Spill the Beans

Posted by on Oct 21, 2015 in New | 0 comments


Ten years ago MP and I drove up to the Central Coast region on a weekend when lodging was sketchy; enter the Skyview Motel above LA (Los Alamos) a self-proclaimed dollar stretching motor stop where cyclists gathered in the parking lot chatting, playing  games, and gearing up for a torturous 100 mile race; notwithstanding  through wine country.


We instead, headed down the hill to find a late breakfast and a colossal building housing all things collectable in personalized crowded cubbies.  (MP only tolerates this type of mindless activity). But, that year we also wandered into Full of Life Flatbread.

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Now, sleepy little Los Alamos is a destination where locals, hipsters and us-types spend time eating freshly baked artisan style bread and bakery items and o'so deliciously inspired breakfasts and lunches at Bob’s Well Bread Bakery. 

Bob Oswaks left executive status marketing big Sony Pictures Television, to break bread not bad (Breaking Bad), when he lovingly and laboriously converted an old filling station into a haven for handmade crispy crusted bread,

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stylishly old-world baked goods and

a remarkable penchant for hospitality.

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Bob must have thought MP and I were camping out behind the patio’s Bocce Ball court or considered us stalkers at least, when we stopped in three times to sample aromatic soft centered olive breads, bagels,

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English muffins, with homemade-in- house sweet butter(s),

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French-style baguette picnic sandwiches, and

Stumptown Cold-Brew coffee cuppings.


PHOTO SOURCE: www.santamariasun.com

PHOTO SOURCE: www.santamariasun.com


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In the fullness of time, we shared breakfast on the patio with a bread-headed chef ordering Breakfast-in-a-jar, Purple Potatoes, Gruyere, a Poached egg, and Lardon; plus Bean Toast on Pain de Mie with a Fried Egg, Toulouse Sausage (pork and white wine) and Roasted Tomatoes.

When Bob came to check in on us I told him he had taken me back to my childhood when my mother put cold pork and beans on white bread in my school lunches; which were oh so soft, sweet and falling apart in my brown bag by noon.  I adored them.

He simply asked me where I grew up.

I replied with my tongue still in my cheek, “ The valley."

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Go... stop at Bob’s,

but never on a Tuesday or a Wednesday

those are days of rest and no yeast.



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