We’ve been in Ojai, California for the last ten days. This is what I’ve been listening to. I’ve been drawing cairns, reading, and drinking Madre Desert Water, the only good ready-to-drink canned cocktail I’ve tried, which I’m trying to track down for my restaurants. There are a lot of good cars around.
I considered calling this dish “Pink Moment Pasta,” in a cornball homage to Ojai’s inky pink-hued sunsets, and a nod to the California Pepper Tree, invasive and abundant in the area, whose rose-hued peppercorns are ground atop as a finishing touch.
In the end, I like the straight-forwardness of just calling it what it is: Avocado Pasta.
The idea of an avocado pasta might strike you as odd, as it did me when I first tried the Avocado Spaghetti at Tomi Jazz, a Japanese jazz club in midtown Manhattan. Their version, built on a creamy, blended sauce with avocado as the base, is only spiritually linked with mine, a more elemental approach that celebrates restraint.
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