Huevos Rancheros at the Soscal Cafe
Joe and I spent the night up in Napa on Friday night. Though the town of Napa is desperately trying to make itself as fancy-pants as a destination as say, Yountville, I just don’t see it happening. Napa’s got a little too much all-Americana in its blood.
And I don’t mean this as in quaint and cutesy small town USA stuff. Yes, Napa has a lot of darling historical buildings and tree-lined streets. But it also has its share of Harleys and the Hagrid-esque guys in the leather vests who ride them, jacked-up pickups, and restaurants called Tuscany that advertise ribs and have cover bands at night. Mixed in all this are the upscale places like Ubuntu, the vegetarian restaurant and yoga studio, and scene-y Morimoto, and Oenotri, a restaurant that serves Italian in the spirit of places like Flour + Water, Locanda or Cotogna. (We had a lamb merguez pizza there that was one of the best pizzas I’ve ever had, as well as an amazing porchetta, sliced and tossed with chili.) It all adds up to a bit of an identity crisis.
But part of me wonders if Napa isn’t best enjoyed when you just embrace its more downhome roots. Which is why we found ourselves at the tiny Soscal Cafe, a true greasy spoon where a hot, smokey griddle dangerously bubbles and snaps with everything from pancakes to fried eggs to hashbrowns. The owners are super friendly, the locals are sitting at the counter reading the Napa Valley Register, no one’s talking about cult Cabs, and there was this truck I’ve pasted below parked in the lot. I ordered what turned out to be the largest huevos rancheros on the planet. Honestly, it wasn’t very good, but the spirit of the Soscal Café was really the point. It actually made me like Napa more.
But