Andy HoffmanThe first trip Deb and I took together we went to Northern California, where my sister, son, and niece – and their respective partners – all live. After a family breakfast at Fat Albert’s (about which more in another post), we drove north to a cozy AirBnB in Petaluma. It was a long-ago transformed basement of a cute craftsman house, painted yellow with white and robin’s egg trim. It came with a kitchen, an eating area, and a sitting room with a TV attached to a VCR player. I had my doubts the antique would work, but they also supplied a copy of Bottle Shock, the 2008 film starring Alan Rickman as a wine snob surprised to find California wines just as good as French vintages. I was able to persuade Deb to watch with me, possibly because the movie was shot within a few miles of where we sat.
Petaluma used to be a farm town, the center of egg production for the region, but in recent years it has transformed into a peaceful refuge for escapees from the Bay Area, a precious small-town feel and hour from the Golden Gate bridge. It was march, still winter NorCal style, which means overcast days peppered with torrential rainstorms in non-drought years. 2018 came sandwiched between a couple of droughts, and that meant heavy rain.
We finally forced ourselves out of bed and out into the water pouring from the sky. We were only a few blocks from Della Fattoria, where we decided to have breakfast, and could have walked, but we chose the drier option of driving. You can park in Petaluma. That’s another advantage. Della Fattoria specializes in baked goods and Italian flair. The Italian character came out in the delicious coffee, which was deep, almost spellbindingly black. Perhaps on another day we might have imagined ourselves in sunny Italy, but the rain came down without hesitation. We had eggs and earthy bread, sliced and grilled. The aroma of the coffee and bread I still recall, but the specific preparations of the eggs has disappeared into time.
I do recall that we stay in the restaurant for almost two hours, as long as our very first date back on the other coast – sipping coffee, smelling fresh bread, and staring at one another. I wish I could remember more details about the food, but it didn’t matter so much to me. What I loved about the breakfast was sitting with Deb at the homey rough-hewn wooden table while the skies opened onto Main St. just beyond the glass.
Oddly enough, three and a half years later we watched a silly rom-com, much of which took place in that restaurant. I don’t think it rained in the movie, but sitting beside one another on our couch at home I felt just as wrapped up in our love as I did having that breakfast in Petaluma.