Zen Dog Studio Teahouse: Lunar Magic at the Temple to Tea

A place to escape to when one cannot ease one’s cares in the mountains—the hut beneath the pine within the city. -Toyohara Sumiaki

So Zen Dog Studio Teahouse isn’t exactly a humble hut, but many in Seattle and beyond are finding their way to this magical “Temple to Tea” in Crown Hill to ease their cares, make new friends, and of course sip fabulous tea.

If you’ve already been but haven’t stopped by lately, Zen Dog has been busy transforming his oasis in the city. The man recognizes clearly that life is constant change.

Outside he’s recently installed a beautiful wooden Chinese pagoda in the bamboo grove, traditional Chinese waterwheels, a plant-filled koi pond with a cascading stone waterfall, colorful benches in the garden, stone pathways, and more—which make a perfect setting for Zen Dog’s monthly lunar celebrations.






I was fortunate to attend Zen Dog’s first annual summer festival this past weekend, where I mingled with a happy bunch enjoying over 6 hours of live music on the lawn, artist demonstrations, singing bowls, Chen-style tai ji, and a fantastic feast. Between perfectly grilled miso/ginger-marinated salmon, traditional Chinese roasted pig, summer fresh fruit, and tasty salads, I can’t imagine a better blend of Pacific Northwest-meets-Asia fare. (Thanks to Zen Dog’s son Derek for pulling together most of this sumptuous spread.)




From Jillian Graham Band’s bluesy folk rock to the international folklorica of Satellite by Night (Zen Dog regulars) with Mike Antone, the musicians spun a lively and sometimes mystical spell. As a sunny afternoon slipped into a cool orange dusk, Cittaflow entranced us with their flowing ancient-modern sound. I swear the stripped down, primal sound of the didjeridoo reverberated up and down and throughout my body, just like Shauna’s singing crystal bowls earlier in the evening.




Many of us stayed into the night, wrapped in blankets against the evening chill. Zen Dog, as always, was busy brewing and sharing his tea to take the edge off the cold. As his new sign says, his Temple to Tea is all about hospitality, tranquility, harmony, humility, purity, and simplicity.



Isn’t that a marvelous reminder to slow down in this crazy busy world and savor the moment?

Now go drink tea!

When You Go
Click here for a location map. There’s lots going on and coming up at Zen Dog Studio Teahouse. Future events include a guest speaker from Blue Heron Zen on August 19, a Taoist teacher in the fall, and more lunar gatherings. And while Zen Dog embodies hospitality, it is a business, so if you can, please at least leave a tip for the tea served (in the glass pitcher by the door) if you don’t buy anything.

Sailing Seattle’s Elliott Bay: The Rutten Race

I’m sitting on the foredeck aboard the gorgeous Tres Gatos sailboat on a beautiful summer evening, sun in my eyes and wind in my hair. We’re surrounded by dozens of boats at full sail here on Elliott Bay. Behind us downtown Seattle shimmers as the sun starts to slide toward the jagged Olympic Mountains on the western horizon.

It’s breathtaking. It’s so Seattle.

Although I’m just along for the ride, our skilled crew skippered by Bruce Hedrick is busy working the sails and ropes. After a tight turn around the last buoy bobbing in Puget Sound like a giant chocolate chip, we’re solidly in first place with no challengers. Which is just perfect.



You see, this is the Tom Rutten Memorial Race, the last in the 2011 Downtown Seattle Sailing series out of Elliott Bay Marina. Tom, who tragically died way too young 3 years ago, was one of the co-founders and organizers of this series. He was adored in the Seattle sailing community for his wicked sense of humor, incredible knowledge, dedication to the sport, and his, well, Tom-ness.

The man was truly one-of-a-kind. His brother Andy is part of our crew this evening. Tom, who was just 2 months older than me, was my first cousin.

Although I never sailed with Tom, I’m feeling his absence tonight. But how can I be sad with such a glorious backdrop?







Everyone is having a good time. That would have made Tom happy. I’m happy just to be here, to feel the chill in the wind after the sun sets, to see the camaraderie amongst everyone on board even though some of us have just met, to once again be awed by the view of Mount Rainier turning strawberry ice cream pink on the southern horizon.



Life is grand here in the Pacific Northwest. I try to remember that every single minute.



May you, too, wherever you are.

Wenatchee Weekend: Bicycling the Joe Miller Loop

Sometimes you just have to follow the sun. With our decidedly unsummer-like weather this summer in western Washington, I decide in about, oh, 0.05 second to accept a former college roomie's invite to Wenatchee for the weekend. That's east of the Cascade Mountains, the dividing line between cloudy and sunny this summer in the Pacific Northwest.

In case you don’t already know, the greater Wenatchee area and valley stretching up to Leavenworth is an outdoors lover’s Mecca. (Beautiful Lake Chelan is also not too far away.) Think great downhill, backcountry, and cross-country skiing in the winter. Warmer weather brings ideal conditions for rock climbing, hiking, river rafting, kayaking, waterskiing, bicycling, and more in a warmer, drier climate than the “Coast.”

No wonder my friends who live there are all fit, healthy, and happy.

As with many of my friends, Linda and I bonded over a shared love of skiing and outdoor adventures. So I’m not surprised when she and her husband propose an afternoon bicycle ride.

Since temps are expected to be over 90ᵒF (a shock to my mossback constitution!), Don suggests we ride a route known locally as the Joe Miller loop, much of which is over 1,000 above the valley floor. When riding counter-clockwise from Wenatchee, this roughly 25-mile loop rises steadily, then steeply up to a plateau in Stemilt Basin.

Many riders go clockwise to avoid the steep hill, but we cheat and drive up to where the route levels out atop the plateau, park the truck, and then start riding. Up here the views up to forested Mission Ridge and down toward the arid Wenatchee Valley are expansive and awesome.

This is orchard country, prime land for growing cherries, apples, pears, peaches, and apricots. So we start out under bright, intense sun on a gentle grade past trees heavy with fat red cherries ready for harvest. To our right the basin drops toward a farm.




“There’s an unofficial longboard race going on, so watch out and keep off the road for a bit,” says a woman standing on the side of the road just as we’re starting up the first hill. We pull over into the shade of ponderosa pines beside the road to watch (ah, relief from the sun, which is zapping me already). Pretty soon leather and helmet-clad guys go whizzing past, bent forward like Apolo Anton Ohno in a speed ice skating race. Those dudes are going scary fast!



After we cycle a bit higher and hit a few sharp switchbacks, a big pickup drives past piled full of the racers heading back up to the starting line. I'm glad to have an excuse for another break (it's the heat!) when we ascend to their start, where racers are lined up for the next run.




"Racers ready!" cries the starter. And they're off in a blur of leather and wheels, tailed by a chaser. A couple more tag-alongs try to join in, but the starter yells them off. "Dudes! Stop! No more!"

For the next half hour we meander along a winding country road past orchards, pine forests, and a few nice views of irrigation lakes and the dusty brown Columbia Basin steppes beyond. Sure there are more than a few potholes, but that’s okay because it’s so nice to be riding along a quiet, scenic road.



Then we emerge back into more orchards and agricultural land. Bucolic farms spread out in patchworks around the valley below, with snow-covered Glacier Peak off in the distance to the northwest.



“Here’s the biggest downhill stretch," says Don. We coast down the sinuous road, hands on the brakes around tight curves, until we come to an intersection with a cute little white clapboard church on a corner. Then we turn right on Joe Miller Road.




From here the grades lessen, but it’s still nice and easy cruising through Malaga past farms and small ranches with horses grazing beneath stunning Columbia River basalt ridges.



Within a few miles we end up down at the Malaga-Alcoa Highway, which flattens out and travels along the Columbia River. Until we got to the highway, I think only two trucks passed us in over an hour of riding! Our last few miles along the highway back to Wenatchee are a slog under the hot sun.



Back in town, I have to rest in the shade to cool down, gulping cold water while Don and Linda drive up to get the truck where we started. This Westside gal is not used to the heat! But a little too much heat and lots of sweat is worth it for this great ride. I earned the calories for my wonderful dinner this evening at Shakti's.

When You Go
If you can, I recommend riding this loop in the morning during the summer. In the fall and spring, I’m sure it’s a spectacular ride. By driving up to the top of the plateau, we cut our ride to a tad over 19 miles. Here’s a map of a slightly longer version of the route, starting in East Wenatchee across the Columbia River.

Here's the route as we did it: Head south out of Wenatchee up the Squilchuck Road towards Mission Ridge. About 4 to 5 miles on, turn left on Wenatchee Heights Road and go up the steep hill. We parked and started at the top of the plateau across from funky sign pictured to the right. This road turns into Stemilt Loop Road, which we followed across Stemilt Basin for about 10 miles to the little white Baptist church. Take a right down to Joe Miller Road, winding down several miles to West Malaga Road, which we followed to Malaga-Alcoa Highway (mostly flat along the river), and then back to Wenatchee along the highway.

Northwest Flavors: Wild Spot Prawns

After I read Fast Food Nation  I didn’t eat a hamburger for over a year.  And I’ve learned how truly harmful shrimp “farms” are, with tales of environmental degradation, toxic pesticides, destruction of small local shrimping operations, and even suspicious death of some opposed to huge shrimp farms. It’s not a pretty picture, people!

But here in the Pacific Northwest we have beautiful wild spot prawns and shrimp. Former Gourmet magazine editor Barry Estabrook is on to our not-so-secret and raves about our Northwest prawns. You can’t get them year-round, but that makes them all the more special when they are available, which is usually late spring to mid to late summer, about two months.



Today I picked up some spot prawns at Snow Goose Produce in Conway, Washington, up in the Skagit flats, fresh from Rosario Strait in the San Juan Islands. If you’re more determined, you can get a permit to go shrimping yourself in Puget Sound, as Langdon Cook chronicles on his wonderful blog Fat of the Land.

It goes without saying that these fresh, local prawns tasted incredible; they were sweet without any sweetening added. I treated them very simply, and the result was, I must boast, excellent. Here’s my “recipe,” although I can’t give you specific amounts—just go with your instincts for how many you will be serving.



Wild Spot Prawns Linguine with Garlic and Lemon

Wild spot prawns or shrimp (about 4 or 5 per person, depending on size)
olive oil
minced fresh garlic
minced shallots or small cipolline onion
fresh-squeezed lemon juice
touch of sea salt
fresh linguine
fresh grated parmesan
minced chives

Cook up the linguine al dente (I used a mixture of spinach and plain), drain and drizzle with a bit of olive oil, divvy individual servings into wide bowls, and set aside.

Heat a sauté pan, and then add enough olive oil to cover the pan surface.

Sauté the shallots or onion until soft, then add the garlic and sauté for another minute, stirring nonstop.

Add the shelled prawns and sauté until pink (but not any longer!), then pour in lemon juice and stir for another few seconds to heat. Mine were pre-cooked so I just reheated in the pan for a bit.

Spoon the shrimp mixture over the pasta, salt to taste, grate some good fresh parmesan on top, and sprinkle with fresh chives.

Enjoy with a fresh green salad and a crisp, dry white wine.



Have you ever gone shrimping? Do you have a favorite way to prepare fresh shrimp? Do tell under Comments below.

Bon appetit!

Where to Go
Check your local fish monger for wild spot prawn availability. Any American- or Canadian-sourced wild prawn is relatively safe because of our stricter regulations about reducing by-catch. Wild prawns from other parts of the world are not so well regulated and therefore suspect.

Sea Kayaking Northern Skagit Bay: Seals, Sunshine, and Sweet Paddling

Not much more than an hour north of Seattle, northern Skagit Bay is a marvelous area to enjoy some beautiful scenery, spy wildlife, and explore undeveloped tree-fringed shorelines. What more could you ask for in a day sea kayaking?

I blogged about sea kayaking in Skagit Bay last year, but I can’t resist writing about this great place again after the exhilarating day I just spent there.

With strong currents from a large tidal exchange today, we almost go to Bowman Bay instead, which is outside Deception Pass. The narrow passages on either side of Hope Island in Skagit Bay can be tricky because of swift currents, tide rips, and swirly squirrely water.

We want to try something a little different than the usual loop around Hope and Skagit Islands, so after launching in calm water at Snee-Oosh Beach, we kayak directly west across the bay to Whidbey Island. Along the northeastern Whidbey shoreline, thick green forest crowds close to the water’s edge. The eelgrass and bull kelp we glide over sway in the current; this is valuable habitat for Dungeness crab and fish. I catch a glimpse of a belly-up crab half buried in the sand beneath some long flat strands of eelgrass in the clear, shallow water.



“We’ve caught a couple big crabs, it’s going to be a good dinner tonight!” says a woman we pass who is crabbing, ankle deep in the water with net baskets in hand.

As we round a small, rocky beach point, a shiny gray lump close to the water moves slightly: it's a baby seal. It turns to watch us with huge dark eyes and glances toward the tideline a few feet below, as if deciding whether to slip into the water and disappear.

“There’s mom,” says Julie. An adult seal pops its head above the water several yards behind us, clearly anxious we're there. We paddle away quickly. I've been told not to scare young seals into the water because they don't have enough insulation to withstand too much time in the chilly waters of Puget Sound.

Exploring Cornet Bay is our goal, but as we round Hoypus Point toward Deception Pass the wind becomes too fierce to battle. It’s an afternoon westerly, which the funnels through the pass like a wind tunnel. Instead we pull up to a beach across from Fidalgo Island, with Mount Erie looming close to the north.



With the often gray and dreary summer we’re having, I bask in the gorgeous sunny day here on this beach. Glacier-capped Mount Baker (or Koma Kulshan as the natives called it) seems to float above the Cascades on the eastern horizon, and to the south a forest-covered Goat Island rises gently in the distance, framing our view.



Since I’m trying to have gluten-free days along with meatless days, I must say I packed quite a tasty bean salad along with the berries I picked yesterday.



“Let’s head straight over the Hope Island,” suggests Julie when the breeze dies down. Boat traffic isn’t too bad considering it’s a beautiful summer day, so we paddle southeast, aiming for a beach near the northwestern side of this lovely island state park. I love paddling close to the island shorelines here, where the rocky bluffs are topped with moss, lichen, and occasional wildflowers.



Time flies when you’re outside doing something you love on a brilliant blue sky day. We catch the flood tide back to Snee-Oosh beach about 4 hours after we started. While it’s always a chore to lug the heavy kayaks up from the beach and onto the car, somehow the boats always seem lighter after a great paddle.

When You Go
There are lots of places to launch your kayak around this area, but Snee-oosh Beach is convenient, with no parking fees. Drive to LaConner, WA, cross the Rainbow Bridge over Swinomish Slough, then take a left on Pull-and-be-Damned Road (isn't that wonderful name for a road, or anything?) to Snee-oosh Road on the bay. As soon as the road drops down to the water level, take a quick left onto the dirt road to the boat lauch/parking area. Check the tides before you go since the currents can get pretty strong around the islands here and a low tide means tideflats that can restrict travel to the south (and make for some mucky walking on the beach down to the water’s edge.)