Candy Cane Lane and Pea Soup Andersen's: What Decade Is This?

We said good-bye to Nevada City midmorning today, a rain-soaked little town in the Sierra foothills all decorated for the holidays.  Our friends were back to work and we had four hours of driving ahead of us, but instead of just saying good-bye and going home, it seemed like we were traveling back in time.

Heading south on Interstate 5, with our quick vacation to the foothills' Christmas festivities receding in the rearview mirror, the idea of stopping at Pea Soup Andersen's popped up.  The thought of it made my mind go spinning back in time.  In the late 50s and early 60s, road trips in big station wagons with a family of baby boom kids and parents were punctuated by kitschy restaurants, billboards and mediocre mass-marketed food.  As an example, I give you Pea Soup Andersen's.  You will see billboards announcing your distance from one of them at least 120 miles out, just to be sure you have at least an hour to consider making it your choice for lunch or dinner.  One of them is near Gustine in the Central Valley, the second of two locations.  The original is in Buellton, farther south.

The pea soup for which this nostalgia trap is known for is a silky smooth, dark green liquid that has been served in both locations for half a century.  I remember stopping off once or twice as a kid with my family if my parents ever dared take us all on a road trip.  Nearly everyone in California has stopped at one or both Pea Soup locations at least once when traveling on Interstate 5.  You just do, mostly out of curiosity but also because you desperately need something other than food eaten in the confines of your car.  Certainly, the prices are on par with any family restaurant you'd find anywhere, and based on price it is far less interesting or digestible food than local places offer.  Sorry, it just is.  But, if nostalgia and comfort are what you're after, you will be happy.  For families with small children, the waitresses, tables, booths and other features are very durable, dependable, and the whole place absorbs squeals from kids nicely.

From there, it takes about an 60 or 75 minutes to get to the Monterey Peninsula, a fairly uneventful route these days, which was not true in the past.  You have to go over Pacheco Pass to exit the Central Valley and gain the coast.  The road used to be a hair-raising two-lane highway that cut a few poor souls' lives short when they overshot curves or passed other cars on blind curves.  Trucks carrying heavy loads frequently lost their brakes and caused major wrecks along the route.  Now, it's not much of a challenge, and we made it home in good time.

After dark we ventured back in time once again, revisiting more than a few happy holiday memories.  Candy Cane Lane, a local neighborhood in Pacific Grove - The Groove! - blinks to life for a month between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day, much to the wonder and delight of kids and used-to-be kids.  The several flat and safe-to-walk blocks make up a fine old traditional neighborhood of people who spend hundreds of dollars on Halloween candy every year and then spend hundreds of hours decorating for Christmas.  This is such a tradition now at Christmas that homeowners who sell their homes must inform new buyers that they will be expected to be part of it all come the holidays.

Thousands of cars roll slowly past, and people walk along the streets and sidewalks, stopping to admire the life-sized cartoon characters standing amidst what seem like miles of holiday lights wrapped around trees, bushes and along the features of every home.  A small park in the neighborhood's center features some decorations that have been used every year since I was small.

In another part of the neighborhood, a huge mechanical tin soldier raises his sword and grins at everyone down below while his two eyes (light bulbs) glow in a way that always looked more demonic than anything to me.  This may be the only place carolers show up regularly.  All of it - decorations, lighting, set-up and maintenance of the displays is voluntary.  It always has been.

As we joined the other oglers, I could easily hear the voices of my siblings in my ears: "Oooohhh, look at THAT santa.  Ahhhhh, that's cooooooooool," exactly like the voices of kids looking at them now.