Silver Dragon Davis, CA

My sister cracks a won-ton and dips it into Silver Dragon’s sweet and sour sauce. A sauce that is tangy and consistent, rich. Everyone in my family thinks it is the best sauce in Davis, or California for that matter. “I am a horse. I love horses,” my sister says as she points at the place mat and her 1978 birth-year. “What are you?” she asks.
“I think I am a tiger, however, I have been told I am a rabbit.” I pour myself a cup of tea and read that tigers are aggressive and that rabbits are lucky and wonder where my December 19th birthday falls.
Ah-ha, the chow-mein and sweet and sour chicken. Here comes general chicken and steamed rice. As usual, we have ordered too much food. We dig in. Wow, someone ordered broccoli beef. I dig into the warm gravy and spoon some onto my steamed rice. I crack a won-ton and shovel some pork chow-mein onto my plate.
I have not mastered the use of chopsticks even at the age of thirty-three. My sister swears all I need to do is get my thumb working with my first two fingers and twist. All I can twist with, it seems, is a fork. I just do not have the basics down.
I watch the cars roll by on F Street on the cold winter night. Christmas lights hang in the windows. Cold nights and comfort food, a perfect time for sweet and sour chicken and Silver Dragon in Davis.

Broccoli Beef photo by Jon Sullivan

Refrigerated Train

The train rolls around the bend.  Faster and faster it glides.  Ahead lie the Tehacapis.  The brown grass blows in the spring wind the train rolls towards Barstow.
The freight train now grinds upward, over the mountain.  Towards the summit roll refrigerated loads of lettuce from the Salinas valley bound for eastern markets.  In a week these loads will be salads on Fifth Avenue.
I watch the growling locomotives and will follow the train on the climb.  The locomotives growl with one hundred cars.  It is a fight to keep the perishable train on schedule.  A refrigerated train stays in front of the pack.  It has priority on the railroad.
I watch as the piggybacked trailers climbed the Tehachapi Grade.  A steel train sits on the secondary siding; it has a red light and waits in the hole.  The refrigerated train passes.  The crews give a friendly wave.
That is working on the railroad.  It is a dangerous job.  It is a rigorous job, yet there is always a friendly salute to a fellow railroader, to a passing kid.  That is working on the railroad, always a wave, yet always alert.
The train rolls onward.  Through the town of Tehachapi, it has conquered the Tehachapi Loop on its climb of the mountains.  Downward into the Mojave, the train rolls to the lonely desert.  As night falls, the train will get a fresh crew in Barstow and continue its trek towards Kansas City.  Its trek eastward, delivering California’s freshness to Fifth Avenue.

Kern County and Beyond

I exit I-5 and pass the dairies of Kern County. Ahead lie the Tehachapi Mountains and the world’s largest wind-mill generation area. Beyond is the Mojave-the lonely high desert where Chuck Yeager first broke the speed of sound. The rails then come together at Barstow; ah, my vacation.

Bakersfield Road by Jon Sullivan

Back to Barstow

My Christmas present this year is a trip to Barstow.  Sixty trains a day ply the rails.  Refrigerated trains carry goods from California valleys to the east coast.  Amongst the throttling trains, my artist’s muse refills my spirit for another year’s drawing.

BNSF ES44AC by Andy Fletcher

Straw Hat: Left Coast-Right Pizza

My brother and I drive about twenty-five miles out of our way to get to the closest Straw Hat. Our hometown Straw Hat closed during the Pizza Hut buyout during the late 1980’s. My brother and I open yellow pages up and down the California Coast for our beloved pizza chain, stopping every chance we get.

My long time favorite is the combination “works” pizza on original crust. I’d better get a medium tonight; I have brought my Straw Hat hunger. How about a one-trip salad?

Fans of Straw Hat from its heyday can spot an original pizza place by the grass-cloth wallpaper and macramé hangings. The polished wood counter where one orders is set in with antiquated brick. How about a free ride on Charlie Horse? That is a Straw Hat for sure.

Straw Hat has gone through a bit of a renaissance over the last decade or so, entering private ownership, and making itself more accessible to franchisees. Happily for my brother and myself, Straw Hats seem to be popping up versus closing down now-a-days. Both the brand and the pizza are doing well out west.

My most recent encounter with Straw Hat’s growth was on a trip to Barstow. Straw Hat has ventured into the “restaurant” arena with a new venture, “The Straw Hat Grille.” This venue not only serves Straw Hat’s great pizza and pasta, it also serves burgers and an extended menu as well. It is great to see our beloved “Left Coast-Right Pizza” doing well.

Pizza photo by Jon Sullivan