Family dinner.

My parents came into town on Sunday so that my sister and I could wrap up our visa applications for India. I had the rare opportunity to time my mother, and as it turns out it takes less than thirty seconds from the time she walks in the door to begin cleaning. Unfortunately, the type of cleaning she does at our house is of the huge-project variety rather than the superficial, make-the-house-look-tidy brand. This means that rather than wipe off counters or arrange flowers, my mother pulls all the covers off the sofa and puts them in the washing machine. She also likes to set up a sewing machine on the kitchen table and embark on large clothing-making projects. She feels good because she leaves the house cleaner, technically, than she found it, but it always looks like a huge bomb has gone off when they walk out the door. This may have something to do with their three dogs - when they visit, the people population goes up 66% but the dog population quadruples. It's all very exciting, but this kind of activity makes us very hungry. Where did we want to eat?

We left the sofa cushions to themselves and went out to eat at Soif. Yes, I work there, and have cooked there, but very rarely do I get to eat there. This is a shame, because Soif is one of best, if not THE best, place to get a bite in Santa Cruz. It was one of the best meals we've had as a foursome in recent memory, making up for the La Posta debacle over Thanksgiving (this had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with a healthy dose of sisterly drama. Like a volcano, our relationship has to erupt every so often, wiping out villagers but creating a lovely clean slate). I ordered a flight of riesling in my attempt to like varietal that all wine snobs adore. I must admit, it's growing on me. I've started to crave that mix of shimmering acidity and residual sugar - it's so good! I also had a great glass of Muller-Catoir Scheurebe, a cross between riesling and silvaner. It was a little big for my scallops, but I'm not nearly knowledgeable enough about wine to care about something like that. My scallops were cooked perfectly - seared to a caramelized crust on the outside but rare and silky in the middle - although I'm a little bored of the Brussels sprouts/Dijon mustard sauce combination (but perhaps that's just a product of bopping around Soif too long, because it was actually quite delicious).

Aside from my collection of rieslings, which I gathered around me in a wine fortress, we had a bottle of chardonnay and another of Flowers Pinot Noir, which I think is the finest California pinot I've ever had. It blew my mind, and my dad's too. My sister and my mom both had the gnocchi, and the wine was great with its butter-soaked Chanterelle mushrooms and golden potato-ness. It was also delicious with my dad's steak, although I couldn't quite wrap my mind around the sunchokes that came with it. Criticisms aside, great food and wine is just one part of a great meal. The rest - atmosphere, service, company, conversation - all combine to make something memorable.

I'd say that was one hell of a memorable meal. But we had to sober up before we could get the covers back on those damn couch cushions.