The Mendocino Coffee Cake: Northern California Dreamin’

Now that food writing is a legit profession, new college grads sometimes seek me out for advice. “How did you do it? What is the path to a career writing about food,” they ask, clutching their liberal arts diplomas in their anxious little hands.

“I haven’t got a clue,” I typically respond. Back in the day, I just kind of fell into it—the method I use for most momentous life decisions. Something happens, or you meet someone who knows someone, you turn right instead of left, sparks fly, and vous voilà! You have a career path!

My métier fell in my lap shortly after moving to California in 1982. After a few odd jobs, a freelance assignment to finish a cookbook opened a door into a world of people just like me. People who cared about every bite they took and who whispered the names of new restaurants in your ear like nuclear codes. Somehow I had jumped those gates the professional gatekeepers kept tightly locked. Quelle bonne chance!

In my husband and my early days in California, we crisscrossed the state trying to figure out where we were. Short trips were spent gazing at towering Sequoias, traversing meadows in Yosemite, sipping espressos in San Francisco, peering over the cliffs at Big Sur, and driving up and down the coast sampling glorious Pacific beaches.

Sausalito, just north of San Francisco. Unfiltered photo!

As the food writing gigs picked up momentum, our excursions took a turn. Now we had to keep moving in order to pack as many culinary experiences as possible into each waking moment. These over-the-top sensory marathons were mostly up North, in the birthplace of California cuisine. 

We would start with a quick flight to San Francisco. After a few days in the city, with side trips to Berkeley, we might drive up the coast to Napa and Sonoma. Our young son Joe often came along to help with the eating. Though his favorite road stop was Denny’s, I knew that if I kept my mouth shut, he would outgrow the desire to be like everyone else. Of course, we always threw in an obligatory pit stop at In-N-Out just for him.

For Joe.

But once we hit San Francisco, the serious eating began. Starting with breakfast, never at the hotel, we would tick off our reservations. First we might shoot over to Berkeley for breakfast at Cafe Fanny—the casual spot owned by Alice Waters, the grande dame of California cuisine whose dining room at Chez Panisse was still out of our reach.

From there we would pick up several pains au levains at Acme in case we got hunger pangs during the day. Acme’s crusty sourdough was like a shining North Star for us francophiles back when good bread meant a trip to the touristy wharf. As owner/baker Steve Sullivan, who started at Chez Panisse, still says, “We strive to make the best bread that we possibly can.” His current location at SF’s gentrified Ferry Building is a must stop for today’s Instagram-crazed foodies.

Our stomachs full, we would zoom back to the city for a lunch—or two. Usually we dined at one trending place, and then a quaint joint in Little Italy or Chinatown for backstory. The restaurant that typifies those heady moments of falling in love with California’s French inspired cuisine was Zuni Café. A rustic bistro nestled on the corner of Market and Franklin, Zuni elevated everything—leafy green salads, perfectly chilled oysters mignonette, roast chickens from the wood-burning oven—to a Zen experience. Chef Judy Rodgers designed the perfect environment, from the afternoon light streaming through tall casement windows, to the tiny upstairs tables perfect for watching the action on the floor below, the place was pure magic. Still operating in the same location, it is the temple I stop in to contemplate my luck at being alive whenever I’m in town. 

Zuni, circa 2011.

If we stayed a few days longer and made it to the wine country, lunch at Mustards Grill, on St. Helena Highway was always rejuvenating. A roadside diner run by a woman chef with a great wine selection and colorful garden salads, sandwiches and crab cakes signaled we were now in the Valley—time to take a deep breath, and eat and drink with the pros.

One time we ignored deadlines at home and drove farther North, to Mendocino. I had heard from aficionados about a quaint little place called Café Beaujolais located in a cottage a short walk from the windswept headlands. It seems insane in retrospect to drive so far for food, but I had to taste the renowned breakfasts and fresh pastries. The scenery wasn’t bad either.

It could get moody on the coast.

Beaujolais, started by 25-year-old Margaret Fox in 1977, was a post-hippie outpost for those who preferred crême fraiche with their granola. The place was so rustic, so charmant that it was sophisticated. Reading Fox’s quirky book, Cafe Beaujolais, on the plane back to Los Angeles lit a fire in me that sparked several years of thinking and writing about food. She spoke so frankly and deeply that she legitimized a passion that others thought frivolous. The Café Beaujolais book, equal parts memoir and recipe collection, is still prized by collectors.

The pre-breakfast coffee in hotel room.

During our current baking sessions, I wanted to pass along a Café Beaujolais recipe to Piper—a sort of good omen for finding her métier. Interestingly, Fox had placed the recipe for her excellent Spicy Buttermilk Coffee Cake in the “Breakfast/Light Meals” section rather than with “Desserts,” where narrower minds might have placed it.

“Should I really make a light meal of this sweet, rich cake?” Piper might ask. In good conscience, Grandma would have to say no.

But if no one’s watching? Go for it, girl!

Thanks to Margaret Fox, Café Beaujolais for this easy two-bowl, one-pan wonder, excellent for entertaining a large group. 

RECIPE

Mendocino Coffee Cake

2 1/4 cups flour

1/2 tsp salt

2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp ginger

1 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup white sugar

3/4 cup corn oil

1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp baking powder

1 egg, beaten

1 cup buttermilk

Preheat oven to 350F. Coat a lasagne pan (9 x 13 x 2) with spray or softened butter.

In a big bowl, mix together flour, salt, 1 tsp cinnamon, ginger, both sugars and corn oil. Mix by hand with a big spoon.

For the crumbly topping: Measure out 3/4 cup of the mixture and place in a medium bowl. Add chopped nuts, and the remaining 1 tsp of cinnamon. Mix with a spoon and set aside.

To the big bowl holding the flour mixture, add baking soda, baking powder, egg, and buttermilk. Mix with a spoon—small lumps are ok.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, smoothing the top. Sprinkle the crumbly sugar topping evenly over the batter. Bake for 40-45 minutes. Serve from the pan.

Feeds about a dozen for brunch.