, and Mélisse. At Big Sur Bakery Michelle handles all the baking and pastry making; Philip is responsible for the kitchen while Mike handles the front of the house. Using a wood-fired oven they bake bread every morning to be sold in the bakery and used in the restaurant. Many dishes on the restaurant menus are also cooked in the wood-fired oven; they honor the local, sustainable, organic credo as well. The trio has published a cookbook, 'The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook: A Year In The Life of a Restaurant,' about their first year in business in Big Sur. We had two meals both deeply satisfying. The wood-fire pizza ('Traditional wood fired tomato & cheese pizza') and salad ('Salad of seasonal organic mixed greens with shallots, herbs, roasted carrots, toasted sunflower seeds, and lemon poppy seed dressing') we shared after hiking to a waterfall was just what we needed to fuel up for our next adventure. The dinner we ate one night was the perfect antidote to the cold rainy weather outside. There is a dearth of good, reasonably priced eats in Big Sur so the cozy, rustic charm and hearty food of Big Sur Bakery is a most welcome addition. If I lived in Big Sur I'd be a regular patron.

Part of what I like about Big Sur is its hippy-bohemian vibe. We saw more hitchhikers in three days then I have seen in thirty years. The people we saw out and about, wandering down Highway One on foot, bicycle and car, in shops and restaurants, and at the beach often seemed to be aged hippies of yore, throwbacks to the '60s and the earlier Beat Generation, or for the younger generation -- modern day 'hippies.' The whole Big Sur vibe reminded me so much of growing up in the '60s and '70s along the Central Coast of California where these types were the norm. Hitchhikers thumbed rides freely; men had long hair and beards; everyone wore tie dye T-shirts, peace signs around their necks, and bell bottoms. It was an awesome time to be a kid; so much was happening. I felt a bit of this energy in Big Sur. A place where Beat author Jack Kerouac spent time; and where 'Tropic of Cancer' -- it's 1961 U.S. publication date led to an obscenity trial -- writer Henry Miller lived from 1944 to 1962. Naturally, one of my favorite places we visited was The Henry Miller Library.

The Henry Miller Library, Highway One, Big Sur California, (831) 667-2574, http://www.henrymiller.org

The library reminded me of City Lights Books in San Francisco's North Beach; a once fertile gathering place for Beatniks, subversives and hippies. Not just a library or a place to sell books but a meeting place; a place to find like-minded souls; a place to hear poetry or a lecture, to see a performance, or attend a workshop; a place to get back that counter-culture, hippy vibe lost long ago. The library does all of that while keeping the spirit of Miller alive. It's seemingly the nexus of all that Big Sur energy. Magnus the current 'librarian' holds court at the cashier's desk answering questions; passing on Miller tidbits, facts and history; and explaining upcoming activities at the library. Again, it felt as though I was stepping back in time. I loved the poster for 'Celebration At Big Sur' -- a counter-culture concert featuring some of my counter-culture heroes: Joan Baez, Joni Mitchell, Crosy, Stills Nash & Young -- hanging in the library. The poster (see below) says 'Celebrate with...' and I'm sorry I didn't get to.

After we left the Henry Miller Library we ventured down the road to another famed Big Sur location, the can't-miss 'Nepenthe.' A restaurant and bar perched above the Pacific that offers breathtaking views down the Monterey coast. I'd been years ago on a hot summer day, and sat outside on the deck with a cold drink looking south down the coast. My memory of the view and the place has remained strong over the years. The weather was wet and cold the day Robert and I went but it was beautiful nonetheless.

Nepenthe Restuarant, 48510 Highway One, Big Sur, California, 93920, (831) 667-2345, http://www.nepenthebigsur.com

'Nepenthe' means 'isle of no care' in Greek. Original Nepenthe owners Lolly and Bill Fassett and their five children settled into a cabin on the property called the Log House in 1947. The Log House's most recent owners had been Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles neither of whom lived in the house due to their filing for divorce soon after they bought it. Once settled in the Fasset's proceeded to slowly build what is now Nepenthe. The original vision was for 'an open-air pavilion with good food and wine and dancing under the stars.' A place where people from up and down the coast would come and forget their cares.' [from the Nepenthe website]. Lolly opened the Phoenix Shop, now a gift shop, so local and traveling merchants could show and sell their wares. The family lived an idyllic Bohemian life surrounded by artists, crafts people, writers, performers and travelers. Like the Henry Miller Library, Nepenthe is still a gathering place for thinkers and creative types both those living locally and those traveling through; as well as for the endless stream of tourists traveling down Highway One who stop in for a drink, some food and the bewitching view. Nepenthe is like the cream on top of the Big Sur bohemian pie. One does have to wonder if Big Sur would be 'Big Sur' without Nepenthe. I have to say that it would not -- Nepenthe is such a part of the history and fabric of Big Sur that without it, it would be something else entirely. [While relatives of Lolly and Bill run the day-today of the restaurant], granddaughter, Romney Steele, has taken over the running of Nepenthe and has [recently] published a book about the history and food of the famed restaurant: 'My Nepenthe: Bohemian Tales of Food, Family and Big Sur.'

Easlen Institute, 55000 Highway One, Big Sur, California, 93920, (831) 667-3000, http://www.esalen.org

There is one other remarkable and fun thing that we did in Big Sur that I want to mention: visiting the hot springs at the Esalen Institute. Esalen, an organization and retreat center, "...was founded in 1962 as an alterntaive educational center devoted to the exploration of what Aldous Huxley called the 'the human potential,' the world of unrealized human capacities that lies beyond the imagination." [from the Esalen website] Now comprised of twenty-seven acres perched on the cliffs above the crashing Pacific ocean, the institute holds a wide range of classes, workshops, and retreats offering introductions to Gestalt, massage, sensory awareness and meditation. And then there's the natural hot springs that pour forth from a seaside cliff. Because the institute allows registered guests top priority in using the hot springs, they are only open to the public from 1:00 a.m. to 3:00 a.m. I'd heard about the springs before, and I knew admittance was in the middle of the night, but Robert and I still wanted to go. We took a nap and went. We are so glad we did. The springs are set atop a cliff right over the ocean. While soaking in the hot springs we watched the waves crashing on the rocks below us, we looked out into the dark sea, and at the stars twinkling above us. It was a magical two hours. Two hours that I hope to experience again. In fact the whole weekend was a magical experience I hope to experience again. One I also highly recommend.

Upcoming Posts: Interview with Chefs John Stewart & Duskie Estes, owners of Zazu & Bovolo restaurants in Sonoma County. Cochon 555 Napa, a write up of the amazing pork festival that I went to in Napa. Reviews: My Nepenthe: Bohemian Tales of Food, Family and Big Sur by Romney Steele, The Spirit Kitchen: Everyday Cooking with Organic Spices by Sara Engram and Katie Luber and Kimberly Toqe.

Offal (Not Awful) & Nose To Tail Eating

My great-great grandmother Martha Cloud's husband, Sam Miller, circa 1941, Modoc County, California

'Offal is a culinary term used to refer to the entrails and internal organs of a butchered animal. The word does not refer to a particular list of organs other than muscles or bones. People in some cultures shy away from offal as food, while others use it as everyday food, or even in delicacies that command a high price.' -- from Wikipedia. 'Nose to Tail Eating,' a term seemingly coined by British chef and restaurateur, Fergus Anderson, involves food preparation using the entire animal (or plant) from nose to tail. Chef Anderson, author of the book, 'The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating,' owns St. John, a restaurant in London where according to Amazon.com 'he serves up the inner organs of beasts and fowls in big exhilarating dishes that combine high sophistication with peasant roughness.'

I think I'm a pretty good eater; I don't shy away from too many things. But like most of us I have my likes and dislikes; more likes than dislikes. I abhor any kind of dried fruit; I simply don't eat it. And I don't like cooked apples so not a big apple pie eater. My dislike of dried fruit disallows a goodly number of cereals, granolas, trail mix, and some baked goods and desserts. I've learned to check first to avoid the interminable picking out of unwelcome items. The reason I don't like dried fruit is textural. I hate that it sticks to my teeth -- end of story. I can't get beyond that. I can't exactly explain my issue with cooked apples just that they're oddly, uhm, slimy. I hate apple sauce. Again, it's a textural thing; how it feels in my mouth affects how it tastes. Offal can and does fall into the textural issues category but I've still eaten my fair share of it. I wouldn't say I'm an avid consumer of it however. Living in and traveling often to France I've had many French offal preparations, liver and kidneys, among others that I've enjoyed. I do like sweetbreads, and blood sausage a lot and will order them in restaurants. However if there are offal dishes on a restaurant menu invariably I'll choose a non-offal dish. Recently I've noticed that there seems to be a much keener interest in offal here in the U.S. -- at least in restaurants, in food journalism and in foodie circles. It's almost as if offal is replacing pork this year as the favorite food item? This offal uptick has me wondering why I don't eat it as often as I eat other animal protein, and I've decided there are a few reasons.

The first is related to the dried fruit issue: textural. A lot of offal is gelatinous, sinewy, and chewy in ways a well-prepared steak is not. Depending on what gland or organ is being cooked the feel of the food is different too: liver, kidneys, tongue, brains, tripe and so on. It has a different texture, and often a different smell, than cuts of beef, pork, lamb or chicken. These differences have always given me pause. And then there's the cultural issue. I wasn't raised eating the stuff. It wasn't a part of my diet growing up in the '60s and '70s. It was a part of the diet of my relatives, a generation before my mother. My great-grandparents, my grandfather and great-uncle ate it. They had a ranch; they raised their own chickens and sheep. My great uncle hunted, butchered and prepared deer. My mother tells the story of watching my great-grandfather chop the heads off of chickens and how they ran around headless until they died. That was normal to them. I've never seen an animal killed let alone butchered. We bought our chicken already cut up, wrapped in plastic in a styrofoam tray. If we did buy a whole chicken the giblets were wrapped in a small sealed paper bag which was easy to just throw away. Fast food did not help my palate adjust to eating offal either. Just think of the textures in fast food: 'soft' comes to mind first; with flavors that are 'bland,' 'salty' and 'sweet.' We ate a lot of fast food when I was a kid and while it probably contained offal we didn't know it. My mother did cook us a fair amount of liver and we hated it; it wasn't until I left home and lived in France that I first understood that offal could be tasty and interesting. I ate my first blood sausage at a French friend's house: broiled blood sausage, couscous, a green salad and cheese. It was a revelation to me. I ate a few other offal dishes the year I lived there. After France when I was first back home in Sonoma County, a friend and I went to a 'fancy' restaurant and we both ordered sweetbreads, and they were delicious. Besides the liver I ate as a child and the dishes I ate in France those sweetbreads are the first offal food memory I have. I've eaten sweetbreads over and over ever since.

I hate to admit this but I think I'm a picky offal eater. I am not, I have come to realize, the type of 'I'll-eat-anything-put-before-me' eater that Anthony Bourdain is. I have foodie friends who are very adventurous who will eat almost anything. I admire heartily the enthusiasm of Bourdain and my food-obsessed friends. I fully appreciate the nose-to-tail movement as it is economically sound and environmentally conscious. It easily fits into the '100 miles' philosophy: when possible use all of whatever we take from nature. I have eaten pigs feet; they were good, I enjoyed them. I will eat them, and other offal and nose-to-tail dishes again. Many cultures use offal and nose-to-tail ingredients in their cuisines. What better hangover cure is there than menudo? I'll keep trying new things, new dishes, domestic and foreign. My point here is that if I'd lived during my great-grandparents,' and grandparents' time my palate and diet would have been more acculturated to eating the whole animal. More than likely I would have been involved in the slaughtering and butchering of the animals. For economical reasons we would have used the entire animal. Sadly, I grew up in the industrialized grocery store, frozen everything, fast food era. That's not to say that I won't eventually become more adventurous, and I do know plenty of people who grew up the way I did who are 'eat anything' eaters, but for me right now: I am a picky-less-adventurous-offal-eater that's willing to grow. I have friends who will lead the way. You know who you are!

Upcoming Trips: Napa Valley - 2/27-3/1 - Cochon 555 ~ 5 Chefs, 5 Pigs, 5 Winemakers ~ 2010 US Tour. Big Sur - 3/5-/38 ~ Dinner at Big Sur Bakery.

Upcoming Posts: An Interview with Chefs John Stewart & Duskie Estes, owners of Zazu & Bovolo restaurants in Sonoma County. Reviews: Venezia: Food & Dreams by Tessa Kiros, My Nepenthe: Bohemian Tales of Food, Family and Big Sur by Romney Steele, The Spirit Kitchen: Everyday Cooking with Organic Spices by Sara Engram and Katie Luber and Kimberly Toqe.