"Better Than Nothing"

"It'd be just like here, but we'd be there..."

I like to think that on this blog, I'm recording matters posterity will find enlightening. For instance: Mike's Mess, as served at Zachary's Restaurant in Santa Cruz, contains three eggs covering a heap of bacon, mushrooms, and potatoes, topped with cheese and conveniently seasonal green onions, hold the sour cream, plus toast. But to quote Dylan, how many eggs must a hungry man eat before they start to taste bland? So I settled for the Junior Mess, which, though only 75 cents cheaper, seemed more appetising in its comparative modesty. Given the place's reputation seems to be based on their eggs, they didn't seem like anything special (i.e. not clearly better than I can make) but the mound as a whole was very satisfying. Their secret weapon might be the bread: my rye toast was excellent.

After some shopping on Pacific Ave (finally got the Jenny Lewis album, at Streetlight, and felt I had to buy Jen Trynin's chronicle of her rock biz adventures after zipping through the first 70 pages, at Bookshop Santa Cruz) I had time for a last meal. By the time I got through the queue at Zoccoli's Deli, I only had time left for half a meal. But the sourdough Mediterranean sandwich was worth the wait. The meats (salami and prosciutto) were standard, but the chopped-up mix of olives and peppers was mega tasty.

So that was my trip. Forgot to charge my camera, so the only memento I have is my Beach Boardwalk receipt, which I'll add to my collection of ticket stubs, now almost as large by volume as my collection of suitors of incompatible sexual orientations.

Coming: overpriced seafood, and two pounds of asparagus.