In and Around Paradise

After lunch at the Happy Garden restaurant and pie and ice cream at aunt Martha’s, we took a drive around Paradise, CA. Cousin Steve served as driver and tour guide.

Paradise, with a population of a little over 26,000, is 85 miles north of Sacramento. Our drive took us along tree-lined streets into the part of town with more expensive homes.

The driveway into this home caught my attention because it appeared to be on the edge of a cliff.

Later in our drive we had that appearance confirmed.

The town of Paradise is spread out on a wide ridge which rises between deep canyons on either side. These canyons are formed by the west branch of the Feather River to the east, and Butte Creek to the west.

An overlook allowed us to get a better view of the canyon to the west.

The rocky hills in the photo below are enlarged in the second photo below and below these hills is a home that is shown in the third photo below.

As we headed home—Barbara to Rio Vista and Kate and I to Lodi—

we were treated to this colorful sunset.

Passengers in this plane (that little speck in the lower left quadrant) from the Sacramento airport must have had quite a view.

We’re Headed to Paradise

Paradise, California, that is.

One beautiful day, Chuck’s cousin Barbara picked us up at the RV park in Lodi and we headed north and west to the town of Paradise. The object of this trip? A visit with Chuck and Barb’s Aunt Martha and two of her sons, Steve and Neil.

We spent some time just talking while sitting in Martha’s living room and soon the conversation turned to lunch. Where should we go? Mexican or Chinese? We had just decided on Mexican when Martha told us that we could get a large round table at the Chinese restaurant and it would make for easier conversation. That sealed the deal. Happy Garden Authentic Chinese Cuisine it would be.

You will find today’s blog rather short of text. I wanted to be part of the conversation and that is hard to do when taking notes. But you will see from the photos that the restaurant is large and brightly colored with dark chairs and the tables covered with red cloths,

with Chinese ceramics,

and with Chinese prints hung against paneled wood walls.

We agreed that we each would pick one dish from the long menu and each would be passed, thanks to the handy lazy Susan in the center of the table. And, just in case we needed more food, added one additional dish. We had a lot of food.

Martha, Chuck, and I started with cups of flavorful hot and sour soup. And then the plates began to arrive.

Shredded Pork in Hot Garlic Sauce with bamboo shoots, wood ear mushrooms, celery, onions, and carrots.

Garlic Green Beans with carrots and onions.

Orange Chicken tossed with hot chili peppers and fresh orange peel.

Hot Spicy Noodles with scallions, garlic, chili peppers and bean sprouts stir fried with ground shrimp and chicken in a hot and spicy brown sauce

Honey Walnut Prawns—prawns coated with house-made honey mayonnaise sauce and topped with glazed walnuts and garnished with lemon slices and red cherries

Hunan Beef (Kings’ Beef)—beef with a light egg batter fried to crispy with hot chili pepper and peanuts. Specialty created by Head Chef Jia Zhong

Fried Rice

Sesame Chicken

The lazy Susan was spinning as we all sampled one or more times from the serving plates. Finally we had eaten our fill and, as you can see from this photo, we took the remains home in three to-go boxes.

l. to r., Steve, Neil, Barbara, Martha, and Kate

Chuck and I took the one containing the green beans and the spicy noodles back to Lodi with us and it fed us amply the following noon.

Way too soon we had to pile back into our cars but, before heading back to Lodi, we made a quick stop back at Martha’s for apple pie and ice cream. We really should have taken a photo!

Truly a 5.0 Addie visit.

As a footnote: I know that the Christmas season has officially begun. Last night I saw my first commercial for the Clapper. Are these sold any other time of the year? And for the redneck who has everything, you can buy Uncle Si and Willie Chias. Not familiar with Uncle Si and Willie? They are the stars of A & E’s Duck Dynasty. And am I the only one who thinks that K-Mart’s Jingle Bells commercial is really funny?

To review the role of Adler, Kitty Humbug, and the Addie rating system, read the November 14, 2011 blog.

“Just Because You're Paranoid…

doesn't mean they aren't after you.” 

For some reason, I kept thinking of this quote from Joseph Heller’s Catch-22 as we sat having lunch at Foster’s Bighorn in Rio Vista, CA.

To say that this restaurant is one-of-a-kind is a mild understatement. I am not sure that there is any place quite like it. Or, at least, we haven’t come across one. “Foster's Bighorn Bar and Restaurant was established in 1931 by Bill Foster, designed as a trophy haven…. This famous collection of wild game trophies shows off…wild animals, birds, and fish…. High-ceilinged, yet gloomy, claustrophobic—the vague musty flakings of big game kill still in the air. Moose and snarling wild boar heads stare down bar patrons” (roadsideamerica.com).

“…When Howard Lamothe visited Foster’s Bighorn…for a sundowner one night in 2004, he had no idea he’d soon be the proud owner of the California Delta’s most famous watering hole—complete with its 255 bristly inhabitants. ‘The previous owner was upset at being 73 years old and still having the bar when all she wanted was to be out having lunch with her friends and visiting her kids,’ says Lamothe.”

“…Walk into Foster’s, two hours east of San Francisco, and you see right away why people travel from all four corners of the globe to raise a glass at this…landmark. And also why an unsuspecting few take one look, turn tail—and exit at high speed when they see 510 beady animal eyes peering from an astonishing array of mounted trophies…” (Wanda Hennig at examiner.com).

You enter through the long narrow bar where “(b)lack and white photos…chronicle African vacations where Foster cheerily posed with a variety of carcasses” (roadsideamerica.com).

Then it’s on to the dining room. You thought there were trophies in the bar? Just wait.

“In the rear dining room, layers of heads reach the ceiling—water buffalo, lions, a rare giraffe. And the centerpiece of Foster's: the mounted head of a full grown African elephant—13 feet from base to trunk tip, with five-foot long tusks!

It is supposedly the largest mammal trophy in any collection in existence. Families ask to be seated under the elephant, which is posed, trunk extended, as if roaring in anger…” (roadsideamerica.com).

It is this trophy that I consider to be the most disconcerting. And while I would like to think that we have evolved in our thinking, an article by Adam Vaughan in the December, 2, 2013 issue of The Guardian states: “Africa will lose one-fifth of its elephants in the next decade if the continent's poaching crisis is not stopped, data published on Monday shows. There were about 10 million African elephants (Loxodonta africana) at the turn of the 20th century, but that number has fallen to half a million due to poaching and habitat loss…” So perhaps we haven’t evolved that far.

My next thought was whether they ever clean these things. Fortunately, “(w)hen he became the proud owner of Foster’s Bighorn, Lamothe made the removal of 60 years of dust a priority. First he closed the bar area, took down the animals, brushed their coats, repainted the walls, and returned the critters to their spots… Then the walls and animals in the dining area got their makeover” (Wanda Hennig at examiner.com).

“…Soon after taking over, Lamothe was enjoying the attention the new-look Foster’s was getting and the fact that everybody seems to be coming back. But times—and attitudes—have changed. Just as Lamothe has no desire to hunt and shoot, he doesn’t want anybody under the table. ‘I tell my bartenders we’re interested in people’s first three drinks, not their last three. We don’t need to get them drunk. We just need to cheer them up’” (Wanda Hennig at examiner.com). And the volume of business that Sunday noon is testament to the success of the new Foster’s.

But Foster’s is not just a curiosity piece. It is also a restaurant and, based on our two visits (the first in August of 2009), a pretty good one at that. And in a place that celebrates big game hunting, there are a number of “sissy” menu items. The list of salads includes: Asian Chicken Salad with mandarin oranges, crispy won tons, and toasted almonds with a light Asian balsamic dressing; Crunchy Thai with spring mix and slivers of veggies topped with shredded chicken, peanuts, and Thai dressing; and Endive Salad with thinly sliced red and white endive and other greens, bleu cheese crumbles, dried cranberries, and toasted walnuts with light honey vinaigrette.

Barb’s choice of lunch was the Fish and Chips—three large pieces of cold water Alaskan Pollock (one of which Chuck ate along with his lunch and which he pronounced to be very good due to its thin and crisp coating).

Chuck, displaying his inner macho, ordered the Double Foster’s Burger that is described on the menu as “available for seventeen year-olds, truck drivers, or roughnecks.”

I could smell the “char” as soon as his plate hit the table. This was the Maillard reaction (see our December 1, 2013 entry) in spades.

I had no trouble with my choice. I had fond memories of the calamari strips that I had eaten here in 2009; it was at Foster’s that I had my first experience with calamari that was not in rings and tentacles form.

So was my memory correct? No. They were even better than I remembered. Sweet. Tender. Coated with the same almost brittle batter that covered Barb’s fish.

And the fries that accompanied all three of our plates were also first rate—crisp and not oily.

As we left following our 4.5 Addie lunch, I felt that all 510 mounted eyes were following our departure. But I’m not paranoid.

To review the role of Adler, Kitty Humbug, and the Addie rating system, read the November 14, 2011 blog.

It’s Been a Busy Day

We ate tacos at La Fortuna. We sampled olives at Granzella’s. And we observed large flocks of birds at the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge. It should be time to head back south to home. But it’s not. We have one more stop to make. At Nancy’s Airport Café in Willows.

“Farmers, ranchers, hunters, big rig drivers and an occasional traveler fortunate enough to stumble on the place.... That’s who you’ll find at Nancy’s Airport Café in Willows CA. And befitting the crowd, the portions are hefty, the food is great and it’s served with a healthy dose of patriotism” (Larry Levine at tabletalkatlarrys.com).

“The café is decorated with historical photographs of airplanes…. Pilots fly in from afar for the good food; we are known among travelers and truck transport drivers, who always know where to get a good meal. Frequent customers include racers from Thunderhill Raceway, local farmers, Department of Forestry Service workers, seasonal hunters as well as the local Willows residents who have been coming to Nancy's Airport Cafe for years…” (nancysairportcafe willows.com).

And Nancy’s was one of the stops made by Josh Sens and his family as recounted in his article for Via Magazine. “…(I)n Willows…I informed our children that you can trust the lemon meringue pie at any truck stop where the clientele wear billed caps and the waitress calls you ‘Hon.’"

Nancy’s was one of the stops when Chuck’s cousin Barbara and her friend from San Francisco made their mini “eating I-5” road trip. And a friend of Barbara’s friend (Or was it a friend of a friend of Barbara’s friend?) relayed a story about eating there one day and watching a small plane land on the runway and someone from the kitchen running out and handing the pilot an order of food. This gives new meaning to the concept of “take out.”

We arrived at the time of the afternoon when it is too late for most to be eating lunch and too early for most to be eating dinner. Therefore, we had the place pretty much to ourselves.

The menu contained items that you would expect in a small town (population 6,128) diner—sandwiches, burgers, meatloaf, pot roast, and chicken fried steak. But the menu did not include a grilled cheese sandwich and Barbara was hungry for a grilled cheese sandwich. No problem. They would be happy to make her one. Try that at most of the national franchise restaurants. So she got her grilled cheese along with an order of curly fries.

Neither Chuck nor I could resist the cheeseburger special advertised on a banner just outside the entrance doors. A cheeseburger with fries for only $3.99 with the—as advertised--“prurchase” of a beverage?

And pie for only an additional $2.00? Sold. Except for me—big spender that I am—I upgraded to the bacon cheeseburger.

While we are waiting for our food to arrive, Chuck begins looking around the café for photo subjects.

He turns his head to the left and espies the large white menu board hanging over the kitchen pass-through. “Broasted chicken!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know they have broasted chicken!”

For those of who unfamiliar with broasted chicken, broasting “is a method of cooking chicken and other foods using a pressure fryer and condiments. The technique was invented by L.A.M. Phelan in the early 1950s and is marketed by the Broaster Company of Beloit, Wisconsin, which Phelan founded…. The method essentially combines pressure cooking with deep frying chicken that has been marinated and breaded. The company licenses the ‘broasted’ trademark to more than 5,510 purchasers of its equipment who follow its specifications and recipes and undertake a periodic certification process. The arrangement is not a traditional franchise in that the licensee does not owe ongoing royalty payments” (wikipedia.org).

We had our first broasted chicken shortly after moving to the Philadelphia area and during our two-year experiment in urban living. Down the corner and around the block was a small store-front broasted chicken take-out stand, and it was a regular Friday night dinner stop. To reach the store one had to pass by the truck from which a gentleman would be selling fruits and vegetables and, when sales slacked, preach the gospel through a bullhorn. (I am sure that I have told this story before, but I operate under no illusion that my words are forever etched in your memory.)

Anyway, how could Chuck not have realized the Nancy’s sells broasted chicken. There is a sign advertising it on the exterior of the building. There is a large poster just inside the doors. And, of course, the aforementioned large menu board. So while we are waiting, Chuck

is trying to estimate how long he would need to wait following his cheeseburger to be hungry again and could order chicken.

So was he (I) happy with the cheeseburger (above) (bacon cheeseburger, below)? Very much so. It came on a toasted bun (always a good touch) and had the flavor of having been cooked on a flat top seasoned by years of hamburgers. And I swapped my fries for a side of very good potato salad.

And since Nancy’s is known for pie, we had to end our meal by ordering a slice of apple for Barb. “With ice cream?” the server asked. Ice cream, this came with three scoops—large scoops—of ice cream.

Chuck and I decided to share a slice of very rich banana cream and, believe me, this was plenty for both of us.

So we settled back into the car for our return trip after this 4.5 Addie lunch. I was lucky. I was in the back seat by myself and could catch a brief nap. And Chuck’s broasted chicken will have to wait for another day.

To review the role of Adler, Kitty Humbug, and the Addie rating system, read the November 14, 2011 blog.