Slow Life with Real Food

A visit to Coleman Farms was more like an excuse to eat, get drunk, laugh, and enjoy good company. It's true. We were hardly working, and having tons of fun. It began with a mosey motorcycle drive to Carpinteria on Hwy 192, passing grand estate after grand estate, and just about as many luxury cars. We pulled into the drive that led to Coleman Farms, and it was lined with white picket fences, perfectly manicured lawns, and a dozen impeccably kept thoroughbred horses. I thought, for sure, that these were going to be some uppity people.

As we drove along a little further, the picket fences stopped and junk metal welded into art began to dot the drive. Then, a pig pen. Then, a couple of trailer homes, and then finally Bill and Dehlia Coleman's cozy home covered in overgrown everything. Now, this was more like it. Guillermo promised some rest and relaxation, and that was exactly what was waiting for us.

After playing with the uppity neighbor's horses (what a bitter woman she was!), we were greeted back at the Coleman's with some wonderful home cookin', cold Miller Genuine Drafts, friendly faces, and even friendlier laughs. To be honest, we didn't even look at the row crops. The flowers that covered the house were lovely, though, and Guillermo took quite an interest to the turkeys (could it be that he secretly is one?). And, almost all of the food that sweet Dehlia prepared that evening came straight from the farm, even the chicharrones (fried pig skin). The mood was definitely lighter than the dinner. We went to bed that night with swollen bellies and woke up the next morning with swollen heads, ready to hit the road for the next adventure. Visiting Coleman Farms was like visiting home. We hope someday to return the favor.

Check out our photos of Coleman Farm