Fruit, glorious fruit, now is your time. The farmers' market doesn't come alive until the strawberries and cherries show up, and now with stone fruit season in full, chin-dripping swing, we have months of glory ahead. Perfect timing, then, for Plum Gorgeous, by Romney Steele, subtitled Recipes and Memories from the Orchard.

These recipes are as much inspirations as instructions, of the why-didn't-I-think-of-that variety. Once you read a description like Strawberry, Nasturium, and Cucumber Salad, Heirloom Tomatoes and Peaches with Burrata, or Honey-Baked Figs with Lavender and Wine, you almost don't need to bother with the cups and teaspoons; the idea is enough. Which is how the generous, bohemian-spirited Steele wants you to cook, anyway. Get the adorable but steely-hearted Miette bakery cookbook for your Louboutin-wearing, alpha-domme gal-pal, the one with the pink KitchenAid mixer, unchippable nails and spotless counters. Plum Gorgeous is a little more messy, much more colorful and a lot more forgiving. Starting with great fruit, it would be pretty hard to screw up any of these unfussy, casually delicious dishes, both sweet and savory, all seasoned with a dash of whimsy. The chapters follow the fruit of California's seasons: winter's citrus, spring's berries, the stone fruits of summer and the figs, apples, quinces, grapes, and pears of autumn.

Strawberry, Nasturtium, and Cucumber Salad. Photo: Sara Remington

Leafing through the book, it’s impossible not to be charmed at first sight. Read it cover to cover, though, from chirpy, service-y headnotes to poetic musings, and you might see how the whole thing risks falling into the sugar-coated, envy-making genre I'd call how nice for you. In her previous book, My Nepenthe, Steele told the story of her grandparents, the founders of Big Sur's fabled restaurant Nepenthe, and her family's involvement with the place through the decades. She alluded, gracefully and with the lightest of touches, to the challenges and complications of combining business, family, and the coastal counterculturalism of the 60s and 70s. Here, though, there's almost nothing but sweetness. Not every cookbook needs to be a memoir, especially not one whose ostensible purpose is simply fruit and fun. But without revealing a real story, a backbone of truth, writing that's aiming for a romantic, color-drenched poetry of the senses can end up reading like advertising copy, breathless and aspirational.

The photographs, by Sara Remington (who also shot My Nepenthe), are absolutely gorgeous, ravishingly styled and lit to look perfectly effortless. I wanted to live in the place captured by these photographs, and I also wanted to know if the cute skirt and candy-colored wellies on page 15 came in my size, and if there was express-shipping for polka-dot red dress blowing in the breeze on page 106. Was this a cookbook, or the latest Anthropologie catalog? The more Steele pushes the poetry of the idyllic years she spent raising two children in a mountainside cottage, surrounded by fog, flowers, and fruit trees, the more the reader notices how much she's assiduously sponged out. No sharp edges, no stress, just children spooned in the same bed "warm and tender like new-rising bread." Whispers run throughout: a murmur of returning home to Big Sur both "discontent and comforted by the coziness of home," of “closeness being at once beautiful and a challenge, heartbreaking and poetic.” But what happened? How did she end up, presumably a single mother, in that tiny house? A little more heartbreak explained might have balanced all that honey.

Kumquats and Toasted Couscous with Halloumi. Photo: Sara Remington

Maybe I'm just being crabby, envious of those azure Big Sur mornings and her memories of baking tarts surrounded by the lemon-yellow walls of Henry Miller's kitchen. Or perhaps it was too many lines like this one: "By this time we were drinking wine and nibbling on the last of the kumquat and couscous salad—just photographed for the book—under the shade of a grapefruit tree in the garden as the sun went down, and lavishing spoonfuls of rose petal jam onto toast with runny cheese for dessert." Well, how nice for you. This is the sort of thing that can take a lot of Raspberry Ratafia to swallow. Honestly, I could deal with the grapefruit tree, the sunset, even the kumquats. But did the jam really have to be "lavished?" Wasn’t a spoonful enough?

Of course, no one’s buying cookbook-memoirs called My Trip to Safeway for Another Box of Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies. Every book like this, however based in real experience, is packaging a fantasy where the grapefruit trees are shady, the jam lavishly spread, and the kumquat salad always ready for its close-up. So enjoy the view, whip up the Rhubarb Mustard, Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Moscato Apricots, Plum Blackberry Sorbet, or Tomato-Grape Ricotta Flatbread, and imagine you’re in a cottage overlooking Big Sur. Now where I can find that perfect polka-dot dress?

Plum Blackberry Sorbet. Photo: Sara Remington

It's been well over two years now since the hungry writers at Bay Area Bites mentioned Big Sur Bakery. I figured it was time. Now, I can't quite pin down the exact moment I became obsessed with Big Sur Bakery. It was well before the recent Bon Appetit mention and even before the stunning My Nepenthe cookbook came out. I feel like it's always been this legend-like place that I've been trying to get past relationships, friends, and family to tag along and try. But most folks always have the same reaction:

You want to drive 5 hours round-trip to go to a bakery? In one day?
And I usually reply something like this: No, no. Clearly these people are missing something. It's not just a bakery--it's a cafe as well. With real food, too.
Oh, sorry. Let me get this straight: So you want to drive over five hours to go to a cafe?

And then I met my friend Danielle. She and her husband drove down Highway 1 on July 4th and had a chance to join in the Big Sur Bakery's special festivities (Danielle swears she's never enjoyed baked beans until she'd tried theirs). Oh and did I mention they did it in one day just for the heck of it? Reason #1 why I like Danielle. Reason #2 came to light when she mentioned how we should drive down and eat lunch there someday because she hadn't had a chance to try the normal, non-holiday menu. I didn't need much convincing. I'd found the best mini road-tripping, foccaccia-loving, landscape-gawking, jelly-donut eating companion ever. Our friend Janet had a chance to join us last minute, and we all set off on a recent cloudy Wednesday morning eager to see what all the buzz was about.

Decisions, Decisions at Big Sur Bakery

I was initially surprised at how small The Big Sur Bakery is from the inside. There are probably about ten tables and a nice wrap-around deck outside. The folks having lunch were a mix of tourists (donning hiking boots and cameras) and locals swinging in for a quick treat to take with them as they continued down the road. It has the kind of slow pace that makes you want to order a little something else when you're finished with your meal just so you can sit and languish away the afternoon. If you go for lunch as we did, do know that it's counter service only and the menu is much more limited than it is during dinner. Limited, but darn good. They display the lunch specials of the day in the bakery case right when you walk in, so you simply order and pay and they'll bring it on out to your table.

My two dining companions each ordered the seasonal corn soup and a slice of foccaccia: one with local tomatoes and caramelized onions and the other with leeks and goat cheese. Big Sur Bakery makes all of their breads and foccaccias on site in their wood-fired oven and it's apparent from the first bite. The crust is pleasantly soft yet chewy, and the toppings are thoughtful and would've been utterly delicious all on their own. That's the thing about the folks at The Big Sur Bakery: they're adamant about using local eggs and produce whenever possible, and you can taste this decision in the final product.

Foccaccias and Seasonal Corn Soup

For my own lunch, I decided to try the potato frittata and a side of house greens. The frittata was perfectly seasoned with a mix of herbs and a little salt and pepper. And the greens with shallots, roasted carrots and a lemon poppyseed dressing were quite memorable. A perfect compliment to the more substantial frittata.

Potato Fritatta and House Salad

Danielle was smart enough to take home a Citrus Morning Bun for the next day and reported back that it was a little pillow of heaven (yes, those were close to her exact words).

Breakfast Pastries at Big Sur Bakery

And my friend Janet made the wise decision to buy a jelly donut on our way out. They just looked too good to pass up. We had every intention of waiting until later that afternoon to try it, but we barely made it out the front door.

Strawberry Jelly Donut at Big Sur Bakery

This is, quite possibly, the best jelly donut I've ever had. We puzzled over what made it so extraordinary and decided it had to be the heaps of homemade strawberry jam, the fact that it seemed like the jam was actually baked right into the donut, the light airy dough, and the gentle and completely perfect dusting of sugar. If I lived close to Big Sur, I could be in a whole lot of trouble if this is a standard breakfast item.

I've been thinking about how to sum up our few hours at Big Sur Bakery. It's a special place-- that you can gather through recommendations from friends, numerous media reviews, and their very lovely cookbook. But I think the reason it remains so special is because there's a sense still --somehow-- that you've stumbled upon it. You leave feeling like it's your little place, and you can't wait to tell the friends back home who you know would appreciate it. I'll tell you this: I couldn't imagine any other place I would've wanted to be at 1 p.m. that Wednesday afternoon.

Big Sur Bakery
Highway 1
Big Sur, CA 93920
(831) 667-0520
Hours: Mon 8am-3pm; Tue-Sat 8am-8:30pm; Sun 8am-2:30pm

I stupidly made our reservation for 7:15pm, not even considering the fact that we might have wanted to see the magnificent Big Sur sunset from our perch at Nepenthe. (Sunset is currently at 7:27pm). I know, I know, kind of a cliché Big Sur "thing to do" but it was my husband's very first trip to the magical little coastal town of Big Sur and we were celebrating his 1-year anniversary of moving to the United States.

Upon recommendation from one of his basketball buddies, I had booked a table at the Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant, a little gem that apparently has been around for awhile, but which I'd never noticed or even heard of (even though I've been to Big Sur countless times.

It was an unseasonably warm evening and when we arrived the light was dusky and purple across the mountains behind us. The restaurant, even though it has quite a few windows, is cozy and dark and would make an excellent refuge from the typically foggy chilly weather I associate with that part of the coast.

It wasn't terribly busy, but it did take quite some time for the waitstaff/owner/host to work out where we'd be seated. Don't get me wrong, everyone was exceedingly friendly the entire evening, but it was a bit of foreshadowing to a night of slightly confused service. (Just to explain before I go on, there were a few instances of forgetfulness, and a general lack of confidence by the waitstaff; the restaurant could benefit from clarifying everyone's roles and responsibilities.)

Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant has a wood-fire oven which takes center stage on the menu. They base much of their seasonal, organic menu on dishes that can be baked, roasted, or braised in the oven. They also have a wood-fired grill.

The menu--which seems to change monthly--offers a handful of interesting salads and starters, five different pizzas (which looked amazing and which we vowed to try upon our return, and yes we will certainly be returning), a whole smattering of vegetable dishes (vegetarians take note: this place is an excellent choice for anyone who doesn't eat meat), and a well-thought-out selection of mains. In addition, there were two additional starters and mains on offer.

We started with one of the salad specials, a mound of microgreens grown and harvested just behind the restaurant, tender spring fava beans, baby asparagus, and fresh peas all lightly dressed with carrot-ginger vinaigrette. It was incredibly fresh, springtime on a plate. We also had a gorgeous salad of butter lettuce, microgreens, shaved fennel, pecorino, tarragon and lemon vinaigrette, which was perfectly balanced with fresh, tangy, sweet, and salty flavors.

The star of the evening had to be our main-dish special though: rabbit in the wood-fire oven, cooked two ways: roasted saddle of rabbit wrapped in Serrano ham and braised whole leg in au jus; served with French white beans, pancetta, carrots, and braised greens. It was so good in fact that we couldn't help but tell the tables next to us that they must order it. We also shared a grilled flatiron steak with red wine gravy and smashed Yukon gold potatoes, carrots, and braised fennel. The steak was tender and deeply flavored, but was a bit on the rare side (we had ordered medium-rare). The potatoes were a good choice, but neither of us loved the fennel and thought that could have been left out of the mix.

The wine list leans toward offerings from the central coast, with additional French and Italian wines. There are a decent number of wines available for under $40, but the prices go up rather quickly from there. We chose a gorgeous medium-bodied earthy Sicilian nero d'avola. Granted it was a abnormally warm evening, but the wine was served slightly on the warm side, a big peeve of mine. But the staff gladly chilled the wine for a minute and then it was perfect.

We finished with a brown butter rhubarb tart with brown butter ice cream and a tangy lemon pudding cake with lemon sorbet and huckleberries, both of which were perfect marriages of winter flavors (brown butter and citrus) meet early springtime fruits (rhubarb and huckleberries). We ordered a light moscato to pair alongside the dessert, but even though we reminded the waiter when the dishes arrived, the wine never did. Well, it did but only after we were long finished.

If you can get past the service not being spot on, which in my opinion you should, and accept some less polished occasional missteps (but always with a smile and an apology!), then Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant has a lot to offer. Romantic, tucked away, local and seasonal, and most of all superbly delicious.

Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant
Highway One
Big Sur, CA 93920
831.667.0520
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