California diary

San Francisco, Scribe, and soup dumplings

I had the most restorative time in California last week. After my calendar opened up last minute, I decided to book that trip back to NorCal that I’ve been putting off forever, sandwiching a visit to my mom with some quality time with girlfriends.

I stayed with my friend Adrienne at her apartment in the Castro. It’s one of those San Francisco homes that’s full of character—original moulding, heavy doors with ornate hardware, natural light flooding in through bay windows.

We kicked off the weekend with a glass of natural wine at Bar Gemini SF, right around the corner from Heath and Tartine Manufactory, slipping into a corner booth without a reservation.

On Friday, I hoofed it to Neighbor’s Corner for a morning cortado and to make final edits on my last letter. Breathless on my way up a hill I should have anticipated, I texted Adrienne that Google Maps ought to come with an incline warning. (Apparently it does.)

Amy scooped us in her SUV shortly after, and we cruised up to Sonoma for a noon tasting at Scribe. Stepping onto the property feels like happening upon a European garden villa: gray-washed teak tables, mismatched terracotta planters spilling over with flowers, birds and bees humming about.