Showing posts with label wine country. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wine country. Show all posts

Saturday, August 30, 2014

WINE COUNTRY: SHAKEN, NOT STIRRED

St. Helena, CA



Unless you've had your head somewhere unmentionable, you probably know we had a significant earthquake in Napa Valley last weekend. At 3:20 a.m. on August 24, a strong 6.0 quake rolled through, the California equivalent of hazing for new residents. Welcome to our state, where living on land sometimes simulates living on a boat.

We were fine here in St. Helena, just over 20 miles from the epicenter, but it was a BIG one. Our little cottage was creaking and the (four) dishes in the cabinets were rattling. We had no doubt about what was happening.

Napa, the town, only a few miles from the epicenter in American Canyon, took the worst hit, but perhaps the greatest casualty was truth in the media. As they tried to make sense (and the most) out of the shakeup, there were some ugly missteps.

One local TV station used a photo of grapes on the ground, reporting that the earthquake was big enough to "shake the grapes right off the vine." The photo showed bunches that had been pruned -- intentionally, something anyone in Napa could have told them, had they asked. Okay, breaking coverage on Live TV, but....





... et tu, Washington Post? An early article from WashingtonPost.com claimed the quake, "couldn't have come at a worse time," which was their attempt tie the quake to California's drought. However, had they asked, they would have learned that the quake hit at the best possible time (if there is one?): Most fermenting tanks were empty and waiting for imminent harvest. And most significantly, the timing at 3:20 a.m. meant that wineries were empty. Had the quake occurred during the day or even a few days later during harvest, the story would have been quite different.

Certainly there was significant damage, and some wineries had devastating losses, but only one week later, Napa Valley Vintners reports on Twitter that 95% of wineries are back in business. Something you would not know if you read Outside magazine, the worst offender and the publication that prompted me to write this post. Last night on Twitter:

I added the NOT TRUE, lest I perpetuate a falsehood.

"With Napa out of commission"?!?!? It's been a week with ample opportunity to vet the impact of the earthquake on the Napa wine industry. This was Outside's second volley on Twitter promoting this lame article, an incredibly lazy interview of the Whole Foods global wine buyer, the sole source, who, contrary to the inflammatory Tweets and headline, says the earthquake will have no effect on supply. On the first Twitter post, I was the only one who took Outside to task, but fortunately on the one above, others started chiming in. Disappointing, lax "reporting" from Outside, a magazine that I've previously respected.

Of course, there was some non-shaky reporting going on, among the best was AFPs Glenn Chapman, who grasped the nuances of how things shook out, so to speak, even in a breaking story. Ironically, he also quoted Chip, my Chip, who works at Silver Oak: "I think our wine tastes better after being shaken, not stirred." Chip always knows the right thing to say.

Here's a roundup of local paper front pages from wash post, a visual that underscores the significance of this story in the local market.

*As a bizarre footnote to this earthquake incident, we were in one other earthquake, three years ago by one day. That whole incident was much more alarming and has a much stranger (and longer) story.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

LIVING LARGE: MY SUNSET WALK

St. Helena, CA

Sunset and St. Helena.

As the sun dropped behind the Mayacamas Mountains, I headed southeast from my house, walking along the railroad tracks. In the late August dusk, the grapes hang heavy on the vines, the deep purple of the world's worst bruise. I take a sample, plump and dark, the grape threatening to burst under its own goodness. It erupts in my mouth, ripe juice, sweet and soft, a stark contrast to the bite of the skin, the crunch of the seeds.

Rounding the third vineyard, I reach our little local library and drop off my Fodor's guide to Northern California. As I turn back to the north, the glory of Mount St. Helena looms in the distance, backlit by the invisible sun.

I saw a report today that claimed my money buys a lot less in California than it does in other parts of the country, but I think they forgot to figure in the things money can't buy, the sweeping valley all green and gold and purple, the crisp cool air that settles in after the bright heat of the day, the thrum of promise and excitement as harvest time approaches.

The low moan of the wine train comes from the south, and I can hear the train slowly lumbering up, chugging, chugging, until it's right beside me. The conductor leans his head out the window.

"Hello," I say as he passes.

"You have a great evening!" he calls.

"You, too!" I reply.

And looking out across our beautiful valley, I think, how could we not have a great evening.

How could we not?

Thursday, August 21, 2014

THE FRENCH LAUNDRY: BEST THING SINCE POP ROCKS

Oakville, CA

The French Laundry: A glass of Gaston Chiquet Blanc de Blancs d'Aÿ, Grand Cru MV
Every special occasion begins with a glass of bubbly, but not every special occasion includes a 17-course meal at The French Laundry. There was just this one, teetering at the pinnacle of eating.

Chef Thomas Keller's welcoming tidbit for every visitor to The French Laundry or Per Se (his New York restaurant) is a tiny ice cream cone. At least it looks like one, but it's really a savory salmon and creme fraîche morsel, intended to make even the most terrified diner smile.

For me, it was the first hint that Chef was going to change my whole experience of eating. I anticipated the explosive flavors, the satisfying color combinations and perfectly tweezed presentations, but it was his artistry with texture that caught me completely unawares. This wee cone, and every dish that followed it, combined creaminess, crunch and crisp crackle in a way that made me stare off into the distance contemplating what was happening in my mouth -- the biggest food surprise since Pop Rocks. Every dish, 17 times, a perfect marriage of sensation.

Our ice cream cones arrived at two minutes before 7:00, and the surprises kept coming, one after the other, for five hours. Could he outdo himself 17 times? Why, yes, yes, he could.

*One note about photos: We were dining happily al fresco, so the lighting morphed over the evening. My apologies for this variation.

CHILLED SUMMER VEGETABLE CONSOMMÉ
Summer Squash Confit, Garden Tomatoes and "Fines Herbes"

"OYSTERS AND PEARLS"
"Sabayon" of Pearl Tapioca with Island Creek Oysters and White Sturgeon Caviar

WILD SCOTTISH SEA TROUT
Brokaw Avacado Purée, Garden Radishes and Frisée Lettuce

APPLEWOOD SMOKED ALBACORE TUNA
K&J Orchards Peaches, Aji Dulce Peppers and Cilantro

That's only four courses. How ya holding up?

CHARCOAL GRILLED SAN FRANCISCO BAY WHITING
Caper Mayonnaise and Nasturtium Leaves

HEN EGG CUSTARD
with a Ragoût of Périgord Truffles

Yes, that's a real eggshell. One guy's job is prepping these shells, smoothing the lip and cleaning them. "Custard" does nothing to describe the exquisite creamy interior covered with a swoon-worthy broth. That is a potato chip, elevated to the heady level of high cuisine, paper thin, the perfect crisp foil to the super smooth custard. I'm still wondering how they got that chive embedded inside.

"FLEUR DE COURGETTE FARCIE"
Charred Eggplant "Béchamel," Pine Nuts and Fino Verde Basil

SALAD OF HAWAIIAN HEARTS OF PEACH PALM
Toasted Cashews, Garden Shiso and Sour Apple-Avocado Pudding

We're just over halfway through. 

Last month, Chef Keller was on NPR's Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me. He explained his theory that revolutionized the American restaurant scene when he opened The French Laundry 20 years ago. 

"The more you have of something, the less you like it. So we want to give you just enough that when you've had that last bite, you go, god, I wish I had a little more. And then you say no, you can't."

It works. As an attractive waitperson took away each dish, I watched after the empty vessel longingly until they had whisked it through the door and out of sight. Noooo!!!!

"ROUELLE" OF DOVER SOLE
La Ratte Potato Purée, Garden Radishes, Meyer Lemon Confit and "Pommes Maxim's"

SAUTÉED FILLET OF MEDITERRANEAN JOHN DORY
Stewed Sunchokes, Roasted Beets and Sicilian Pistachios

I had this, while those who foolishly failed to declare shellfish allergy had lowly Sweet Butter Poached Maine Lobster. 

Now, we moved on to course eleven, and things just kept escalating.

"MACARONI AND CHEESE"
"Hand Cut" Macaroni, Applewood Smoked Bacon, Romaine Lettuce, Parmigiano Reggiano

Oh, yum. BUT WAIT! There's another ingredient to add.

That's a wafting Australian Black Winter Truffle, mid-shave.


Chef does not scrimp on truffles.


[ alas, someone forgot to take a picture of her favorite dish ]

WOLFE RANCH WHITE QUAIL
Toasted Quinoa and Broccoli "Porridge" with a Sunny Side Up Quail Egg 
and Brentwood Corn "Velouté"

The toasted quinoa added the most enchanting bursting crunch, like those little red roe eggs that hide in my mouth after I eat sushi, filling me with utter joy when I discover one long after the last bite.

Behold! Perfection. (And mushrooms that made me weepy.)
SNAKE RIVER FARMS BEEF SIRLOIN
"Champignons a la Grecque," Celery Root Confit, Garden Turnips and Manzinilla Sherry "Bouillon"

This is when Chef graced us with a visit to say hello to our hosts, John and Lindsey.

The gracious kitchen wizard himself, Chef Thomas Keller, with John and Lindsey.
As promised, our extravaganza ended with "a series of desserts."

"VACHERIN"
Peach Sorbet, Basil, Garden Blossoms and French Meringue

Other sweeties, Délice de Bourgogne, which is the most shockingly wonderful thing ever made with figs, Toast-flavor ice cream (not kidding) and Rocky Road, a flourless chocolate cake, which needs a name more descriptive, like "your-life-is-now-complete cake" or "the-cake-that-ruins-you-for-all-other-cakes cake." There was something mysterious and non-liquid served in an espresso cup, intended (apparently) to make me look foolish for trying to sip it. There were macarons, gelées, and so many more things than I could get around to tasting, because the 17-year-old Sauturnes was too incredible,  dessert in a wine glass. 

And, though certainly not an afterthought, I will share the wine pairing list here for the oenophiles in my audience.

Gaston Chiquet, Blanc de Blancs d'Aÿ, Grand Cru MV
Jäger, Grüner Veltliner, "Achleiten," Smaragd, Wachau 2011
Lopez de Heredia, "Viña Gravonia," Blanco, Rioja 2004 (aged in American Oak!)
Louis Michel, Chablis, "Vaudésir," Grand Cru, Burgundy 2011
Gaja, Barbaresco, Piedmont 2009 (WOW)
Modicum, Cabernet Sauvignon, "Rutherford," Napa Valley 2004 (Chef's private label)
Château LaFaurie-Peyraguey, Sauternes 1er Cru Classé 1997

And then they gave us each a tin of cookies to tide us over until we got home.

Finally, I mention that I have faithfully transposed all of the restaurant's own "quotation marks" for which I have no defense other than that, despite all my editorial training, I trust The French Laundry completely.

CHEERS, Y'ALL!

Monday, June 30, 2014

WINE COUNTRY: ADDING COLOR

St. Helena, CA


A new phase is upon us here in Napa, "verasion," when the grapes ripen enough to blush (or turn yellow in the case of "white" grapes). If you look closely above, you'll see the tiniest hint of pink. We went searching for it, because according to the scuttlebutt in Napa, verasion is early this year, as opposed to late July like last year. This bunch is on a super-old vine, but maybe the others aren't far behind. That same scuttlebutt says all signs point to a stellar vintage so far. 2014. Our vintage.

The nearby grapes, so wee just a few weeks ago, are now hanging low under their own burgeoning weight.


There's something oddly hopeful about walking amongst the vines on these long, bright evenings. I don't know if it's my own bias, knowing the fall will bring juicy, ripe grapes that will render that red liquid love in my glass. Or maybe it's the birds shouting out, or the wine train calling just down the track, or the temperature gently falling as evening comes on. Or maybe it's the subtle reminder that there will be a day soon when the grapes will turn, and there will be a day after that and another. Maybe it's the reminder that even though we just celebrated the summer solstice, just down the road a piece, we will be celebrating a harvest. The grapes remind me that there is a tomorrow and, after that, a tomorrow.

The hope calls me out, and then it follows me home, lightening my step and brightening my heart.




Today, I'm grateful for grapes and hope.

Thursday, May 15, 2014

GRAPE REPRODUCTION 101

St. Helena, CA


All this time, I've thought I was looking at tiny grape clusters. Wrong. I might have flunked Botany, but I didn't even take it, so I've got some catching up to do.

Grapes are hermaphroditic (who knew?), having both male and female sex organs, discreetly covered by those green caps, the grapevine's version of a fig leaf.

So small, a ladybug can't even hide under them.
At bloom the green caps, called calyptra, throw discretion to the wind, break open and expose the organs, which is what happened in our neighborhood this week.



Since the clusters are so close together, neither birds nor bees are necessary to carry the pollen between the buds. They just rub against each other. Once the party's over, the flowers begin to transform themselves into grape berries.

Apparently this is a critical phase in development and various weather and temperature issues can adversely affect the whole way-hey-hey process. So far, so good. Think fertilizing thoughts.




Today, I'm grateful for: red.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

WINE COUNTRY: NAPA VALLEY TERRAIN

St. Helena, CA


The Napa Valley, only 30 miles long, lies in the embrace of the Mayacamas Mountains to the west, and the Vaca Mountains to the east. At its southernmost tip, just above Vallejo, the valley is five miles wide, large enough to contain the city of Napa with a population of almost 77,000. As the valley meanders northwest, the mountains begin to crowd in, and the valley narrows.


Up north here in St. Helena, population 5,909, the valley's so snug that the mountains are in spitting distance on both sides. Something about a valley tucked between mountains summons a primal sense of safety from whatever enemy lurks on the other side.


For the grapevines, that enemy is the scorching heat of the Central Valley to the east and the cooler marine influences to the west, and the mountains serve as a time-honored barrier to keep them at bay. For the humans, this means stunningly beautiful 360º vistas with our crowning peak, St. Helena, just to the north. The valley's charm is not lost on the clouds. Many mornings, they try to creep down the mountains and dwell among us, and who could blame them?


Millions of years of grinding tectonic plates and robust volcanic activity have left the Napa Valley with a diverse topography and a wide variety of climatic conditions, all things that happen to make grapes extremely happy. 

Once again, grapes and I seem to have a lot in common.


Today, I'm grateful for: the fruit of the vine.

MORE: wine country

Monday, May 5, 2014

WINE COUNTRY: THE ALLURE

St. Helena, CA

Our walk home from the grocery store.
In a mass-production world, it's easy to forget that the wine in my glass comes from an agricultural product that bears fruit only once a year. Wine is a finite resource, a fact brought home to me when I look at a map of world wine regions showing just how few places on the globe are grape-friendly. Grapevines are finicky things, picky about something wine folks call "terroir," the soil, climate, topography, hours of sunlight and amount of rainfall, among other things. And, unlike Jimmy Buffett, they don't like changes in latitude. Grapevines will thrive only in a narrow band of latitudes in the northern and southern hemispheres, between the 30th and 50th parallels.

Because of this essential confluence of conditions necessary for grapevines to be happy, wine producing regions are relatively rare and rarefied for me until now, seemingly mythical before I came and decidedly magical once I did. Grapes have amazing taste in terroir. Check out this curb appeal.

Looking down into Napa Valley from Mount St. Helena.
Driving through Napa Valley is gawk worthy -- and not just for its beauty. It's like a music fan driving past Sting's house, then Paul McCartney's, and Dave Matthews next door -- and Bruce Springsteen up the hill. Oh, and there's the entrance to Prince's palace! Whoa, Lyle Lovett and Jay-Z are neighbors? Who knew? 

Napa Valley claims some of the most famous wine producers in the world, all jammed into a scant 67 square miles. 

And us? We're nestled in a little hamlet called St. Helena (rhymes with Catalina) in the dead center of Napa Valley. Our wee cottage is across the street from Beringer, walking distance to Charles Krug, one of the oldest producers in Napa. We are within a few-miles of Duckhorn, Louis Martini, Rombauer, Quintessa, Mumm Napa, Stag's Leap, Heitz, Nichol & Nichol, St. Supery, Grgich, Silver Oak, Cakebread, Turnbull, it just goes on and on. And so will I. More to come!



St. Helena, the big red mark in the center of Napa Valley.



Today, I'm grateful for: the privilege of watching grapevines at work.

MORE ABOUT wine country | triumphal entry | blooming |

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

LIVING SMALL: THE JUST ENOUGH BEDROOM

St. Helena, CA

Our beautiful quilt from Target.
Our wee cottage in wine country came unfurnished, so in anticipation of move-in day, we made a preemptive trip to Napa (the city) to make our first land bound purchase: a bed. After four years of living on a rough-and-tumble boat and four months of road-tripping, my kid-before-Christmas anticipation of having a comfy bed was certifiably whack-a-doodle.

So item #1 delivered a few hours after our arrival: a bed.

Our commitment to living small made us ponder what else was truly necessary in the aptly named bedroom, and in the strictest sense, the answer was nothing. But, hey, even a dorm room has more than a bed, so, not to be outdone, we got four more things, two nightstands and two rugs.


IKEA in Sacramento had Expedit cubes on sale for $9.99, so we bought four and stacked them, perfect beside the extra-tall bed. And not bad @ $19.98 per nightstand.


To outsmart the need for an annoying bedskirt, I got a King-sized quilt for a Queen-sized bed, and instead of buying a dresser to accommodate a few items of clothing, we got a $30 rack (on the right), also from IKEA.

That door mirror came with the place, but alas, no hangers. We bought 30 hangers for $3.51, which is a handy clothing control feature. No hanger for that new shirt? Something's got to go!

We put hooks behind the bedroom door to hang our coats and jackets.

The just enough bedroom:

1 bed
2 nightstands
2 rugs
2 bedside lamps (not found yet)
1 wire rack
30 hangers
10 hooks


Today, I am grateful for: my light and airy, just enough bedroom.

Napa vines at work.

MORE ABOUT: downsizing | living small

Friday, April 25, 2014

HARD AGROUND

St. Helena, CA

Our driveway.
I miss living aboard when …
  1. I find, once again, there is no turquoise water outside.
  2. the animals out there are cats and dogs instead of dolphins and starfish.
  3. I hear people use words all wrong, like 'swell' and 'anchored.'
  4. I see the same thing outside the window -- day after day.
  5. someone asks me where I'm from, and I have an answer.
  6. the neighbors are annoying, and I can't pick up the anchor and move.
  7. people judge me by clothes and makeup and whether I brush my hair.
  8. I don't hear friendly voices on the radio.
  9. I have to wear shoes.
  10. I don't step into the cockpit in the morning and feel the fresh, salty breeze against bare skin.
I'm happy to be on dry land when ....
  1. I go entire days without using the verb 'pump.'
  2. I take a shower without wearing shoes.
  3. my bedroom remains perfectly still and quiet -- all night.
  4. the radio plays music.
  5. I only check the weather for wardrobe purposes.
  6. people no longer suspect me of stealing toilet paper.
  7. I remember there's no crap under my bed.
  8. I don't smell anything.
  9. after a long, hot shower, I sink into a poofy bed with clean sheets.
  10. I have no underlying sense of impending doom when a glorious storm front marches overhead.


Today, I am grateful for: Napa Valley clouds.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

CHICKEN LITTLE

St. Helena, CA


My commitment to staying small has reached miniature proportions. This wee chick and I keep watch as the tree outside the kitchen window bursts into lime green splendor.

After four years of blue on blue on blue, I'm feasting on a different spot on the color wheel.



Today, I am grateful for: the world's tiniest chicken and wine country green.


Tuesday, April 22, 2014

BREAKING BREAD

St. Helena, CA


When we were searching for a rental house, we looked at a beautiful cottage here in St. Helena. It was tucked behind the house of an elderly Swiss couple, Teresa and Rudy.

Rudy had recently suffered a stroke, and Chip, being Chip, wanted to do some chores for them. We stopped by today and chatted about life and wine and sailing. Rudy was interested to hear of our sailing and told of a long trans-Pacific sail he took with his nephew in 2000. He showed us photos, an actual album, and watched with delight as we looked at them. Then he shuffled across to a corner bookshelf, rummaged around and came back with a small, worn spiral notebook with weathered pages. Printed on the front it said, "Nothing Happens Unless First a Dream." Inside, in a careful hand, all capital letters, was a log of 58 days at sea.

He loaned it to us, so from our landlocked cottage, we can feel the wind pick up at 4 a.m. on day 35. We can taste the fish stew Rudy cooked for dinner after seeing the first ship in more than a week. Do you think we miss being on the water yet?

When we first met Teresa last month, she told us Rudy was a baker and confectioner before retiring.

"He gets frustrated since his stroke. He can't do what he used to."

"Can he still bake?" I asked.

"He can't bake bread, but he can still break it," she said. "That's what's important."

Today, as we were leaving, Rudy shuffled into the garage, past a sprawling world map taped to the wall.

"I still shudder when I look at how huge that ocean is," Teresa said, looking at Rudy's route marked with a highlighter.

Rudy came back out and handed me a white paper bag.

"I baked this loaf this morning," he said. "I can't work the dough like I used to, but it's okay."

Cross an ocean. Bake a loaf of bread.

Nothing happens unless first a dream.


Today, I'm grateful for: bread and fellow dreamers.