Author: punchwpadmin

Words by Dylan Lanier

Religious architecture has often stood at the forefront of innovation in technology and design. The First United Methodist Church of Palo Alto is no exception, with its commanding walls, striking stained glass and graceful sanctuary. Established in 1894, the assembly decided in 1957 to replace its white stucco sanctuary with one substantial enough to accommodate its growing membership and inspire the congregation. Dr. R. Marvin Stuart led a four-year planning effort that aimed to create a house of worship that could be used for more than religious services by welcoming the community to musical and cultural events. Architect Carlton Arthur Steiner, a U.C. Berkeley professor who had never designed a church before, brought a bold vision to the project. After submitting countless designs, Steiner got the green light for this “contemporary gothic” structure and formed 19 concrete piers. Inside, 1,500 brilliantly-hued glass inserts were placed in the steeply sloping roof and 600-pound circular lighting fixtures of spun steel and brass were bolted to the ceiling. Steiner and Stuart mischievously scaled the scaffolding to mark their initials high above the chancel.

As the years passed, dozens of strategically-placed buckets had to be deployed to catch leaks during rainstorms. Repairs completed in 2018 ensured that congregants could once again stay dry in the sanctuary in any weather. Another highlight of this building’s design is the undulating face of the balcony, which enhances the acoustics, a befitting choice for the frequent concerts it hosts for Philharmonia Baroque, New Century Chamber Orchestra and Midsummer Mozart Festival. The church also houses the majestic Merritt C. Speidel Memorial Organ, where TikToker Anna Lapwood performed Hans Zimmer’s Interstellar soundtrack across its keys and pedals last year. More than half a century later, this hymn to bold architecture continues to catch the eye of congregants and
passersby alike.

Words by Johanna Harlow

After decades of surfing, former pro-longboarder Julie Cox still fondly recalls the high of catching her first unbroken wave off the shores of LA County at 14. “I remember those moments and how much I just wanted more of it,” she reflects. “I’ve been chasing that first ‘green wave’ throughout my career.”

In 2016, Julie said goodbye to sunny SoCal with its warm sands and tame water temp, left her job as director of the California Surf Museum and moved to foggy Pacifica with her partner Rel Lavizzo-Mourey. Though the area boasted great swells, the chilly water off Linda Mar Beach came as a bit of a shock. “I used to drive home in my wetsuit, getting my car seats all wet,” Julie recalls. Once home, she’d have to stow her surfboards—an “awkward, ding-prone process of guiding nine-foot ‘logs’ around a corner staircase and into a back room.” Little did she know that this cumbersome scenario would inspire a thriving business.

Cover photo: Courtesy of Miah Klein / Patio Photo: Morgan Saunders

As Julie and Rel acclimated to their new environment, they envisioned the ultimate surfer’s haven: a place to talk waves and gather for local events with access to changing rooms, board storage, a backyard lounge and beach-day merchandise. And warmth. Hot showers, heated patio furniture, a sauna—the whole nine yards. One day, after a Christmas Eve surf session, the two stopped to check out a possible location a block from the ocean. “It ticked all the boxes,” Rel recalls. Traveler Surf Club & Coastal Outpost had found its home.

Today, the patio welcomes members with comfy furniture and all the amenities a surfer could hope for, while the front shop (for members and passersby alike) satisfies beachy needs from swimsuits and serapes to sunscreen and sandals. You’ll find books like Driftwood Shacks and The Little Guide to Shorelines as well as Rel’s line of hoodies, hats, tees and tanks. To achieve this, Rel drew on her previous design experience from founding Silver Lining, a clothing collaboration with artists that tucked paintings and illustrations into the linings of coats and bags.

Photo: Courtesy of Morgan Suanders

They sell boards too. Among the mid twins and pintails, you’ll find longboards designed by Julie. The versatile California Coaster is her collaboration with local shaper John Moore of Mystic Surfboards. “It’s based off of one of my favorite boards that I personally ride on and compete on,” Julie notes. As an international competitor and a team rider for ROXY, her stamp of approval means something. “I was ranked fifth in the world for three years, which was kind of cool,” Julie mentions, almost as an afterthought. “It was very much a social thing as well as competition,” she adds. “I had an excuse to go travel to different places, and meet up with friends, and meet new people and cultures.” (“Hence the name ‘Traveler,’” Rel remarks).

With their surf business catching on, Julie and Rel have expanded to two more locations in Santa Cruz and Malibu. Running a tight ship, Julie helms day-to-day operations and stocks new products, while Rel, the big-picture strategist, handles club maintenance and designs apparel. They work seven days a week to balance retail, club services and events. “We’re kind of pinging all over the place,” Rel chuckles. “It’s juggling. It’s like being in the circus.” Julie chimes in, “It keeps it fun!”

Photo: Courtesy of Michaela Rabinov

The ocean keeps them grounded in this vortex of activity. “You clear your mind when you’re in the water, because there’s really nothing else you can be doing,” Rel points out. “When you get out of the water, too, there’s something about the energy of the ocean that stays with you—that kind of tingly feeling throughout the day.” Julie nods her agreement. “I love that it’s different every day,” she adds. “It’s not like a skate park or like snowboarding where you can see it ahead of you. The wave is being formed right in front of you.”

Seeking to share their passion, Traveler cultivates the next generation of wave riders with surf lessons for all levels. Rather than group sessions though, expect one-on-ones tailored for those “looking to become independent in the water,” says Rel. “We’re trying to get people to establish surfing as a lifelong practice … becoming a real person of the ocean. That’s our goal. The lesson is the catnip that hopefully turns you into a lifelong surfer.”

And when you’ve reached that point, the Traveler club is a perfect place to get plugged in. “We overhear that they’re going on a surf trip together or we see them coming into the club together, and they just met in our backyard,” Julie says of their members. “There are so many cool little connections and friendships that are happening. That feels like a measure of success for us.”
Of course, it helps that they’re all rallying around a shared love. “You’re out there together, riding little balls of energy that come into shore,” Julie describes. “It’s pretty magical.”

get stoked – travelersurfclub.com

My name is Phyllo, just like the delicate dough used to make baklava and other tasty treats. I guess the name fits, because my flaxen fur resembles a partially baked pastry. Or maybe it’s because the nice people at Muttville Senior Dog Rescue thought my personality had a lot of layers. According to a DNA test, I do have quite a few “ingredients” in my mix. While I’m over 50 percent Chihuahua, I’m also part Maltese, cocker spaniel, poodle and Pomeranian. Mostly, though, I’m just a friendly mutt with simple tastes. I started out as Lynn and John’s foster dog while recovering from dental surgery, but they soon fell for my gentle nature and decided to make me a permanent part of the family. I love being part of the pack of older dogs at their nice, stair-free home in Redwood City (I have some mobility issues), and I’m happiest when cuddling on the sofa or patrolling the kitchen for delicious crumbs. Because I’m small, I have a reputation for getting underfoot while food is being prepared, but I see it as providing a valuable service. You never know when someone might spill something that needs cleaning up!

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Foster City’s annual Fourth of July fireworks sparkle in this image by PUNCH photographer Gino de Grandis. By shooting from a lofty vantage point, he not only shows off the colorful pyrotechnics but also firmly establishes the Peninsula setting. “When I was taking it, I was thinking about getting a view of the Bay, to show that it’s San Mateo,” he explains.

Image by Gino de Grandis / luiphotography.com

Calling all Shutterbugs: If you’ve captured a unique perspective of the Peninsula, we’d love to see your Perfect Shot. Email us at hello@punchmonthly.com to be considered for publication.

Words by Loureen Murphy

Mike Trigg looks like any other local relaxing at Portola Valley’s idyllic Alpine Inn. He doesn’t seem like a man who would dream up a deadly San Francisco riot or a high-profile kidnapping. And yet he is the imaginative force behind Shane Stoller, the catalyst character in Burner, his latest novel.

Debunking the “write what you know” adage, Mike says he shares little in common with any of his new book’s main characters: an imprisoned cyber vigilante whose followers are responsible for 12 deaths; his defense attorney; and a kidnapped internet icon. Even so, the full-time author and former CEO of Palo Alto-based software development company Rustle has plenty to say about tech’s impact on current socio-political tensions and mental health. And it’s generating plenty of grist for his plot-twisting mill.

In Burner, hacker, blogger and agitator Shane hates the billionaires controlling an endless loop of wealth. But that doesn’t stop him from falling for ultra-rich socialite and internet icon Chloe. Stranger still, she falls for Shane.

“Their relationship is meant to represent the political polarization in our country,” Mike explains. Though from disparate worlds, Shane and Chloe have something in common: both thrive on audience reaction and spin out when that attention is cut off. “Young people are living in this day-to-day world online, where they feel like they need to be a celebrity or an Instagram influencer and have millions of followers in order to have self-worth,” Mike observes. “We need to find a new basis for self-esteem.”

In his latest page-turner, Mike weaves in dashcam footage and wiretap transcripts, a grand jury indictment and more, giving the reader a broader perspective than that of the characters, who struggle with gaps in their knowledge. “The book is really about truth and information: how we get it and what we believe,” he says. “And the three narrators are all unreliable.”

Mike says he experienced many of the same things as Sam, the protagonist in his first novel Bit Flip, when facing the moral and ethical dilemmas rife in tech startups. After 20-plus years in Silicon Valley, Mike renders characters who seem so real that he often fields the question, “Is that character based on so-and-so?” He says no. They’re mashups and archetypes of various Silicon Valley players, painted broadly.

In his youth, Mike pounded out stories on his family’s electric typewriter and as a sixth grader, created his own role-playing, Dungeons and Dragons-esque game. “That really gave me the entrepreneurial bug from a very early age,” he recalls. Raised in Wisconsin, Mike earned a business degree and worked for a few years on Capitol Hill before coming west to ride the tech wave in the 1990s. Ever curious, he explored its many facets, gathering a host of “you can’t make up this stuff” tales. Mike credits his wife Leslie for kickstarting his novel-writing efforts and the pandemic for offering an opportunity to write daily, not just on weekends.

Out of the tasks required of every author—writing, editing and promoting—Mike enjoys two of the three. The extrovert says, “It’s almost surprising to me that I can be deeply satisfied by a day where I did nothing but sit in front of my computer and write, with my dog down here on my feet.” When asked if writing comes easily, he answers, “I rarely have writer’s block. I often have editor’s block.”

Assembling the non-linear narrative of Burner was a bit like solving a Rubik’s Cube. “That’s where writing becomes a team sport,” Mike says. Like a software company testing and refining its product, he relied on beta readers: “People I trust, who will give me honest feedback.” The result is a striking contrast between the book’s first and final drafts.

The fun returns for Mike when the editing is done and he’s promoting his book. He’s in his element as a public speaker. He has toured, talked with book clubs, done signings and served as a panelist at ThrillerFest 2023, an annual conference for international authors. The common theme between book promotion and the solitary writer’s room? “The movement of ideas from your head onto the page or into your mouth,” he shares. “That’s what I find fulfilling.”

A true professional, Mike juggles all three phases at once. While promoting Burner, he slogs through the edits of his third book, another tale at the nexus of politics and technology. Set amid a massive internet and cell phone failure in Virginia near Washington, D.C., it traces a woman’s search for her missing lobbyist husband—whom she suspects had a hand in the communications blackout. And Mike balances all this while his fourth novel’s first draft takes shape.

Calling his works “cautionary tales,” Mike jabs at the assumption that tech is making the world a better place. “That mantra has probably been on the wall of 80% of the tech companies in the valley,” he notes. Though the industry has produced prosperity and revolutionized daily life, he finds that the motto rings increasingly hollow and offers his books as a cultural commentary on the industry.

“Our own behaviors and our own pursuit of ego create these negative side effects,” says Mike. “If there’s a message in my cautionary tales, it’s that we are all part of this.” Societal healing comes down to individuals choosing to change by valuing relationships, talking to each other and really listening. “Focus on what you can do and make your immediate social circle a better place,” he advocates. His goal is to get people thinking, then talking. And hopefully, working to restore thoughtful, respectful political and ideological conversation. “My real opponent is polarization,” he says.

For this lesser goldfinch, the bristling spines of a cactus are no deterrent. On a stakeout for hummingbirds at Stanford University’s Arizona Cactus Garden, Rick Morris was sidetracked when this bright yellow fellow came along. “I enjoy bird photography for many reasons. Being in nature is very relaxing and a very healthy thing to do. I also enjoy the ability to capture birds and their details that the naked eye just cannot see,” says the Menlo Park resident, who recently started offering birding tours for avian enthusiasts.

Image by Rick Morris / linktr.ee/inthewildwithrick

Calling all Shutterbugs: If you’ve captured a unique perspective of the Peninsula, we’d love to see your Perfect Shot. Email us at hello@punchmonthly.com to be considered for publication.

Words by Sheri Baer

With a mop of wavy hair and thick rectangular glasses, George Cogan carries on like any kid let loose in San Francisco’s Exploratorium. “Look! You can high-five yourself!” he exclaims, as he demonstrates the optical illusion created by a giant spherically-shaped mirror. Bounding over to a wall of lockers, he taps out a tune on the musically-enabled handles. “If you touch two, you get a different note!” he grins. Next, he’s pressing his arm against a metal shape to reveal a fleeting star-shaped tattoo only discernible by infrared camera: “Cool, right?” In a shadow box exhibit, George kicks up his heels, a flash of light capturing his exuberant silhouette on a phosphorescent screen.

This epicenter of science, art and human perception is Tripadvisor’s No. 1-ranked San Francisco museum, so George’s behavior isn’t unusual. But he’s also not your typical kid. Despite having the zeal of a six-year-old, he’s an accomplished management consultant in his mid-sixties. Although George lives on the Peninsula (Palo Alto, Menlo Park and now a longtime Atherton resident), the Exploratorium is unquestionably his second home. Which is not surprising, given the profound role he’s played in reimagining this world of infinite curiosity.

 

The Exploratorium’s Origin Story

Understanding George’s contribution requires backing up a bit—to the tale of a different man, with a notable last name: Oppenheimer. In this case, Dr. Frank Oppenheimer. The younger brother of J. Robert Oppenheimer and also a Manhattan Project physicist, Frank could be considered the “uncle” of the atomic bomb. After being barred from scientific pursuits during the McCarthy era, Frank turned to cattle ranching and teaching. Not a fan of rote memorization, he championed a hands-on approach to science education through exploration and experimentation.

In 1969, Frank channeled his passion into the founding of a new kind of museum located in San Francisco’s iconic Palace of Fine Arts. Filling it with an eclectic mix of found, built and donated objects, Frank created many of the Exploratorium’s early exhibits himself. Although ostensibly promoting tinkering, discovery and play, Frank envisioned the Exploratorium as serving a deeper purpose: providing a foundation to fight the misuse of technology. “Frank wasn’t necessarily trying to teach people to be scientists,” George explains, “but to help normal citizens have enough confidence to engage in scientific and technological topics—to ask the questions and question the answers.”

Journey of a Curious Kid

As Frank was launching his groundbreaking museum in San Francisco, George was coming of age on the opposite coast. Growing up in Manhattan, “when it was a safe city in the ’60s,” George describes a free-range childhood, punctuated by subway rides all over New York and collecting Good Humor popsicle sticks so he could build things out of them. “I was the kid who took apart his bicycle and then put it back together, but would always have like three or four parts that were left over,” he smiles. “I wasn’t a great reader, but I was a good visual learner and a good learner with my hands.”

Initially studying economics at Harvard, George took a year off to work in construction, netting enough to spend six months hitchhiking through Europe. When he returned to Harvard, he switched his major to physics, which led to summer work as a research assistant for an engineering professor at Stanford University. After graduation, he moved out to Silicon Valley to join a solar company, then earned a MBA from Stanford’s Graduate School of Business. In 1989, George launched his consulting career with Bain & Company, where he became a partner and opened the firm’s Silicon Valley office.

As a Bay Area transplant, George vividly recalls the first time he visited the Exploratorium. “It was a big, hollow, cavernous place—and I just fell in love with it,” he says. “It was a magical place of people experiencing things and learning things, and you could see curiosity in people’s eyes.” Coming from a physics background, he relished experiencing phenomena with his own hands. “Whenever anyone visited, that would be the first place I would take them.”

It was a casual coffee date—or perhaps serendipity—that catapulted George from superfan status to active engagement. His wife, Fannie Allen, met up with a business school friend who mentioned that she was on the board of the Exploratorium. “That’s George’s favorite place!” Fannie remarked. “Well, he should join the board,” her friend responded. “So that’s how I got involved,” George sums up. He officially started in April 1997.

Teaming up with staff and two other board members, George created a strategic plan for the Exploratorium. First and foremost, “We needed more space,” he summarizes. “The founder of the Exploratorium, Frank Oppenheimer, had anticipated that need, but we set the plan in motion.”

The Big Move

By the numbers, here’s what came next: Ten years searching for a site. Six years securing the entitlements. Two years building the new 330,000-square-foot waterfront campus at San Francisco’s Piers 15 and 17. And, specifically for George, innumerable hours driving the $300 million fundraising campaign to make it happen.

As a board member, George was very familiar with the Exploratorium’s “outsized impact,” ranging from professional development programs for teachers to collaborative R&D projects on a global scale. “It was named the most important science museum to have opened since the mid-20th century,” he proudly attests, “and it’s the model for the new version of science museums all around the world.” But for many, the Exploratorium connoted a favorite field trip destination: the bigger picture view wasn’t widely known. So, George hit the pavement—and gave tours of the construction site—to raise awareness. “We had to educate the philanthropic community about how important the place was,” he recalls.

“I came here almost every weekend for five years to show people around.”
Over the course of the momentous project, George became chairman of the board of trustees (2007-2018), while simultaneously leading Bain’s Global Technology Practice and partnering with Fannie to raise their three children. “My kids are the only kids in the Bay Area who would say, ‘We have to go to the Exploratorium again,’” he laughs. George credits numerous Silicon Valley entrepreneurs—including Arthur Rock, Bill Bowes (who preceded George as chairman) and the Exploratorium’s largest donor, Gordon Moore—with anchoring the project’s success. “The role of the Peninsula was super important,” he reflects. “The Exploratorium is one of the few institutions that’s physically located in San Francisco but has a lot of interest and deep ties to Silicon Valley.”

In 2013, 16 years to the month after George joined the board, the new state-of-the-art facility—three times larger than the original—opened to visitors. At the dedication ceremony, George proclaimed to the packed crowd, “Everyone in the Bay Area loves the Exploratorium!” Looking back, he still breaks into a satisfied smile. “It was a fun time to be centrally involved in such an important, iconic institution,” he beams, “and I was doing something that I felt was really important.”

At The Exploratorium With George

Today, the Exploratorium touts 75,000 square feet of roaming space, with an ever-expanding collection of 650+ hands-on exhibits. As for “Don’t Touch” signs? That would be zero. The whole point of coming here is to push, pump, roll, spin, tinker, test, examine and play. Even as the Exploratorium continues to evolve, George keeps marking his own set of milestones. He remains actively involved, whether it’s with his now adult kids, as a partner at Bain or on the Exploratorium’s board of trustees, as chairperson emeritus.

Befittingly, George celebrated his 40th birthday in the old Exploratorium’s Tactile Dome and his 60th in the new one. He harbors a special affinity for the Exploratorium’s largest interactive exhibit, which famously plunges visitors into a sensory journey through total darkness. Although George waved off a formal plaque when he stepped down as chairman in 2018, he agreed to an alternative form of recognition: “You can feel my name in braille at the top of the Tactile Dome!”

Most Thursday nights, George is a regular at “After Dark,” the special weekly programming that promises: “No kids allowed—but you can still act like one.” And every March 14, you’ll find George whooping it up on Pi Day here, which was invented in 1988 by an Exploratorium staff scientist. “There are very few museums that can lay claim to creating a national holiday,” he asserts. And, even after all these years, it is still George’s No. 1 spot to bring out-of-towners.

What shall it be? Touch a tornado? Capture a wave? Watch water freeze into a colorful kaleidoscope of crystals? If there’s one constant, it’s that every visit is different. And George appreciates that he isn’t alone in his ageless enthusiasm. “I’ve taken Nobel Prize physicists through the Exploratorium,” he says, “and they’re like kids in a playground because everything here is authentic phenomena.”

Learning laboratory – exploratorium.edu

What’s black and white and flies all over? That would be me! I’m Oreo, the jet-setting Boston terrier. My travel companions, Maryanne and Ed, have several places that they call home—Maryland, Maui and Menlo Park. They were looking for a dog small enough to travel in the cabin with them and not get sent down to the cargo hold. I fit the bill! They like to joke that if only I could earn frequent flier points, I would have racked up well over 40,000 miles before I was three years old. I think they should give it a try and get me my own seat instead of tucking me underneath one. When I’m not taking to the skies, I enjoy sitting on furniture just like a person, with one elbow propped on the arm rest, chubby tummy on full display. Before I joined the family, Ed had his doubts about getting another dog, so Maryanne worked hard to find just the right one. I was the last puppy left in my litter when they came to meet me, and while I love them both, I was immediately drawn to Ed. I guess I won him over, because he ran out of objections when I cuddled right up to him. In a tribute to my place of birth and Maryland’s state bird, the oriole, my Instagram handle is @Baltimore.Oreo. I do have another important thing in common with an oriole—we both like to fly!

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Words by Diane Holcomb

N estled within bustling Silicon Valley lies a poignant reminder of the region’s agricultural roots—the Los Altos Heritage Orchard. Visitors to the orchard can experience the changing seasons as they watch the trees emerge from winter dormancy, erupting into spring blossoms before giving way to leafy green branches adorned with ripening fruit, then changing to a golden hue in autumn. Established 123 years ago, this orchard at the Los Altos Civic Center stands as a testament to the area’s rich farming history. In 1901, J. Gilbert Smith planted five acres of Blenheim apricot trees next to the farmhouse he built from mail-order blueprints. The young carpenter later expanded his apricot orchard to 15 acres.

In 1954, when Los Altos city founders were looking for a place to build a city hall, they opted to purchase Smith’s land. The deal included an unusual commitment: to preserve it as a working orchard. After Smith and his wife Margaret died, the city took ownership of both the orchard and the farmhouse. Now a California Historical Point of Interest and a cornerstone of Los Altos History Museum’s collection, the City of Los Altos recently entrusted the museum with revitalizing what’s now a roughly two-acre historic orchard. That work, overseen by orchardist Terrence Welch, included installing water-efficient drip irrigation, enriching the soil by using green landscaping practices and planting 289 Blenheim saplings alongside the venerable old trees. One of three heritage orchards protected by cities in the region once famously known as the Valley of Heart’s Delight, the Los Altos Heritage Orchard stands as a living connection between the past, present and future. This month, as harvest time approaches, come by for hands-on activities at the family-friendly Apricot STEM Fair on June 29.

 

San Mateo resident and skilled horsewoman in the sport of eventing discusses how she cares for 32 steeds while training up-and-coming equestrians, and why horses make the best teachers.

How do you describe eventing to non-equestrians?
Three-day eventing is like a horse triathlon. In the first, dressage, the horse and rider perform a series of movements in front of a judge. Then in cross-country, the horse and rider jump over obstacles such as logs, cabins, ditches and water complexes at almost maximum speed. Finally the pair, now exhausted, undergo a course of show jumping fences. The sport itself is just wild!

What draws you to horses?
Horses aren’t necessarily like dogs. They’re not the companion type. But they form this unique partnership with their riders. It’s like a language that only the two of you can speak. Horses can also sense your emotions both on the ground and atop their back.

Can you share a cool horse-related fact?
Horses can’t breathe through their mouths!

What’s unique about your work?
This is the best job in the world, but it comes with a lot of sacrifice. Horses don’t believe in “business hours.” They don’t know what holidays like Christmas and New Year’s are. They need us seven days a week. But to me, it is a small price to pay for the joy these incredible creatures bring to us.

How many horses are in your care?
I currently have 32 horses in my program. I manage their feeding, general care, veterinary care and, of course, riding and training.

What’s a typical day like for you?
Wake up at 5AM, arrive at the barn by 6:30. From 6:30 to 8AM, teach lessons to high school kids before they go to class. From 8AM to 3PM, ride and train personal and client horses. From 3 until 7PM, train students after school or work. Repeat.

If you could pick a superpower, what would it be?
Time manipulation. There are never enough hours in the day!

What do you enjoy most about teaching?
Watching the horses be the teachers. Oftentimes, before I can even say it, the horse has pointed out a rider’s mistake for me. They have a wonderful way of communicating their emotions—we just have to learn how to listen.

Describe your perfect Peninsula day.
Start with CorePower for hot yoga. Grab a Peet’s coffee after with a friend. Head to the Horse Park at Woodside. Ride a few of my favorite horses: Rupert, Sparrow, Elle and Secret. Dinner at Amour Amour in San Mateo.

What age would you choose to be again and why?
I am 27 years old, and I think I would like to stay this age forever! I am still young enough that I can ride 10 horses a day and not feel it, but definitely wiser than my 20-year-old self.

Do you collect anything?
Horses, of course! There’s always room for one more.

Words by Johanna Harlow

Arya, a Persian steakhouse, takes pride in its roots—evident from the tapestries depicting the poet Rumi’s ancient tales and the winged lion logo inspired by an artifact from the First Persian Empire. But make no mistake, the restaurant’s halal menu welcomes every diner with open arms. Catering to an array of dietary needs and preferences, it ranges from Iranian dishes like tender kebabs to succulent steak to vegetarian and fish options. There are even a few Italian dishes, thanks to executive chef Mike Hashemi’s time living in Florence, Italy. “Everyone finds something that they like,” promises Mike, who owns the restaurant with his wife Fera Hashemi.

While Mike’s domain is the kitchen, Fera presides over the front of the house and oversees behind-the-scenes tasks like marketing and staffing. But this dynamic dining duo unites over a shared vision. “We want to be fine dining, but we want to be fine dining with a personality,” Fera says, smiling at a pair of diners enthusiastically scooping up borani bademjan eggplant dip with hunks of flatbread. Mike nods, “Friendly fine dining!”

After opening Arya Steakhouses in Cupertino and Redwood City, the couple relocated the restaurant to Palo Alto two years ago. “I love the mix of cultures!” Fera says of Palo Alto, pointing out that University Avenue sees a steady flow of Stanford University families and international executives. “Sometimes, standing in the front of the restaurant, I cannot believe we have this many cultures in one place, under one roof.’” Mike wholeheartedly agrees. “You get to talk to them and learn.”

Arya’s interior channels this spirit of camaraderie. “I wanted it to be a cheerful steakhouse and I wanted it to be warm,” describes Fera. “You go to a typical steakhouse and it’s white and black. It’s very dark.” Grounded with earthy tones and accented by golden yellows and emerald greens, Arya is anything but stark. Its old-world charm is enhanced by wood ceiling beams, framed tapestries and rough-hewn stonework reminiscent of a castle.

Obviously, this isn’t the Hashemis’ first rodeo. Mike has opened 10 restaurant locations over the years, six with Fera by his side. With a voracious appetite for learning the industry, Mike spent his younger years training under “very mean, good chefs,” until he felt confident he could make it on his own. He also grew up helping at the family butcher shop and market in Iran. “I was butchering lamb and cow when I was 16 years old,” he notes.

This background has served him well. Expect exceptionally tender cuts of meat at Arya, from the lamb tenderloin kebabs over saffron yellow basmati rice to the filet mignon served with a head of roasted garlic and herb butter melted with a chef’s torch at your table. All steaks are dry-aged and cut in-house, then seasoned with Arya’s custom rub.

They serve Australian as opposed to Japanese Wagyu—a choice some customers question at first, Fera says. That’s because Australian Wagyu is halal, complying with Muslim guidelines for humane treatment of the animal. “It tastes great and is much juicier. And people are like, ‘Oh god, I converted!’”

Discerning diners won’t stop there. Begin your meal with an order of meatballs, tangy from the pomegranate pinot noir sauce—and end with the cheesecake. Arya’s fusion twist on this classic dessert includes a drizzle of honey to complement the tangy filling, a flaky baklava-like crust and a sprinkling of pistachio for texture. It’s “Paris meets Tehran,” Fera describes.

When asked for insights into the food industry, Mike dishes out this sage advice: “Always use the best quality—or you end up spending more to replace it,” he shares. “Use the best quality for anything in your life. Food or anything else! That is why I have the best quality wife.” Beside him, Fera cracks up.

Quality over quantity applies to their decision to dial back from several restaurants to one. The couple wanted more time to support their three children—which meant attending their soccer games, concert performances and figure skating competitions. “We want to make sure we’re there for them when they need it,” Fera says. “If we’re so busy in the business world and we don’t have time for that, then what’s the whole purpose of it?” Mike adds that their guests also appreciate the extra face time. “They don’t say, ‘We’re going to Arya.’ They say, ‘We’re going to see Fera.’ ‘Let’s go see Mike.’”

There’s one more ingredient in Arya’s recipe for success: their tableside finesse. Fera interacts with guests before engaging in some mealtime matchmaking in order to pair them with the right server. “Just from a ‘Hello, how are you?’ I can kind of assess their personality or their day. Are they bubbly? Are they all business? Is it, ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’ Is it a date night?” She’s trained her managers to take a similar approach. “After a while, it’s a gut feeling. I don’t know how to explain it,” she muses. “Intuition.”

And how does she know if they got it right? At the end of the meal, Fera says, “When I see a guest hugging that server at the door, I’m just like, ‘Spot on! Yes!’”

steak out – aryasteakhouse.com

The baker/owner behind farmers market-favorite Little Sky Bakery and the new Little Sky Kitchen cafe in Menlo Park discusses school lunches, family favorites and the sourdough starter that started it all.

What inspired you to start baking bread?
I got a starter from a friend’s mom and just started to play with it. I found myself baking so much bread each day, I started to show up on neighbors’ doorsteps with these warm loaves. I was so excited to share them!

Tell us about the first recipe you mastered.
Braided challah. I created a naturally-leavened version of my husband’s grandfather’s family recipe.

Your best advice for someone who wants to get into baking?
Think about the key factors: time, temperature and proportion.

What were your school lunches like as a kid?
I hated my awkwardly-packed homemade sandwiches and always craved the strange cafeteria foods—especially the bright- yellow pizza. Now I know better!

What piece of advice would you give to your younger self?
Relax and have a good time. It really only gets harder from here.

Is there a movie you can watch over and over?
Almost any action movie. I think I’ve watched Olympus Has Fallen more than three times.

Are there any cooking shows that you love to watch?
Julia & Jacques Cooking at Home. Though I also find watching cooking shows a little nerve-wracking because it makes me think about work.

What is your most cherished possession?
The picture of my daughter just after she was born.

Is there a dish that reminds you of childhood?
Baozi—wonderful buns stuffed with meat or vegetables. My family would make what seemed like hundreds of them for Chinese New Year each winter. This is what inspired me to create the stuffed buns we make at Little Sky.

What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever eaten?
Fried larvae while traveling in the wilds of southwestern China.

What is the dumbest way you’ve been hurt?
I walked into one of the granite columns outside the bakery.

Do you collect anything?
Baking books!

Which ones do you treasure the most?
Chad Robertson’s Tartine Bread and Flo Braker’s Baking for All Occasions.

What’s your favorite thing to bring home from Little Sky?
For me, it’s the raisin walnut bread. For my family, it’s the roasted or fried chicken (new at Little Sky Kitchen) and definitely the lox sandwiches—my husband and son are lox fiends.

How do you recharge your batteries after a long day?
Watching TV on the couch with my kids jumping around.

Well, hello there! I see you’re admiring my outfit. My name’s Cashew and I like to think that I’m the best-dressed dog in Belmont. As a Chihuahua mix, it might be hard to spot me among the bigger pups if I wasn’t sporting a fashionable ensemble. My extensive wardrobe really helps me stand out. I’ve lived with Meg and Sam since I was about four months old, when they rescued me from a not-so-nice start in life that left me anxious and afraid of strangers. Going on two years later, we all agree that I’m thriving. Meg says I am one of the smartest and quickest dogs she’s ever taught, and as a professional dog trainer, she’s something of an authority on the subject. I’m so good that she posts training videos starring me on Instagram and TikTok (@k9_Cashew). I love learning new skills, whether it’s tricks, obedience or agility training. Meg takes me with her to work, where I like to boss around my great big friend, a 50-pound pit bull-terrier mix. I guess you could say I wear the pants in that relationship. My secret weakness is noses—I just love them so much! Let me near your nose and I will cover it in doggy kisses until you make me stop.

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Words by Andrea Gemmet

A stroll on De Sabla Road in San Mateo takes you through a tree-lined neighborhood of ranch homes with two-car garages. But as you approach the Hillsborough border, one property stands out from all the rest. Instead of a front lawn and a picket fence, the serene lines of a Japanese teahouse peek over the wooden wall, the curbside landscape of carefully placed stones and neatly trimmed shrubbery hinting at the traditional tea garden within. This piece of Peninsula history dates back to the early 1900s and is the last privately owned Japanese garden created by famed designer Makota Hagiwara that’s still in existence. After building Golden Gate Park’s popular Japanese Tea Garden, Hagiwara’s designs were in high demand at the turn of the 20th century, as wealthy Bay Area estate owners ditched formal Victorian gardens and embraced the Japanese aesthetic.

Cover Photo: Eugene Zelenko / Photo: Robb Most

The San Mateo garden got its start around 1902, when Henry Pike Bowie was inspired by his extended trip to Japan, but it really took shape after he sold it in 1906 to industrialist Eugene de Sabla, one of the founders of Pacific Gas & Electric. De Sabla brought in Hagiwara to create an elaborate one-acre garden with waterfalls, a stone Buddha statue and a bridge. As early as 1907, the San Francisco Call reported on society folk attending a “beautiful garden fête” at de Sabla’s estate, El Cerrito. The Ryoku-style teahouse, meant to evoke a rustic farmhouse, was completed around 1909. Only occasionally open to the public, the de Sabla Japanese Tea House and Tea Garden and is one of fewer than a dozen sites in San Mateo County to have earned a spot on the National Register of Historic Places.

Words and Photography by Johanna Harlow / Competition photo by Woodside Vaulters

If you happen to pass by the Woodside Vaulters’ gym, you might hear the steady clunk-clunk-clunk of Hanna Parker warming up. Sitting astride a mechanical barrel called a “movie,” which mimics a horse’s gait, this lithe young athlete swings herself into planks before scissor-kicking into handstands. Observing with a practiced eye is Krista Mack, who oversees the Woodside Vaulters program and acts as its head horse trainer. Nearby, a few horses poke their long velvety noses out of their stalls to watch and whinny.

Vaulting isn’t for the faint of heart. Think gymnastics on horseback. “A balance beam is the same every time,” notes Krista. Not so with a horse. A vaulter must adjust to each horse’s height, weight and gait. A horse’s mood can shift depending on its feeding schedule, the weather or even the full moon. Krista must be discerning in her role as lunger, guiding the horse in circles while the vaulter performs.

Growing up in Woodside, Krista has always been around equine kind. “I remember when I was little, like probably nine years old, we would ride our horses to each other’s houses—and then the horses would hang out while we had playdates,” she recalls. For sleepovers, her pony would spend the night in a guest stall. Krista has worked with the Woodside Vaulters for more than two decades now—and watched Hanna grow from a wee thing clambering around on the barrel to a serious competitor at the international level.

Hanna, a senior at Crystal Springs Uplands School, began vaulting during elementary school and coaching in 10th grade—just like her mother before her. In fact, Hanna’s mom, Isabelle Bibbler Parker, founded the Woodside Vaulters with Hanna’s grandparents and a coach from a previous club. Since 1990, their organization has taught students at walking, trotting and cantering levels (the faster and bumpier the horse, the more advanced the skills needed to stay out of the dirt). Six years after its inception, their club was already thriving, and its vaulters performed alongside the flower-covered floats at the Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena.

As the Woodside Vaulters continued to grow, they moved their program to the 270-acre Horse Park at Woodside. “There’s no place like the Horse Park,” Krista says. “We’re so fortunate to be here!” She notes that the ample space has allowed them to build not only two arenas, but also a combined barn and gym. This indoor area gives students a place to warm up and provides shelter for training when rain turns the outdoor ring into a giant mud puddle.

Today, the wispy, white clouds don’t threaten a downpour, so Krista heads out to the arena to warm up Salazar, Hanna’s equestrian partner for the day. After Hanna dismounts, she takes the reins of the conversation, steering the topic to the sense of family she’s found in the vaulting community. “I used to do gymnastics and it always felt like there were the little kids and there were the older kids,” she reflects.

Vaulters not only engage with other age groups, they also raise each other up. “I really enjoy now being one of those ‘big kids’ who gets to coach the little kids,” Hanna smiles. “As I was competing last year, all my little kids would come in and watch me compete. They get to cheerlead, and they get to experience what it might be like in a few years.”

A close-knit community is imperative for vaulters, especially those who pair up to compete pas de deux or with a team of six (sharing a horse in rotating groups of three). “I have always been a team or pas de deux vaulter. I love working with other people,” shares Hanna.

“I love the creativity that it takes to move in a space together.”
Hanna has difficulty describing the close bond she shares with her pas de deux partner Aria Deshpande. “I can’t describe the friendship I have with her,” she says at last. “We learned how to literally breathe together, move together, anticipate each other’s actions.” The two competed together in the Junior World Championships in Flyinge, Sweden, last year, twisting fluidly over and under each other as their horse cantered around the stadium.

Their horse is also a partner, Hanna points out. “As much as I had to learn to breathe with Aria, I’ve really had to learn how to breathe with my horse Calandra. Horses are so sensitive and they can tell when you’re breathing calmly. We did a lot of breath work last year.” Their hard work paid off, and Hanna, Aria and Calandra came in fourth at the championships. “We were .013 away from the bronze medal,” Hanna sighs, “which was a little bit frustrating—but I did get a very killer college essay out of it.”

 

 

Does she ever get nervous in the arena? At competitions, sure—but from being on horseback, never. “I do have to work through fears and nerves, but it’s not about being on the horse. That is comfortable to me,” Hanna says. “I could take a nap on a horse any day.”

She explains that the club has taught her horsemanship as much as vaulting. All students are instructed in horse handling as well as grooming, feeding and safety. “If you swim, you don’t hop out of the pool and then go give it a hug,” Hanna jokes. But horses require care—and a showering of kisses. “I never just leave after practice.”

Right before Hanna steps into the arena, she makes a confession. “I don’t ride,” she divulges. Sure, she can stand on a horse’s back or swivel her legs about with acrobatic ease—but only going in circles. “If you told me I needed to ride a horse from point A to point B, I could probably manage it,” she laughs. “I’m hoping I can start to learn.”

horse play – woodsidevaulters.org

VAULTING THROUGH THE AGES 

Vaulting dates back to ancient Roman times and also has ties to bull-leaping in ancient Crete, but the sport reached the United States much more recently. After watching vaulters in Germany in the 1950s, Elizabeth Searle introduced it to her pony club in Santa Cruz County. Northern California has been a hub for the sport ever since. Equestrian vaulting will make its debut at the 2032 Olympic Games in Brisbane, Australia.

Photography and words by Bob Siegel

Bound by gravity, humans spend most of their lives in a two-dimensional world defined by the surface of the earth. Not surprisingly, people have always had a fascination with the world of winged creatures who can take to the air at a moment’s notice, adding a vast third dimension to their domain. From angels to airplanes, humans have long imaged what it would be like to take flight.

Cover Photo: Even when our winged friends come to rest, there is no assurance they will linger, especially when approached by a curious onlooker or an eager photographer. Here with its intense gaze and bright red gorget, an Anna’s hummingbird stares down the photographer.

The American white pelican, seen here in breeding plumage, is one of the largest birds of North America—far bigger than its cousin the brown pelican. Found throughout most of the U.S. and Mexico, the white pelican can often be spotted along the Peninsula wetlands bordering the bay. The protuberance on its upper bills signals that this is a breed adult.

Although I have never had one land on my shoulder, the presence of the Western bluebird is uplifting. Found year-round in the Bay Area, Western bluebirds seem largely unperturbed by the presence of humans and will often pose for a photo. Males are more brightly colored than females. Like American robins, Western bluebirds are members of the thrush family.

The ubiquitous Asian lady beetle is the fourth most frequently photographed creature on iNaturalist with over a quarter of a million images. As the name implies, this lady beetle is an exotic species and a highly successful invader on the Peninsula. Like many lady beetles, its bright orange and black coloration advertises its presence with the implied warning: “Do not mess with me.” The use of common colors among noxious species is known as Müllerian mimicry.

The barn swallow has the distinction of being the most widespread perching bird in the world. Because of its fast and erratic behavior, the possibility of catching a swallow in flight requires a combination of patience and luck. And it certainly doesn’t hurt to have the right equipment. Barn swallows can also be seen lined up on wires or peering from mud nests in the overhang of buildings and other structures.

As spring rolls around, the blue-eyed darner can be spotted in the wetlands of the Peninsula. Like many dragonflies, this darner provides a number of gifts to the avid photographer: bright colors make them easy to spot and visually appealing, they often return to the same perch (even when they initially flee from intruders) and they periodically hover in midair, as if inviting pictures.

Unlike many owls, the burrowing owl is diurnal, making it much easier to photograph—if you can find it. Standing very still and camouflaged by earthy backgrounds, they are easy to overlook—until you catch a glimpse of those piercing yellow eyes. Highly attentive to aerial predators, when their gaze turns upward, you can often spot a hawk flying overhead.

In addition to being a microbiology and immunology professor at Stanford, Palo Alto’s Robert David Siegel is a docent and avid wildlife photographer who teaches courses in photographing nature. web.stanford.edu/~siegelr/photo.html

The self-described “dog sherpa” from Menlo Park talks about her big career change, the time a pooch came to her rescue and how she wrangles the pack.

What inspired the switch from teaching to dog walking?
I developed a neurological condition called Spasmodic Dysphonia, which caused my vocal cords to spasm. Over the course of 10 years, I slowly lost the use of my voice and can only whisper now. I started out by doing group walks and now offer off-leash group outings for my business, Whole New Pooch.

How do you communicate with the pack?
I use hand signals, body language and a whistle. Dogs prefer visual signals to auditory cues anyway.

What’s the car situation like with all those puppy passengers?
I have mats, pads and towels everywhere!

What’s guaranteed to make you laugh?
A carefree, goofball dog who is running free and living his best life. Silliness! Physical comedy!

Do you have any phobias?
Not doing something because I’m afraid.

What’s a wild story from the job?
Early on, I got lost on a pack walk in the redwoods. After about an hour of tramping around the mountain, I turned to a Labrador and whispered, “Henry, take us home!” Within 10 minutes we were back at the car.

How many pets do you currently have?
I have zero pets. My husband is allergic to dogs!

What’s a gift you received that you’ll never forget?
My mother bought me an SLR camera when I was a young teen. Recently, I launched my own phoDOGraphy business and set up a studio in my garage.

How do you handle dogs showing aggression?
I am a big advocate of positive reinforcement. The whole alpha dog training movement was based on wolf observations, which dogs are not. I want dogs to come to me for support, not because they fear me.

Growing up, what was your favorite children’s book?
The Velveteen Rabbit.

What’s an interesting fact about you that surprises people?
Having vocal issues is an advantage, not a hindrance. The dogs (and my kids) are much more responsive to a calm demeanor. I am less able to self-escalate now.

What dog breed most resembles your personality?
Maybe a flat-coated retriever. I like to be busy and have a job, but I’m pretty easygoing.

What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done at work?
When I was still doing group leash walks, I continued to take out the dogs after I broke my foot and needed a knee scooter. I’d have them all on leash in front of me like Santa with his sleigh.

What work task do you look forward to the most?
Releasing the hounds!!

Words by Dylan Lanier

Menlo Park’s Sharon Heights is one of many charming Peninsula neighborhoods created by carving up a sprawling country estate. Its origins are somewhat less idyllic than its current contours might suggest. The money for the Sharon Estate came from the notorious Gilded Age mining tycoon William Sharon. Elected to represent Nevada, William was deemed one of history’s worst U.S. senators due to his reluctance to actually travel to the Capitol and participate. His busy love life was the subject of a scandalous lawsuit brought by his mistress and breathlessly reported on in the newspapers. William’s son and heir Frederick enjoyed San Francisco high society with his wife Louise Breckinridge before the couple relocated to Paris for almost 20 years, where they developed a taste for the era’s pick-me-up of choice: cocaine.

Returning to the City after the Great Earthquake of 1906, Fredrick hastened to join his elite peers and develop a luxurious weekend retreat. He hired New York architect George Kelham to design the ultimate country estate on 600 acres in what is now West Menlo Park. The Sharon Estate’s redwood-shingled “cottage”—a precursor to the planned main house—boasted lavish gardens, tapestries from Europe, an elegant ballroom and eight butlers, according to Menlo Park: Beyond the Gate. Frederick’s cocaine addiction probably contributed to his untimely death in 1915 at age 56, dooming plans for the main house, which was never built. After Louise’s death, the sprawling estate was eventually sold. In 1957, developers Duncan McDonald and Mark Radin conceived a plan to subdivide the property into a residential community, complete with a shopping center and a park surrounding an artificial lake. So if you find yourself strolling through the peaceful streets of Sharon Heights, consider its opulent early days and the Nevada silver mines that funded its transformation from rolling countryside to a playground for San Francisco’s elite.

You know how some dogs have such an amazing sense of direction that they can find their way home, even if they get lost hundreds of miles away? When they show up months later, people say, “What a smart dog!” I, too, have an incredible mental map of my own, but I credit my stomach more than my brain. Without fail, I can guide my human family (whether they like it or not) to the most delicious locations in Menlo Park and Palo Alto. That nice house with the dog treats near Draeger’s Market? Check. The Ace Hardware in Palo Alto that thoughtfully provides fallen popcorn? Check. And my favorite place of all, Mademoiselle Colette, which has the most scrumptious croissants? Check. I like to start my food-finding missions early. My humans don’t need to bother with annoying alarms, because I helpfully bop them on the head with my paw well ahead of time, to let them know the sun is up and I’m ready to scour the streets for yummy treats. You might even call me a connoisseur, although I am not so snooty that I won’t help clean the floor beneath my baby brother when he eats. Anything for family!

Calling All Dogs: If you've got quirky habits or a funny tale (or tail) to share, email your story to hello@punchmonthly.com for a chance to share a page from your Diary of a Dog in PUNCH.

Words by Johanna Harlow

If you’ve ever watched motorsports, you may have pictured yourself behind the wheel of a sleek, sexy stock car, effortlessly cruising the track’s turns. Not so fast. It might look like a breeze, but NASCAR racing drivers like 19-year-old Jesse Love know better.

“Nothing’s more physically exerting than running a full race on a really hot day,” the Menlo Park native acknowledges. “It’s hell on your body.” These speed machines can match the G-force that astronauts experience during liftoff. And then there’s the heat factor. The temperature in a car can easily soar to 120 degrees Fahrenheit—170 degrees by the floorboards. Drivers commonly lose 5 to 10 pounds in sweat during a race. Now imagine trying to make split-second decisions at 200 MPH, over several hours. It’s why Jesse starts each day with heat tolerance training, welcoming the morning at 5AM with cardio and weights in a sweltering 120-degree room.

While other kids played with Hot Wheels and Matchbox toy cars, Jesse took the driver’s seat early. As a kindergartner, he recalls hanging out at a Mountain View race shop with his Uncle Tony, whose two daughters raced in quarter midgets (think go-karts but with four-wheel suspension). “Then I got into Antonia’s purple quarter midget,” Jesse recalls. That was all it took. After winning his very first quarter midgets race at the wee age of five, Jesse continued competing—racking up countless wins, including multiple state and national titles, all before he reached age 10.

Then Jesse started strapping into stock cars. Full-throttle ahead, he moved to North Carolina at 15 to further his career, that same year dominating in the ARCA Menards Series and becoming the youngest driver to win a title. He now competes full-time in the NASCAR Xfinity Series and drives the No. 2 Whelen Chevrolet for Richard Childress Racing.

Though racing may be physically taxing, Jesse estimates it’s only 30% of the battle. “There’s a lot of pressure involved,” he shares, mentioning that one of his mental coaches, Akshay Nanavati, is a Marine veteran—and the first polar explorer to undergo a solo sea-to-sea ski crossing of Antarctica with no sled or dogs.

Jesse must be bold on the track, taking calculated risks, managing stressors and reacting to the unexpected. He must dart into narrow gaps with the kiss of a bumper—because even a moment’s hesitation will close that window of opportunity. He must also make peace with crashing, which in motorsports isn’t an “if,” but a “when.” “I’ve flipped probably a dozen times,” estimates Jesse, adding with a note of neutrality, “The flips don’t always hurt the worst because stuff’s flying off your car, and you’re dispersing energy.” Hitting dead on the wall is more brutal on your body—even with the car’s head-and-neck restraints. “I wreck a lot less now than I did then when I was trying not to wreck,” he reflects. “You just kind of get in a zone.” And when the inevitable happens? “You just hop on out and live to race another day.”

A strong Christian, Jesse credits a faith-driven frame of mind for keeping him grounded in the wake of national recognition. “I’m racing for someone bigger than me,” he shares. “Being connected with God and treating people the same, whether they’re from Park Avenue or a park bench.”

He also cites his father as a strong influence. Jesshill “Duke” Love drove in quarter midgets himself in his youth, competing alongside his racing pal Jeff Gordon. Though he later pursued a career in law in Redwood City rather than continuing down the racetrack, Duke shaped his son’s integrity and driving style. “You change a lot,” Jesse reflects of his racing approach, “but your core values of how you’re going to race, how you’re going to let people race you, what your driving style is, what kind of car (tight, loose, however that is)… how I like to drive now was ingrained in me when I was raised by my dad.” He follows up, adding, “The most important advice that my dad gives me has nothing to do with racing at all. It’s all about life.”

Whenever he can, Jesse tries to spend time at the shop where mechanics disassemble, replace, install and adjust every part of his car. “I’m a big believer in being available and showing people that I care,” he says. “I want my guys at the shop to know that I’m gonna work really hard for them. And when that happens, they’re gonna work harder for me as well.” It takes a village to raise up a racing driver and Jesse’s crew chief, car chief, shock, engine and tire specialists, engineers, shop team and pit crew keep him on track.

With a racing nickname like The Hammer, it’s unsurprising that Jesse takes such a dogged approach to growth. “There’s a million things that you can do to just move the needle 1% forward,” he says. If that means poring over data, working with the simulator, attending countless pre-race meetings or watching 16 hours of film from Daytona until his eyes fatigue, so be it. “Even if you look at five hours of data and you find one thing that can help you go faster, we would all give our right thumb to find a tenth of a second,” Jesse states.

“I’ve qualified by a thousandth of a second—and I’ve been beaten by a thousandth of a second.” The young driver’s gaze drifts as his thoughts turn to the road. In his mind’s eye, he’s already hugging the turns and zipping down the straightaways of his next race. “I try not to focus on what any other driver does,” he shares. “I try to just focus on what I did today and what I can do tomorrow that was better than today.”