Apologies to director Peter Greenaway, y’all, but our latest little Saturday jaunt had us drowning by a number of funky visuals and sightings.
Kathy and I set out in the Lisa Marie to the Old Sugar Mill once again, traveling east of our Oakley homestead toward Clarksburg.
I was a bit apprehensive; we’d finally had some rain (pelting against the bedroom windows mere hours before our departure), and I, unlike most other North American males who’d gained their driver’s license at the legal age of 16 years, hate driving. And I was not looking forward to driving the narrow Delta levee roads in less than full sunshine.
Which we got, thank Hey-Zeus. The sun was actually shining upon departure, and though we had to dodge myriad eucalyptus and palm tree branches in the roadway, we were on our way to see our wine pals Erin and Matt Cline of 3 Wine Company, in order to pick up our latest wine club selections, made from fruit sourced in our CoCo ‘hood.
Now, I know that we’ve talked too much about our trips to Clarksburg to keep your weekly interest, but a few things happened this trip that might even make them worthy of, if not your reading, Prospero’s books.
OK, you’re booting along a two-line (obviously repeatedly patched) blacktop, twisting 100 feet above Delta waterways on either side of you (sans guardrails), crossing a couple of steel bridges showing rust, when you are urged to slow to 40 mph.
You are entering Ryde, California: The biggest monument is the water tower. But the coolest joint visible as you glide along is the pale-pink Ryde Hotel, built in 1927: the height of Prohibition.
Somehow, it makes perfect sense that the original establishment served as trapdoor access to Delta water-bound bootleggers, a brothel, speakeasy, respite to Hollywood celebs, even a stay by President Herbert Hoover.
We discover all of this in passing, because, unfortunately, passing the Ryde Hotel is all that we have done thus far in our many treks to Clarksburg. But their Web site
http://www.rydehotel.com/index.html
lists prix fixe brunches, Saturday dinners and other events. Kathy and I look forward to exploring this pocket of our levee travels.
Anyhoo, we’re heading to das Sugar Mill to pick up our juice when I make what I consider a hairpin turn; it’s not, but I whiteknuckle on a curve at 40 mph traffic anyway. We make the curve, and there is a coyote.
Uncharacteristically, we both saw the beast at the same time. Now, you have to know that, at the worst times, Kath will remark, “Wow, a turkey vulture!” just as I am struggling to keep both hands on the wheel. Kathy and I saw this majestic thang at the same time. But this amazing creature was standing along the perimeter of a field of green, hit by sunshine, and standing regally as if to proclaim, “Check me out, mofo!”
We did, pal, and you were resplendent. “Wow” is right.
Then we’re heading toward Bogle Vineyards on the same road, a sure sign that we’re almost at the Sugar Mill, when a red-tailed hawk flies from the Delta water and almost hits our windshield. Three minutes later, it happens again. Not sure if it was a different hawk, or the same one urging us to heed one of the many “Bridge Detour” signs.
None of which affected us. ‘Twas absolutely thrilling, but we made it.
So, the 3 Wine Company’s 2009 Old Vine Field Blend is a funky amalgam o 34% Zinfandel, 27 “Kerrigan,” 19% Petite Sirah, 17 Mataro (winemaker Matt Cine prefers to use the old skool nomenclature v. “Mourvèdre”). 2 % Alicante Bouschet, and 1% Black Malvoisie (winemaker Matt Cine prefers to use the old skool nomenclature v. “Cinsault”). Yep, I cutted and pasted there, I cop. But the wine itself is a bit of a bruiser; could use a bit of cellaring (for Kath and me, 2 months) to chill all of these 100-year-old varietal grapes from the ‘hood.
Not exactly a life in suitcases, but at least a couple of hours with our wine totes.
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