Food 101

Along the 101 in San Diego's North County, the surf reigns. At all hours of the day, its worshipers gently bob up and down on their boards as they commune with the oceanic energy that will propel them on the ride of their lives.

The mighty Pacific with its rough swells and gentle sunsets drives much of the culture up and down the coast of California. Schedules are flexed to catch the better wave. The pace of life reflects the need to come up for air. Fitness isn't so much vanity; but necessity. And the food scene is as casual as the region's dress code. No shirt? No shoes? Take a seat. 

This week, I traveled to Southern California to see my restaurant test in action and to observe exactly how it fits within the progressive food philosophies of this very distinctive part of the world. A place where the only thing stronger than the blond surf culture is the coffee served on shore. And generally speaking, it's not brewed by the green mermaid.

Where the best brunch in town is bacon scented and exclusive to the campsite RVs lining the cliffs of the coast. Where the traditional American Fast Foodie flocks to one particular specialist with a cult following.  

Where consumers in search of an authentic borderland bite pledge their loyalty to the taco shop that best fits their understanding of Mexicana. Where fast casual is fresher than any brand promise Panera can offer; fresh on the 101 inherently means it's imported directly from the Pacific and the farms that kiss its shores. 

Where the fine side of dining isn't stuffy or stodgy and typically includes a sunset view. 

And where the independent, family-owned, local, skateboard ride away destination is king. It's what's real. And honest. And good.

Which brings me to my dilemma: trying to figure out how the nation's largest restaurant chain can appeal to a consumer set that has been preprogrammed to find fault in the way we source, prepare and serve our food.

From what I've learned over the past seven months, there's no catch-all solution to improving the brand's reputation. Rather, a lot of small and big moves that the company needs to make to start shifting the pendulum. One very tangible response is the four-restaurant Build Your Burger test in San Diego and Laguna Niguel that I've been working on. It's a platform designed to deliver real and fresh personalization to customers; made-to-order burgers, stacked with premium ingredients, served to you table side with a smile. It's a bold leap for the brand, but one we have to make to appeal to the evolving tastes and preferences of the American consumer, led largely by the populations along the coasts of this country.

I don't want to say much more about this project, but I can tell you that its principals are the future of our restaurants. I can tell you the customer service experience is best in class. I can tell that the burger and its topping are fresh and delicious. 

I can tell you that the fries are better than ever. 

And I can tell you that my little surfer girl will grow up lovin' it.

 Lo. 

To Casados; To Kassen

Around 7:30 PM, on a water taxi traveling from Coronado Island to San Diego, nine (well-dressed) girls gathered around the Veuve Clicquot to make a toast.
"To Casados!," I said.
"To Casados!," everyone echoed.

As Captain Nick navigated the calm San Diego Bay, onward to dinner at Seersucker, we each agreed to give Kassen a bit of marital advice. With as many as three years and as little as six months of marriage to draw on, we each mustered up a tip or two. Of the suggestions to 'never go to bed angry,' 'always find fun in the mundane,' 'be open to the unplanned' and 'communicate,' the maid of honor held my favorite - a lesson in both Spanish and matrimony.

She said, (and I'm going to butcher her wise words, so apologies) "In Spanish, the word marriage is 'casados,' literally 'house of two.' Often times we want to bring everyone into our marriage. That is, when there's a problem we tend to poll the audience for perspective on a solution. But really, your marriage is about two people; no one will fully understand all that goes into it. As much as you may want to invite others in, realize that you are the permanent residents."

I loved that. I toasted to it. And I pocketed it along with the rest of the wonderful memories from Kassen's bachelorette weekend in Coronado. But I do have an addendum to it.

I believe before you can reach casados, you need casaonce - a house of eleven, or twelve or fifteen. After a casatres in Baden Hall, a casadiez in 702, and a couple other casas filled with roommates in D.C. and South Bend, Kassen needed one more full house to make sure she was 100% ready to live in a house built for two.

So, thanks to the generous hospitality of Kassen's Aunt Beth and Uncle Bill, we met in Coronado for one last all-girls sleepover. The most well-organized and executed nautically-themed bachelorette party ever, where no buoys were allowed, except for the friendly man who needed to put out a fire.

We needed one last all-girls yoga session.

And some all-girls goofing around.

We needed some all girls sun soaking.

And all-girls scavenger hunting.

We needed several all-girls shots.

And many all-girls sweets.

We needed to do a little last minute flirting.

And wedding bell ringing.

And most importantly, we needed to surround Kassen in the kind of love, friendship and laughter that she has given all of us over the years.

Being the speech enthusiast that I am, I ended up giving Kassen three or four pieces of advice on that boat ride. With almost six successful months of marriage under my belt, I guess I thought I was hot stuff. I concluded with my understanding of soul mates though. I never used to believe in them, but each day, I'm finding more and more that I found mine.

A toast tonight to knowing that in marriage, every day your mate will get closer to your soul. 

Lo.