For some people, the California dream is made up of beautiful people playing beach volleyball, the Hollywood sign and palm-lined boulevards passing white mansions. Me? I picture West Marin: windswept bluffs over the roiling Pacific Ocean, small boats putt-putting around languid Tomales Bay, sheep and dairy cows grazing, and small roads winding through fog-swept meadows and squintingly sunny hills. And food. Briny oysters on ice, chilled white wine, buttery and fragrant cheeses and fresh crusty bread. Click here to read more.