Pack Your Knives and Go: A Cooking Vacation in Point Reyes, CA

Photograph by Randy Harris

This post came up on my Gourmet Goods To You Facebook page and I had to pass it on.  Now this is how a foodie wants to spend their vacation time.

For those who travel to eat, visits to farmers' markets, butchers, and cheese stores are part of the grand tour. But at a certain point, it's masochistic: You can look, but you can only snack. So after years of envying the residents of San Francisco, Paris, Venice, and even Madison, Wisconsin, who get to actually make things with all that gorgeous stuff I could never put in my carry-on, I was ready to travel to cook.

Rent-to-eat vacations are possible around the world. The right destination offers access not only to great produce, bread, wine, and staples but to terrific restaurants, too. (After all, who wants to cook every meal, every day?) There should be enough daytime activities to entertain friends and family--hiking and antiquing a plus. And, of course, a beautiful house or apartment with a well-equipped kitchen.

Thinking about where you want to cook is easy--Sicily! Provence! Mexico? Finding the right house with a great kitchen requires sleuthing. My mother-in-law once rented a breathtaking place in Big Sur. But when it came time to make her birthday dinner, there were two eager cooks, but just one dull knife and not much else. To make garlic-scape pesto, I had to improvise a mortar and pestle using a mug and a bowl.

The food tasted better for our MacGyver teamwork, but when my husband, Oliver, and I were looking for a place to stay with friends last spring, I scoured the photos on rental sites for signs of cooks' kitchens (a dozen wineglasses is a nice decorating touch, but I'd prefer a dozen stainless-steel bowls) and made a list of essential tools to pack just in case.

The ideal spot and the ideal house came together by chance. Oliver and I love the area around Tomales Bay in Marin County, an hour or so north of San Francisco. After several unforgettable stays (and meals) at Manka's Inverness Lodge, we decided we wanted to grill the meat of the cows that graze on the surrounding hills, and try making our own version of the Marshall Store's oysters Rockefeller using the just-harvested bivalves from Hog Island Oyster Company. Then one day, Quince chef Michael Tusk was in the Bon Appetit Test Kitchen, talking about a weekend he'd spent cooking in a rental house on the bay in Marshall, right next to Hog Island. The phrase "most perfect house in the world" was used. Sold.

To describe Evan Shively and Madeleine Fitzpatrick's house as perfect is underselling it. The views, the light, the extra bedroom hidden in a tiny shed hovering right over the water...and that kitchen! We'd packed a Microplane grater and a chef's knife, but there was no need: The owners are demon cooks. The pots were All-Clad. Oliver found three oyster knives--and a stack of stainless-steel bowls. Best of all, we'd swapped for our apartment. That meant we could spend our money on important things, like renting a beastly Porsche 911 GTS to navigate Marin's hairpin turns (even better in reality than in fantasy) and splurging on the best ingredients. Split with friends, our five delicious days cost far less than staying in a hotel and eating every meal in a restaurant.

How do you get a flat of strawberries into a 911, you ask? Very carefully. We raced from the airport to San Francisco's Ferry Building to buy wild mushrooms from Far West Fungi, charcuterie from Boccalone, spices and exotic grains from Boulettes Larder, Acme bread (I asked for the one with the longest shelf life), June Taylor jam, and granola, coffee, and car cookies from Blue Bottle Coffee. It was exhilarating to finally be able to buy--no, stock up on--the things I'd longed to take home during so many visits. After lunch at Mission Chinese Food, we picked up tortilla chips and salsa at La Palma Mexicatessen, then went a few miles out of our way to Berkeley Bowl for affordable produce, bulk grains, vinegar, and a half-case of our favorite sparkling pear cider. By the time we hit the 580, we couldn't see out the rear window.

After so much traveling and "sourcing," dinner at home sounded like the right plan. So I found a box of linguine and Oliver went next door to Hog Island, returning with a $10 bag of pristine Manila clams. Finished with a sprinkling of wild fennel pollen from Boulettes Larder, it was a fantastic 20-minute meal.

The rest of the shopping would be done in nearby Point Reyes Station, which has a solid Saturday market, a world-class butcher, and the famous Cowgirl Creamery, where we could also buy picnic food, ice cream, and local wine from the likes of Sean Thackrey. We had easy access to the freshest possible milk, butter, eggs, olive oil, and cream.

I'd always thought I couldn't cook without a recipe. But spontaneously creating dishes around right-here, right-now ingredients was as rewarding as the hikes we took during the day, backpacks heavy with Cowgirl cheeses. And we developed a few "rules" that you might find useful when you find your dream rental: (1) Figure out in advance how you'll split expenses (preferably before you arrive at the farmers' market the first day); (2) for breakfast, just set out bread, granola, fruit, and yogurt and let people do their own thing; (3) don't sweat dessert--you'll be too full; (4) rotate people through cooking and chores; and (5) for God's sake, leave room for leftovers in your suitcase. --Christine Muhlke

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