SG Archive: Costelettes
Tuscan Lamb Chops
The Girl
It was December of 2001 and, despite having protested for years that I'd never live in California, I'd moved to Sacramento three months before. On this particular day, the Thursday evening after Christmas, I was driving around the town of Sonoma in a steady, chilly, drizzling rain looking for my B&B.
One of the nice things about the publishing business (I was a magazine editor at the time) is that it's no problem for a monthly magazine to just take a week off with minimal notice. I mean lock the doors and leave a message on the answering machine and everyone take a long holiday. Provided you still hit the two or three drop-dead dates for getting the current issue out the door this is relatively painless for a small company. So we'd given everyone the week between Christmas and New Years off and I decided to take my first trip to The Wine Country.
I got out, and dashed up the stairs to the front door. Locked. Coming back down I missed a step in the dark and fell, badly bruising my back and hip. I hobbled around back. There was a light over the back door but it, too, was locked. In desperation I limped over to what I'd thought was the garage and found a note on the door addressed to me along with a key to the house and my room. I dumped my bag in the room and sore, wet, and hungry went looking for supper.
Sonoma has a lovely town square — in the daylight, with the sun shining. But on a wet Thursday night in that purgatory between holidays it's not particularly welcoming. More or less by default, I walked into a restaurant named The Girl and the Fig. Surprisingly for a Tuesday night, it was packed. It looked like my day was only going to get worse
There was a large woman in jeans and sweater working as hostess who told me there'd be about a 15 minute wait and asked if I wanted to wait at the bar. Apparently she'd sized up my frame of mind because she escorted me to the bar and told the bartender: "Take care of him." A few minutes later she came back and directed me to an empty bar stool. And I'd just ordered my second bourbon and water when she returned to take me to a table.
The waitress recommended the costelette (Italian marinated lamb chops). They were excellent, the wine recommended by my waitress was a perfect match and her service could not have been better — attentive, competent, and ubobstrusive. When I got the bill, my first drink had been comped. I had been "taken care of."
When I got home I did my best to recreate the recipe.
It was somewhat cloudy for the rest of my visit, but I had a great time touring wineries and playing tourist.
I went back to the restaurant twice more and took a large party of foodies to the sister restaurant, The Girl and the Gaucho. It was always good. And the hostess who recognized someone in need of some TLC? She was The Girl.
Try these Costelettes with...
Green Beans with Anchovies
Potato/Carrot Gratin
Buttermilk Pie
It was December of 2001 and, despite having protested for years that I'd never live in California, I'd moved to Sacramento three months before. On this particular day, the Thursday evening after Christmas, I was driving around the town of Sonoma in a steady, chilly, drizzling rain looking for my B&B.
One of the nice things about the publishing business (I was a magazine editor at the time) is that it's no problem for a monthly magazine to just take a week off with minimal notice. I mean lock the doors and leave a message on the answering machine and everyone take a long holiday. Provided you still hit the two or three drop-dead dates for getting the current issue out the door this is relatively painless for a small company. So we'd given everyone the week between Christmas and New Years off and I decided to take my first trip to The Wine Country.
Sonoma has a lovely town square — in the daylight, with the sun shining. But on a wet Thursday night in that purgatory between holidays it's not particularly welcoming.
My problem at the moment was I couldn't find the B&B I had reservations for. I had a map I'd printed out from MapPoint but for the first (and so far, only) time MapPoint had led me astray. I tried calling but there was no answer. Finally I spotted a UPS truck and I accosted the driver as he got out to make a delivery. Luckily he knew where the place was and so, about 6:30 I pulled into a gravel driveway next to a rambling house that appeared to be some sort of strange hybrid of Queen Anne and Craftsman bungalow.I got out, and dashed up the stairs to the front door. Locked. Coming back down I missed a step in the dark and fell, badly bruising my back and hip. I hobbled around back. There was a light over the back door but it, too, was locked. In desperation I limped over to what I'd thought was the garage and found a note on the door addressed to me along with a key to the house and my room. I dumped my bag in the room and sore, wet, and hungry went looking for supper.
Sonoma has a lovely town square — in the daylight, with the sun shining. But on a wet Thursday night in that purgatory between holidays it's not particularly welcoming. More or less by default, I walked into a restaurant named The Girl and the Fig. Surprisingly for a Tuesday night, it was packed. It looked like my day was only going to get worse
There was a large woman in jeans and sweater working as hostess who told me there'd be about a 15 minute wait and asked if I wanted to wait at the bar. Apparently she'd sized up my frame of mind because she escorted me to the bar and told the bartender: "Take care of him." A few minutes later she came back and directed me to an empty bar stool. And I'd just ordered my second bourbon and water when she returned to take me to a table.
The waitress recommended the costelette (Italian marinated lamb chops). They were excellent, the wine recommended by my waitress was a perfect match and her service could not have been better — attentive, competent, and ubobstrusive. When I got the bill, my first drink had been comped. I had been "taken care of."
When I got home I did my best to recreate the recipe.
Costelettes
Serves 4.
8 lamb chops
1 c olive oil
1/2 c fresh lemon juice
2 cloves garlic — crushed
2 sprigs rosemary — bruised by rubbing between palms
2 generous pinches of salt
Combine everything except lamb chops in a one gallon ziplock bag and allow floavors to meld for several hours. Add chops to bag and marinate for about 3 hours.
Grill chops on a charcoal grill to preference — about 4 minutes per side for medium rare.
It was somewhat cloudy for the rest of my visit, but I had a great time touring wineries and playing tourist.
I went back to the restaurant twice more and took a large party of foodies to the sister restaurant, The Girl and the Gaucho. It was always good. And the hostess who recognized someone in need of some TLC? She was The Girl.
Try these Costelettes with...
Green Beans with Anchovies
Potato/Carrot Gratin
Buttermilk Pie
6 Comments:
First, I didn't realize you lived in Sacramento! I lived in Carmichael near Whole Foods.
Second, The Girl and The Fig is one of my favorite places in Sonoma. I order the Fig Balsamic Vinegar and several other favorites all the time.
Third, watch what you say about "large" women in jeans - ya just never know who they are!
Lovingly,
Another LW in Jeans
Vicki,
I was in Sac (Elk Grove) for 2 1/2 years.
As I recall the Girl was at least 6 feet tall and wasn't skinny - nor was she fat - she was simply large.{g}
Kev - you cleaned that up nicely. ((BIG grin))
The owner is delightful. When people I know are going to CA and visiting the wine country, I always recommend The Girl. I have one customer who is a foodie -he went to The Girl because I gave him a bottle of the vinegar as a gift and was convinced he needed to try The Girl. My customer is one of those wonderful foodies, who recently took his new wife to Italy to taste olive oils! ...and I'm sure vinos, too.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Vicki,
> When people I know are going to CA and visiting the wine country, I always recommend The Girl.
Me too. And I've written about that experience in several places. One small kindness bought her loads of business and publicity. For one article I called her up and chatted with her (wish I could remember her name) and she was astounded that it had made such an impression on me. But it wasn't the free drink that made the impression, but rather the fact that she realized in 10 or 15 seconds that I needed a free drink and a place to sit down.
If I can remember who I wrote that article for I'll dig it up and send you a copy.
Thank you, I'd love to read it. Sondra is the owner's name.
She is very pleasant and always humbled when people remember nice things she has done. I like her.
Do you like Piatti's in the El Dorado Hotel? I loved hanging out on the patio, especially after the harvest when the vineyard owners would gather and celebrate by eating great food, and drinking wine & grappa. When they partied, everyone did! My friend worked for the hotel and we were comp'd at the restaurant. We ate there all the time - it was our Mickey D's in Sonoma. Gosh, I miss great food!
Vicki,
I've never eaten at Piattis.
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