Friday, February 25, 2011

Lunch on the Coast - Moonstone Beach

In a pleasant turn of events I got to spend this week not working, not exercising, not running errands but . . . ON VACATION! I am visiting the central coast of California this week and testing out some new recipes, some local haunts and one or two tourist-y traps. Driving from San Francisco the weather did not bode well for a beach vacation, but after about 18 hours of serious rain (even a dusting of snow on the tops of the hills!) things turned around and we  have enjoyed sunny, mid-50's weather - perfect for beach strolls with a well-loved sweater.
After some serious tourism we went to lunch at Moonstone Beach Bar & Grill. This isn't the height of cuisine by any stretch of the imagination but it was tasty and exactly what you would want sitting across from a big ocean view framed by bright yellow blooming oxalis. Being beachside, I decided fish was in order and tried the grilled salmon sandwich. It was pleasantly delish - standard french roll, out of season under-ripe tomato (yah yah), yum yum YUM tartar sauce, and very moist perfectly cooked salmon (hallelujah!).

(I want this - It is roughly 1/3 the size of my apartment)

We also couldn't resist the burger (I have had more burgers and fries in the last eight days than I care to/is healthy to admit). The burger was pretty standard as burgers go - nice pink in the middle, once again good sauce ("secret sauce" - aka Thousand Island). In addition I snuck in a few bites of fish tacos that were really good and accompanied (on the side - so thoughtful) by a "spicy" (a certified spice wimp, I deemed it spice-less, but scrumptious) crema.

The meal was a good, slightly overpriced, moderately touristy, immensely worth it lunch. More Cambria ramblings to follow . . .

1 comment:

  1. What!? Vacation!?!? Isn't your LIFE a vacation!? Hee heeeee!!! Meanwhile, as regular reader and commenter on this blog, I would like little captions under the photos of things that otherwise my imagination will convince me comprise some sort of lady-of-the-night boudoir racy-bedside shot and force me to place late-night calls to your parents expressing my concern of your using the whole "I'm a foodie" thing as a cover for your real job, sending them in a blind parental panic hundreds of miles north to do an intervention and force you into a halfway house, halfway between convent for non-shiksas and rehab center, where they serve nothing but vegan gelatine with canned fruit cocktail jelled inside it, undercooked eggplant and overcooked fish.