What happens when you take a Skillet, a Son, a Saq, a Neeters and put them together?

Answer: a good time is had by all.

Me and Kev have been hanging out with my sister Deborah and her friend Anita a lot lately–going to dinner, grabbing coffee, or just playing with the dogs in their back yard (Deborah rents the little house in the back of Kev’s place). All three of those crazy kids have dogs now, and it’s a riot to watch them romp and play together. The four of us have been getting along really well lately. Whatever we do, those girls are just good company.

Tonight the four of us had dinner at my new favorite underground spot, the Hayward Ranch (my dinner was great–that’s two in a row). Our server was high as a kite, and that alone was entertainment enough. After dinner we stopped by Starbucks and let the conversations and good times continue.

We sat inside on comfortable chairs and chatted about happy things. I watched the rain come down outside; pitter pat, splash. I thought about how nice it was to be warm and dry inside, while the world was cold and wet outside. Cars sped by the corner of Mission Blvd and A St. The asphalt was wet, and the tires of those cars made that unmistakable sound–the sound that lets you know that, yes, it *is* raining. Conversations floated around me, wafting in and about my ears, and a smile crept across my lips as I turned to face each one of my merry companions, deep in conversation, laughing, smiling, warm. Yes, this is what happiness feels like, it’s been awhile. I’m around people that I care about, and they care about me, and I feel lighthearted and carefree tonight. This is bliss.

And then it was time to go. I can’t wait to be with my sister and our friends again.

It was a weekend for hospitality. Friday night I had a great experience at The Hayward Ranch. And on Super Bowl Sunday, Dave and Kaulana put on a really great party.

I love going to Dave’s parties. If there is one thing those crazy Hawaiians know, it’s hospitality. I have never, ever been to Dave’s house and not been offered food or refreshments.

Even if I’m only going to be there for a few minutes, Dave’s got a beer in my hand and Kaulana is offering me any number of Hawaiian snacks. I particularly like the lee hing moi and shredded octopus.

So, Super Bowl Sunday.

Let’s start with a crock pot full of Li’l Smokies and meatballs in a wonderful BBQ sauce. How about two types of Dave’s chili on the stove, replete with sourdough bread bowls and all the fixin’s? Oh, oh… and some tasty spiced baked chicken? Oh yes, thank you. And after the game, Dave can BBQ some hotlinks and toast some french rolls (I had mine with some of the chili–heavenly).

And how about those ice chests in the garage full of beer and soda and bottled water? Oh, and while we’re in the garage let’s play some ping pong. Or sit on one of those comfortable couches. Let’s admire Dave’s collection of neon beer signs. And after the game we can set up the poker table and play some Texas Hold ’em.

Oh, hey Lana. Fresh baked cupcakes? Sure, I’ll have one. More island treats? What’s this one called? No matter, I’ll try it!

Is it any wonder that Dave and Lana’s parties are such a hit? Is it any surprise that people keep coming back? Those two really know how to take care of their guests.

Oh wait, Super Bowl, right. Who’s playing again? Who won? I don’t think anyone cared. We were all too busy having a good time.

All their parties are like this. Every… single… one.

Dave, Lana… thanks again!

Quick!

What’s on the corner of Mission, Jackson, and Foothill; and when we were kids, it had a big sign out front that spun around (the sign doesn’t spin any more).

Need a hint? The once-spinning sign has a cow’s head protruding from it.

The Hayward Ranch restaurant and bar, right? Right!

You know, I’ve lived in Hayward for most of my life and I’ve never been in that place (until Friday night). Over the years I’ve probably driven past it thousands of times. Kinda weird, that. I’ve never thought much about it.

Last October Crazy Uncle David (Scott’s 50-something year old uncle with handlebar moustache and long, silver hair braided down his back who rides Harleys) remarked to me at the cabin in Trinity last hunting season that the Hayward Ranch had really good dinners and that he thought I would like it.

Hmmm… OK, what the hell? I’ll try it.

I walked in to the Ranch at around 6pm on Friday night. I was immediately greeted by smiles from the patrons at the bar. The cute hostess and bartender were very friendly. I felt welcome, comfortable, at ease, relaxed.

The decor of the place was so cool. Hanging from the walls and ceiling are all sorts of things you’d expect to find on, well, a ranch. Bit and bridle for horses, hitches for teams of working animals, saddles, old rifles and six-shooters, pictures from a by-gone era, stuff like that. I spent most of my time just looking around at all the things surrounding me.

As soon as I sat down someone was by to drop off a basket of sliced sourdough french bread and a bowl of butter pats. You know, the kind of bread that’s sliced, but not sliced all the way through, so you have to tear off hunks. I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved bread like this.

My server’s name was Adrianna and she was a perky ball of energy and joy. She recommended the clam chowder, which was excellent, and something from the grill. I went big–and ordered the porterhouse steak. When I told her that I’d lived in Hayward most of my life but had never been inside the Hayward Ranch she smiled and said, “We get that a lot. I think you’ll like it here. I bet you’ll be back.”

Throughout my dining experience all the servers in the joint would periodically stop by to ask me how I was doing and if I needed anything. I appreciate that kind of service.

My steak potato veggies arrived quick and hot. From the first bite of my porterhouse I was hooked. The flavor of the meat was better than anything I’ve ever accomplished. My dinner was sooo good! I was blown away. I haven’t had a steak that good in… I don’t know how long. Everything was excellent. My potato was perfect with my sour cream, chives, and bacon bits. My veggies were cooked just firm enough and not soggy at all.

Sorry, no room for dessert. I thanked Adrianna again for her excellent service and a fantastic meal. And then I tipped her PHAT (that’s “phat” with a P H). I was a server and a bartender for years in SoCal, so I can appreciate good service–and I reward people who go the extra mile. I felt good about my tipping generosity, and I walked away from my table feeling quite happy with myself.

I walked over to the bar side of the building and spent a few minutes chatting with the other customers as well as the bartender. Everyone was very friendly. Most of them have been coming to the Ranch for years and years. I can’t say that I blame them–in fact I’m sorry that it’s taken me 35 years to try the place.

All those wasted years! Thirty-five years that I could have been enjoying the goodness that is the Hayward Ranch! Now that I’ve discovered the Ranch I want everyone to know, and I want to take everyone there, so they can discover it too.

As I left the building my server, the hostess, and the bartender all called after me; thanking me for joining them for dinner, and asking me to come visit them again.

Oh yes, I’ll be back. I *will* be back.

Crazy Uncle David, you were right. The Hayward Ranch has awesome dinners, and I loved the place!

Thanks for everything, guys. I loved the Hayward Ranch. I can’t wait to eat dinner there again.

Who’s hungry?