Truth?  Before yesterday I would have told you that the Santa Barbara sun rose and set with The San Ysidro Ranch.  And who could argue?  Certainly not the Kennedy's.  But today I am deferential.  I am awakened and I gaze westward towards that glorious setting sun, I stand mesmerized.  I stand pacified.  I stand corrected. 

We arrived at The Simpson House Inn on possibly the worst afternoon in Southern California climatic history.  I'm not kidding.  They issued a tornado warning for the love of Pete. Driving north on the 101 through this apocalypse, it occurred to me that our umbrella - which we had barely brought - was neatly wedged away in the caverns of our trunk.  Brilliant.  While blankets of rain pounded down on the windshield, our exit strategy was non-existent. You can take the girl out of Los Angeles . . .

We pull into the hedge-hidden grounds, and before my husband can even turn off the ignition, an attendant appeared on either side of the car.  An umbrella clad attendant, awaiting our arrival.  Trust me when I tell you the Sirens couldn't have looked this good to Odysseus. 

In a seemingly simultaneous dance of symmetry, they opened the car doors. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Loeb?  Welcome to The Simpson House Inn."

And with that one gesture, the tone was graciously set.

It is impossible, even for me, to overstate the magnificence of The Simpson House Inn.  Since 1874, this historic Victorian manor has nestled itself quietly within a lush yet meticulously maintained bucolic wonderland, sprinkled with four lavish garden cottages, one of which we had the glorious pleasure of staying in. 

The air perfumed by lemon trees, we were escorted down the cobblestone path past the towering English oak and the fluttering oversized banana palms.  The door was opened and my breath immediately taken.

A hand-caligraphed personalized note welcomed us to our stay, accompanied by a duo of sherry baby cakes and dainty sterling dessert forks.  A soaring A-shaped wood-slat ceiling invited a bath of natural light to shower through the skylight.  A cavernous Jacuzzi tub nested itself within the cozy confines of the bay window, while the stone-scaped wall culminated spectacularly with a fireplace, which we lit immediately.  The coverlet looked like it could have been purchased in Marseilles, and the bathroom - with its pedestal sink and circa 1920 subway-tiled flooring - moved me to bow before stepping inside. 

A moment for the amenities.  Not only was our bathroom overflowing with  - wait for it - Kiehl's products, but they even went as far as including Hair Conditioner and Grooming Aid.  It's a conditioner and a leave-in.  I'm sorry, but who in their right mind can help but fall in love with a place that so clearly prioritizes their patrons' good hair day?  And to this end, as every good Kiehl's connoisseur knows, these bottles so amply provided cost a good $7.95 each when purchased at your local apothecary.  I felt like a trick-or-treater who stumbled upon that one house that gave actual Hershey bars, not just the fun size ones.  Moving on . . .

Nightly wine tastings culminate at 5:30, where the Mediterranean spread is so appealing it makes you wish you made a later dinner reservation.  Sipping samples of Santa Barbara's finest was a faultless segue into what would be a spectacular dinner to come.

While Santa Barbara is ripe with fine eateries, many of the old classics have gotten a little too comfortable at the top.  Where Coffee Beans have replaced Tutti's on dear old Coast Village Road (I don't want to talk about it), year after year it seems the bar has slowly lowered.  It is with this regression that I was thrilled to learn of Seagrass.  Filling the niche so ridiculously left vacant, it is the fervent answer to "Where can I get beautifully prepared fish in this coastal civic?"

Seagrass is the sister restaurant to Bouchon Santa Barbara, one of the few seaside staples that have retained its impeccable quality since its Bastille Day inception in 1998.  Mitchell Sjerven serves as proud proprietor of both venues, and lends glowing warmth with his very presence. 

We dined in nascent celebration:  Seagrass opened exactly one month prior to our visit.  In an elegant yet unintimidating space, the clean lines and modern décor provided a non-competitive backdrop to the dazzling cuisine.  Dionysus take note, wine is passionately revered here.  Pairings are suggested, and our server had such an in-depth knowledge of their wine library you'd think he had a degree in it.  He might have.

A note on the service.  It is spellbinding.  Attentive without overbearing, informative without interfering: flawless.  In a heartbeat, good service - or the absence thereof - can make or break a fledgling restaurant.  If such is the telltale for Seagrass, it is on its way to becoming a culinary cornerstone of this fine town. 

My scallop chowder was perhaps the first I could describe as light.  Do not mistake light for tasteless.  Au contraire - it was seasoned so expertly that the scallops took center stage, rather than being overwhelmed by heavy cream.  My glazed ahi - divine.  Prepared as rare as I like it, the yam batons and baby bok choy made for enhancing compliments. 

Looking around, Seagrass immediately invites a discerning crowd, and it can handle it.  Substitutions are not balked at and the air of subtle sophistication is easily welcomed.  Do yourself a favor and ask for Eric.  He'll take marvelous care of you, as will Mitchell, as he makes his happy-to-be-your-host rounds.

Returning to The Simpson House Inn, I was giddy in anticipation of turndown.  You just knew it would be special.  No disappointment there.  A personalized note of sweet dreams stood before an English china saucer with two chocolate dusted truffles, two spa-quality robes, slippers on each side of the bed.  In the main house, mini coconut crème cupcakes and coffee begged us to take a minute by the fire.

We opted to have our breakfast delivered to our room.  In so many B&B's, I'd advise you to seek other venues for your dining pleasure.  With all due respect, don't you dare.  You will not find a better breakfast at The Ritz, The Four Seasons, at the Barefoot Contessa's kitchen table.  Served on English china imported one box at time (I had to ask), each course outdid the previous one.  Mushroom goat cheese strudel preceded mascarpone filled lemon poppy seed crepes adorned with strawberry slices.  A basket of fresh baked blueberry almond muffins, Peet's coffee (my favorite), and fruits and juices per preference.  The culinary gods shined brightly upon our table.  As I looked out our plantation shutters and was consumed by visions of flowing fountains and falling ivy, wooden benches and wicker nooks, trails and trellises and pink pepperings of camellias, on my life I couldn't fathom a more serene and yet sensory stimulating setting.

In the way of bed and breakfasts there are nice places to stay and there are very special places to stay.  The Simpson House Inn is an exceptional place to stay.  It is all the charm of an inn with all the service of a five-star boutique.  Ten years running it has remained the only Five Diamond inn in all of North America and Canada. It does not brag or boast such laurels; it just makes them evident in every minute detail of your visit.  It's in the buttered popcorn delivered with your preferred DVD.  The flawless garden roses adorning your breakfast table.  The anticipation of each of your needs being met, miraculously, before you even knew you needed them, all of which is insistently gratuity free.  In the hush behind the inconspicuous hedges lies this unforeseen Shangri-La.   I cannot recommend it enough.  And while we may not all be Kennedy's, spending the night at The Simpson House Inn just might lead us to feel like we just may be after all.

By: Jolie Loeb

SIMPSON HOUSE INN

121 East Arrellaga Street

Santa Barbara, CA 93101

805.963.7067

www.simpsonhouseinn.com

SEAGRASS RESTAURANT

30 East Ortega Street

Santa Barbara, CA 93101

805.963.1012

www.seagrassrestaurant.com