Monday, October 31, 2011

Trick or Treat (or: Home Shopping Network of a Different Kind)


Happy Halloween, guys! Kathy and I carved our Jack O’ Lanterns yesterday afternoon in anticipation of the onslaught of kids tonight. I think I posted previously that, in our little house in Seattle situated on a dead-end street, we had maybe a total of eight kids come for candy over eight years. This will be our third Halloween in Oakley, and we ran out of candy the two years previous. Kath stocked up extra supplies for this year, but since trick or treating falls on a Monday this year (our first two years in the house here saw Halloween fall on a Saturday and Sunday night, respectively), we’ll see how it goes when I have to hold down the fort before K gets home from work.

It’s a balmy, high-70s day here in East CoCo County this October 31, and it behooves us to sit on the front porch Adirondack chairs with a bucket of candy for the kids, cocktail or glass of wine in hand (us, not the kids). As one mom said to us our first year, eyeing our Gin/grapefruit/Triple Sec and Grenadine “Pink Cay Flash”-laden Martini glasses as we deposited candy into her daughter’s pillow case, “Now that’s how I want to spend Halloween!”

Now, a couple of weeks ago, Kathy was flipping through the cable TV guide and stumbled across a station listing for “Wine & Epicurean Auction.” It was a fundraiser for KRCB, a PBS station located northwest of us in Rohnert Park, just south of Santa Rosa, in Marin County. It’s hadn’t been one of the PBS affiliates in our local listings or on our personal radar, but it seems that a recent boost in signal strength got them listed on the Comcast remote guide, and that’s how we became addicted to two weekends, 7 p.m. to 11 p.m. of wine lots up for bid.

Primetime evenings, for two weekends straight, Kath and I went full-metal QVC: calling in bids, seeing our bids erased for another one higher, rejecting outright most lots, frantically writing down lot numbers of ones of which we got only fleeting glimpses, and trying to mentally calculate the real cost of any wines with which we were familiar. We eschewed the many lots comprising “Tastings for 4” or “12” (never mind the fact that I don’t know even 2 other people; and by now you know how I feel about paying for tastings), and went for real bottled juice. We watched as certain lot boards closed, then waited for the phone call telling us that we won the bid(s). We cracked up when one such call came at 11:30 p.m. on a Saturday, after the night’s auction had ceased and we decided to stay up for some local news.

By the time the auction dust had cleared a couple of weekends later, we were the successful bidders on three lots. And then I got a call the middle of last week, days after the auction was over, saying that the high bidder on a mixed case of Navarro had declined, and with our bid being next in line, did we want it?

OK, make that now four lots. And, because our reserve bid for the Navarro was slightly higher than the minimum, we ended up awarded, gratis, two $65 admission tix to the Grand Tasting at the Artisano Wine, Food & Art fest in Santa Rosa mid-November.

Kathy had to work last Saturday, and with KRCB open that day for auction pick-up, I drove the Lisa Marie up to Marin to fill the hatch with our own Halloween treats, a couple of which are featured in Kathy’s photo above: a signed magnum of Rockwall Napa Cab from our winemaker pal Shauna Rosenblum; and one of the high-end Pinot Noir selections from a fave Mendocino producer, Navarro, both flanking Kath’s haunted mansion pumpkin carving. Also picked up a nice two-bottle lot of Washington state Bordeaux-style reds, as well as an inexpensive case of Moscato sparkling, perfect as a Sunday sipper for those pesky 78-degree November Sunday afternoons here in Oakley. Not to rub your face in it, or anything.

Hey, it occurred to us that we haven’t done a tasting note in a while. So, Kath and I pulled the cork on a 375-ml half of 2007 Navarro Anderson Valley Mendocino Pinot Noir “Méthode a l’Ancienne,” part of our mixed auction case from this NoCal fog bank region whose second-biggest cash crop is wine grapes. (Cough, cough, ahem.)

The half-bottle poured a youthfully transparent berry color with hints of plum-to-be. Lots of tart cranberry and bright acidic fruit on the nose, with hints (to me, at least) of smoky sweetness on a lengthy finish.

PS: Have ya’ll stumbled across a PBS show called “Vine Talk”? Hosted by Stanley Tucci, it features a few of his Hollywood and Broadway pals, and culinary guests doing a regional blind tasting while swapping stories. We caught one episode by accident (on our new best friend, KRCB) and we can’t wait for the next, with Nathan Lane as one of the guests.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The Year (OK, Week) of Living Social(ly)


Hey guys, last time we posted about Kath’s propensity and proficiency for/at navigating Internet deals, especially when it comes to winery tasting coupons.

Her chops were the only thing that could coax us back to Napa.

I know that I’m singing the same verse to the same chorus here, but, man, the tasting fees in the cities of Napa, Yountville, Oakville, Rutherford, St. Helena and Calistoga (the holy trinity-times-two of the Napa Valley) can have one trembling before one crosses the winery’s threshold. And that’s where a couple of nicely guaranteed online pricing coupons laid out the breadcrumbs for us to head back over the Mayacamas Mountain rainbow.

When Kathy found a livingsocial deal for Eagles Trace in Napa, she knew that it was time to revisit the Valley. It was an appointment deal for this small Napa winery (production: 1800 cases), and the joint is farther east of the Silverado Trail (Robert Louis Stevenson, please report to the fourth floor) than we had ever ventured, even when we used to live in San Francisco. Ascending up narrow roads that would never be built now, across ancient bridges that, by law I’m guessing, must display “Narrow Bridge” signage (I think that the sign cost more than the bridge), we confirmed with the vineyard manager, who just happened to be there, that we were indeed at the right place, and that parking where we stopped the Lisa Marie was fine.

Now you can talk about marching to the beat of your own drummer: Gus and Phyllis Anderson of Eagles Trace know the American drumline and are not afraid to trek a little bit afield. Yet, back again: Gus’ and Phyllis’ plantings are to Cab Sauv, Merlot and Franc; the Petit Verdot vines are still young, but will eventually see a swim in the blend.

But here’s the cool bit: His current releases are routinely a half-decade old. Every winery seems to want to convert inventory into cash ASAP; not 81-year-old Gus. A UC Davis student at 51 years of age, iconoclast (goes without saying), and former orthodontist, he’ll admit, that at his price-point, the juice he makes is “Special Occasion Wine.” Gus Anderson goes on to say, and I quote, “If you don’t have at least one special occasion a week, you don’t need wine; you need to get a life.”

Schooled in Left Bank, Right Bank, and not beholden to any bank, Eagle Trace’s style is built for comfort, not for speed. We sat outside with our hosts and with fellow tasters/livingsocial clients Ben and Rebecca, reveling in the history, stories and lore of this winery predicated on more than a few things French. Elegance in the wine, but most importantly, conviviality drinking it with folks outside the cave: C’était bon, ça.

Beforehand, we were early for our Eagles Trace tasting up the hill, and Napa Valley Olive Oil was always a fave. The jugs of oil are completely old skool, and an article that Kathy read years ago talked about the staff throwing cash or a check into the rolltop desk to seal the deal. OK, encore une fois, we bought a half-gallon of their great oil, and a big tin of salt-cured anchovies. The mom is getting several telephone calls, and she’s responding in Italian. It’s one of those touchstone places: I think that we read about it when we lived in SF over a decade ago. Their oil is fragrantly green; we just have to find a way to, now, justify Napa fees to make a Napa trip worthwhile. One can’t just pull up to a winery in the Napa Valley anymore, confident that fees will be reasonable or nonexistent.

Oh, and I doubled over when Mama literally, and I mean, “literally,” threw that check into the rolltop desk: I was watching to see if this was still the deal; it was! Kath writes a check, Mama opens the shade, throws it in and SLAMS! the rolltop shut. What, I ask, what, is not to love about the Napa Valley Olive Oil Manufactory? It’s a little slice of the Old Country in the land that Cult Cabernet built.

OK, so Napa is nuts. Making a left turn onto the Highway 29 main drag is an exercise in complete frustration: Nobody lets you turn left. As one winery employee told us, “If someone lets you in, they’re local.” Amen, Mah Bruthah. And yet, we venture into the little pocket downtown that is Yountville.

Kathy had a Groupon for Cornerstone Cellars downtown, a mere amûse bouche’s toss from touted restaurants Bouchon, Bistro Jeanty and The French Laundry (Motto “You cleanse your palate and clean your plate. We’ll clean out your wallet” KIDDING!).

OK, the Cornerstone experience could not have been better orchestrated by our host. Kerry Hourigan (seriously folks, search her) hooked us up with the Groupon promo of tasty Cornerstone wine, cheese (best Jarlsberg tasted heretofore), plus a few extra pours that were not on the menu. Kerry was a veritable fount of Yountville knowledge. Biggest crime downtown? Theft of the tip jar across the street. Caught on video. Again I ask, what is not to love?

Yaknow how we always said that the tasting room experience always came down to the person behind the bar? It’s true. Cornerstone is a custom-crush client, with no vineyards or winery facility of their own. They purchase grapes from all over, and make their stuff at other wineries, but the tasting room is sooooooooo civilized: airy windows looking out onto the main drag; tasting seating at the bar, center room tables, or comfy overstuffed couches (our choice). The amenities are nice, but when you get a pistol of a staff member, the winery becomes “our winery.” Kerry? Well, she’s one of those firecrackers who made Cornerstone “ours.”

Did I mention that both these livingsocial and Groupon certificates include complimentary bottles of wine to take home from the respective wineries?

Internet sites: Don’t visit Napa Valley without ‘em.

Monday, October 17, 2011

For Assistance at our Tasting Room, Just YELP!


Kathy is the absolute queen when it comes to looking for Internet bargains, no more so than when searching for complimentary tastings at Cali wineries. And she doesn’t just limit herself to a Google search for tasting room coupons, no ma’am. Between e-mail-blast sites such as Groupon and livingsocial, her blindingly fast typing fingers have yielded some truly stellar half-price deals.

Well, now Yelp has entered the Internet discount deal fray, and Kath discovered a “$25 for $50” worth of wine at Keating Wines, one of our favorite boutique producers in Sonoma. The Yelp Deals certificate is valid for a full year from date of online purchase; you just print the sucker out at home, and present it at the venue.

Now, it just so happened that Cline Cellars, down the road from Keating, was releasing its new wine club selections. And Gloria Ferrer, directly across said road from Keating, was offering a twofer via an online coupon from WineCountry.com. So with Cline and sister winery Jacuzzi across the street from each other, and Keating and Gloria Ferrer staring across the road at themselves, and the former pair separated from the latter pair by a mere mile or so, Kathy and I decided to make quick, civilized jaunt up north for a little one-stop slurping.

We stopped first at Cline, where club membership truly does have its privileges, and walked out with our wine selections: Bonus! The two reds were a Zin and a Carignane, both made from our ancient Oakley grapes.

Next, we hit the Jacuzzi. There were two full tour buses in the lot, and as expected, we had to jostle ourselves into position at the tasting bar. It’s always fun at Jacuzzi, and their focus on Italian varietals, some extremely obscure, but still finding small acreage in California, is a great way to get a New World spin on the Old World. Our pourer even pulled out extra bottles for us. Class act.

OK, from there it was off to the Cornerstone plaza up the road. Cornerstone is home to the “big blue Adirondack chair,” a giant whimsical sculpture (see Kathy’s photo) in the center of this outdoor mini-complex comprising winetasting, food, a market and other sundry merch. It’s also the home to Keating, a sleek, elegant winery tasting room with a small card, but everything on it is a gem. We left with two vineyard-designated Sonoma Zinfandels, and by the time Kath’s Yelp Deals certificate was factored in, she had to top up the purchase with an additional six bucks. Most of that being tax.

And the Big Blue Adirondack House is also home to another one of our fave small tasting rooms: Meadowcroft Wines, located mere feet and one of my bad bocce (court nearby) tosses. Maybe that’s why my Cambridge professor bro calls me a “tosser.” Hmm, in the UK, It doesn’t mean the same thing.

At Meadowcroft, we have always had a superb experience. We’ve visited several times, and the last time, several months ago, cool dude Patrick just hooked us up with wine selections most memorably.

This day, pourer Darby was an absolute highlight of the day, though we still had a bubbly coupon to redeem across the street. We spent a lot of time chatting with her, and a sympathetic blend of wine knowledge, personality and BS-detector emerged right away. Kathy and I started talking, as we are prone to do, about the Three Circles of Tasting Room Hell (for them both in front and behind the rail). There are the folks who taste everything available, ask for what the trade calls a “revisit,” then do not buy a thing, not even a postcard if the room has a merch shop.

But, as you may already know if you’ve read this thang before, our big beefs are reserved for tasting bar hogs (you know, the couple that has their pour in a crowded room, but is resolved to stay, legs akimbo, shoulder to shoulder as if they are determined to hang on to that estate foreclosure). We tell the story of, over a decade ago when we lived in San Francisco, of the manager of a well-known-winery’s tasting room bellowing for people at the bar to “move down, we have people who want to taste!”

And then there’s the “bachelorette party.” We’ve talked before about the busload of 20 drunk chicks, one wearing a tiara and a sash, each clutching a plastic cup previously holding a Cosmo, then walking (being generous here) into a tasting room.

Discussing this with Darby, a 2011 Meadowcroft tasting room manager, schooled me. Call me Gramps, man. She recounted how Patrick, one of the coolest winery ambassador cats available, had to pour for a bachelorette party: They complained about everything, apparently the party was taking photos of each other’s breasts, and they were more than half in the bag already. Patrick diplomatically worked the wine and cheesiness to a diplomatic conclusion. Or so he thought.

Next day (or however long it actually took her to “recover”), someone from the Duchess’ party posted a scathing review of the winery on Yelp. Patrick was devastated for the winery’s reputation.

Darby hipped me to the reality that this “Age of Yelp” means that anyone can knee-jerk a post and it’s readable worldwide forever. That great, hardcore Napa tasting room manager I mentioned earlier, telling folks to respect newcomers, wouldn’t see two more weeks of employment these days. One, maybe two indignant tasters would have conspired to bring her down. Hey, as Darby says, it’s the Age of Yelp.

I’ve always hated that old saw that “everyone’s entitled to their own opinion.” Dude, that is crap: You are entitled to your own opinion if you can articulate why.” And don’t go all Wiki, Wiki, Wiki on me. I’d sure love to see what would happen if someone decided to change the spelling of “Wikipedia.”

The Internet can get you some great deals at 50% off. Sometimes half off the real story isn’t one of them.

Gawd, I need a glass of wine.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Boggled for Bogle


Bridge Out. Follow Detour Arrows.

Uh-oh.

So, Matt and Erin Cline are hosting their annual Duck Paella Party in celebration of their fall release of a Chardonnay and a Carignane (“Kerrigan,” as some of the Oakley growers call it) from a Lucchesi property in our neck of the ‘hoods. It was one year ago that, Erin, having spent much time on the phone with me for our blog, hooked me up with her husband so that I could get the lowdown on the Cline family connection to our local ag. Erin then invited Kathy and me to their clambake in Clarksburg, where we joined their wine club, and have been toasting Matt’s family roots and enduring commitment to Oakley’s remaining rootstock eversince.

Oh, man, but something happened last Saturday. Now, it had actually gotten to the fact that I no longer needed directions to get to the Old Sugar Mill, the home to several artisan wineries, including 3. You pay your $5 toll to cross a bridge near Oakley, drive along levees that everyone thinks are about to explode, bypass Isleton (unless you absolutely MUST stop for crawdads), then take one of the drawbridges across the Sacramento River in order to take two more bridges along the highway, past Bogle Winery, then 3 at the Mill.

Bridge Out. Follow Detour Arrows.

I was completely flummoxed. Crossing this first of two bridges was the only way I knew how to get to 3, and Bogle, which we always visited down the road before our jaunt chez Erin and Matt.

OK, I misread the detour instructions: I turned left, leading us on a pavement loop that had me hyperventilating every time that I could not see a bridge that needed to get us across the river, heading in the opposite direction, where we needed to be. I am not good at Kathy calls “adventures.”

We drive a Prius on our wine “adventures,” and it was apparent that my “detour” had severely depleted the tank.

My left turn detour brought us right back, 25 minutes later, finally finding a river-crossing bridge, to the original closure. Ouch.

Tony Tuned Out. Follow Arrows Shooting out of Kathy’s Eyes.

It wasn’t until Kath insisted that we needed petrol that we found our way to Clarksburg, on the other side of the river. I, a dude, actually asked for directions to Clarksburg; good thing, too, because the second bridge was closed, as well. Only the third would get us where we needed to go.

But then we missed it.

Oh sure, we got to 3wine company. Erin and Matt and Kelly were in fine form; the duck paella was nummers; digging the Chard and Kerrigan. Proud to be club members; can’t wait for what is next.

And, somehow, don’t know why ---- might be approaching them from the opposite direction; signage one way, not the other? ---- we missed Bogle. Now here is a high-volume winery that never fails to amaze us with bottlings that you will never find sharing supermarket shelf real estate.

And, if you don’t visit, you will never see the kitties.
Check out K’s photo; one of the cats had her paw mangled, but is now a beloved (especially by us) winery kitty. FYI wineries: If you don’t have one, you need to.

Ours will spill on a bathmat, beg to be swirled, curl up on a curved surface and stain a beautiful piece of loved furniture.
Wine? Kitty?
You tell me.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Groupon Therapy


Just got back last week from a 7-day jaunt up to join my two older bros for a visit with my parents up in Ottawa, Canada. A long trip, but it was nice to see the fam together again after all these years.

I got back last Tuesday night, and by Saturday Kathy and I were ready to hit the road to Livermore, just south of us in Oakley. Kath had availed herself of an online Groupon deal, paying $15 for $30 worth of food and drink at the well-appointed little café at Garré Vineyard and Winery. We’d had lunch there previously, but this was an added treat: al fresco dining under the sun on the first day of October. The Groupon promotion virtually paid for the bottle of their crisp, chilled house Sauvignon Blanc to accompany our pasta and sandwich dishes. And the deal came with two complimentary wine tastings in the main facility.

The last time we’d visited Garré, there was a hardcore bocce party filling up both of the pitches; today the courts were deserted (see photo above). All the better to get a table outside at the café, I guess.

In Livermore, we’d long been intrigued by the Steven Kent winery. I admit that our nose got a bit out of joint the very first time we visited Livermore as new Oakley transplants during the December open house celebration event in 2009. While every other winery in the area seemed to be pouring the juice freely, Steven Kent was charging a double-digit tasting fee; it just seemed wrong to us, especially so near to Christmas, on a celebratory event weekend, no less.

So, Kathy and I let our nose jut out at a weird angle for a year-and-a-half, until last week, when Kath printed out an online twofer tasting coupon for Stevie. The wonderful tasting experience quickly realigned our nasal passages, all the better to experience the wines of Steven Kent and its ultrapremium offshoot, La Rochelle.

The tasting experience is one of those cool “please wait to be escorted to your tasting station” deals, obviating the hassle of trying to educate a bachelorette party, or a pair of tasters for that matter, who will not relinquish any part of the tasting bar real estate after they’ve been served. At Steven Kent’s barrel room tasting facility, half of the $10 fee is refundable with purchase, and it was worth the fiver to chill in a civilized environment, swirling the Riedel on granite ovals set atop oak barrels.

We had the additional good fortune to have, as our pourers, two of the staffers responsible for the winning red blend making up the 2009 “Sorellanza” cuvee. Translating to “Sisterhood," this blend of 50% Barbera, 30 Sangio and 20 Malbec represents a line, some proceeds of which go to research organizations, most notably those fighting breast cancer. We had all three members of the blending team, victors in a blind tasting, sign our bottle.

Now, if you will excuse me from this post, Fritter the kitty is on my lap trying to chew the tasting notes.

Talk at you soon. Cheers.