Santa Fe: Sunday Brunch, a Glorious Sunset, and Japanese Food

On our final day in Santa Fe, after a straight 8 hours of sleep, a rarity in my world, I woke up at 6:30 just as it was starting to get light, though the sun was still not above the horizon at 7:30 when I started moving about. Ann made a pot of coffee and joined me in the living room as the sun was coming up.

Coffee in the Early Morning Sunshine

On the Back Patio, a Reminder of Where We Are

As we sat with our cups of coffee, the birds were busy just outside the house. For an hour after the sun cleared the mountains to our east, hordes of birds started actively foraging in the shrubs by the house. At one point, something much larger moved across the patio and the motion caught my eye. It turned out to be a spotted ground squirrel that I recognized from our trip to San Angelo TX earlier this year. This Rock Squirrel, however, was much more petite and way less black than those big monsters we saw on the banks of the Concho River in Texas.

Dainty Rock Squirrel

Rob and Dyce had most of a day planned for us starting with brunch, then cocktails at sunset, and finally dinner. Dyce really wanted to know what we wanted to do in the afternoon between lunch and sunset. Ann and I do not have to do everything there is to do; we are OK with both doing nothing and letting things come to us as they will. We do not have to have a plan for every moment. And so we headed out the door to brunch with the idea that whatever we were supposed to do would come to us in its own time.

Late morning, we drove to Cafe Fina in a former service station on I-25 southeast of Santa Fe out toward Las Vegas, NM. I had not realized on leaving the house that the day was exceedingly windy, especially on the exposed hilltop where the cafe patrons had to shield their eyes from the wicked clouds of dust whipped up by the gusts.

The drive out from town let me compare and contrast this area with back home. It is more rolling here in northern New Mexico and flatter back home. The rocks are sedimentary here versus volcanic in Oregon. Here, the piñon-juniper scrub is a good bit thicker than the juniper scrub at home. There is little sagebrush here, but much more in Central Oregon.

The plan was to meet another of Rob and Dyce's friends, Joleen, a civil rights attorney. She arrived shortly after us and while Ann held down our table, we got in line to order food. Cafe Fina is a counter service restaurant; you order at the counter and a runner brings the food to your table when it is ready.

The five of us were sitting at the table when the runner brought out four plates on a platter. Missing was Ann's omelet which we assumed that the runner couldn't fit on his tray. When he didn't come right back with her plate, we figured out that nobody ordered the omelet. I thought Rob or Dyce had ordered it; likewise, they thought that I had ordered it.

I went back to the counter and ordered her omelet which our runner was very kind to expedite in the kitchen. While I was at the counter, I also bought two pounds of Chimayo chile powder to take back home. I only have a few ounces left in the pantry. A thing about New Mexican chile: it is spicy, so even medium is going to pack a bit of punch. I always buy medium because I like a lot of chile in my dishes and I don't want them overwhelmingly spicy. My operating theory is that I can always make a dish spicier, but I can never make it less spicy. Medium is a good spice level from which to work.

Breakfast Burrito with Green Chile

Score! Two Pounds of Chimayo Red

After breakfast and saying goodbye to Joleen, Dyce asked if we would like to make the short drive out of town to Ski Santa Fe up in the mountains so that we could view New Mexico from on high. That seemed like a good idea to us. As we were headed in that direction, Rob asked if we would like to see the famous helix-shaped spiral staircase at the Gothic Revival Loretto Chapel, former Catholic Church and present privately-owned museum that we photographed all lit up on Friday night.

Knowing that we would be going to Santa Fe, I had the staircase on my mental list of things to see. I'm a decent finish carpenter and that staircase has always fascinated me. The physics of such a staircase are extremely tricky in that it probably should collapse under its own weight. The thought process is that it stands because the inner spiral is tight enough to act more or less as a straight beam. It is even more impressive if you consider that it was built without the handrails; those were added later for safety. We went to have a look at it before heading out of town.

The Gothic Revival Loretto Chapel

The So-Called "Miraculous" Staircase

In the Gift Shop
Weird Juxtaposition of Santa Claus and Catholicism

After spending ten minutes visiting the chapel, we headed north on Artist Road in the direction of 12,621-foot Santa Fe Baldy to Ski Santa Fe. Situated in Santa Fe National Forest near Lake Peak and Tesuque Peak, Ski Santa Fe is the southernmost big mountain ski area in the US. It wasn’t the skiing we were after, of course. We went because it’s a nice drive through the mountains with great views at the overlooks. From on high, we could see all the way to Sandia Peak near Albuquerque. We had not seen the Sandia Crest yet because it was dark when we landed in Albuquerque.

I Love the Blues in the Mountain Ranges

As we ascended ever higher towards the ski area, I loved watching how the flora changed. Down at the Santa Fe elevation of 7000 feet, the rolling hills are covered in typical piñon and juniper scrub. As we climbed, tall Ponderosas started dominating the shorter scrub. If you are observant, you will notice that the Ponderosas in New Mexico don’t look like ours in Central Oregon. The Southwestern Ponderosa Pine is shorter and more rounded with flatter branches and shorter needles than our Columbia Ponderosa Pines.

Climbing further up the mountain and despite of the profusion of pines, nearer the ski area at about 10,000 feet, large groves of Aspens grow in masses near the road. Aspens grow in thickets, all trees sprouting from a common root system. While this grove is large, there are far bigger groves. The largest clonal Aspen thicket is located near Salt Lake City and is estimated to contain 40,000 trees.

Aspens to the Horizon
These are Likely to Share a Single Root System

We continued ascending the nicely paved and well-maintained highway through S-curve after S-curve with a few horseshoe bends thrown in until we reached the parking area for Ski Santa Fe where we looped around and started our descent towards town. I loved getting out and seeing the scenery which is so different to ours in Central Oregon.

We could not have asked for a prettier day, with bluebird skies and barely a cloud to be seen (though you can see a hint of a lenticular cloud above the mountains in the photo above; more about which later in this post). As in most desert areas, the nighttime temperatures are cold, below freezing, but the daytime temperatures are pleasant in the abundant sunshine.

This is no different than in Oregon except it seems to me that we have more clouds in the winter thanks to storms off the Pacific that manage to clear the Cascades and bring us our winter snow. In contrast to Santa Fe where the summer is the "wet" season, we get all our precipitation in the winter. The limited amounts of rainfall in the two places are similar, hence the common use of the term desert.

Back at the house with plans to take it easy for the afternoon, everyone settled in for a rest after our go-go-go weekend. I took advantage of the bright sun and warm temperatures to wander about the neighborhood. The rental house is situated in rolling sandy red dirt hills covered in piñon and juniper scrub. Along the open spaces, there is a lot of rabbitbrush, prickly pears, and yuccas. There are no chollas or sagebrush in this vicinity.

It seems that every part of the country has its form of prickly pears. The Opuntia genus is varied and widespread. In this area, the form called the Tulip Prickly Pear has fearsome-looking thorns, though those are not the ones you need to worry with. It is the fine hair-like ones that you see as clumps of yellow on the top edge in the photo below that you need to worry with. They are hard to see and will irritate the heck out of you should you get them in your skin.

Although yuccas are common in much of the US, I no longer see them on any regular basis as they are not found except in garden plantings in the Pacific Northwest. I used to see them with some regularity on my hikes in Virginia, but even though our climate in Central Oregon is well-suited to yuccas, this is not in their range. All the yuccas that I saw in New Mexico have extremely fine leaves, in contrast to the broader-leaved versions we saw back east.

Fearsome Thorns on Tulip Prickly Pear, Opuntia phaeacantha

Local Species of Yucca with Fine Leaves

More Rabbitbrush Seedheads in the Sun

During the later afternoon while sitting in the living room taking in the sights out the windows, Ann noticed a series of lenticular clouds above the Sangre de Cristos. From the Latin word for lens, a lenticular cloud is most often formed when moist air flows over a mountain. If the temperature is cold enough to condense the moisture into a cloud, a seemingly stationary, long and thin cloud may form on the leeward side parallel to the direction of the wind. Lenticular clouds may form in layers, which is a really fun sight to see.

Lenticular Clouds over the Sangre de Cristos

Lenticular Clouds: Nature's Own Abstract Art

All weekend, Rob and Dyce had been talking about taking us to see the fabulous sunset that they had sent us photos of before we arrived in New Mexico. With plans to arrive just before sundown and have pre-dinner cocktails, we left for the Four Seasons Rancho Encantado about 4pm, sunset being about 4:25-4:30 this time of year. As we sat there enjoying a glass of wine, the sunset color started off amazing and once the sun was well below the horizon, became almost indescribably unbelievable. It's a good thing I brought my camera along. I shot photos for about a half an hour, from when the sun was just on the horizon to almost dark with the lights of Los Alamos twinkling in the distance.

After it got dark, we sat around chatting with our especially gregarious server (from Virginia no less) until we needed to leave for dinner. This gave me an opportunity to take some photos around the Four Seasons. I am always fascinated by the interplay of light and dark in high contrast photos.

Dinner was planned for an izakaya at a local resort and I was looking forward to a change-up from my steady diet of carb-laden New Mexican classics. We made the short drive from the Four Seasons to the Ten Thousand Waves resort that we passed earlier in the day on our way to Ski Santa Fe. Ten Thousand Waves is an homage to a Japanese onsen or mountain spa, resort, and restaurant complex. We had reservations for a tapas-style meal at their izakaya called Izanami.

Parking is very tight along the winding road up the steep hillside from the base of the resort to the restaurant, but after a complete lap around the property, we arrived back at the restaurant just as another car was leaving, giving us essentially front row parking. The tour of the property trying to find parking was not without benefit: it looks magical all lit up at night. I am sure that it is equally but differently beautiful in the light of day.

Second Best Dish in Santa Fe: Gobo (Burdock) Salad

After a leisurely meal of way too much food, everything from temaki to karaage chicken, we set off in the dark for home. Back at the house, we sipped at more wine and played games until we were all good and tired, a great way to end our long weekend in Santa Fe. Ann and I went to bed tired from a long and wonderful weekend, looking forward to being in our own bed again, but dreading a long travel day on Monday and having to spend yet another night away from home at PDX.

The story of our trip home continues at the bottom of the trip summary post.

Alaska Day 6: Playing the Local in Homer

After nearly a week of go, go, go in Alaska, we intentionally planned nothing at all for today, Saturday morning. We rolled out of bed at 7 and took our coffee outside on the patio to enjoy the bright sunshine and the spectacular views of Kachemak Bay State Park, the best views we would have during our stay in Homer. Unlike last evening, today we had great views of one of the more notable mountains in the Park called Poot Peak. It is perhaps more affectionately known to locals as the chocolate drop for its perfectly symmetrical conical shape, just like a Hershey's Kiss.

Poot Peak, Kachemak Bay State Park

Panorama from the Patio

The meadow below the house of fireweed, angelica, cow parsnips, and stinging nettles, all in full bloom, was resplendent in the early morning sun. Especially bright were the scarlet red elderberries growing in mounds surrounding the meadow. Closer to the house, golden-crowned sparrows which are supposed to be ground feeders were up in the cow parsnips, harvesting seeds from the seed heads along with the goldfinches. Flycatchers were sallying from nearby trees and the noisy red-breasted nuthatches were busily chatting down in the small spruces.

Golden-Crowned Sparrow on Cow Parsnip

Angelica lucida is a Most Common Wildflower

Most mornings and afternoons, including today, we would see a small group, usually four in number, of sandhill cranes foraging in the meadow. We would see as many as nine, but generally four, working the open spaces along the hillside or noisily honking as they flew over.

I was sitting at the table sipping coffee and waiting for Ann to appear when Michael, knowing we had no plans for the day, asked me, “You want to go with me on a real Alaskan adventure?” Without hesitation, I said yes. Flash back to the fish that he was off obtaining when we arrived in late afternoon yesterday. His plan was to take the fish down to the public cleaning station on the Spit and break them down. At this point, he did not know that I am a retired chef who broke down fish every day of my restaurant career. 

Once we got coffeed up, we followed Mike in his Subaru, festooned with all kinds of antiwar bumper stickers, down to the Spit. Before noon on a Saturday well before the charter boats would be returning, it was easy to find a spot in the first cleaning station we came to. The city of Homer maintains several cleaning stations complete with stainless steel drain boards, sprayers, and a wagon for scrap. The pavilions are wrapped in fly netting and the entrances have vinyl strip doors to help keep the bugs out, a very, very nice set up, appropriate for the Halibut Fishing Capital of the World.

The station that we used was situated right on The Nick Dudiak Fishing Lagoon, better known as The Fishing Hole. The hole is a small pond with an inlet through a breakwater into the bay. Alaska Fish and Game stocks this pond with king and silver fry which imprint on the pond, migrate to the sea, fatten up there, and then return to the lagoon to spawn. Despite scads of would-be fishermen and a few jumping fish, I never saw a fish landed in the lagoon.

We lugged Mike's cooler into the station and unloaded five red salmon (Sockeyes) and a much larger King. He got the fish off of a buddy from Seldovia across the Bay for a song, especially because the King had a chunk taken out of its head by a seal and was therefore commercially unsaleable.

I hadn’t planned on a working vacation when we came to Alaska, but I'm not averse to work and got to work, first scaling the fish and then happily filleting them. Mike's fillet knife is a bit longer than mine that I have used for 35 years, so it took a minute to get used to, but my muscle memory is good despite not having busted out a salmon in five years. I stockpiled bits and pieces of trim with a plan to make them into handrolls later in the day. A woman was happy to take the heads, guts, and carcasses to use for chumming halibut.

Scaling Salmon in Prep for Filleting

After putting the cleaned fillets in the cooler on ice, Michael offered to buy as a beer. After working busting out salmon, I was plenty game for a beer. We drove down the spit a short ways to the Salty Dawg Saloon, tourist attraction of tourist attractions where at 12:30 on a Saturday, parking was almost impossible to find. In fact, Mike invented his own spot right in the middle of the lot, claiming that as a benefit of driving a beater, "Who would bang up their rental car on my beater?"

As we walked across the road to the instantly recognizable landmark, I could see that it was a hodgepodge of two tiny buildings jammed together and fronting a lighthouse tower. The Salty Dawg is so well known that whenever we mentioned Homer, the listener would inevitably say that we had to visit it.

The original building was one of the first cabins in Homer, built in 1897. It served many purposes until 1909 when a second building was added. After being the first post office, a railroad station, a grocery store, a coal mining office, a school house, and an office for Standard Oil Company, in 1957 it finally became the Salty Dawg Saloon. After the big earthquake in 1964, the buildings were moved to the current location and the iconic lighthouse tower was added between and behind them.

The Salty Dawg: I am Taller than the Doorway

On ducking really low to get through the door of the tiny log structure, above the usual chatter of a dive bar packed with patrons I could hear Toby Keith belting “I Love This Bar,” which seemed pretty appropriate if a lot cliché. When my eyes became accustomed to the dim lighting, I could see that every surface was covered in dollar bills. Ann added one to the collection.

Customary to Leave a Dollar on the Wall

We Were There

Tony: Local Color

After waiting at the very busy bar for a couple minutes, we finally got our beers from their tiny list of cans, nothing on draft. At least they had one IPA in a can. We took our drinks out on the patio and there were regaled by an old acquaintance of Michael's, flamboyant in a green Hawaiian shirt and sporting a three foot-long silver wig held in place with a bright blue scarf tied as a headband.

After we finished our drinks, Mike showed us around a bit on the boardwalk before we headed back to the house. My first impression of this part of the Homer Spit was as a typical tacky tourist attraction like many beach towns. We would get a closer look at the Spit in coming days.

Part way back to the house, Mike pulled to the side of the road and asked us if we were hungry and perhaps wanted to go get a decent sandwich. Living east of Homer, Mike lives in an enclave known as Fritz Creek. For sandwiches, he took us a mile or two beyond his house to the Fritz Creek General Store which offers a lot of things: gas, post office boxes and services, a deli, and a convenience store. We ordered sandwiches to take back to the house to eat out on the patio.

Fritz Creek General Store

After lunch, I helped Mike portion and vacuum seal his salmon, then I minced all the salmon trim in preparation for making handrolls for dinner. After cleaning up, I went foraging for dinner in town at the local Save-U-More store which, surprisingly to me, sells Kirkland-labelled products from Costco.

I picked up some nori, seaweed salad, and sriracha for the handrolls, but then I fell afoul of Alaska ABC laws when I grabbed a couple of bottles of Prosecco and headed for the check out where the cashier told me emphatically that I could not purchase alcohol at his register. I had to go to the register not fifteen feet away in the part of the store that is licensed to sell alcohol. This is not the last time that I will comment on the arcane liquor laws in Alaska on this trip. In a country of crazy liquor laws—thank you Supreme Court for leaving the laws to the 50 states—Alaska is right up there on the crazy spectrum.

Back at the inn, I put together a spicy salmon mix for our handrolls and we sat on the patio in the late evening sun while I rolled the salmon. The nori sheets were of the worst possible quality and were very dry, brittle, and tasteless. I could see that Michael was not the world's biggest fan of spicy salmon, but he put a brave face on it. Liberal application of Prosecco would help.

Post Prandial Pinot

Spicy Salmon Handrolls

After dinner and on towards 9pm, Mike lit a fire in his firepit and we sat around sipping Pinot, chewing the fat, and watching the sun slip towards the horizon in the west. Once the fire died down, we all headed for bed, Ann and I to hopefully rest up for walking the Spit from beginning to end and back again tomorrow.