Our tour along the northern California coast ended on a festive note with dinner at Duarte’s Tavern, a Pescadero landmark and true American classic. Duarte’s dates from 1894, when Frank Duarte, an immigrant from Portugal, bought the tavern and began selling whisky from a barrel. The spot proved popular with local fishermen, whalers and farmers. While Prohibition was a setback, the original bar survived intact, and in the 1930s the Duarte family expanded the business to include food service (sandwiches, ice cream and pies). They also ran a barbershop on the premises. While the barber chairs have disappeared, the plain, unassuming décor has changed very little, which, depending upon your point of view, contributes to the place’s simple charm (as I see it), or its lack thereof. For the past several decades, Duarte’s has been famous for its flavorful soups, fresh fish, and delicious pies. The fourth generation of the family now runs the restaurant.
At the recommendation of our friends, who are Duarte’s regulars, we began with a combination of the two house specialty soups, cream of green chile and cream of artichoke. Served with fresh sourdough bread, it was as tasty as they had said it would be. The locally caught sole was just as described: absolutely fresh and simply prepared. I only wish I’d been able to sample the Crab Cioppino. My one Bay Area food regret is not tasting this regional specialty, a hearty seafood stew. Next time.
No one missed out on Duarte’s most famous pie, however. Our friends had spoken highly of the olallieberry pie. You East Coasters might well ask What?– just as I did. Surely that’s a made-up word. It sounds like something Dr. Seuss’s Cat in the Hat would serve up on that cold, rainy day. Perhaps in an early draft of Edward Lear’s The Owl and the Pussycat, the happy couple dined on slices of olallieberry pie? (for which the runcible spoon would be well-suited.)
But no. Olallieberry is a real word referring to a real berry, although one of fairly recent origin. Essentially, it’s a locally grown blackberry-raspberry hybrid, a cross that was developed by way of the loganberry and youngberry, (I had no idea my knowledge of berries was so rudimentary). Olallie, interestingly, is a Pacific Northwest Native American word for berry. At our table that day, all seven in our party ordered the olallieberry pie. No one was disappointed.
When we return to California in a few years, we’ll make sure to seek out our good friends again. I’ll even give them more than a couple of day’s notice of our impending arrival. And when we drive along the coast (next time we’ll venture farther south, to Monterey and Carmel), we’ll stop by Duarte’s. I feel sure it will still be there. Maybe the fifth generation of the family will be running the place by then. On second thought, no. We won’t wait that long.