It’s true, gang. The days of driving through the Napa Valley from Yountville up to Calistoga, whether on the main drag of Highway 29, the parallel Silverado Trail farther east, or any of the cross streets connecting the two (these also studded with wineries) promiscuously turning in to any tasting room displaying a “Yes, We’re Open!” sandwich board are officially over.
Especially if you have an allergy to a tasting fee crowbar working on your wallet, or the hard-sell to join a wine club. Whether working on you with club or crowbar, the Napa Valley can often raise a lump, with scars to prove it.
Kathy and I were up in Napa relatively recently, after, virtually, years of nursing our wound$ from a previou$ ta$ting jaunt. We were up last time because Kath had armed herself with a plethora of Internet coupons and special site offers from the likes of Groupon and livingsocial. It really did make all the difference, but one could still not be an indiscriminate tasting ho just because one recognized a label name gracing signage by the side of the road. ‘Cause those are the ones that’ll gob smack ya with a nonrefundable tasting fee that will make your head spin.
The fee thing also seems to be random: Staff has to have some discretion as to waiving them; we’ve seen it in motion. Sometimes for us, sometimes for others that I’ve spied through my eyes colored in envy-green. We’ve seen selections poured from the “reserve” card, when the “complimentary” tasting was the one ordered. It’s a gamble sometimes, and whether your pourer sizes you up as a tourist, an industry pro, or just someone who holds the glass by the stem and swirls like a mofo, schnoz in glass, before taking a sip, it’s Riedel roulette: sometimes red, sometimes the black.
And occasionally it’s those friggin’ zeroes on green. (I’ll elaborate in a sec.)
We posted a while back about our Napa return, and visiting The Hess Collection facility again after over a decade. This is the sprawling joint up Mt. Veeder, housing an outrageously eclectic art collection, and making some very tasty juice. Kathy and I did not desperately need to join another wine club, but when we were offered on that trip a couple of varietal Rhône bottlings from grapes sourced from Frank Evangelho’s property in our ‘hood, we had to join. I also had to walk the gallery again in search of the burning typewriter.
So, yeah, a wine club pick-up is a great impetus to head to any “wine country.” But, based on my previous paragraphs, I’m sure you can glean my fear that Napa can suck you dry, with no actual wine in the gig bag to show for it. That’s where cyber-Kath comes in, searching for and printing online tasting coupons. A lot of it in Napa is 2-for-1 stuff (still scary: What does “1” cost?), but we had just enough “complimentary” paper to make it worth the toll bridge and petrol.
Another justification for this trek was a livingsocial deal that was, to our minds, unique. In St. Helena lies, on 29, a groovy tasting co-op named “Savour” featuring super-small producers of ever-changing limited production wines. Savour (BTW: Spell-Check is freaking out at this Canuck spelling of “Savor,” but that’s the name of the place.) hooked up with livingsocial to offer this progressive offer: free tastings for everything from every vintner on the list (and the list seems to change monthly), repeatedly; 15% off purchases, repeatedly; then, when you’ve tasted everything, you get dinner on them! The joint is elegant, laid-back, artisanal and a joy. Not sure when we will ever get that dinner based on an ever-shifting tasting card, but when those self-same tasting card pourings keep coming gratis, even months later, you suspect that you are in expert hands.
So, we had two destinations that would hook us up, on either end of the Valley. Kath researched and pressed “Print,” and we were reluctantly ready to explore. With a freebie for two, we decided to start the day up north, in order to work our way down toward home; the Napa Valley outpost of Cuvaison turned out to be the perfect entreé to our wending southward along the Silverado Trail. Our host, Travis, was the coolest cat. There was an entire Zen + viticulture vibe to our convo: everything from clone selection to Walla Walla, from hiking to plantings. We were the first visitors of the day, all the better for Travis to top up our glasses with Cuvaison’s 2009 Carneros Syrah, and walk us up the trail toward the barrel room terrace, overlooking a slice of Diamond Mountain framed by olive trees.
Travis pointed out this crazy old tree on the property (see Kathy’s photo) hollowed out by fire, but still thriving. But the funky deal is the pitchfork that someone, decades ago, imbedded in its environs. The fork is now a part of the tree. Check it out. Nuts!
Promised that I’d at least allude to the roulette elaboration tasting room loss. We had a great experience at a well-known winery’s shop on the 29 main drag. Dude was fun, we talked winery history, he poured us top shelf (we think he dug us). But, even when we bought their 2009 Alexander Valley Sonoma Cabernet at $35, we were still charged the “one” of the 2-for-1 tasting: $18.
Damn, I wish I had the cay-jonze to ask the total charges before we walked away. Our policy is that we will always buy at a place; if we hate the stuff, we’ll bail with a cheap white. But when dude at “Louis. Z. Martini” (not their real name) charges us the full-meal deal that is more than half of the bottle price we paid, I have to think of this shi-ite as a cover charge, enabling you to leave, as many bridal parties do, sans purchase. Homes, we did not pour ourselves out of a limousine; we did enter your establishment, wearing tiaras, and fresh from a short tour bus. Man.
So we’re winding south down 29, figuring that Hess, up the hill, will be the last stop of the day. Dare I use a Dorothy Lamour gag one mo’ time? Sa-Wrong! Kath knew that we had a 2-for-1 printout for Grgich Hills. Last time we pulled in years ago, the joint was swamped; we bailed. This time, the second we walked in the door, pourer Miles flashed a smile that served as a veritable beacon. For starters, all three of us bonded over the movie “Bottleshock,” but goofily. Now, we’ve probably noted in the past that, although we knew the characterizations (hell, a lot of the characters), the winemaking, and familial relationships were bogus. That’s why Miles, Kathy and I kinda bonded, I think.
Now, you have to remember that when Kathy and I first visited Napa, and specifically Grgich Hills (did I mention that there are no Grgich Hills in Napa? The “Hills” was an heir to the Hills Bros coffee gig, Okay, this post is going on way too long, but when we lived in San Francisco during the Punic Wars, we rented a car to drive up to Napa. Mr. Mike, wearing his trademark beret poured for us and signed our myriad bottles. In “Bottleshock,” one sees Bill Pullman’s Barrett winery-owner character talk to “Mike” about the wine’s condition. For a couple of seconds, you can see a beret-clad performer cross the screen. Mr. Mike wanted nothing to do with the flick due to its inaccuracies. I think that we mentioned that Gustavo wasn’t really in the mix.
But, there’s always Snape.
Oh, and drama. Let us never forget drama.
Talk soon.
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