One of my first blog posts at this "new address" (related query: are change of address cards appropriate for a new blog address? I feel like there's a market to be taken advantage of here...) was about an outing with my parents to a cafe in Larkspur called Rustic Bakery. That place was gorgeous and delicious, every sensible wallet's nightmare, because one could easily spend hundreds on pastries alone in a cafe so unabashedly, for lack of a better phrase, "country-chic."

Luckily, they have a second location down the road from my parents house in the other direction. We are literally flanked by Rustic Bakeries. The horror, the horror!

My mom and I went there the Sunday before my New York trip and took in both the lovely lupins (what an underrated flower!) and the Cobb salads. I tried to think of a C-adjective right there to further the alliteration, but no dice. There's no "C" in anything remotely related to salad... Alright, I suppose there is a C in "crouton." JUST DROP IT.

They're real!


Mother did the ordering. I'm so spoiled.


They're still here, still beautiful.



The Cobb salad comes with egg, bacon (swoon), cheese, tomato, the perfect amount of turkey, and their homemade Rustic Bakery crackers, off of which I could happily subsist on a deserted island someday if necessary. Dee-lish-us.