You've probably experienced this strange phenomenon: The second you’ve left the Bay Area’s boundaries, delectable eating becomes harder to come by, and exponentially so the farther away you venture. I’ve resorted to many a ubiquitous Panera Bread or Denny's for some semblance of nourishment while on road trips. I usually feel terrible afterward, mulling over in my head all the Food Inc.-type sources that go into such fast, impersonal fare. Lately, I’ve been spending more and more time in Sacramento for lovely and amazing reasons I won’t go into here. You can imagine the pangs I feel as I drive further and further away from San Francisco—what, pray tell, could a city known as “Cow Town” have to offer a spoiled, whiny epicurean such as myself? As it turns out, a lot.

First, a shift in thinking: Sacramento is also hailed as the farm-to-fork capital of America. Yes, the distinction is a self-proclamation, but we digress. The title is well-deserved, after all. The city is surrounded by the very farms that supply gorgeous meats and produce to San Francisco’s top restaurants. It stands to reason that such a close proximity to all that bounty would yield some SF-level gastronomy. You can see for yourself at the Farm to Fork Festival on September 27 when Capitol Mall will be overrun with local restaurants and farms serving up their signature eats. Or, if crowds aren’t your scene, head to the restaurants themselves for an actual sit-down affair.

If you sit near the tall windows at Ella Dining Room + Bar for instance, you can watch the parade of women scantily clad in bridge-and-tunnel-esque attire pass by while you savor the succulent steak tartare—served not with toast points but a steamy garlic popover, an uncommon touch that nods to Tyler Florence’s Wayfare Tavern. When the smoky, juicy grilled pork chop arrives at the table accompanied by a truly miraculous mascarpone creamed corn, there’s no longer any room in your brain to comprehend why men would find such indelicate fashion so alluring. Nothing in the world matters except this beautiful cut of meat, deftly charred and taken off the fire at the exact moment of medium. 

If you’re visiting from SF, the warm, buzzy atmo at Mulvaney’s Building and Loan might be more your speed. The menu here changes daily according to whatever is market freshest. Whatever you do, order the house-smoked salmon (served with Irish brown bread) to start. Chef Patrick Mulvaney wanders the dining room striking up conversations, and if he spots this dish on your table, he might tell you the story of a foul-mouthed Irish priest who proclaimed the brown bread the best he’s ever had. Try one of the handcut pasta dishes, like the fettuccine with braised lamb shoulder, not just because it’s absolutely delicious, but also because it's truly soul-satisfying. Continue your comfort-food course by tucking into the spoon-tender braised short ribs with tomato-hefeweizen jus. Be sure to practice good foodie behavior by ordering dessert no matter how full you are: The luscious, heartfelt blueberry cream pie is almost reason enough to pack up a Uhaul and move to Sac. Almost.