Day Three: Olives, Lavender, and the Danes

Our final morning at Olallieberry Inn consisted of fresh-baked orange cranberry scones, scrambled eggs, fresh squeezed orange juice, and pumpkin pancakes topped with warm pears and pecans. While Mom was getting ready, I read through our room’s guestbook, which contained various types of comments from romantic exploits to ghost sightings. After check-out, we went antique shopping in Cambria. Mom bought a lamp and I resisted the urge to buy an old schoolhouse desk, settling for a printer’s drawer instead. All the walking made us a bit peckish, so we settled down for some Linn’s famous Olallieberry Pie. I happened to be wearing a light yellow shirt I’d had silkscreened with the following:

it’s such a beautiful day.

the sun is shining.

the birds are singing.

i think i’ll stay inside

and work on my dissertation.

Our waitress noticed the shirt and asked me what my dissertation topic was. When I explained that I was studying the impact of religiosity on parenting behaviors in Latter-day Saint families, she informed us that she had many LDS relatives, raised a closed fist to the sky, and shouted “Power to the Mormons!” Indeed.

We hopped back in my Mazda 6 and meandered down the highway to Olea Farm, a local olive orchard nestled in the hills near San Luis Obispo. Olea not only grows the olives, they also harvest and produce five types of olive oil on-site: European, Arbequina, Crescendo, Lemon Blush, and Basil Blush. A tasting and description of each was provided by the proprietor. I walked away with two wine bottles of olive oil, one filled with Arbequina (an early-harvest blend with hints of freshly-cut grass) and another with Basil Blush.

Another quick trip down the road took us to Green Acres Lavender Farm. In contrast to Olea Farm, where the fruit was just beginning to ripe, the harvest at Green Acres had concluded several weeks ago. Lavender buds were strewn across bright blue tarps, lying in the sun to dry. Some of the lavender had begun the distilling process required for extraction of lavender oil. After spending several minutes hunting down the owners (who were lazily smoking out by the pool), Mom bought some lavender sachets for friends and I picked up a lemon verbena plant to sit alongside the large lavender bush growing in a pot on my porch.

The last stop on our Central California adventure took us to Solvang. Similar to the Scandinavian-themed village of Leavenworth in Washington State (but much less awesome), the storefronts and buildings in Solvang are modeled after Danish architecture. As Mom and I have some Danish ancestry, we decided to stop for dinner at The Red Viking. Mom ordered an open-face cheese sandwich on dense, think wheat bread, topped with radishes and green peppers. I had sausage, strangely-spiced cooked red cabbage, mashed potatoes and gravy. Sadly, I must confess that based on this gustatory adventure, the only part of me that seems to resonate with my Danish ancestry is the part of me that loves puff pastry drizzled with raspberry sauce. Apparently, Aebleskiver is Danish for “freaking awesome.”