SALT WATER & CITRUS
where lemons meet ocean
On the Lost Coast, February doesn’t feel like the end of winter. It feels like the beginning of something bright. The Meyer lemons start turning — glowing and heavy on the trees — while out in the cold Pacific, Dungeness and rock crab are coming into their own. It’s that narrow seasonal overlap that feels almost too good to ignore. So on Friday, February 27, we didn’t ignore it. We built a five-course dinner around it.
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Salt Water & Citrus wasn’t just a menu. It was a snapshot of time and place. Every Meyer lemon came from my backyard tree — armfuls at a time. Nearly all the crab we serve at Gyppo comes off Luke’s little blue boat, just him out there pulling pots and bringing in Dungeness. And this dinner marked the first time I collaborated in a restaurant setting with Diana Totton — a powerhouse local woman who grew up here, once worked at the Shelter Cove Grotto, and now harvests rock crab while building her next chapter. When she tried to secure permits for Dungeness and salmon and was told no, she asked a better question: “What can I get?” The answer was rock crab. Smaller, sweeter, different — and full of possibility.
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We began with oysters on the menu. And then Humboldt Bay shut down.
Nine inches of rain in twenty-four hours will do that. No oysters. No shellfish harvest. Just like that. But if the last several years have taught us anything, it’s that survival — and creativity — live in the pivot. So we leaned harder into citrus and opened with a Meyer lemon ceviche instead. Slightly sweeter than standard lemon, the Meyer citrus softened and brightened the dish at the same time. Cucumber gave it snap. A touch of tomato added warmth. We pressed and fried little tortilla cups for serving — delicate, crisp vessels that made each bite feel intentional. It was one of those last-minute shifts that ends up tasting like it was planned all along.
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Next came the rock crab custard — the dish that made people raise an eyebrow. Savory custard? Really? Yes. A slow-baked, silky base topped with rock crab gently warmed in brown butter, finished with lemon zest. Rich without being heavy. Deeply oceanic. A few bites in and the skepticism turned into silence. The kind where people are too busy tasting to talk.
The citrus calamari salad followed, built around Cara Cara oranges — supreme’d by hand, membranes removed so only pure jewel-toned flesh remained. Mandolined fennel, tender poached calamari, olive oil, salt, citrus vinaigrette. Clean. Layered. Bright. You could feel how the Meyer lemon and Cara Cara orange carried the entire menu — like a quiet through-line from course to course.
Then the risotto. Seafood broth built days ahead, simmered low and slow. Shallots, butter, Arborio rice, deglazed with wine before ladling in broth again and again until it reached that perfect creamy pull. Finished with Parmesan and mascarpone. Crowned with Dungeness crab from Luke’s boat. It was the kind of dish that makes you sit back in your chair for a second.
Dessert brought us back to the tree. Meyer lemon tart with two gallons of freshly made lemon curd (yes, two gallons — and yes, you’ll be seeing lemon curd around Gyppo for a while). Topped with glossy Italian meringue, torched until golden peaks formed. Sweet, tart, bright, just a little dramatic.
Every course had beverage pairings created by our Beverage Director, Eric Spencer — and guests could choose their path: beer-forward, hybrid, or teetotaler. The coastal Meyer lemon drop opened the night and quickly became the star. The teetotaler “Lime in the Coconut” surprised everyone. And the hybrid pairings threaded beautifully between beer and cocktail expression. It wasn’t just thoughtful — it was seamless.
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We had live music from Ray Bevitori and Michael Curran. Diana shared her story. The room was full — long tables, glowing paper lanterns, people leaning in. It felt like what these dinners are meant to feel like: not just a meal, but a gathering of the coast itself. Fishermen. Farmers. Storytellers. Neighbors.
These events always start as a small idea. You scratch at the surface. You ask what’s abundant right now. And then you keep digging — deeper into the season, deeper into the community, deeper into collaboration — until something organic takes shape.
Salt Water & Citrus was exactly that.
Our next gathering is Easter Brunch on April 5. A different season. A different mood. But the same intention: cook what’s here, honor who’s here, and bring everyone to the table.