The Tall and the Tasty in Moss Landing

To find Moss Landing, you have to know a few key landmarks.

The geography of the bay is such that its north and south peninsulas consist of hilly and rocky prominences, while its inner coastline is flanked by low dunes for much of its length.  The long Salinas Valley's mouth opens wide on the bay and from it pours the Salinas River south of Moss Landing.  There and at Moss Landing, the dunes are particularly low and Elkhorn Slough, a large low-lying estuary, is open and flat.  So, the smokestacks of the PG&E plant really stand out, ugly as sin.

"Moss Landing," which, curiously, is known far more as a landmark than a place that exists except to those who work there, is roughly the midway point if you're traveling between Santa Cruz and Monterey.  By a mile, it serves as the most prominent visual feature of the bay.  The name itself refers to both the little town situated there as well as the power plant and its smokestacks, which are a zillion feet high and made of gray cement.  "Wow, you can really see Moss Landing today," locals say on a clear day.  It's a benchmark for air clarity and visibility.  From Pacific Grove, it's about a 20-mile distance as the car drives, so to speak.

In counterpoint, Moss Landing -- the community of restaurants, cafes, antique shops and a teeny post office -- sits right across the highway from the big cement smokestacks of the power plant,  just before you get to "the bridge," another key landmark.

Also in the shadow of the immense towers are other, more lowly things of interest including a natural estuary or slough ("slew"), artichoke and strawberry fields, a gun-and-ammo fortress frequented by hunters and wanna-be Stallones, and The Whole Enchilada.  That last is also a landmark but should not be a stopping place unless you really yearn for indigestion and heartburn.

So, directions will be given this way: "Turn at Moss Landing, go past the Whole Enchilada, and before the bridge, take a left."  If you've gone past the bridge, you could be headed to Phil's Fish Market, and that would be a good thing.  Another day.

The Haute Enchilada is a converted two-story wooden building in Moss Landing proper that looks to have been built in the late 1800's or early 1900's.  There is a vivid watermelon-red wooden fence surrounding its front patio and all kinds of evidence that the owner has a lively and colorful imagination.  No shrinking violet, this owner, by the looks of it.  An old friend and I, meeting for lunch, took a look at the garden and decor.  Smelled fragrant, looked bright and interesting.  Time for a new groove.

The place is actually pretty large, has plenty of tables indoors and a good number set about in the front patio amidst shading umbrellas.  Today we chose an outdoor table.  Just like yesterday, it was two shakes ahead of the lunch rush.  The specials menu was pretty interesting -- about seven items to choose from, lots of variety, nothing at all ordinary, moderately priced between $7 and $17 or so.

I ordered spot prawns with dungeness crab ravioli in creamy garlic sauce, and my friend ordered seafood enchilada with black beans and rice.  We shared a salad.  I think I licked the bowl and slurped a lot.  Crab bits flew around and I became delirious.  She sighed with contentment and happiness, and her meal disappeared as if it had evaporated.  We also talked as if there were no tomorrow, never once about politics, at least not in any meaningful or useful way, which is not to say that our talk was anything remotely dull or useless.  We solved all problems, contemplated all ideas deeply and found all sorts of satisfaction in it all.

A curiosity:  Most Hispanic restaurants these days seem to feature a painting of Frieda Kahlo prominently.  I think she's the new patron saint of Mexican food.  Unfortunately, most of the paintings I've seen range from vaguely ugly to truly hideous.  Zocalo here in PG has a painting of what amounts to Prince in drag.  The Haute Enchilada has Seniora Kahlo, replete with unibrow, frown and stern appearance on its sign out front.

After lunch, which we stretched out to two hours, we walked around looking in at antique shops, a gallery, walked over the bridge, looked at the marina and its velvety sunning sea lions, passed by Phil's and MBARI (Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute).  But then, oops, we'd forgotten dessert.

Back to Haute Enchilada, where we were welcomed with big smiles.  We went indoors and sat for another hour and a half with coffee and cake disappearing as if by magic from our plates.  More problems discussed and solved, crises averted and philosophies contemplated.

At last, it was time to part ways.  We stood in the road and looked at the street on either side of us, the now-closed antique shops and rickety wooden buildings where they are housed, and then up at the enormous imposing structure of the power plant looming in the background, omnipresent.  We'll meet somewhere else next time we want to do some catching up, but it had been a great discovery today.  Haute Enchilada!