The Yountain of Truth

We had a great time exploring some heretofore unvisited joints up Napa Valley’s western flank. Lots of names we recognized, but none of them on the main 29 drag.

After the Hess event, we headed back to our Spartan digs at Maison Fleurie in Yountville. I had one of the best sleeps I’d ever had out of town. OK, there was a moment when, at 3 a.m., the empty wine bottles from neighboring bistros hit the Dumpster (CSI: Yountville). Other than that, and a possible scavenger in said Dumpster trying to score bissel California Redemption Value bank, Kath and I have had many worse neighbors.

OK, I mess up the Internet directions from this boutique gem to our first appointment off Silverado Trail.

But the downtown Napa Valley town of Yountville (basically Washington Street) is OZ.

And so I try to follow Mapquest and Google Maps, in Y-ville that apparently prides itself on street signs on posts at stroller-level, rather than semi-quasi-sorta-kinda driver-level.

Yep, I don’t follow Kath’s carefully calibrated directions, because I messed up on the wooden posts.

Anyhoo, we end up off the twisty trail to Burgess, located in Angwin, a Seventh Day Adventist conclave that abstains. I mean ABSTAINS. 

Burgess’ tasting guru, Mike, was the king. We started out overlooking the spectacular scene featuring the water that provides Napa with its aqua (see Kath’s photo), and then tasting the all-red portfolio that is now Burgess.

We bought a Burgess Merlot and a Napa Grenache. Rarely does a Cali Merlot put the boots to our Washington state varietal allegiance. The Burgess bottling triggered a vinous ‘Nam flashback, man.

So, we’re heading home, and south is a couple of joints, back on Washington St. in Y-ville that K had hooked us with before the white-knuckle drive that always becomes my trip home.

Girard is great; we’ve praised them before. Disruptive road construction right in front of their tasting room must be driving them bugs. We dig the wines, but, just as a winery becomes “yours” if the hosts are cool, the opposite reigns as well. Our Lot 18 discount card got us the free tastings, but dude neglected to give us the one-time percentage discount on purchases. We phoned, when we got home two hours later, to hip him to the “inadvertent” slight; he was a snot to Kathy, telling her that she’d have to return in person to make the adju$tment (Pity our pal from Philly on the flight home).

All was made right a day or two later, when Kevin, our host on our first visit months ago, phoned me at the house to waive any and all (all!) charges to the card. Class, man. And that’s why Girard is not a write-off destination.

So, back to the present in Yountville; we stashed our Girard purchase in the hatch of the Lisa Marie, and then walked past Chef Thomas Keller’s French Laundry garden. We were a shade of envy more green than a New World Sauvignon, considering our poor raised beds chez Oakley.

We had a reservation a few blocks down Washington, at Ma(i)sonry. It’s a wine collective-slash-art-gallery specializing in artisans both mixed-media and Meritage. Kath and I were so fortunate to be attended to by Daniel Orrison, Director of Hospitality; a moniker could not be better engraved on a business card.

Our Internet deal allowed us a restricted tasting; Daniel took us off the grid and all over the map, pouring juice based on our broad preferences. A couple of succinct questions, then a wine hook-up from a voluminous list of winemaking partners.

All outdoors. All surrounded by outrageous sculpture.

Cheers, General George Yount. I know for certain that this was not what you envisioned while reaching for that scabbard.

But, sir, well, dot dot dot.