Old Memories Revisited

It's funny how much a place can feel so much the same as it was when I was a kid and also feel so different. I enjoyed an evening at Zotts last night. Yes, the old Rosotti's Tavern in Portola Valley. It's changed hands, and had a bit of a facelift, but, under it all, it is still the same cool, divey place it was in my childhood.

Back then, the Hells Angels and other motorcycle clubs made it a regular stop. Then, as I grew up, the motorcycles were replaced with bicyclists making it their stop, along with many of us horse folks who enjoyed the trails in and around the location. In fact, the influence of it may really be the reason I feel most at home in the same type of venue nowadays, too. No pretense, no formality. Just old history and local people.

Rosotti's has operated under many names in its life. I still call it Rosotti's because that's what it was when I first knew it, as a small child. We lived near enough to it then for the weekend bands to be heard into the night as the music drifted up the valley to us. The place has been a historic landmark since 1969, and it was already well past the century mark when I was born.

Now, it's far more gentrified. But also, still wonderful. Glorious in its perseverance and resilience, it's still a magnet for people from surrounding communities. I no longer eat hamburgers, but, I think Zott's is the one place I can still convince myself to enjoy one "for old time's sake." The menu has expanded greatly, and the long-time square burgers on a lovely French bun are now styled as smash burgers.

To my great pleasure, there is a pizza named after my old elementary school, and another named after one of the most well-known horse vets to ever reside, and ride, rope, and play polo in the fields of the town; Dr. Besio. I grew up with his kids.

The owners who purchased the property and business in 2018 are three original Portola Valley families who knew the community could not lose this long-cherished gathering place. They have done a beautiful job of re-inventing Zott's (now known as Rosotti's Alpine Inn) to see it through the second half of its second century.

Rossotti's still lives in my memory as the place of many of my teen and early adult memories; the place we rode our horses many weekends so we could tie them at the hitchin' trees and enjoy a burger and the sunshine for an hour or two before continuing our ride. I wasn't there on horseback last night, but it almost felt as though I should be walking to the big eucalyptus trees and swinging a leg over my horse to head back to the barn.

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