THE ROAD TO MONTEREY

We drove up the coast munching on barbecued tri-tip sandwiches that we bought in Pismo Beach. The sandwiches were fabulous: crusty rolls piled high with slices of smoky, garlicky, marinated meat. As we ate them, we looked out at the sea sparkling to our left and fantasized about the wonderful meals we would be eating in Carmel.

For months now, I had been hearing tales about Stonepine, an “estate hotel” in the Carmel Valley that was once the summer home of the Crocker family. Magazines have been rushing photographers up there to take pictures of the place, and the foodies have been turning out to try the gourmet dinners served to guests. I was curious about what I would find. No wonder; dinner there turned out to be one of the more unusual experiences of my life.

The place is indeed an estate, complete with manicured grounds, paddocks filled with horses, rambling paths, a secluded pool. Inside are rooms filled with flowers, books, and well-polished furniture. A fire was roaring in the grate as we met in the living room for pre-dinner cocktails. As we sipped our sherry and made desperate stabs at chitchat with strangers, it occured to me that this was exactly like being invited to a dinner party--except I didn’t know a single soul.

The unreality of the situation was only increased when we were led into the formal dining room for dinner. The single large table was beautifully set, the candles were lit, and our group of total strangers proceeded to have a dinner straight out of the Twilight Zone.

Had the food been better, we probably would have talked about it for the three hours that we were at table. But the asparagus with tarragon dressing was unremarkable, the carrot and leek soup with basil was essentially a puree of cream, and the thin slice of Monterey Bay salmon came in an orange and mint sauce so sweet I thought I was eating candied fish. I liked the idea of the Cointreau-and-rose-petal souffle; I would have liked it better had the souffle been cooked just a little less. Nevertheless, when chef Wendy Brodie (“She was chef of the year,” said the hostess) was brought into the room, everybody applauded politely. It may have been from sheer relief the evening was finally over.

And yet I wouldn’t have missed the dinner for the world. If you have any interest in experiencing what it must have felt like to be a house guest at one of those great English estates, this is your chance. I don’t expect those meals were one whit more comfortable.

Afterward, the Reluctant Gourmet gave me a sour look. “Once was more than enough,” he said. “Please don’t ask me to do that again.” Unfortunately, dinner the next evening, while a lot less eventful, was not much better. “Have you been here before?” they asked as we walked into Fresh Cream, one of Monterey’s most acclaimed restaurants. The waitress then proceeded to “explain” the menu. Suffice it to say that the high point of the evening was the RG’s rack of lamb, touted as the restaurant’s pride. It turned out to be mushy New Zealand lamb in a salty sauce.

“ I’ll choose the restaurant for lunch today,” the RG informed me the next morning. “You haven’t been doing so well.” He then proceeded to march into Carmel (a town which favors a more leisurely pace) and look for the longest line. This was in front of a little place called Em Le’s. The RG went in, looked at a waitress wearing two name tags and decided to stay. One name tag said “Bonnie”; the other said “Hey You.” The burgers were juicy, fresh and very tasty. The homemade rhubarb pie was even better; it was the best piece of pie I’ve eaten in a quite a while.

Flushed with the success of lunch, the RG insisted on choosing our dinner spot as well. Another bull’s-eye. The Rio Grill in Carmel, run by the same people who own Mustard’s in Napa and Fog City Diner in San Francisco, was entirely satisfying. We began dinner with an admirable spicy peanut chicken salad (there was so much tender chicken it was really a meal in itself) and a grilled pasilla pepper stuffed with three cheeses. We went on to duck with fresh plum sauce (me) and a very good cheeseburger (the RG). He had an order of onion strings and I finished off the meal with a fine homemade ice cream sandwich that was almost a sundae.

“Those burgers were good,” said the RG, as we drove home. “But let’s stop in Pismo Beach for some more of those tri-tip sandwiches.” We did--and with the sea on our right this time, we agreed that the sandwiches were our favorite meal of the weekend.

Brad’s, 209 Pomeroy, Pismo Beach, (805) 773-9821. (Great tri-tip sandwiches. Order anything else at your peril.)

Stonepine, 150 E. Carmel Valley Road, Carmel Valley, (408) 659-2245. (Meals served only to guests. Rooms start at $175; dinner is $35 per person, including wine).

Fresh Cream, 99 Pacific St., Monterey, (408) 375-9798. Dinner only.

Em Le’s, Dolores between 5th and 6th, Carmel, (408) 625-6780. Open only for breakfast and lunch.

Rio Grill, Route 1 and Rio Road, Carmel, (408) 625-5436.