I am not from California. It’s a nice state, though I think it’s a little big. I always feel a little weary when flying from the East Coast to the West or vice versa and when it occurs to me to go from the L.A. area to the Bay area. I wish there were a lot less in between my two destinations.
From L.A. to S.F. can be lovely if you take U.S. 101 (or “the 101″ in Cali parlance). That takes longer than the traverse up I-5 (“the 5″). Honey and I chose the latter. It was hot. Proof:

We got stuck in a traffic jam in the middle of the brown on the way.


The traffic jam was AFTER we had passed up one of the better exit-opportunities (or exitpertunities if you will). It was all going to be ok though, because Honey and I both knew in our hearts what would be there waiting for us if we just stayed the course.
Pea Soup. Andersen’s Pea Soup. Santa Nella, California.
Pause for a reflective moment.
I didn’t know about Pea Soup until I met Honey. Here’s a short primer:
Started in 1924 in Buellton, CA (rhymes with mule + ton), Andersen’s Pea Soup had as many as four locations. Now each is independently owned (as best I can tell). There are three extant Pea Soups–one on US 101 in Buellton, one on CA 99 in Selma, and the one Honey and I stopped in in Santa Nella. Regardless of the freeway, the basic structure is the same. You start with a windmill, add two cartoon characters–Hap-Pea and Pea-Wee, give away some cheese, and sell pea soup and Scandinavian goodness.



The cheese is tasty and I always have a couple of cheese spreads on toast. Not the most hygienic thing ever, but I can handle it. My hand spends a lot of time in Biscuit’s mouth (her choice, not mine), so clean is relative.
The soup is nice, too, as pea soup goes. No dairy or meat, though you can “play with you soup” and add ham and the like to it.
For sale in the gift shop are the expected and the unexpected. You decide which is which:



As the windmill bade us safe journeys…

…Honey took a moment to contemplate what it would be like to split the peas…

…and I felt a little sick. Cheese? Soup? Corn? (No I didn’t eat the corn). Kitsch? I don’t know. I do know that I’ll be back, though. Because someday I’m going to remember to bring a cooler so I can have my very own crock of cheese.

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