14 PUNCHMAGAZINE.COM When an otherwise normallooking neighborhood is surrounded by an oddly ornate wall, you’re likely seeing traces of a once-magnificent country estate that was redeveloped into a subdivision. Johanna Harlow tracked down the ones with the best backstories on the whole Peninsula. (Page 96) Of course, a few of those grand estates still remain intact, including famous Filoli in Woodside. If you’ve ever wondered what it took to get that marvelous mansion built, we’ve got the answers. (Page 84) The Park James Hotel in Menlo Park scored a culinary coup earlier this year when it convinced Joseph Humphrey to take over its restaurant. The Michelin star-winning chef’s take on California cuisine is transforming Oak + Violet. (Page 57) Got a craving for restaurant-worthy bar food and bar-worthy cocktails? Find them both under one roof at lively Horsefeather in Palo Alto. (Page 68) If you still think of the Danish enclave of Solvang as a roadside attraction, you might be surprised to find that this Central Coast town has become a weekend getaway-worthy destination. (Page 39) As winter approaches and the weather outside turns frightful, outdoor activities can lose their appeal. Try one of the Peninsula’s many indoor outings, activities that offer fun ways to keep you out of the cold. (Page 48) With Thanksgiving on the horizon, our November issue is the perfect chance for me to give thanks for all of our wonderful PUNCH readers. To everyone who takes the time to flip through these pages, email us feedback or share tales of canine quirks for our Diary of a Dog feature, please know how much I appreciate you! Andrea Gemmet andrea@punchmonthly.com {editor’s note} whistle, a noise he produced by putting his pinky and forefinger in the corners of his mouth. (My sister can replicate it, but my brother and I never could.) The backyard was even better. Under the dappled shade of a massive oak tree grew a rangy garden with fruit trees and a trellis of purple-black Concord grapes. A raised swimming pool surrounded by a wooden deck sat directly beneath the oak’s brawny branches. I liked to float on my back and watch the dark green leaves rustle in the breeze. Practically speaking, it was a terrible location for a pool and it accumulated heaps of twigs and fallen leaves, but I loved it. I loved the house, too, which had been subjected to the previous owner’s inventive (if unevenly executed) renovations. The family room addition, in peak-1970s style, boasted fauxwood paneling, leaking skylights and a metal roof that rumbled delightfully when it rained. The kitchen had secret compartments, including a hinged section of tiled countertop that raised to reveal our collection of breakfast cereals, and beneath the built-in booth seating, you could pull out a vacuum cleaner attachment and suck up the crumbs from the carpeted kitchen floor. Over the years, I’ve lived in nicer houses but nothing can shake my affection for the place where I grew up. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what makes a place feel like home as we prepared the stories in this month’s issue. We kick off November with David Edwards of Earth Bound Homes, a biochemist who tells us how he reframed his life’s work after discovering a passion for building healthy, energy-efficient houses. (Page 25) If you’ve seen one too many homes that evoke hotel lobby rather than personalized living space, you’ll want to check out how the husband-wife team behind Atelier Ma remodeled a Los Altos spec home to make the most of the art-loving owners’ exuberant style. (Page 77) When I was five, my family moved from a small house on a flag lot in unincorporated San Mateo County to a slightly bigger house on a tree-lined avenue in Redwood City. Our old street had no sidewalks and our front yard was hidden, so no one could see you playing and ask to join in. Our new neighborhood was so full of children that my two siblings and I rarely had to do more than step outside to find a playmate. On a bad day, I’d have to knock on someone’s door. Our front lawn, a sloping patch of grass, hosted baseball games, cartwheel competitions, kitemaking and breathless games of tag. If we wandered too far away to hear mom calling us, my dad would deploy his piercing
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